Crazy Thoughts
Aug. 29th, 2013 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
erika_street in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
birthright_rpgIt had not gone well. No, not at all.
Perhaps Erika was crazy. She wondered if a person thought they were crazy, did that mean they were not? Only crazy people didn't think they were crazy, right???
She rubbed at her eyes and then her temples, where the headache threatened to blossom into a real head banger.
The cop had looked at her like she was crazy. Even worse, he'd spoken to her in a quiet, gentle voice, as if she were a child he was afraid to scare off, and was using great pains to gain her understanding.
How did she explain that she'd maybe been kidnapped? And that the kidnapper, whom she hadn't really ever seen, had maybe been the man who had... beheaded... killed... slain that demon looking monster thing in her restaurant parking lot?
She hadn't explained it well at all. Hence, the cop thought she was crazy, and now she was even doubting herself.
There were many times when Erika wished she didn't live alone. She often got lonely. She longed for a husband or a boyfriend. A family she could call her own. At times like this, that pain ached even deeper. No one had missed her. No one had even known she was in trouble. No one had even cared.
Would she keel over dead some day in her apartment, lying there rotting and smelly, until the stench finally alerted someone that her body was there?
Sometimes Erika was tired of living. Maybe it would have been better if that demon had got her. Or if her kidnapper had... done whatever he'd planned to do.
Damn, that cop had messed with her head. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't depressed. She wasn't seeking attention. It really had happened.
And somehow, she'd prove it.
Perhaps Erika was crazy. She wondered if a person thought they were crazy, did that mean they were not? Only crazy people didn't think they were crazy, right???
She rubbed at her eyes and then her temples, where the headache threatened to blossom into a real head banger.
The cop had looked at her like she was crazy. Even worse, he'd spoken to her in a quiet, gentle voice, as if she were a child he was afraid to scare off, and was using great pains to gain her understanding.
How did she explain that she'd maybe been kidnapped? And that the kidnapper, whom she hadn't really ever seen, had maybe been the man who had... beheaded... killed... slain that demon looking monster thing in her restaurant parking lot?
She hadn't explained it well at all. Hence, the cop thought she was crazy, and now she was even doubting herself.
There were many times when Erika wished she didn't live alone. She often got lonely. She longed for a husband or a boyfriend. A family she could call her own. At times like this, that pain ached even deeper. No one had missed her. No one had even known she was in trouble. No one had even cared.
Would she keel over dead some day in her apartment, lying there rotting and smelly, until the stench finally alerted someone that her body was there?
Sometimes Erika was tired of living. Maybe it would have been better if that demon had got her. Or if her kidnapper had... done whatever he'd planned to do.
Damn, that cop had messed with her head. She wasn't crazy. She wasn't depressed. She wasn't seeking attention. It really had happened.
And somehow, she'd prove it.