The rain was cold on my face. It pelted from the sky and was pounding my body into the ground. As if showing, that I belonged there. But I was still a living species, I had a full life ahead of me before I would be forced to join the millions that lie below.

 Wasn’t there anyone to show pity for me? Wasn’t there anyone to rip my mother out of my life? Or was I the only one to deal with her illusions and psychotic behavior?

Life after my father’s death continued. Pushing me along to show those around me that I could live in Hell and stay sane. 

But what if I didn’t stay sane? What if I just showed I was?

“Good morning Mr. Cliff,” called Emilia from across the room. I stumbled acrossed the floor dragging my feet in a slow and stalkerish manner.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked, tilting her head. She was examining my mood and reactions carefully.

I sat down on the floral couch, sinking into the seat. My eyes scanned the blurry room trying to spot exactly where the educated therapist was.

“Mr. Cliff? Is there something on your mind?”

I listened to the hesitance in her voice. It was chilling and I smiled at the tension.

“What is sanity?” I asked.

Emilia resettled in her chair and I could finally pinpoint her exact location. She was across the room sitting in front of the wall of books. Her fingers were rubbing on the wheels of her chair and her toes tapped on the wooden floor.

“Sanity in simple terms,  you don’t suffer from a mental illness.” 

I felt my hands tighten and my jaw lock, “And do I have a mental disorder?”

The tapping stopped. My eye twitched at the newfound silence and I heard Emilia draw something from her pocket.

“Yes, Mr. Cliff. You, have several.”

A clicking sound echoed softly and a small, heated light flickered near Emilia’s lips.

The silence continued, dragging out the seconds that ticked away. “You grew up with slight schizophrenia, depression, anxiety, Post-traumatic stress, and a slightly narcissistic personality.”

  “Narcissistic?” I questioned. My smirk spread into a wide-spread smile.

“Indeed, though many of these you’ve grown out of. I am truly quite shocked. From records after your incident with your mother. You were sent into a hospital which offered a therapist to treat you. After only a month you somehow became, ‘normal’ again.”

The smell of smoke filled my lungs and I lost amusement in our current conversation. She was asking me something but my mind wandered back to my previous thoughts of my mother. 

Her face haunts me. Her voice echoes in the back of my mind tearing down the walls I spent so many years building. The walls that hid and covered my darkest memories.

“Mr. Cliff? Your mother, how is she?”

“I don’t want to talk about the living.” I said rolling my eyes and examining the stitching on the couch.

“Fair, how about the dead?” Her voice scooped upward taking back my attention. 

“Who did you have in mind?” I asked leaning forward to show my interest.

“Edward Fritz,” She said the name sternly. Her fingers wrapped around the wheels of her chair and she rolled into my general direction. “Thirty years old, found dead hanging in his living space from a ceiling fan.” She stopped across from me and I smiled at the placement we had ended in.

I controlled my fluttering heart as adrenaline started running. I recalled  the scene and first meeting poor Eddy.

“It has been brought to my attention that you two shared the same apartment building.” Emilia continued.

I hummed with interest as I listened to her trying to piece things together.

“And that you were officially the last person to see Mr. Fritz. After all, he mentioned you in his note.”

“Ah yes, his suicide was indeed tragic.”

Emilia nodded to herself, “Yes, suicide it would seem. Why don’t you walk me through that day?” She suddenly pulled out the recording device and placed it on the couch arm beside her.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the wretched smell of smoke. The deadly scent brought me directly back to the surroundings of Eddy’s front door. 

“The man was crying,” I began. “He was sobbing actually, on the fact that his wife left him.” Emilia’s eyes were fixated on me. Taking in my every feature and examining my tone of voice.

“We entered his home and I took in the area of a very empty apartment. Eddy and I had been friends since I moved in. For some reason, he always confided in me.”

Emilia cut in saying, “So you two knew each other?” 

“Why yes. I would never enter another man’s home without permission.”

She listened as I purred those words, taking them into note.

“Eddy was crying hysterically and walking around between his kitchen and living space. His bedroom door was closed and all the blinds were drawn down. The air was smokey and I remember seeing so many burnt cigarette butts. Everything was. . . Off.”

“Yes, the coroner's office did say he was an excessive smoker. About a two-pack a day kind of  gentleman.”

“Indeed he was,” I said in agreement, recalling every previous conversation we had together. Always had one lit in hand.

 Emilia took in a slow breath of her own cigarette which was now down to another few minutes.

“He went into his bedroom and brought out a large manilla folder. It was thick with papers and heavy with the feeling of depression.” 

“So, you believe Mr. Fritz was depressed.” 

“I’m positive he was. He lost his wife, his job was a shit-hole and he now had an empty space inside of him. He was nothing.” I heard Emilia tap her cigarette and we both watched as the end burned out. 

“What was in the folder?” She asked.

“His suicide note. He kept saying it was just a joke. An activity he did whenever something went wrong in his life. Emilia, this man was planning on killing himself. He was committing suicide.” My voice dripped low with darkness and I tried to hold in my cackling thoughts. “He was setting it all up by grabbing a stool from his kitchen bar. He found a rope behind his television set and after a small moment he had the noose tied and was tying it from the ceiling fan above us.” I paused to examine the setting. 

The smoke and musty smell. The depressed man climbing down from the stool. It was all perfect. It was. . . an opportunity.

“Eddy scribbled down something at the end of his note. He then climbed up onto the stool again and started laughing. ‘What if I did it?’ he repeated, ‘what if I just killed myself? I could end it all.’ The man was unstable. ” I said mimicking his voice.

Emilia perked up as I spoke, “Do you know what he wrote in the note?”

I lied, shaking my head. “No, how could I? I was… too confused.”

Emilia squinted noting my hidden expression, but refrained from pondering on it further. “He had added the fact that you were present and had absolutely nothing to do with his death. Basically, he was giving you a free pass.”

I grew sly, “How so?” I was interested to see if she would figure it out.

“How about we just continue the story?” She said dodging my question.

I lounged in my seat, “There’s not much to say, he simply got back up on the chair, fastened the rope around his neck, and jumped. He died within seconds. I just feel bad because I was too shocked to step in.”

“It's a tragedy indeed.” Emilia said as she drew her eyes away from me. She was focused now, on getting down her last thoughts while I focused on holding in my cackling laughter. 

My urge to release my psychotic energy within the room was unbearable. I wanted to pour out the truth.

The truth of how he got back on the stool. How he fastened the rope and started crying.

 I wanted to spill out my rage as I became annoyed by his quivering voice.

I wanted to see Emilia's face as I told her I kicked the stool from under the weeping man and listened to the struggle as he swung from the ceiling.

How I watched curiously as his legs kicked violently and his eyes bulged from his skull as pressure built up. 

He was gone within a few long minutes and I soaked up every moment. Every second, as he gasped for air. Every millisecond that was choked from his jagged throat.

Emilia set her pen down on her leg and the room became still. We both listened to the clock chime three times and I arose with a heavy feeling on my shoulders.

“Mr. Cliff, are you leaving so soon?”

“Unfortunately for you, yes. I have work at home I must finish.” I began moving away from the delicate living space.

“I see, well, just know that next time I would like to dive more in depth with you and your mother's relationship.” 

By the time she finished speaking, I was halfway out the door but I was able to turn around and give her a ragged expression.

“There is no relationship, she just happened to have given birth to me. She is nothing more than an animal living underneath my bed.” I remarked.

“Some would call those monsters…” Emilia replied slowly.

I smirked a little at her comment and closed the door. “So it would seem.” 

On my walk home I followed the path I counted out. As I am slowly becoming blind I am learning the trade of how to get around. We count our steps, memorize smells, sounds and other thoughtful layouts. But as I counted, a part of my mind wandered.

My mother. The wretched woman who destroyed my life by giving me it. For some reason I can’t get rid of her no matter how much I want to. Why is it that I can’t kill her? Why is it that I have her continually in my life? Perhaps it’s because I’m afraid, or childish. Or perhaps it’s the promise she forced me to make oh so many years ago.

Stepping inside my small apartment home, I listened to the static of the television and soft murmuring from the half dead woman laying on my couch. I slinked past the couch and into my bedroom. Hospital equipment was on my dresser, bed, windowsill and floor. The bathroom light was left on and my closet had been bombarded. My shoulders became heavy and a sigh escaped my lips. My room was small, so any kind of clutter made it seem smaller. But this disaster was definitely crossing a line. 

Unfortunately, I was too distracted to come up with harsh words and instead sat down at my cluttered desk. Underneath the piles of paper and used equipment sat my briefcase. Locked inside was a stack of educational papers that were desperately waiting to be graded. I clicked open the identical locks and pulled out the pile of organized papers. 

Taking out my red pen from its respectable place in the pen holder, I started to circle, dot and cross out words while leaving short comments and thoughts in the margins. One by one the names of my students flipped by. 

The papers were on everyday lifestyles. 

I was doing a study on examining my various students and getting a glimpse into their lives through a week's worth of homework, such as a five paged report. About halfway through, my eyes were straining and I noticed a trend of normality between each student.

“How dull,” I said, dragging out another sigh. I slipped the paper from my hand and laid it face down back into the briefcase. Then with my pen, drew out their grade. I stood up, with the rest of the papers still in hand, and moved to my bed. The television cracked in the other room and my mother shifted on the couch. 

My bed was hard and cold. The light from my ceiling flickered and a sense of numbness grew inside of me. It was as if my room was a physical appearance of what I was on the inside. I felt empty yet cluttered with someone else's things. It didn’t bother me. It didn’t offend me that I, myself, didn't care about literally anything. I guess once in a while I was enraged or overwhelmed with some type of emotion I couldn't name but even then, I felt nothing. 

Justin Showl. The name glowed at the top of his paper but it wasn’t his name that caught my attention. It was his first sentence.

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‘I Justin Showl, am a disgrace to my family, myself and the world. It’s not like I wanted to be this way, It’s not like I chose to be like this. I was born this way but how could I ever explain that? I am an honest man with an honest living… But I live with one, so called “Unforgivable fault.” I’m gay.’

My eyes floated over his words and my mouth began to hang as if I was breathing in his every word. It intrigued me to think this boy would entrust me with such a secret. 

The next few paragraphs consisted of all the things many others had. Attending family gatherings, hanging out with friends and partying on school nights. But this boy had his paper soaked in self-criticism. His sentences were emotionally filled and heavy. He was stressed, anxious and afraid. 

‘Mr. Cliff, I cannot tell you why I had the guts to say such a thing. Especially in a paper, but I believe that you are not one to judge me. I would love to talk with you sometime. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to say what is truly on my chest. I’m gay, and I can’t change that.’

I licked my lips feeling them burn after being chapped for so long. 

“Why yes Justin, I would be delighted in listening to you.” My words were hollow sounding, but I was still enthused.

 I finished the rest of the papers and went to bed. Sadly, I wouldn’t be able to see Justin til next week, but I didn’t mind waiting. 

The days passed quickly and eventually I went to bed wanting to be well rested for the morning.  “Justin, how I hope you have a pure soul.”

The morning was abrupt and short lived. My neighbor awoke me by knocking on my door. The people above were aggressive in their steps and my mother had turned the volume up on the television for her favorite news station. I let my neighbor in, then swept passed her giving her a husky “Good morning,”.

 The short lady had the duty of taking care of my mother and cleaning my apartment. She had been absent for the past few days due to personal issues but I was interested to see how well she could tidy up my place in a matter of hours.

 The morning was chilly. A light fog was layering the air and a sprinkle of rain dotted my round glasses. My suit was heavy but I smiled because I wasn’t bothered by the rain or dreary atmosphere. Instead I was looking forward to meeting with my student. He reminded me of a previous student I had before.

The day dragged on and I was social with the other staff members, patient with my students and polite to the new woman that would occasionally stop by with sandwiches. 

The last bell rang for the day and I couldn’t help but let my chest flutter with excitement. The feeling itself was faint but I think I was enjoying it.

There was a knock on my door and I listened to the slow swing of its opening. 

“Professor?” came a small voice.

“Come in Justin.” I answered, I had started erasing my board making sure to not leave a single marking behind. I had the bad habit of keeping my room abnormally clean. 

Justin came to stand by my desk and I took in a quiet breath. 

“So tell me, how long have you known?” I asked setting down the eraser and faced the boy dusting my hands onto my pants. His eyes were averted and lips pushed to the side. He was thinking.

“Since I was little I guess, I’ve always known I was different but I never thought that it was wrong.”

“What makes it wrong? It’s your mindset.” I cut in. Justin brought his head up and looked at me with shock. 

“You, don’t think there’s anything wrong with me?” He asked letting his emotions flash through his face.

“Have a seat,” I gestured for my leather swivel chair and Justin hesitantly did as was told. I looped around my desk and leaned against the hardwood. 

“Justin, you remind me of another student I once had. Tell me, what is it you want to do in the future?”

Justin’s hands started to sweat but he answered with maturity. “I’m studying to become a lawyer. I have a girlfriend, and I’m hoping one day after my schooling, we can get married.”

“So you would like to become a part of society in a normal way? You aren’t going to try to push your beliefs into the world?”

“No sir, I have no desire to do that.” He reassured me. “I feel bad for my girl, but I’m sure one day she’ll understand. Plus I believe she may already know.” He added quietly.

I hummed with approval, “Keep it that way.” I stood tall and stretched, letting my round glasses slip down my nose. Justin furrowed his brows in confusion and spoke his mind. 

“Mr. Cliff, what did you mean, ‘I reminded you of another student’?”

My arms fell down to my side and I smiled at the boy. “ It’s best if you don’t know. I’m proud of you Mr. Showl. You have shown maturity and I see you have a bright future. Do what you can for society.”

Justin stood and shook my hand then left the room slightly uncomfortable but confident in himself. I took another look around my classroom then neatly packed my things up making sure that my pencils were in identical and parallel positions. I made sure all my papers for the next day were stacked in a small pile and that all the chairs in the room were facing the correct position. 

After being satisfied with everything, I left. 

Stepping outside I was confused on the vast difference of weather there suddenly was. This morning it was dull and brisk but as the day went on it seems the sky decided to shift.

The world was bright, and for once I took appreciation for my blindness. Things were getting harder to see but I didn't mind. Who would want to see the shattered reality of life anyways?

A week had passed once again, and it was time I would have to see Emilia.

“Mr. Cliff, welcome back.” She said sitting by the windowsill. Her eyes were glued on something beyond the glass.

“Thank you for such a warm greeting.” I replied entering the room and finding my respectable spot.

“Ah, you seem to be in a good mood.” 

I listened as she shifted in her chair. I could tell she had lost focus on whatever it was outside and was now fixated on me. I heard as she rolled up to me and let out a sigh.

“Do I?” I asked, letting cockiness spill from my being.

Emilia nodded, “Yes, though this is peculiar for you. After all, most like you find it hard or even impossible to feel anything.”

“Well, it must be the fact that one of my students opened up to me a few days ago.”

Emilia gave a disbelieving look. “You and I both know that not what it really is.”

I grinned impressed. She really was figuring me out quickly. 

It's true I was lying. I could never simply be happy over such a trivial occurrence. Instead I was reminiscing about the thoughts of the boy Justin reminded me of.

“A student you say, wasn’t there a boy at your collage that committed suicide? It’s such a shame. He was a prodigy. A great mind behind innocence.” she said letting her voice trail off in a sort of sadness.

“A guilty mind. Great, but guilty.” I hissed while correcting her.

Emilia sat back in her chair and set the brakes on her wheels. “Explain.” 

“He was a lot like Justin,” I began. “A brilliant student, a full life ahead of him. But both share the same secret.”

“He had a secret?” Emilia asked, raising her brows.

“Emilia,” Her name rolled off my tongue. “He was gay.” This comment made the air in the room go stale. She was understanding but confused.

 I continued, “ He came out to me after a lecture of mine. He was asking permission to drop my class, there were some boys who were mocking him constantly during my lectures. We sat and talked for a little bit before he left.” 

“What did you talk about?” Emilia pushed.

“He was telling me that he wanted to die. To end his life. I tried to tell him not to and he sort of listened to me.” My voice trailed off as I recalled him rushing out of my lecture room. “He was going off about wanting to show the world what it felt like to truly be gay. To be different and discriminated against.” I knew my knuckles were turning white as I clasped them in anger.

“Did this bother you?” Emilia asked, trying to observe my reaction.

“I couldn’t tell you.” I lied. “After all, we psychopaths lack most emotions, as you stated earlier.”

“Alright, how about, do you know where he went?”

I lied again, “No, I had assumed he went back home or one of the campus apartments.

“I see,” Emilia said. She marked something down and peeled her eyes away from me.

I slowly felt myself ease into the memory. The seventeen year old prodigy standing in front of me, inside my classroom. His frustration coming out through his cutting sobs. “I will show the world! I will show them all! I’m going to scream it from the roof, I’ll kill myself if that’s what it takes.” He proclaimed. 

“I dare you.” I said, challenging him. 

The boy’s face grew red and I followed him out the doors. No one was in the hall to witness us. No one was there to watch us rush up the stairs. No one was around to witness his insecurity.

 “Professor, I’m not ready to die.” He said as he climbed onto the ledge. 

“That’s not what you said a few minutes ago. Just think, you killing yourself will show the world that gays and those just like you are being discriminated against.” My smirk grew as I focused my attention on the boys' backs. Most would think about his past of difficulties, the pity and disapproving discussions.  But I couldn’t have cared less.

“Am I making a difference?” His voice was raspy and I could tell he was afraid.

“Unfortunately,” I took a step forward and with the back of my hand I pushed the boy from the ledge never giving him a chance to fully understand what I was doing.

 His screams became distant quickly and I left the ledge after hearing his body hit the ground. 

Oh how I wanted to see it. 

The mangled, limp body sprawled across the school's courtyard. The way his blood would be slowly slipping out his body from fresh open wounds. I wanted to see the possibility of bones jutting through his flesh.

But sadly, I rushed back to my lecture room. I tidied up my things and was keen on making sure people saw me inside my room around the time of his death.

“I’m just glad that Justin will not try to make a difference, I’m proud of him for blending in.” My words were genuine but Emilia had a salted expression across her face.

 “Mr. Cliff, you have a smirk on your face, care to share what you’re thinking?”

I made careful eye contact with Emilia and gave her a big smile. “I guess I’m just proud of myself.”

She hummed a single note quietly to herself, and continued jotting things down. Time passed by slowly but shockingly I wasn’t bored yet. I looked over to the looming clock and listened to it unmistakable clicking. 

“Emilia, we still have some time, would you mind telling me a little about yourself ? It only seems fair.”

My ‘therapist’ looked at me with curious eyes but a warm expression. “What is it you would like to know? Just know that I do still want to talk about you and your mother’s relationship.” She closed her notepad and set it neatly in her lap waiting for my response.

“It seems we may have a fair trade. With every question I ask, you may ask one in return. Deal?”

“Deal,” Emilia sang, letting a bright light flicker within her eyes.

I began, “Why is it that you chose to take me on as a case? I’m fairly certain you had the choice to object, no?” 

“Why yes I could’ve rejected you, but I guess I was drawn to the oddity of your circumstances.” 

Her answer was simple and I enjoyed it.She knew how to add an element of mystery.

“Now, Mr. Cliff. You have made it obvious about your past with your mother. The abuse and other unsettling events that took place while you were still a small child. Anyone in your place would have taken the chance to run and escape that literal Hell. Yet, according to medical and financial reports on file, she is living with you. Why is it that you cling to her in her last dying days?”

“My dear Emilia, I would have assumed you of all people to figure it out.” I said biting my inner cheek. “I keep her around because I want to see her die.” 

Emilia shifted and nodded. “I see,” 

“I too, looked into some files about you.” I said taking my turn once again in this conversation.

“Really? And what is it you found on me?” Emilia asked, seemingly slightly intrigued on my curiosity about her. 

Her backstory was thrilling. The perplexity of it captivated my attention and I couldn’t help but question her again. “On the day we met, I accused you of murdering your family. Please tell me again. Your trauma. Just so I can re-examine the facts.”

Emilia straightened and I could sense that she was uncomfortable yet her strong will and stubbornness pushed her to answer. “As you may recall, I was twenty-three. My daughter was in daycare at a house not far from mine. In fact, it was just a quick hop onto a few backroads and I would be there in no more than ten minutes.”

 She paused to calm herself before getting into the gritty details. “I was rushing and missed the light. A semi truck smashed into me and I ended up trapped near the side of the road." Emilia took in a long breath drawing out her memory. “There was smoke rising from my engine and I could hardly see. A man grabbed me and pulled me from my vehicle. It exploded no less than a few seconds after. The sound richoteting in my head.” She gulped and zoned out, her eyes drawing passed me. “My son was in the back seat and I had forgotten him. My legs were numb and  while I was in the hospital my daughter and husband disappeared.” She allowed herself to regain control of her dialated eyes and she smiled at me. “Nothing else to say.”

“So it would seem.” I said in a low voice. “Yet, I find it interesting that you say ‘disappeared’ when talking about the absence of your husband and daughter. On word of mouth reports, the woman at the daycare told officers that your daughter did show up but left early with your husband around ten am. Why would he do that without mentioning it to you. And if what you say is true, and I quote, ‘While I was in the hospital my daughter and husband disappeared.’ end quote. Why didn’t you question him not coming to visit you right away. How could he have known the full incident?”

“What is it you’re implying Mr. Cliff?” Emilia asked, letting her face take a twisted expression.

The right corner of my lips lifted and I quickly gave my theory saying, “I believe, you knew your husband was going to leave and in a last minute gesture you caused an accident killing your son hoping that it would force your husband to stay by you.” 

The room was silent besides the slow ticking of the grand clock. Emilia sighed and smiled. “Ah Mr. Gregory Cliff. I can with full honesty say, You are wrong.” Her words stabbed my pride and to a point, offended me. I was drawn back by her behavior but couldn’t help but agree with her. Her sigh of relief proved to me, I had made an incorrect theory so therefore it was nothing more than a false idea.

“So tell me.” Emilia started, “What is it like having your mother live with you? On multiple accounts, I have been told that the equipment she uses is messy. Does that bother you?”

“Yes, though Ms. Wadsworth, our neighbor who takes care of the place, does her best to tidy up a little. I, personally,  hardly speak to my mother. She is just the thing on my couch.”

“Explain to me what bothers you.” She pushed, grasping at anything I put out.

“Everything. I hate the noise and crackling of my television set. I hate smelling the urine and death just outside my door. I want to go completely blind while looking at all her medicinal equipment and instruments hanging from chairs and lying on the floor.”

“That seems a little extreme don’t you think? I mean, wanting to go blind from simply having a mess?” Emilia asked, opening her notes.

“Of course not. The obscenity of everything being exactly where it shouldn’t be. It’s cruel, vial and unwanted.”

“Mr. Cliff, are you… fastidious?” Emilia smirked at the idea of me being a ‘neat freak’.

“Why yes I am. I prefer things to be in a tidied order. Things in exact place even if I must measure it out. All dust particles must be swept away and anything that could be considered misplaced should be put in its appropriate spot immediately.” My seriousness dripped in my tone and I began to shake thinking about my apartment.

“Calm down, I apologize for bringing up such an emotional topic.”

Taking a few quiet breaths I regained composure. “My turn. I’m still not done with figuring out your hidden secrets.”

Emilia sighed with slight annoyance. “Fine but this will conclude our meeting for the week.” she closed her notebook again and put her full attention on me.

“Tell me about your husband. Why would a married man not visit his wife after such a disastrous incident?” I coughed hiding a faint chuckle fluttering inside my throat. The feeling  of not knowing was unpleasant and distasteful yet I yearned to reveal her lies. Something about her story was off. There had to be something.

“My husband was a cop for the NYPD. We were happily married for seven years, until we divorced through mail a week after my accident.He was an honest man.”

“Why the divorce? And why through mail?” I questioned hanging onto her every word.

 I realize that Emilia must feel the same way when listening to me. Having the blatant information right there in front of you. As if it were a brick wall with the facts pounded into it on finely printed sheets of paper, but never being able to get close enough to read the small print. 

“I assume, my husband refused to see me because I was the one who brought our son into death. And the divorce, calls for the same reason.”

I was silent, observing her words closely and analyzing the scene in multiple different ways. The story made sense but something about it was missing. There was a twisted element hiding between the lines.

“That’s all for today Mr. Cliff.” Emila said, turning off the small recording device. “Thomas!” Emilia called to the door and, shortly after running footsteps, in walked a round young man. 

“Yes?” He spoke hesitantly but remained calm.

“Mr. Cliff and I are done talking, please assist him outside.” She said moving her chair towards the window.

“Of course Ms. Emilia.” He strided into the room and I took a stand.

“Till next time my dear.” I said bowing my head to the refined woman.

“I’ll be counting down the days.” She replied sinisterly and we both shared a chuckle as I was escorted out of the room and into the familiar hallway.