Threes
One. Two. Three. I flick the light switch one and off three times. One. Two. Three. I turn the hot water knob three times. The ones who watch me are more bothered by my OCD than I am. It really doesn’t bother me. It’s not even that bad anyway – I just have to do things in threes. Anything really. I just washed my mouth out three times. I’m sure that I rinsed out all the toothpaste the first time, but better safe than sorry, right?
I’ve had OCD for as long as I can remember; back to when I was about three or four years old. I pull a box of cereal from the cupboard and then close the door. One. Two. Three. I pour myself a bowl and then put it back. One. Two. Three. After I eat breakfast I hand-wash my dishes. One. Two. Three. It’s funny, I can’t control when I do things in threes. I either do or I don’t, but sometimes when I don’t it bothers me. It feels as if someone is screaming in my ear to do something. His words are attacking my brain and I end up wanting to vomit.
Today was just a normal day for me. After work I came home and undressed myself and prepared dinner. I live in a townhouse; not the most luxurious place but it’ll do for the time being. There was nothing good on TV so I decided to head upstairs and do some light reading. I turn on my reading lamp. One. Two. Three. I’ve been reading Moby Dick these last few nights. Call me Ishmael, right? It’s actually a pretty good book. I’m about three hundred pages into it so far.
At around ten o’clock I heard something fall over in my kitchen. Was it a burglar? I heard something else fall over. I keep a gun under my mattress so I pulled it out and crept downstairs. I grabbed a flashlight before going down and turned it on as I reached the bottom floor. One. Two. Three. Who’s there? I heard the male burglar say. I saw a figure appear in the darkness. I turned on the floor lights. One. Two. Three. I chuckled. He was wearing a set of black sweats and a black ski mask. Did this guy just read the how to book on being a burglar?
I saw that he too had a gun. I raised mine as he raised his. I told him to stay still or I would shoot. He started to raise his gun and I told him to stop again. It was at waist level when the fear overwhelmed me. I shot him. One. Just in the leg, but I shot a man. He would live. My hands shook. He screamed in pain as he fell. The screaming grew louder. My head began to hurt. What was this feeling? I wanted to throw up. The world around me turned white. Two. Three.
No comments:
Post a Comment