MicroHorror

I stand like a statue, motionless in the shower, facing away from the spray of water. The steady pulse is hitting my back, splashing off or sheeting down my body on its way toward the drain. It seems that the running water should somehow be important to me, but I don’t know why. I can’t focus. I’m not even sure how long I’ve been standing here like this. I should also realize that the water is no longer hot, but I don’t, at least not in a conscious way. Maybe on some level I do, I can’t tell.

I can hear a cricket somewhere in my bedroom. That seems unusual, and I know that I shouldn’t be able to hear it. I also shouldn’t hear the bass from the cars going by outside, but I do, quite plainly. I can even identify some of the songs that are playing. I’ve never heard cars go by while I was taking a shower before. I also hear the neighbor’s dog barking and the kids playing outside. I hear it all.

These sounds are making the other angry. He wants out, wants to take control, but I’m fighting him. He has a name, but I don’t use it. I never use it. I just refer to him as the other. Using his name would give him power, and he has enough of that already. He’s exerting his power now, trying to take over to become the one, which would then make me the other. I can’t allow that to happen.

He questions me; berates me. “Why did you turn your head? Why did you look up? Why did you turn to the left? What’s over there? Are you stupid? You must be stupid!”

That’s why I don’t move. By not moving, the other doesn’t have anything to harass me about. But he does anyway. He’s caged within. He slams into the barrier that I’ve created to hold him. It feels as it would if you were to throw your entire body against a door, trying to break it down. The barrier held… this time, but it felt like he nearly made it through.

I turn to adjust the water. “Why did you turn? Why did you raise your hand? Why don’t you just go back to doing nothing? It’s what you do best anyway!” I again remain motionless as I prepare for another attack. I must fight this. I must maintain control. I can’t let him win.

My neighbor’s phone rings. I hear it plainly. I feel him hit the barrier again. Children laugh. He hits again. Green Day is playing on the radio. He strikes again. He’s trying desperately to get out, but I continue to hold on. The barrier held. He withdraws, but I know that he hasn’t gone far. He’s waiting, waiting for the next opportunity. This time I remain motionless, not giving him a reason to begin the assault again.

A phone rings. This time it’s mine. I want to move. I want to answer the phone. I turn off the water. The other spews forth a relentless diatribe, but I persist. I get out of the shower and rub a towel quickly over my body, absorbing the majority of excess water. The phone is still ringing. I grab a robe and walk to the phone, ignoring the insistent and constant tirade of the other. If I can ignore him long enough, maybe I can usurp his power.

“Hello,” I say into the phone, picking it up after the umpteenth ring.

“Hi, Daddy! Why did it take you so long to answer the phone?”

“Hi, baby girl. I was just taking a shower…”