Schizophrenia (Prolouge)

As a baby, I would awaken, crying for my mother’s calming voice. Those jeering faces, the demonic growls and laughter, they were agonizing, horrifying. I knew their source, she brought them to me, in hope that I would give up, that I would give into her demands. I resisted her, I knew I had to, if not then she would win. She couldn't win for she was evil, if she were to get out, then catastrophe.

Going into my teens gave me a better understanding of her thought system, how she worked, what she liked and disliked. To rebel against her, I got into sports and grew physically fit, track was my favorite sport. I loved the feel of the earth beneath my pounding feet, its beating heart in sync with mine. As for my popularity, I had none. I didn’t mind though, I’d rather people stay away if anyone were to get close to me she would attack them. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

Where she came from I didn’t know. I knew, however, that I couldn’t resist her forever. Eventually I had to do something, but I didn’t know that eventually also meant soon.

I figured out that if I knew what she really was then maybe I could destroy her, even eradicate her. The process was delicate, one false move and she would win. Again, I couldn’t let myself lose.

The epiphany came to me during the fall of junior year of high school. My cross country team had just faced a horrific defeat the weekend before, so I was still in a slump about that. Added to my exhaustion was the monotony of the school day.

The voices of the students around me fueled me, gave me motivation to live on. Those voices meant I was not alone in a world that had nothing. I was hoping to keep it that way, to keep her at bay.

Psychology 101 I called it, though it’s real name was just plain psychology. I took this class to maybe understand what I was going through, maybe she’s just in my head. I doubted that though, her demonic minions were just too real for them to be illusions. My nightmares were just too vivid.

Today the teacher, a plump balding man of his mid-forties or so, was giving out lectures on mental diseases. He asked the students if there were any that they would like to talk about. One timid, yet adorable child, one of the only freshmen in the class, rose her hand hesitantly, as if not really wanting to be called upon. The teacher gave her notice and through redden cheeks she softly murmured, “S-schizophrenia?”

I blinked a couple times, schizophrenia, multiple personalities! I was ecstatic, maybe it really is just me! Maybe I’m just schizophrenic! That thought sadden me though, did I belong in a loony bin? I shuddered at the thought. It explained what she was, and why it was me, but it didn’t explain those nightmares, those demons.

The teacher went on to talk about its sister disease, paranoid schizophrenia.

“Paranoid Schizophrenia,” he proclaimed, matter-of-factly, “not only does the patient have multiple personalities, but also hallucinations.”

He went on but I had cut him off after hallucinations. Hallucinations-that explained the nightmares.

I suddenly felt ill to my stomach, she didn’t enjoy this, I could tell. Her hostility towards the teacher paled in comparison to the venom towards the eager students who ate up the words of the teacher hungrily.

‘Disgusting,’ she growled reproachfully, ‘they are actually believing this bull?’

‘Who are they to think they can try to explain the unexplainable?’ She didn’t even make an attempt to hide her hatred, the waves of evil were too much for me to bear, I was slipping in between the worlds of consciousness and slumber.“-lor? Tylor?” I could here the voice calling my name, but I couldn’t place the source, my mind was too busy trying to stay awake.

“Tylor Reddingfield!” The teacher’s booming voice jolted me from my trip. The students begun to laugh, their reason unknown, and the chubby old man grinned.

“Well,” He began slowly, choosing his words carefully, “ I am glad to see at least one of my students so energetic this glorious Monday morning.”

My face grew hot.

“Take your seat.” He pushed his dinosaur size glasses up to glare at me.

The room rumbled with laughter, even she couldn’t help but at least smile. I realized the reason for the students joy and sat down in my seat which I had momentarily jolted up from. I knew that my pale white skin was tomato red.

‘Oh, how smooth you are.’ She sneered.

I looked away in hopes that I would disappear into the ground.

My mother accepted me with open arms as I trudged into the warmth of the lovely home my good-hearted father left us along with a divorce paper for my mom. If we had anywhere else to go we would have left this dump ages ago. The horrible memories of the many mistresses my father had brought into this house had been too much. The only reason I had to stay here in this rat-hole was that I couldn’t bear to leave my mother alone in this hell to suffer. I would not be like my jerk of a father.

I took in the scent of the loving woman embracing me, the scent of roses mixed with hard work and love. The beautiful scent calmed me, the scent was so powerful that it even calmed my inner demon.

“I’m sick,” I mumbled into her small frame, the statement echoed into her seemingly hollow chest.

“Oh?” She asked in that wistful way of hers that seemed to be from another world and pulled back to place a frail, gentle hand on my forehead.

I smiled softly at her gesture and looked at her with serious look.

“No,” I began slowly, “mom, I think I’m sick.”

The look in her eyes was that of confusion, then she thought over my words and her eyes went wide with realization.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks a slight pink, “well you should have just told me, no need to be secretive!” She giggled.

It was my turn to be confused as she left the room and I heard a rustling sound coming from the direction of the restroom.

My mother came gracefully into the room, a small package in her hand, a smile on her face. I paused to take a moment to look at the package. It was small, square in shape and plastic. I realized what it was and resisted from rolling my eyes.

My mother rose her arm to hand me the package, I blocked her hand, her expression went from understanding mother to confusion.

“Not that,” I began slowly, then dove into my explanation, of the class lecture, of how she was trying to destroy me, of everything.

She was listening intently, all the way to lecture, then she broke down and began to cry uncontrollably. I thought it was because she was scared for me, that she thought I needed help, but then she began to speak.

“I-I’m so s-sorry, I failed as a mother,” she began, “I couldn’t succeed in birth, that’s why you’re like this.”

I was a bit confused, her words, the way she spoke them, didn’t quite make sense. Then she took my hand, hers was cold and shaking, she took me to a room at the end of the hall. I stopped dead in my tracks.

This room, the room of wonder, as a small child I would always venture to this room, always trying to get in. my mother would always be there, screaming at me, yelling to get away. Once she saw my frightened face, she’d bend over me and hold me tight to her chest, sobbing and shaking. Now, at the age of sixteen, she wanted me to enter this room, she wanted to end the mystery once and for all.

She paused, looked at me and then, “Please, try to understand.” She pushed the door open. I walked inside, at first it was dark, and quiet, even mother’s sobbing had ceased. A click broke the silence, the light turned on, and I stepped back in shock, taking in a gasp.

A baby room, but not just any baby room, a baby room for twins. Two small cribs, identical in every way, the direct opposite of the door, the walls a soft baby blue, with a stripe of baby yellow across the middle, like a wrapped present, and beautiful little mobiles atop the cribs. To my right, there was a small T.V. against the wall, my mother stood there next to it, a small remote in her left hand. Her eyes penetrated into my soul, as if to guess my next move.

What could I do? I stood there, in confusion, I watched her and she watched me. Then she made the first move.

She turned the television on, dimmed the lights, and watched me watch the screen.

A younger version of my mother appeared onto the screen, bright faced and excited, “Honey! Honey, wait turn that stupid camera off.” Even her frown was adorable on her face.

A man’s voice answered her, “but baby, what if you have big news, or something exciting happens and the ‘stupid’ camera is off?!”

My mother’s younger self frowned and then rolled her eyes, “Fine, but listen to me! I just got back from the doctor’s, guess what?!”

Her smile grew wide, her eyes shining with excitement.

My father paused, “Hm, OK I give up, what is it?”

The younger woman on the screen was bouncing up and down with pure excitement and glee, until a large hand came out from behind the camera to clamp down on her shoulder. She stopped, still smiling, shaking now instead of jumping. The hand slightly shook her.

“Speak woman!” My father’s voice sounded annoyed, yet cheerful.

My mother closed her eyes tightly, and squealed inwardly like a fan meeting her favorite rock star.

“WE’RE GOING TO HAVE TWINS!!!!!!!!” She yelled, and broke free from the hand on her shoulder.

The screen began to shake, then became bumpy, then settled, the image now upside down.

“W-what?” answered my father, “W-what was t-that?

My mother’s younger self spun around, making her flowing skirt puff out, “Oh, Mathias! Twins, can you imagine it? If it’s two girls their names will be different by only one letter! If a boy and girl then, well, they’ll just be different!” She giggled that cheerful laugh of hers again. My father’s chuckle was hinting at bit hysteria.

“Look, look!” My mother stopped her little cheerful dance, “look at their picture!”

White noise appeared on the screen for what seemed an eternity, which it was only a few seconds. Then a different scene appeared, a sad, somber bedroom scene.

The camera was set down, a young man, my father, went to sit next to my mother on the bed. He scooped her up into his arms and consoled her.

“Honey,” He began softly, meticulously choosing his words, “It wasn’t your fault. The doctor said-“

“I KNOW!” my mother began, bitterly.

“I know what the doctor said honey, I was there too.” She continued, lowering her voice.

“I know,” she repeated softly.

My father reached a hand up to push her hair out of her face and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“I know,” she repeated, “I know, but why? Why did it happen to me?”

“Honey, maybe God is telling us that it’s not time for twins, that we’re not ready for that yet. Maybe we should just raise the one child that did survive, maybe.” My father chimed in trying to console her the only way he thought he could.

“Oh?” She snapped, “OK, yeah, maybe, and maybe you know, maybe I shouldn’t have any children! You know, maybe God will take my other child from me as well!”

My father couldn’t say anything, what was there to say when someone had just lost a child before they could even develop? How do you console a person on the brink of hysteria? How do you think to do that?

Complete silence from both people, then white noise enveloped the screen. The screen went black, the lights came back on and I fell to my knees. I nearly threw-up, I was so sick, I couldn’t believe it.

A twin? I was supposed to be a twin? I looked up at the thirty-something version of the woman on the screen, into her eyes that spoke of a completely tortured soul. She stared back and we remained like that for what seemed forever until I spoke.

“Why show her this?” wait, this isn’t my voice. My mother’s eyes went wide, she noticed it as well.

“S-sylor?” my mother was near to tears, “Sylor, baby is that you?”

“Yes.” The answer came from my own mouth.

“Oh!” My mother exclaimed, tears flooding from her face.

“Oh,” she sobbed, “I knew it was you the moment your sister mentioned you!”

“Why show her that video?” the voice was deep, yet attractive, coarse, though seductive, and a bit annoyed.

“B-because,” My mother answered nervously, “She needed to know, she needed to understand what it was that was going on with her.”

“Oh? Heh, alright then, well I’m glad you still remember me,” I started to shake, I needed my voice back, why? What happened sixteen years ago?

“Of course,” mother answered then walk into me and wrapped her arms around my body. No, excuse me my sister's body. No, mine, no it was ours, we share a body. I shared a body with this evil being, this evil being was a part of me, yet not me completely. This is it? Is this what she is?

"The doctors may say you died, but a mother knows otherwise, I know you survived, some way, I knew that you would come back to me." Our mother began to sob uncontrollably, Sylor wrapped our arms around her.

"It's alright, mother, it's alright the doctors think they know, but they are always wrong when it comes to things like this."

'And they will be made to realize their mistakes.'

"I have to go, mother."

'There's something I must do.'

"Yes, yes ok," Mother let go of me, her pathetic sobbing began dieing down to a pitiful whimper. She refused to look at me and just sat there, her hands on the floor and her legs tucked underneath her small delicate body. I stood up, and glanced at the T.V. the vile thing, I could feel my lips curl in a scowl. I was moving before I knew what was happening, I stepped over my mother's figure and in a flash threw a tightly drawn fist into the black screen. The crash awoke my senses and I could smell the blood before I even saw it. That erotic scent, the rusty metallic scent, it was intoxicating, like a drug, no more addictive then any pathetic drug.

I pulled my hand to my mouth and began licking my wound. I was more alive then I had been in years, the blood, I wanted-needed more, and I knew exactly where to get it.

The night air was cooling on my hot skin, I stood there staring at the dark house, its inhabitants not even realizing I was out here. In that house my desires will be satisfied for a bit, until the next hunger strikes that is. The night stirred, the demons awaking to reek havoc on the unsuspecting humans, I took that as my cue and let myself in uninvited.

Outside the door I could the hear deep breathing, him snoring. I allowed the sounds to fill me, I allowed myself to get intoxicated with them before opening the door ajar and slipping in unnoticed. The bodies laid there, the moonlight from the window gracing their sleeping faces. I took in her face, young and pretty, of course, that's how he liked them. Then I forced myself to look at his, thirty-something and handsome, dark brown hair that was sprinkled with salt. His face made me revolt, how could that hav-no, this not the time for that. I scolded myself silently then pulled out my tools that I could carry into the room inconspicuously, two small pairs of handcuffs, I couldn't let my victims get away.

Movement out the corner of my eye made me freeze, she slipped her legs off the bed and yawned while scratching her head slowly. I watched her every movement, bracing myself for in case I needed to pounce, she stood up even slower then she had scratched her head. It was agonizing making me watch her slow movements, she needed to suffer for that. Finally she'd decided on what she wanted to do and started walking to the door in front of her, my head swiveled as she opened that door and closed it, a light turned on inside the door.

I took that opportunity to slide onto the bed carefully, and as if answering my desires of secrecy the bed took in my shape, the movement hadn't bothered the man. I pulled the man's arm up in position and opened the first pair of handcuffs, I heard a rustling noise. My heart started to beat faster and I rushed to complete what I needed done. I nearly slammed my back against the wall, the door opened and the woman stepped out and paused seeing her partner handcuffed to the bed.

I slid behind her and covered her mouth before she even had a chance to open it, she struggled in fear and to silence her I slammed her head into my knee. She stilled. I dragged her still body over to the bedroom door and placing her against the wall, I slipped my hand out the door to find my other tool.

I slipped it back in, took in a breath and calmed my beating heart.

'They were right, the first time is always the most exhilarating.' I smirked at my humor.

My heart stilled and I watched the man, who was still asleep at this time. I looked at his despicable face, what kind of God gives a man so ugly a beautiful face like that? How can a person so stupid and clueless be given life in general? I am sent here on a purpose, to right the wrongs, to make this world new under a new law and those who follow me in this mission of the unjustly wronged will be by my side in ruling the new world. I know I will not be able to rule alone.

I reached behind me to feel for the doorknob, my frantic fingers finally finding it, I grabbed it and took a step to make room bringing the door with me, I slam my back into the door after releasing it. The man jolts awake at the slam of the door. I looked at his partner, she was still unconcious.

"What?" The man's frightened voice broke the loud silence left by the door's exclamation, "Why am I handcuffed to the bed?"

The man began to struggle feverishly against the clamp of the cuffs. I kind of pitied him, yet didn't.

"Nice to see you awake," I answered darkly. I felt him freeze at my voice and, not lifting it I turned my head to face him. He couldn't see me and, for awhile I didn't want him to. I smiled inwardly, his fear was inviting me, I couldn't help it, I nearly busted out laughing, but I held it in. I flipped the switch that turned on the bathroom light, his gasp told me he could see my figure silhouette now at least.

Refusing to look up, even just the slightest, I bent at the hip to grab the arm of the unconscious woman and shake her awake, with my right hand I took out the prize of my earlier search. Double bladed, medieval axes were a passion of mine, I loved the feel of this particular one especially, its handcrafted wooden handle, its lightweight maneuverability. The crest carved on the bottom of the handle and both blades was what really attracted me to this particular piece. Gothic in design, in the shield webbed wings fanned out a grinning vampire bat's face planted in between them. On the name ribbon the family name 'Reddingfield' in Gothic-style letters. Above the shield the wings of the bat, larger then their shielded companions. It was a beautiful design, circa the fifteenth-century.

The woman in my hand began to struggle, I tightened my grip, the strength I had, the power, I felt alive. I showed her my prize, she looked at it with terror and tried to scream, her voice caught in the back of her throat and the sound came out as a squeak. She began struggling even more, I chuckled.

"Don't try to get out." My warning was ignored as she flailed about.

"Baby, stop!!" The man's booming voice was deafening, it also hinted a slight hysteria. The woman was stilled at his command. He was breathing heavily, he was terrified I could feel his energy, it filled me down to my core, it energized me. I fed on their fear. I wanted to get this thing on the move, but I also wanted to bathe in their fear, and suffocate in their bloods' scents.

"You even call her 'baby'?" I lifted my face slowly making sure not to blink, his intake of breath made me smirk.

"Do you recognize me?" I lifted an eyebrow. The woman began thrashing once more, possibly thinking I was distracted enough. Oh how wrong the young thing was, I thought as I flicked my wrist, which was enough to throw her back against the wall. Her thrashing about caused it to be easy to slam her hard against the wall, and apparently that was enough to break a bone. The crack was loud, intoxicating even, too bad the man didn't think so.

I watched in silence as the woman's head rolled around on her neck. Dropping to one knee, I pulled her face up to look, and was satisfied with my findings; brown hair locks in front of her face, her eyes hollow and pale. I dropped her face and stood up, still looking down I straightened my back and snapped my neck to look over to the man on the bed. I gave him a frighteningly evil grin and turned to him slowly. To see him more clearly, I tilted my head back to look through my hair, still grinning. Then walking slowly, rhythmically to the beat of my heart, I swung the Axe over my shoulder and allowed it to sit there. The man started to thrash about on the bed trying to free himself, ripping his wrists on the tighting metal cuffs, the scent of his blood was wonderful. I grabbed a hold of his left ankle and held it down as I hoisted myself up onto the bed, I pulled myself on top of his waist and holding the Axe in both my hands I spoke to him one more time.

"'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,' Dear Father you should know that." I began slashing away, laughing maniacally.

I took a breath in of the cooling night air. A figure appeared in front of me, I watched the figure as it approached, the full moonlight was behind it so all that I could see was a shadow. A shadow of a man was slowly approaching me, and I invited it near me. It stopped just in front of me, close enough for me to look up at it, it looked down at my sitting figure and invited me to stand with its hand. I took the hand and allowed myself to be pulled up from my own darkness and into the light of the man in front of me. His cobalt blue eyes were all I could see, and all I wanted to see at the moment. He grinned, and I was hooked. His eyes turned red and I stopped breathing for a moment to take in his beauty. He spoke.

"Well, do you regret what you've just done?"

It took me a second to realize what he meant and looking in his eyes defiantly I shook my head violently. He laughed and placed a hand gently on my cheek to stop it's shaking.

"Alright then," He paused, "What should I call you?"

I paused, then grinned, "I am called Sylor, I am that which this world should fear, for I am coming for them, all of them. Judgement Day hath arrived. I am 'The Judge.'"

"Good answer."