Tandem (Short Story)

You’re weak. Punish yourself.

The voice in my head was giving off the first signs of a psychotic break. I couldn’t ignore it, it was too strong and insistent. I had to act; I couldn’t control it. I ran to the bathroom and grabbed the razor. Bringing it to my forearm, I started my daily ritual. Blood was dripping from my arm, the voice silenced.

Good. This is what I needed.

Suddenly my father came into the room. I quickly tried to hide the blade but forgot about the blood on the floor. It was too late; he had already seen the red traces on the otherwise white tiles.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I remained silent, observing my father’s expression. His face turned red and tears started forming, I could not tell if out of sadness or anger. They disappeared quickly and his gaze turned to hate. He grabbed me and threw me out of the room. He was screaming, more and more by the second.

“I told you I wouldn’t tolerate this anymore! This was your last chance, get out! I mean it!”

I could feel the beginning of a headache. My father yelling, my mother crying, the voice coming back stronger than before. I didn’t let my father tell me twice, I ran out of the house banging the door. The noise echoed in the valley, frightening the dogs. Their howls echoed as my father continued screaming from inside.

“Don’t you dare come back you are a fucking psycho!”

I started crying. I put my headphones on and ran full speed to my bike. I instantly started cycling, no direction and no final target. The valley was large, I knew if I went uphill, I would soon find a trail for the mountain. I needed to escape.

You are alone and useless. No one will ever accept you.

I tried to ignore the voice, but my thoughts were getting darker and darker. I continued pedalling, almost automatically. The trail was steeper, and I was running out of breath, but I had no intention to stop. I stumbled across a rock and the bike wobbled. I was tired.

It is what you deserve.

My leg muscles were starting to burn. I had been riding for about an hour and the trail was getting harder by the second. I felt aimless, tired. I had to continue. Even if I was tired, I had nowhere to go but up.

You are broken.

I felt a fracture in my psyche, suffering. I remembered the time I threw a punch at a mirror and shattered my reflection. My mind felt shattered, random phrases looping around my disconnected thoughts. I was rapidly losing touch with reality. The voice did not stop, ever. I started crying out of despair, screaming into nothingness.

You are a failure. A human piece of shit.

The voice was getting meaner once more, unbreakable cycles of words of hate. I started riding even faster, ignoring how exhausted I felt. The trail had become tighter, but I barely noticed, eyesight blurred by tears. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, making my muscles tremble, and generating a singular state of absolute franticness. I felt empty, hopeless.

You’re not worthy of life.

My breath was abandoning me, I was almost at the top of the trail and it this was the hardest stretch. My body was failing my, I hade been biking for over three hours by now. I tried to focus on my breath to help myself: in, out, in out… It was useless, it actually made things worse. The steep hill seemed endless.

You are poison. You infect people.

My sweaty hand slid on the handlebar. I wiped them dry on my jeans one at a time. I tried to concentrate on the wind, anchoring me to something concrete. I whistled in my ears, refreshing my sweaty forehead and drying my tears. It wasn’t enough though; I didn’t feel better.

You deserve to die.

My legs were giving out, but I could not stop. I had nothing left if not fragments of a tormented soul.

You will never be normal.

I kept crying, rivers of tears streaming down my face. I proceeded on the trail, to dissociated to take my surroundings into account.

You’re sick. Wrong. Kill yourself.

Suddenly, I knew where to go.

Kill yourself.

I rode to the nearest cliff.

Kill yourself.

I could see it, it started riding faster.

Kill yourself.

It was a matter of seconds, I got ready for the jump.

Kill yourself.

—

Pain, I felt pain. I tried to pull myself up, but realized it wasn’t possible. I felt something hurting my side, probably a rock. It did not take long for me to realise it was only a matter of time. A pool of blood surrounded me, probably from the concussion. I could feel my consciousness slipping away and it was clear that without aid, I would not make it. I smiled; the voice was finally silenced.

I closed my eyes, appreciating the feeling of calm and surrender I was finally able to feel. I concentrated on the bird’s chirping as I slowly passed out. I was ready to accept death, then my phone vibrated.

It had somehow survived the fall in my pocket, it was my father.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted, please come home to us. We love you.”

I remained silent, staring at the phone. I was once more crying. I was tired, tired. My eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they slowly shut.

You’ve almost made it. You are at the end.

I rebelled.

“Shut up!”

With my last remaining strength, right before passing out, I sent my father my location and called 911.

Yours sincerely,

Dysfunctional Girl