Insane Guilt

Chapter One

Blink

Crazy? If you wish to call me that, you may. But be aware that I'm an oversensitive, ill-minded freak ready to react on impulse at any time with any given remark. No, I'm just kidding. I'm used to being called that by now.

Or am I?

You see, what you don't know is... I'm not the crazy one. I never was. It was my father. It was all him. He's the crazy one. Not me. I swear. There. Does that sound crazy enough to you? Ready to judge me now? Pick your choice. Am I crazy or not? You decide. You choose. You choose because I don't know anymore. I've forgotten a long time ago... So what is it? All that's left is the question, the equation - no answer, no solution. I am equal to nothing because I don't know. I don't know. Jesus Christ, I don't know.

Silence. We're picking up our feet and putting them back down again - me and Kyx. We're proceeding up the steps in perfect, absolute silence. The sun, the heat, is pressing against my cheek. I assume I just passed a window. It's another one of those moments where I don't know where I am again...

Let me tell you something good - something worth your while. If you don't like the looks of the world, black it out. Black it all out. Get rid of your eyes. It's guaranteed to work. I did and look where it has gotten me: now my name mocks my very existence.

How ironic it is that my name is Blink and yet I am as blind as a bat. Isn't that something? Yup, you heard right. B-L-I-N-K. Blink is my name. And yes, I am blind. I don't have any eyes. Isn't that so strange and unusual? Don't you wish you were just like me?

Dust lingers in the air. If you have eyes, you can see it. I know this from past experience. Whenever the sun's real hot, it's shining. It shines right through the window and only then and there can you see the dust. It's weird.

I don't know what time of the day it is, but I'm guessing it's evening. I don't even know what day it is itself, but I'm guessing it's Wednesday. How I can make assumptions like this, I don't know. But it's the only thing I can do most of the time. There are only few little things I can be certain of. Kyx is with me. I know this because I can hear his footsteps along with my own. We're going up steps. I know this because I am doing it and so is he because I can hear him. It's hot, and I know this because I can feel it. So, basically, I can only feel, smell, hear, and taste my surroundings. It may sound difficult, yes, but I've grown used to it. I've grown used to living like a mole.

We made it to the top of the steps. Kyx stopped, and so did I. A doorknob turned and a door squeaked open.

"Ah, home sweet home," I heard kyx say. "To your right, sweetheart - that is where our humble home awaits."

I followed him inside as directed to.

Kyx was my eyes. He told me where to go and where not to go. He pointed me in the direction I needed or wanted to go in. Without him around, I'd be helpless. I hate admitting it, but I know it's true. It's true and I know it is.

"Is there somewhere to sit?" I asked.

"Try your left."

I did. I brushed my hand against an arm of a couch and felt my way to the cushions, seating myself there. I was almost certain that the couch was old and dirty. My right hand could feel cotton sprouting from one cushion where a tear was apparent. And inside the room was the stifling smell of total suffocation. You could die if you didn't breathe hard enough. I suppose that's what caused me to sigh so hard just now.

"Aren't you going to ask what our new home looks like, darling?" Kyx asked.

I wish he's stop acting like we're married or whatever. It's annoying.

"So? Go on with it," I said.

He sat down beside me. I felt the cushions move from underneath me the instant he sat down next to me.

"Well," he began, "we have a few broken windows, an old torn-up couch, a bit of cobwebs, stained carpet, a small table, and a refrigerator that doesn't work. Oh, it's just perfect. I wish you could see it, darling. I truly do. It's all I ever dreamed of."

He was joking, of course. And because he was, I could tell he was smiling. I didn't need eyes to figure that out. All I needed to do was listen to his voice - listen to the feelings that were in his voice - and then... There. His amused voice told me he was smiling. But I didn't do this with just Kyx. No, no, I did this with everybody. I could listen to anyone's voice. I could determine anyone's expression - just by the the feeling, the mood, the tone of their voice. It wasn't just Kyx.

"What about a bed?" I asked.

"Possibly in the other room."

I listened to what seemed to be bottles clanking into each other, and when I felt one press against my arm, the cool, moist feeling awoke my dreaming-self. The bottle was dripping with sweat.

"Want one?" Kyx offered.

"No thanks."

"Suit yourself."

Alcohol. I didn't know what it was until I smelled it's horrid stench. Kyx was drinking it.

"This wasn't the brand I intended to steal...," Kyx said to himself on a frown. He put the bottle down onto the floor.

There was a long length of silence.

I slipped into another one of my dreams.

What do you think people run away for? Some could run away from embarrassment while others could run away from fear. It's harmless to say that it's true. We all run away from such things at one point or another. But what me and Kyx run away from is something much more different. We're running away from our own kind, and we're running away from where we belong. It's different. And now all we can do is scurry from one apartment building to the next. Call it home, and then leave it. Leave the same fucking place that always feels and looks alike. And then all you want to do is stop there. But you have to go. You have to go. People will find you if you don't. It's almost like you're a mouse on a wheel. You run and you run and you run - but let's face it: you're never going to get anywhere. What's the benefit? You're getting exercise. You're losing weight. Weight you have no need to lose. You're almost under 100 pounds - almost under 100 ponds - and you just might be 18 years old, hell if I know. Does that sound like the average weight of an 18-year-old male? Does that sound like I need the exercise to you?

Tch. Insane, that's what it is. That is what I am. And Kyx is no different. I'll bet that man is as skinny as a toothpick. One poke could easily snap either one of our bodies... We were constantly starving; stealing was the only way for us. We had to steal food because we had no jobs; we had no money. It was hard enough just risking ourselves for the food we needed... And sometimes when the risk was too high, we couldn't that food. We had to starve. We had to suffer. We had to suffer while the bile from within slowly corroded our flesh from the inside-out. Or so, it felt like it. Living was not an easy task...

It wasn't much longer until I heard Kyx's voice rise again, putting one last input into the conversation - before it finally ended...

"One more thing... The place has an emergency exit, just like the ones before it... I made sure of that..."

But that wasn't all he had to say, because shortly after, he began adding more.

"It won't be long now until we're out of this damn city... Then, maybe, we could finally stop running... And start a whole life anew. We can only hope, anyway..."

And that was it. I heard no more of Kyx after that.

I sat there, reviewing the things that he had said. The chances we slim - for us leaving the city... Cops were everywhere - and we were wanted. There was little hope between us... We could easily get caught, and Kyx knew this just as well as I did...

Leaving this city would be difficult...

So... What do you think? Were you able to answer my question? Am I crazy or not? Take your pick.

I'll give you the answer. I'll give you the damn answer... The answer is...

Whatever you believe it to be.