I hadn’t seen him in ten years, and here he was at my doorstep begging me to let him in. i was so compelled to help him but at the same time i wondered if he had ulterior motives.
Last time i saw him was before he was committed. He killed his brother because voices told him to. he said that, “they never stop”. He was my boyfriend a while back, my first actual real boyfriend. I loved him, and here he is, at my doorstep, in his mental hospital gown. 3843, that was the number on his gown.
“Please, you have to let me in, I’m begging you.” Insane or sane, i still loved this man, so i let him in.
“What happened?”, i timidly asked him
” I escaped”. When he told me that i had a sinking feeling in my chest, my stupidity led me to believe maybe he was out on parole, but escaped?!? I’m aiding a convicted lunatic, I’m harboring a nutjob.
While I’m talking to myself, trying to rationalize the situation, he left, i don’t know to where…before i finish that thought i realize the knife in my chest