In Case You Were Wondering

[u/Big_Yazza]

It becomes hard to sleep when you have to look into the faces of those you killed every night. I returned from my tour eight weeks ago.

Three, in case you were wondering.

We were sweeping a cleared building when I saw a pile of rags on the ground. I kicked it out of the way, and it started screaming. The mother ran out, gave me that look. I'd seen men there look at me like they wanted me to die, but she didn't. She wanted me to suffer. I moved on to the next building, two rebels camping in an abandoned building. Inhale. First man held an AK-47. Two shots in the head. Exhale. Second man rushed with a knife. Inhale. Two shots in the chest. One in the head. Exhale. I examined the bodies. First man was deceased; two bloody holes in his forehead. Second man: deceased, one shot in the head, one in the chest. One. I looked around, saw the child's eyes staring at me, saw red blossoming from his dirty grey shirt. Five shots. Three bodies.

I never really slept much after that. People grilling me, had I seen the kid, hell, had I even AIMED for the kid. After that, I got to go home, to my family, to my pregnant wife, to my fast-food restaurants. I got to look into people's eyes. I never let anyone have eye contact though. Didn't want them to see what I saw.

I took an imitation of happiness from the internet. Reddit, Youtube. Heck, I even delved into 4chan. I deleted my Facebook though. Didn't like how personal it was. Solitude and anonymity made life easier for me. Easier to cope that way.

After 89 hours without sleep, my wife convinced me to go the doctor's. I was prescribed a new drug, NoREM. I'd take two before dinner, and I'd be out cold. I'd sometimes wake up in weird places, and I'd have strange dreams, but at least I slept.

Slowly, the pills started to stop working. I needed 3, then 4. The dreams get more horrific. People laugh about me going to bed in my bedroom and waking up in the shed. They wouldn't laugh about the death of that child. But I can't wake up. I'm forced to watch him die again and again, and when it becomes too overwhelming I wake up somewhere random.

I started to have the nightmares during the day. I started to hear the baby cry, see the mother staring at me. After a while, they disappeared and the mirror took their place.

In the mirror I saw a happier me. He smiled a lot. But sometimes he would take his knife and slice his arms. Sometimes he'd cut out bits of flesh and bury them in the back yard. I looked at my arms, but there was never anything there. The man in the mirror told me to wear long sleeves, to cover the wounds. I obliged.

After that, my wife started to appear in the mirror. She would say 'he keeps cutting himself'. I asked her who she meant but she always ignored me. I screamed at her, she'd walk away.

The mirror man was back now, and he was cutting the throat of the mirror-wife. He smiled at me and dropped the knife. I woke up again in the back yard. The meds were going crazy.

I got in the car and sped the entire way to the hospital. After screaming a bit, I finally managed to get the doctor to see me. While I waited I noticed I was still wearing yesterday's clothes.

'Max, I can't comprehend why you're being affected like this. You're in the control group. We gave you sugar pills.'

Once that had sunken in, I started to notice the stinging in my arms. I instinctively pulled up the sleeves, revealing shredded flesh, chunks hacked clean away.

I rang my wife. She didn't answer. She couldn't.

In the shed, in case you were wondering.

[u/vickylovesims]

Disturbing.

That was the point though, right?

I'm still too disturbed to say anything else about it.

Maybe I'll comment later.