I assure you

This is from 2008. I found it while poking around to find something else.

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(talking)

I assure you, everything will be fine. It might not seem like it, at first, but if you just give it a little time, all will be well.

But what if it isn’t?

Then I guess something really is wrong.

(explaining)

            Few people are ever completely, absolutely, 100% sure of what’s going on. They’ll know roughly, at least, and might be pretty damned sure – some will act as if they are, and never admit otherwise, because they’re overconfident. Most will be sure enough to act, well, normal.

            Those that don’t seem crazy, because, well, being that unsure is crazy. So when your world seems to get weirder and weirder, to move away from the expected, and only you seem to notice; is something wrong with the world? Or is something wrong with you?

(considering)

            I don’t know what’s going on too fast too much too different too… I just can’t tell anymore. I think something is wrong and I wait and now I can’t tell anything, let alone whether what I think is wrong has become right.

            Even sleeping is… Wrong. I lie and I try and figure it all out, but nothing links together, holds together. I’m unsure of what anything is, so I can’t… And then I sleep, and my dreams make even less sense.

(why)

            DEATH COMES FOR YOU WITH A SMILE AND A GRIN,

            YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT SHIT YOU’RE IN,

            TURN QUICK AROUND AND STRIKE HARD TIN,

            OR I’LL FLAY AND [1] EAT YOUR SKIN.

            no that’s wrong what is it.

            what is it.

            is it?

(sanity?)

            “Wake up,” the voice comes, and I wake up. Lying on that bed in the middle of nowhere again, my fever and my pain and my tiredness gone.

            “What happened?” I ask.

            “I don’t know,” he says. “Whatever you had, you brought it with you.”

            I don’t remember who I am, where I came from… Anything, really. I can speak English, apparently, but nothing else, and my accent is unremarkable. He found me in the woods near his cabin, hidden away in a valley away from the world, sealed off by snow except in summer.

            He has no idea how I could have gotten up here, in the middle of winter, especially in my clothes – fit for winter, but not winter on a mountain top.

            I’ve been here for a few days now, and although he’s asked authorities (through his satellite phone) about me, my description doesn’t evoke any particular missing person.

            As much as I want to know who I am, I’ve actually enjoyed myself in this cold, lonely place – looking after the few animals, walking around the valley, checking the food stores for pests. My host is intelligent and chatty at night, and doesn’t mind me being here.

            “I was worried when you collapsed yesterday,” he said.

            “What happened?” I replied.

            “I found you collapsed on the kitchen table when I wandered back in ‘round midday, and you were feverish. You said a lot of weird things as I watched over you. Weirdly, when I handed you food, you ate it – as if I wasn’t there, and someone I couldn’t see had given it to you one time. Overall, it was… bizarre.”

            “What sort of things did I say?”

            “It sounded like you were going insane, to be honest. My world is breaking apart and one thousand sights one thousand sounds one thousand smells and no connections were among the weirdest, although the sudden YOU DID THIS TO ME put me off the most. I wasn’t there the whole time, either, once I figured that  you weren’t dying, so I don’t know everything you said.”

            “Was there anything about who I am?”

            “Funnily enough, a few times, you said who am I?”

            I couldn’t have caught the disease off him, so where it came from and what my rambling meant became a favoured topic of conversation as the next few weeks passed.

            One night, I heard the front door being broken down. I leapt out of bed and bolted the door of the bedroom I was in, and listened carefully. A soft knock came a the door.

            “You in there?” my host asked.

            “Yeah,” I whispered back.

            “Stay there, I’ll go see what it is.”

            YOU KILLED HIM YOU BASTARDS-

            I heard a shot, and then a few more and then you broke down my door and fucking dragged me out of there and past his body and knocked me out when I struggled and brought me up here (back here?) and FUCK YOU YOU FUCKS FFUF-

(reality)

TAKE THE MEMORY WITHDRAW BACK TO THE TIME AFTER SHE WAS FEVERISH. FIND OUT WHETHER HER HOST COMMUNICATED ANYTHING TO THE OUTSIDE THIS TIME. DON’T LET HER SKIP AHEAD TO THE TRAUMATIC PERIOD AGAIN, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

ADDITIONALLY, WHEN THIS IS COMPLETE, SEE IF SHE CAN REMEMBER HER ESCAPE IF YOU BURN THE REST.

SIR?

I HAVE SOME BUSINESS TO ATTEND TO ELSEWHERE.

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 [1]Flay you is the correct version.