Duality: The Tortured Life Of Connor McNeely

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a small segment about the mental breakdown of a man named Connor............

Submitted: December 21, 2007

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Submitted: December 21, 2007

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It’s late around midnight. Connor McNeely is quietly sitting in his office chair at his computer desk. He has a modest apartment with very few furnishings, other than a computer desk a small loveseat, and a small TV opposite the loveseat. He is seated looking across the room into the kitchen area that is dimly lit by a defective halogen bulb above the sink. He is wearing the sweater he was wearing the last time he held her, “Serena.” he says to himself as he takes a big long whiff of her smell that still lingers on the sweater. He hasn’t washed that sweater in about three weeks, and every night when he returns home from his dead-end disappointing job as a bank teller he dons this sweater to smell that sweet smell of lavender. Why he let her get to him so much he doesn’t know, but he can’t forget about her nor can he let her go. Connor feels pathetic, the demons he holds in so tight make him cower from other people. He wants to let go but he can’t, He fears what might happen if it were to come out again. He shudders at the thought as takes a drag from his cigarette striving to forget the past and trying to forget her, when it happens. The familiar ring in his ear, the sound that haunts him with ever growing volume. He begins to hug himself flexing all his physical muscles trying to restrain what he feels welling up. Then suddenly a deep guttural voice much like the hiss of a serpent mixed with broken glass sounds from somewhere in the back of his mind quickly burning its way through to the front, “WHY DO YOU DO THIS? LET IT GO.” Instantly Connor gets a headache, and begins to hold his head in his hands. “COME ON LET ME OUT, I WANNA PLAY!”, the voiced hissed again. Connor tries to choke down the lump that has developed in his throat but can’t. Connor suddenly feels everything go black. Connor opens his eyes to an abnormally bright room, he is in his apartment in his bedroom. He is wearing one of his very few expensive outfits, it is all wrinkled and torn in a couple of places with spots of blood on it. Oh my god Connor thinks as he surveys the current state of his clothes. Connor suddenly starts to feel the thundering in his head as if a herd of elephants is trampling about in his skull. He looks to the nightstand adjacent to the bed in which he is laying to find both an empty bottle and a half empty bottle of Vodka. He rises out of bed and unsteadily makes his way to the open doorway, on his way out of the bedroom he notices a bloody had print on the door frame. As he looks to his hands he notices that the are covered in blood. Connor falls to his knees and begins to weep. It has been several years since Christophe was in control, but he was always there in the back of Connor’s mind. Connor decided that the best thing to do was clean himself up and go to work, all the while keeping an eye to the news because Connor fears that Christophe may have gone too far this time. About an hour and a half later, it’s nine twenty-five and Connor briskly walks through the door of The First Citizens State Bank. This is the first time in over nine years that he has been late, he can feel the surprised stares of his fellow employees. There is something else as well, something he can’t quite put his finger on. As he walks passed the teller window with Serena’s name on it he is surprised not to smell the haunting and delightful smell of lavender. He is even more surprised to see that she is not there, however there is a small yellow ribbon fashioned into a bow draped across her teller stand. On his way to the time clock Connor is stopped by his boss Susann Blaggart, and a man wearing a suit and tie, nothing special just a simple and affordable black suit with an equally indistinguishable tie. “Hey, Connor, umm this gentleman is with the police and he would like to talk to you in my office.” Connor was obviously very apprehensive and a little concerned by this, wondering it had anything to do with the activities of Christophe. Connor was ushered into the small office, not fitting for the president of a bank but the small office equally matched the small bank. Susann left the Police Officer and Connor alone and shut the door behind her. The Officer introduced himself as Detective Mark Hannamen with the Homicide division, instantly upon knowing this Connor begins to sweat a little. Detective Hannamen asks Connor several question regarding his activities last night, which Connor skillfully avoided by stating he fell asleep around midnight after eating a TV dinner. “Okay, what is your relationship to Serena Watson?” , Connor was shocked by the question, “umm….. I’ve worked with her for the past year, Why?” The Detective, who appeared to be in his mid to late thirties which would have put him about ten years older than Connor, narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. Maybe it was Connor’s fidgety behavior or his response that made the Detective appear quizzical. “Well,” The Detective said, “Miss Watson was found about four this morning, her throat had been cut. She was also missing a few appendages.” The Detective obviously was lacking the bed-side manner department, or maybe he was just trying to shake Connor down. Connor was distraught both for the fact that the one person he ever loved had just been murdered and the fact that he may have been the cause of the murder. Suddenly that awful voice raced through Connor’s head, “it wasn’t me pal.” “Are you alright,” It appeared that Connor had drifted for a moment. Connor began wondering what kind of monster could have done this if it was not him. As if The Detective could read his mind he said, “ we found the murder weapon, a butcher knife, a bum was using it to try and open a tin can the next alley over from where Miss Watson was found.” “I was just wondering Mr. McNeely, why would Miss Watson be on 122nd street at approximately one in the morning.” Connor began wondering was she coming to see me?, being as Connor lives on 128th street. Connor’s wondering didn’t stop there, what would have happened if she would have came? The Detective interrupted his wonderings for a moment by saying, “Is it true that you and Miss Watson are romantically involved,” “Umm…… we were but that has been over for a few weeks now.” The detective got up from the desktop where he was seated during the questioning. “Well that’s all I need for now, you’ll give me a call if you can think of anything else won’t you?” he slides a business card to Connor. Connor shakes his head yes and exit’s the office. The rest of the day is a blur to Connor, until he enters his apartment, which smells like the ammonia he used to clean the blood from the door frame and the refrigerator door which he discovered as he was about to leave this morning. “you are one sick puppy, you know that?” the horrible haunting voice racing through his mind once again. “hey over here.” The voice appeared to come from a mirror hanging above the loveseat. Connor went over to it. He only saw himself, but then his reflection spoke, but the voice was not his, it was that horrible hateful burning hiss. “YOU SURPRISED ME LAST NIGHT YOU REALLY DID.” “what?” Connor’s head began to spin and fill with flashes of distorted memory, and screams. “I WAS ALL PREPARED TO DO WHAT NEEDED TO BE DONE, AND THEN THE WEIRDEST SHIT HAPPENED. YOU TOOK OVER, DON’T YOU REMEMBER. BUT IT WAS LIKE WE WERE ONE.” An evil smile is spreading across the face of Connor’s reflection. Suddenly an image along with a tortured scream flashed through Connor’s mind. It was the image of the earrings he had gotten for Serena, the scream echoing through his mind was Serena, “No Connor!” Connor began to feel sick, looking up to his reflection it was pointing toward the refrigerator. Connor stumbled over to it puking and gagging along the way. Connor screamed as he opened the refrigerator, for the awful sight that is in front of him, an ear, with the earring of Serena Watson in it. Connor ran back to the mirror but all he saw was his own reflection with all the bewilderment and pain distorted expressions. The voice burns through his brain again almost dropping him to his knees. “WHY DO YOU FIGHT ME SO HARD, DIDN’T YOU ENJOY IT?” Connor gives up relaxing all his muscles and feeling a burning feeling tugging at the corners of his mind as if they were being set aflame. Taking a deep breath, they open their eyes and in a mix of Connors meek and feeble voice and the voice that has caused so much dread in Connor’s life, they say, “We are gonna have some fun now!”

 

Duality: The Tortured life of Connor McNeely


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