from Hallucinations to Recovery

The ceiling fan is completely motionless. It’s the focal point of an almost pitch-black room. I focus on the small islands of dust that have gathered on the outstretched blades and wonder how long it’s been since it’s even been turned on. I haven’t stayed here in months. I want to close my eyes but I feel a presence in the room. Random noises fuel my curiosity and fear. I can’t help but pull the oversized comforter all the way up to my nose, barely peaking over the edge into the darkness.

A dim light from an old computer shines on the ceiling fan. There’s nothing that could possibly be current on the computer, but Dad still keeps it plugged in, just in case he ever wants to look for something he’s misplaced in files he’s forgotten the names to. My whole body is itching so bad that I can’t help but do full body scratches every 30 seconds. The computer screen suddenly turns on, and I find myself scurrying to the head of the bed against the wall.

“You didn’t deserve it. You know that right?”

It’s Momma’s voice, but where is she? I swear if I weren’t so constipated from the pills, I would shit myself right now. I hear the phrase again as I notice the light from the computer screen growing. It is slowly illuminating the entire room and the phrase is on repeat, echoing into oblivion. I can’t make it stop and I feel like my head is going to explode. It grows so loud that I can’t even hear myself think.

“STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!”

I notice my jaw is hurting from being tightly clenched. The feeling of rushing blood makes my face tingle as the wrinkles unfold and the color reenters the creases beneath my eyes. The room is still illuminated by the light from the computer, but it is filled with an eerie silence. I notice the french doors are open. It’s freezing outside and I can feel a damp wind. These doors haven’t been unlocked in years. Why isn’t the alarm going off? Maybe the censor has shorted out.

I fold the covers back and realize that my dog is no longer snoring beside me. Great. He’s my false sense of security, as if a 13-pound dog is going to guard me from any impending doom. Maybe he will sniff ‘em out and growl or something, I don’t know. He probably ran outside to pee. He might have gotten another drink of water before scratching on my door. Momma said he missed sleeping in the bed with me. Better go outside and call him.

“Elvis! Elvis, come here boy!”

Nothing. He never comes when he thinks he’s in trouble. I finally see him trot out from behind the shed in the backyard and I immediately feel a sense of relief; a flush and chill from head to toe. Instead of coming straight to the part of the back porch that leads into my room, he takes the stairs and sits attentively at my side as if to say, “All done.” I turn to walk back into the French doors but they are closed. Locked.

I look down to find that Elvis is no longer by my side and I feel my heart pounding. It’s beating so hard that my vision is blurred with every pump. At the end of the porch, where the dog came up the stairs, there are six demons staring straight through me with blood-red eyes. They’ve come to kill me. They want to finish the job. They’ve found me. How did they find me out here? My legs won’t move fast enough and I am crying. I don’t want to die. There’s so much I still want to do, and they are so close now. My lungs hurt with every cold breath and blood curdles from the inside of my throat as I fail at repeated attempts to scream. I feel twelve hands stop me in my tracks and I fall limp in their grasp. I pray that it will be as painless as before.

“Please. Knock me unconscious. Please? Don’t make me watch.”

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!” I hate it when Dad wakes me up. He’s always in such a great damn mood in the morning. He’s always in such a great damn mood in the morning. “I called Dr. Halbrook and he said he would see you as soon as we get there, so hurry up and jump in the shower. Here. I came in earlier and saw that your nose bled again last night. It’s all over your face boy. Momma’s gonna want to change that pillow case.”

“Thanks Dad. D’you get in touch with the lawyers?”

“I talked to Scott and he wants you to find out everything you can about what happened that night before we do anything else. You need to sit down and write it out on a timeline. Call Shawn, he’s the key. Scott really wants to help, but until you find out what happened, his hands are pretty much completely tied. Just get in the shower so we can get your teeth looked at, and we’ll see where we can go from there.”

This bathroom hasn’t changed a bit. My shampoo is in the same cabinet as before. Same brand. I look at my face in the mirror, carefully examining the bruises. I can’t believe those pieces of shit jumped me for no reason. My tongue is so swollen I can barely talk. I’m lucky. If my overbite weren’t so bad I would’ve bitten the damn thing straight off. I play with my nose for a bit to see if the swelling has gone down enough to set it back in place. No luck. The cartilage still floats on an underground river of puss and blood. I’ll never look the same again. It’s been eight hours since my last hydrocodone and it’s definitely time. I can tell it’s time for another pill when my jaw and teeth start hurting. Eight broken and chipped teeth are highly sensitive. I take the pill and drink some water through a straw. I have to bypass the pain somehow. The shower feels great as I wait for the pills to set in. Every time I’ve washed my hair for the past two days, I’ve started with too much shampoo. I forget that I had to cut my hair to keep my attackers from recognizing me. I finish rinsing off and the drain is stopped up. There’s a puddle of blood. What in the world did I do to deserve this? How much of my blood is even left?

The dentist’s office is filled with kids and their moms. I’m so tired of people staring at me. Believe me, you don’t really want to know what happened. I don’t want your kids to know how scary the world can be. Not yet. The constant sound of a drill grinding at teeth is driving me crazy. The world is fuzzy and all I want to do is sleep. If only I could. Hydrocodones change me. I feel the urge to do something, anything. There is a bathroom in the corner of the room. I can get a small break in there.

There’s nothing special about this bathroom. Some kid probably just finished brushing his teeth in here. The toilet paper is completely unrolled into the wastebasket. I can remember having to brush my teeth here before every visit. I haven’t had my teeth checked in a while. Maybe this will be a good opportunity to fix some cavities. I sit down on the toilet and look through my phone. Seventeen missed calls. I hope they understand. I’m not ready to talk. I’m too angry to speak with a clear mind right now.

I stand up and walk to the mirror. My left eye is almost completely swollen shut. I’m still mad at those doctors for not even giving me ice. What the hell are they there for anyway? I get sent home with a shot in the ass and they suggest Motrin for pain. Motrin for a broken freakin nose and eight chipped teeth. Maybe I should go to medical school. I can tell people to take Motrin.

I squirt some soap into my hands and reach for the faucet, but the water starts on its own. I look back up to see that my eyes are bleeding.

“You didn’t deserve it. You know that right?”

Get me out of here. The water pouring from the faucet is turning to blood and I can’t see my reflection in the mirror anymore. My feet seem to be stuck to the floor. It’s these damn shoes. I hate them. Why is that phrase repeating over and over?

“Stop it Momma! I can hear you! I heard you before, stop!”

My feet are finally free and I make a mad dash for the door, but when I open it, everything is different. The waiting room has changed. It’s much bigger now and there’s no one sitting in the chairs. Where did my family go?

“Dad? Dad!!”

What the hell is going on? The doors to the examination room swing open and there they are: six huge demons with blood-red eyes.

“Why are you here? All I want to do is get my teeth fixed. Why do you want to hurt me again?” No answer. I can’t stop crying and my jaw hurts. I can feel my heart beating in the cracks of my broken nose. There’s nowhere to run this time. They know it. They’re just walking toward me.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!!!!!”

I turn back around to run into the bathroom. Maybe there is a lock on the door. I turn the handle but it won’t open. It’s locked from the other side. I start pounding on the door and screaming. There’s blood everywhere. Suddenly the door opens and it’s my best friend.

“Shawn. They’re back. They keep coming after me man; they want to finish me off. Help! Help me! They’re afraid of you.”

“Kennon, seriously, it’s alright brodie. You just have to run straight at them. You have to show them you’re not afraid.”

“I can’t man. I didn’t even see them coming when they got me the first time. Why is this happening to me? Why did any of this ever happen to me? They want to kill me.”

“Alright, calm down. I’ve gotcha. Stay here.”

“But what are you gonn…”

“Stay here!”

He disappears around the corner with a broad sword drawn. Where in the hell did Shawn get a broad sword? My head is hurting so bad. I don’t understand. Those demons didn’t have swords, but shit they were big. Blood is spilling over the tiles in front of me. I can hear Shawn grunting with each stroke of the sword. I drop to the ground and curl up into a small ball. If I close my eyes they can’t see me. If I close my eyes they can’t see me.

“Kennon. It’s ok they’re all dead. Come on out and see. Kennon? Kennon!”


“Kennon! Wake up bud. They’re calling you.” Dad is peering at me over the top of his glasses. I must have fallen asleep in the waiting room.

“Do you want me to go back with you?” Momma’s been working on a smock outfit for my nephew. She’s so cute. She’s really getting into this whole grandma thing.

“No Momma I’m good. You can stay out here.”

“Well just go on back and we’ll come back there in a little bit. Remember to ask about your jaw. If your molars aren’t lining up, there might be something wrong besides the swelling.”

“I’ll ask him. I’ll see you in a little bit.”