“You’re a failure. Life is going to swallow you whole. It’ll completely crush you and you'll have nothing left. What are you going to do when this happens? You have no future. You’re a failure, nothing but a failure.” She whispers this in the hushed silence. It’s dark. There’s nothing here but the two of us. And she’s doing most of the talking. I sit across from her, letting her words surround me. I shift uneasily in my seat, occasionally glancing at her as she speaks, sitting tall and erect. She’s not an animated speaker, but she speaks with a quiet conviction that is unearthly.
She goes on talking; retelling haunting memories in that same hushed tone, each one proving her point more.
I pause for a minute.
And then I collapse, falling into her words. “It’s got to be true then”, I say, staring into the distance.
“It is”, she replies.
I’m filled with this feeling, a blend of remorse, guilt and regret – all of them the same in essence but donned in different, more destructive disguises. I take quick, shallow breaths. My head is heavy and pounding with every breath I take. My stomach is in knots. I dread to think of the future. I can feel her every word hitting me like a blow in the stomach. I just want to give up. To cease. To cease to think. To cease to exist. I just want to rid myself of her haunting words.
My head is worn out, I can feel it going round and round in exhaustion…like a roundabout…in a fair… with clowns… and rabbits… magicians…tricksters.
I lull over each word aimlessly, embracing delirium as a welcome distraction. And then I jolt.
Vague memories of this word uttered by a low voice drift through my mind, frame by frame. Trickster… cheat… that’s it.
I yell out, “You’re a trickster, a cheat. I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying and I don’t care. It’s not true. You’re nothing but a cheat.”
I pause, cautiously surveying the results of my outburst.
She stops, clearly taken aback. But she just shoots a small, disparaging smile at me and continues talking. Her eyes are fixed steadily on mine, daring me to oppose her. I collapse into my chair – a sign of defeat. Her eyes are still on mine, black and soulless.
I look into them.
And then I stand. I walk towards her and stop at her chair. I lean down and say quietly, “I think its best that you leave. I have no use for you here. And you are under my control after all.”
Silence fills the room.
She drags her chair back and stands. She looks at me again for a brief second, a wavering glance. I look at her and smile, but somehow it doesn’t reach my eyes. She walks out without a word, her footsteps echoing into the distance. I watch as she leaves, fazed by the entire incident. But like I said, she is under my control after all.