I'm not the crazy one

𝟻𝚃𝙷 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚁, 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳. 

 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚍'𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢. 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚡 𝙿𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜. 

 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎. 𝙵𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.

S E S S I O N  8

I stared at nowhere, started imagining things, the memories of the past few days becoming clearer and more frightening. Each creak of the floorboards, every shadow in the corner of my vision. I'm becoming paranoid, the fear is now consuming me, eating me alive.

I remembered the telephone that had disappeared from Lindsey's room. It had to be somewhere. It wasn't just my imagination, it couldn't be. s̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶d̶a̶n̶g̶e̶r̶o̶u̶s̶. Determined to find it, I began searching the house, my fear driving me on. I needed to prove to myself that I wasn't losing my mind, s̶h̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶c̶r̶a̶z̶y̶ ̶o̶n̶e̶, that the telephone was real and not just a figment of my imagination.

I started with Lindsey's room, going through every drawer and every nook. Most of the drawers are empty, even the closet. I'm shaking with frustration. I can't move while Lindsey is awake, I had to wait and act normal the whole day which is driving me nuts.

As soon as the night fell, I started moving. The telephone had to be somewhere inside, Lindsey couldn't go outside. I made sure she can't go outside.

My search grew frantic. I looked through every closet, empty or not, opened all the drawers, and checked under furniture. Hours passed, the daylight waning as I scoured every inch of the house. The unease grew with each second, my fear rising as I failed to find any trace of the telephone. It felt like the house itself was conspiring against me, hiding the truth.

As the night covered the whole house, I was determined to continue my search. I couldn't let it go. I needed to find the telephone, to prove to myself that I wasn't imagining things. Lindsey was asleep, her door closed, and I moved as quietly as I could, not wanting to wake her.

I had searched almost everywhere, but there were still a few places left. I checked the toilet, the storage, every room I hadn't already torn apart. Hours passed and still, I found nothing. My eyesight is becoming blurry, I don't know if it's because of exhaustion or if my mind is playing tricks on me. But I couldn't stop. I had to find the telephone, I had to prove to myself that I wasn't imagining things. S̶H̶E̶'̶S̶ ̶T̶H̶E̶ ̶C̶R̶A̶Z̶Y̶ ̶O̶N̶E̶!̶

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I had to think rationally. The telephone had to be here somewhere. I once looked again in every room, now more calm.

For the second time I went into the living room, I noticed the vinyl record player. Now that I noticed it, it's quite bigger than the normal one. My eyes squinted as I walked towards it. Because it's the exact size of the top of the table, it looks normal . . . but it's not.

There I saw it, behind, there's a storage.

As I moved my hands in the small gaps, I heard a click. I didn't hesitate to put my hand inside, there I felt it. My hand brushed against something cold and metallic. 

I knew I wasn't hallucinating. Deep in my mind, I knew I wasn't the crazy one.

My heart skipped a beat, and I pulled it out. The sight of it made my blood run cold. My hands trembled as I held it, the weight of it foreign and terrifying. My eyes lost the light it had left as my expression darkened.

I wasn't greeted by the telephone I was looking for.

Instead, I found a gun.

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