The Never Ending Quest For Sanity

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

There were times when he lacked sleep.  Maybe it was the upcoming appointments he had with those who he was entrusted to lead back to sanity.  Helping others find their way was the highest honor he could imagine.  His attitude toward certain ones that were too needy or had severe issues that were not fixed by therapy were the ones he cast aside as less important, dismissing them as a lost cause.

However, his dreams would haunt him for the lives he had ruined over the span of his practice.  It wasn’t a difficult task to figure out that he was completely wrong for his profession and actually did have a conscience in spite of those he loathed, having driven them to an early grave.

Things began to happen that he couldn’t explain.  There was the issue of his alarms sounding at odd hours when he didn’t set the night before.  Could there be a possibility he had done so and just neglected to remember? 

Sergey was sleeping deeply, lost in the dream world when his alarm sounded.  He woke to a time of 1 AM according to his bedside clock, which was the culprit for interrupting his dreams.  He cursed it audibly and unplugged it from the wall, disabling it until he would plug it in again.  He was not able to fall asleep easily at that point which he blamed on his schedule over the course of his practice when early mornings were the norm.  He often felt he could sleep for a few decades and was not fond of the intrusion, which made him miserable in reality.  As his grandmother had told him many times as a child:

“When you woke in the night, there was usually trouble on the horizon.”

These words were echoing through his mind and he wondered how much truth lay in such a statement, theory or superstition--whatever you chose to call it.  Either way, he was determined to rest again but this wouldn’t happen this night.  It was Saturday, which was perfect for a time like this in which he would not risk being a zombie for the day, forced to stay awake during his sessions.

As he lay in bed, a small breeze caressed him, which frightened him beyond belief.  With the flip of a switch, the darkness was vanquished to reveal an open window.  Thinking nothing of it at first, he rose to close it,  As he did so, he began to think about how odd it had been indeed and wondered at that point if someone had broken in without his knowledge.  

This thought was overwhelming and in his curiosity he prepared to search the entire house for intruders, starting with the hallway but only after retrieving his gun from under the mattress.  He was a very cautious yet prepared homeowner and whatever was inside that wasn’t welcome would leave in a body bag.

He was on high alert as he ventured into the hallway, flipping the switch beside his bedroom door and aimed the gun blindly to protect against any assailant that might present a problem.  He knew that he was not acting irrationally yet wondered if he was paranoid.  He wouldn't have normally left the window ajar but wasn’t sure if he had left it unlocked, the wind opening it with the force of the gale it presented.  It had, after all, been an abnormal season for the weather.  It was almost as though Chicago had moved to St. Paul with wind so incredibly strong that windows were broken in various parts of the city keeping the insurance claims plentiful, the agents getting fat on the pockets of those who were inconvenienced.

Was there any reason to doubt his suspicions?  He wasn’t sure but it was always better to ensure that you were completely safe in your own home.  After all, people were desperate at times, leaving no room for a breach of security.

In the main room of the house, he flipped another switch and the room presented a light that was blinding to his not yet adjusted eyes.  He could feel the atmosphere change and knew he wasn’t alone in the house.  In a nearby hall closet, he heard something crash.  He quickly turned on his heels and approached the only closet in the hall.  He laughed to himself at the stupidity of whoever had decided to hide inside.  Not announcing his presence, he cautiously placed his hand on the door knob and quickly turned it clockwise, jerking the door open and aiming the gun into the closet, ready to pull the trigger.  What he found was something he was convinced was a cruel joke but who had left it there was beyond his understanding.  He wondered who had been in his house and left a calling card on the floor.  He found no one inside and, looking over his shoulder one last time for anything that would pose a danger, bent over to pick up the mysterious item that he recognized immediately.

It was a letter his ex wife had written upon leaving and had never presented it to him.  He began to wonder why it lay on the floor and began to think in his mind that perhaps his ex wife had left it in a box on purpose that he may one day know why she left even though he didn’t remember why she had done so.

He sat on the couch, the light from the hall bright enough to read the letter that was his remaining memory of Ilse.  It was a bittersweet event and he was unsure if he wanted to relive that night.  He began to read and soon knew the reasons why she had left.

He was nothing more than an abusive alcoholic in her eyes and was worse than her father.  

Those were severely wounding words to read and he read further.  

She wished she had never met him and her life would have one less heartabhe because he was the worst mistake anyone could make and she was completely stupid for falling for the wrong man who she had given herself to on their wedding night.

Those words were not nearly as painful as the final lines he read.

She had found another man in another city far away that would love her as she needed and she had never cheated but decided to call him that night and arrange to meet so she could get her mind right and attempt to forget his memory, however hard that may have been.

As he sat on the couch, numb from the letter, he released it from his hands and it fell to the floor, the crinkling of the paper the only sound in the house.  There was no Ilse, there was no hope and he was worthless.  

He didn’t want to think anything positive of himself at this point.  Sergey was hurt beyond what he could fathom and knew that it would be a matter of time before he would ever even bear the sight of his own reflection.  He was truly the worst man in the universe and deserved death.

What fear did he have without a belief in Heaven, Hell or God?  The emptiness he felt began to form an avalanche of sorrow and soon he was lost in the sea of regret and self loathing.  It was almost as though it were the next morning all over again except he had answers instead of enigmas that had provided closure.  

Then again, did he ever really have closure?

There wasn’t much more to think about.  The truth was that he had messed up and there was no repairing the damage he had caused.  He was more remorseful of...well, it was hard to pinpoint the exact nature of his wrongs.  However, he knew deep inside that the bottle was to blame and what was worse is that he had allowed it to rule him freely, disregarding everything he knew and loved.

After an hour of deep thought, he decided to return to bed even though it was 5 AM and the sun was going to peek over the horizon soon.  This was a sight he would not welcome this morning, the mere thought of sunshine sickening him more than it ever had.

He soon was in the bedroom again and drew the curtains forward, the thin white fabric doing very little to keep the light from pouring through his east window with a definite presence that signaled it was time to wake up to another day.  He covered his head with a thick blanket and attempted to sleep.  The night had been too taxing on his mind and soul.  This would keep him in a state of depression of which he wasn’t sure he could recover.  However, he had to leave his baggage at the door to help others and to separate the drama from home from his office.  If he failed in this, he would probably turn to his clients for counseling and lose them, quite sure their thoughts would signal that he was unfit to see them or needed a vacation.  

If they only knew what he was now facing in his personal life, they would excuse his state of mind.  However, no one understood, including his secretary.  He was sure sleep would be elusive but struggled to rest.  He was a rather patient man who was willing to give the attempt a chance to happen.  

After an hour and a half, which was more time than he thought he would need, he was unsuccessful.  He was exhausted in his soul most of all which was a feeling he had not felt in years, especially to this magnitude.  He gave up and rose from the would-be slumber, convinced he was cursed to never sleep again.

He didn’t want to deal with anything and was opposed to any contact with anyone in any way.  He considered turning his phone to silent or even powering off the device, sending the world a message that he did not provide the next breath in their lungs, despite what they assumed he could really do.

TV was his companion today and he pondered the possibility of a film that may take his mind away from such a thing as this.  No matter how he tried to put it to the side or push it in the back of his mind, it seemed to keep appearing at the forefront, taunting him...reminding him...plaguing him. 

As he watched for a few moments of a movie he had recently purchased, his phone flashed with the alert an incoming call was awaiting his answer.  He ignored the call and had 2 options for the would-be pest:  text or leave a voice message.  Whoever the unlucky victim of his rage would be if they called again, they would be sorry they had bothered him or had the wrong number.  After a few more calls, he was annoyed as well as enraged.  He would be certain to make the inconvenience permanently eliminated.  He angrily paused the movie and answered the phone rather gruffly.

“What do you want?!”  This was quite the rude greeting to one who may have required his help, but he didn’t seem to care at this point.

“Woah, calm down!  What’s wrong?”  The voice was familiar but Sergey couldn’t place it.  Unfortunately, this person had the right number but didn’t know that after 3 attempts it was best to leave the person alone.

“What business do you have calling me?!  Also, why do you care?!  When I get my hands on you, I swear I will--”

“Sergey, whatever is bothering you, it will be ok.  I just thought I would tell you I did it again.”  Sergey was suddenly calm due to fascination at the act.  He had never wanted to do anything like he suspected so strongly in his life, wishing he had pulled the trigger.

“Is it what I think it is?”  He was now calmer and back to his regular mood.  Maybe a little time beyond the walls would be a service to him.  Perhaps he could enjoy lunch in a restaurant rather than a drive thru.  It was the perfect excuse to leave but he was curious about the situation that had been presented to him at this very moment.

“It is.”  The reply was a relief in a way and he quickly reached for his keys.

“Where are you?”

“The warehouse at the edge of town.  I’m out in the county.  You need to see this, I did a better job than last time.”

It was none other than the man of the cloth who had decided to eliminate the drug connections single-handed.  Sergey figured he might be able to find medicine for his troubles in the pockets of the fallen and was soon on his way.  He knew the exact location and didn’t waste any time yet keeping out of the eye of power hungry police who would take radar along the road which he was traveling.  Though there was normally no one there to catch the speeding vehicles, today could have been an exception.  

The man of the cloth was smiling as Sergey parked.  Soon, he met with him and was led to a room inside the abandoned warehouse that was the perfect place to murder those who were trespassing on the wrong property on the wrong day, falling victim to the fate that was dealt.  It is also where drug dealers would meet to exchange shipments that would supply the entire county as well as 4 others.  Why the police avoided this particular area was a mystery but people who trespassed were often taught a lesson with the loss of their lives.  

“How long did it take?”  Sergey didn’t have any other questions he felt were worthy to ask.  He was in awe at how the precision was perfect, almost as though a skilled, seasoned murderer had taken out the garbage.  He was somewhat pleased and didn’t know any other way to feel.  He did admire a superb kill but today he was not overjoyed as he usually would be, but rather fiending for his drugs.  “Let’s see if this was a worthy task.”  

He began to search the pockets of the now cold corpse that lay before him.  One that had been alive, flooding the counties with poison was now laying before their feet, no longer a threat.  This was a very unreal reality and one that he could not believe  was a reality at all.  In the hip pockets he discovered the usual ounce of m*******a.  He thought for a moment and, ensuring the zip lock bag was sealed tightly, was now in possession of the contraband, his actions unnoticed.  He was thankful and was sure it would come in handy later to soothe his pain.  As he cleared the pockets of all the fallen that he had not noticed before, he had quite the pharmacy at his disposal.  He was like a kid in a candy store at Christmas, and that was putting his degree of joy lightly.

“Well, that’s just more progress in the war on drugs, don’t you think?”  He had returned with a bag of lye, but not just one.  He had managed to lift 100 pounds onto his shoulder, determined to destroy the evidence.  

“I would say it is.”  Sergey was amazed and was glad he came for his monthly supply.  With all the drugs he would need to feel numb, he bid farewell and returned home, a smile across his face that nothing could wipe away.