Lorie

      “If I called you insane, would you hold it against me?” he asked.
         If I came to your house with a .44 tonight, would you hold it against me? she thought. A girlish giggle fluttered out of her.
         The late bell made its harsh presence, and Lorie decided quite suddenly, she wasn’t going to cooking class. That jerk-off Andy was in it, and Lorie didn't think she could be a good girl if she had to deal with him anymore today. Skipping happily, she started home.
         If I came to your house with  a .44 tonight, would you hold it against me?
         She stopped. Why did she think like that?
         Just me being ol’ Loony Lorie again.
         She walked on, feeling helpless, because so many people thought she really was crazy. But maybe she was.          
         What makes a crazy person anyways? Lorie didn’t know. She had never killed  anyone, not like they all thought. And thoughts didn’t matter, right?
         Wrong, buddy old pal. You’re crazier than a serial killer chipping off ears as he goes.
         "Fucking STOP!" she screamed, and looked around suddenly to see two girls looking at her, half laughing, half running away in fear.
         The voice stopped. Her mind was always playing tricks. Her inner voice was always telling her what was not true. She knew it wasn’t, and tried not to let it get to her. After all, she had not killed anyone, even though the voice often told her she had too. And although it appeared that getting rid of the people who cause her daily pain would make it go away, she never lay a finger of harm on anyone. To her, that was very noble. She smiled, seemingly pleased with herself. 
         As she was nearing home, she thought of what she'd face when she got there. Her mother, who didn't seem so 'on center' either. She always complained about Lorie, but momma wasn't so great either.
         She talks to herself, at least I talk to the voice. At least that's ok.
         She made her way past the Henderson's house. His name was Mark. She was always too scared to ask, and it had taken her almost until freshman year to figure out his first name.  She took to staring at him when they waited for the P.E. doors to open. He had blonde, flaxen hair much like her own. His eyes were a beautiful ocean blue, and hers were more indigo blue. He didn’t think much of her, like all the other rich kids in the neighborhood. Still, passing his house brought vague thoughts of his male sensuality, and she giggled girlishly, walking on.
         She made it home soon after, pausing occasionally to look at odd trees or gum on the newly placed side-walk. Mother was screaming to the ceiling about comic books. Mother was always screaming in vain to the heavens about something.
         And she says I’m odd. More giggles.
         “What the hell are you doing here?” mother choked out. Utter disgust was on her face, as if the beautiful girl standing before her was a solicitor preaching about dog shit.
         She really was beautiful, and she knew it, though nobody else did. Her hair flipped around her shoulders like you see in the magazines. She didn’t even have to blow dry it. Her eyes sparkled in the light, and shone of someone who just found her one true love. She had soft cheekbones, as Disney princesses do, and slightly chunky curves which she hid with her heavy woolen sweaters and jeans. She was a looker, all right. But nobody ever noticed that. For a minute she wondered where momma’s beauty had gone to. 
         “I’m having bad thoughts again, momma. I’m going to see ‘the guy.’ I just came home to change into a lighter sweater. It’s really warm out momma! Spring’s coming!” She said this with contained excitement. Mother scowled at Lorie’s excitement. 
         “What guy?”
         “The guy, momma.”
         “What guy, Lorie!”
         “I talk to him all the time. I go there every other day, didn’t you know by now? He helps me with the voice. You know..”
         “You keep your crazy shit out of my house. Either that voice goes or you go, Lorie.”
         “OK momma.”
         Either that voice goes or you go?
         What did that mean? The worst came to mind, but Lorie shook it off. Mother loves me. She giggled at her own sarcasm and went to change her sweater. 
         After admiring herself in the mirror, she put on her favorite purple and red sweater, smiled at momma, and trod out the door to meet ‘the guy.’
         
         His real name was Martin Pennatire, but that name was duller than an overworked kitchen knife. So she just stuck to calling him ‘the guy.’ He was 46, unhappily married, and slightly overweight. Lorie found it weird how he could help her, but not himself. She saw despair in his eyes, despite his attempts to hide it. He worked in his own home, in a small office down the stairs. He had a large house, occupied by him, a wife (who didn’t care a damn for Lorie), Ms. Fay the housekeeper, and four-year-old twin boys. Lorie often played toy trucks with the boys while waiting for ‘the guy’ to see her. They were cute, but awfully spoiled.
         She found she did the most clear thinking on the way to her doctor guy’s house. She knew she wasn’t crazy, and she could say that with certainty now. Mother was crazy. She was sure of that much. She really did hate mother, but not because of the criticism and mocking and other acceptable reasons. Only because she knew her momma truly didn’t love her. It didn’t bother Lorie much, but she sometimes sat and pondered what had happened to their golden mother-daughter relationship. Even though it had been years since they even had a normal conversation, she sometimes missed those days. Not often, but sometimes.
         It took her about an hour to get to the huge white house with blue shutters (Lorie loved the blue shutters), but Lorie didn‘t mind this time. It was refreshing to have time to think, and nobody had even yelled “LOONY LORIE! LOONY LORIE!” today. She was in quite the good mood when she knocked on his door in early afternoon.
          He answered after her third knocking fit, and let her in with the ever-so persistent feeling of uncertainty and  blatant dislike. Out of all his 24 or so patients, Lorie was the only one he could say had true problems. Lorie was crazy, there was no doubt about that. He wanted to get rid of her. Had to get rid of her. He knew how he was going to do it, and had been planning it for a few weeks. Often in the case of manic-depressive behavior (and Lorie was a definite, along with strong schizophrenia) the patient kills someone of care or hatred, and then themselves. He had been thinking of it for a while, and at their last few sessions, he even started praising her voice, just to prepare for today. This visit, he was determined, would end the Dr. Pennatire & Lorie May Chronicles. 
         “Sit down Lorie. It’s good to see you again,” he said, but in half-truths.
         It’s good to see you again. Last time’s a blessing. Great to have dealt with your scratching and threatening to shoot my family, and fucking talking to yourself, you talk to yourself more than you talk to me. Hell I don’t even know why you keep coming back! So thanks for the ride, I’ll attend your funeral you crazy bitch.
         She stared into his eyes like a hungry lioness would look at it’s catch. Then she softened, and said brightly, “I’ve been having bad thoughts again, doctor guy. About Andy again. He just won’t let me be. He's always calling me names. Always saying what isn’t true. I hate lies. I hate them more than the color teal. But beige is nice, don‘t you think?”
         “Let’s try to stay on topic, Lorie. The same thoughts? Are you thinking of murder again? Extermination, I think you like to call it?” Yes indeed. He had plans for her.
         “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Always the same thought, and then the voice. I just want it to go away. I know if it does, I can be normal. Happy! And Andy won’t matter. None of them will. Maybe I could stay here with you for a night. So you can do some sort of analysis on me. Maybe you can make it go away!” she said this with hope lighting up her eyes, as if daring him to let her down.
         “Now, that won’t be necessary,” he paused for a few seconds. “You want the voice to stop, right Lorie?”
         “Of course I do. But it won’t. I know it won‘t. And I’m sorry.”
         “You know how to make it stop, don’t you.”
         She paused, certain of what he meant, but stunned that he’d even suggest it. She wasn’t crazy, how could she even think of…
         But she did think of it. Everyday. Sometimes more than once. And when she wasn’t thinking of it, the voice brought it back again. But to think that ‘the guy’ would condone to it is.. She was confused, and she hated that feeling. Didn’t he care what would happen to her? Of course he did…
         “You’re saying… You’re saying I should go through with it?” she said, half whispering.
         “I’m saying you should do whatever it takes to make the voice stop. You understand I’m thinking about you, right Lorie? I want to see you live a normal, happy life. You aren‘t crazy, just in a predicament. ” He snorted at this, and concealed it with a cough. Lorie took no notice. She seemed gone. After a few minutes, he lost interest and  went to make himself a cup o’ joe.
         Had she read him right? She felt a strange sense of nausea, but it passed in a matter of seconds. She sat and drifted for a little while, just listening to what the voice was telling her, unaware that ‘the guy’ had been gone almost fifteen minutes.
         You heard what he said. It’s time to listen to me now. Got it, hot stuff? You’re not doing anything wrong. And you’re not crazy, I am. I’ll be gone, you know I will, just listen to good old doctor guy and me. He’s always right, isn’t he? Always looking out for you. So don’t disobey. Don’t disappoint. Listen to meeee now.
         

         She listened. Listened for almost a whole hour. She came back to herself in early evening, not certain where she was at first, but knowing what she had to do. After all, the guy had told her to. And he knew what was best for her. The voice HAD to go away. Or she would become what everyone already assumed she was, insane. Loony. Crazy. But Loony Lorie was the worst.
         She got up, and left her beloved doctor guy’s  house, still slightly in a trance. She paid no concern to where her beneficiary, as she liked to call him, had gone to. He was different, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good different or not, but for the mean time, she had to trust the person who cared. Things will be easier in this state of mind she told herself, so she didn’t bother to try to rectify it. She trudged home, like a zombie in a ‘Night of the Living Dead’ movie. At that thought, she giggled, almost like a madman, and stopped, scared for a moment. Grudgingly, she continued to her solitude.
         He watched her as she left, knowing full well if things didn’t go according to plan, if she felt no guilt and didn’t take her own life, he would most likely be put away.  His career would be gone. Bye! The thought didn’t phase him. In his mind the scenario played out, and he found it dramatically funny.
         The guy told me to! The voice had to go away! I’m not crazy! They were all against me. The! Voice! Had! To! Stop! The guy told me to! The guy told me to!
         He knew it would be his word against hers, and obviously they’d trust a classified therapist over a crazy patient listening to the voice in her head any day. His worries faded, and thought he’d help his wife with dinner. He had a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that stayed with him through the rest of the night.
         
         When she walked through her front door, all the stars were visible, and it had been menacingly dark for many hours. She was still in her zombie-like trance. Mother was watching new episodes of Survivor on the television, and turned her attention to her preoccupied daughter.
         Lorie felt her mother watching her, and didn’t move an inch.
         “Hi momma.”
         She said nothing. Only watched. She could feel something off-balance in Lorie tonight, worse than usual, and knew something had gone terribly wrong. But a part of her wanted things to go terribly wrong. Lorie was crazy, and she couldn’t stand having  a crazy person in her house. Just knowing that girl had come out of her was embarrassing. So she just watched as Lorie stared, unseeing, off into space. She was hoping, fearfully, that maybe Lorie would finally put an end to herself, and maybe this old (yet not too old) woman would find a new man, and have another daughter. One she could show to everyone, dress up, and she‘d be normal. Yes, that would be perfect. And Lorie wouldn’t matter. She could forget all about her. Just a mistake, like a missed bill or falling off a bike. She knew she should feel bad for her almost inhumane thoughts, but didn’t all the same. Loony Lorie just wasn’t someone you felt bad for. Lorie’s mother felt a pulsing in her temple, and coerced herself out of her chair to take some ibuprofen. 
         Lorie, after standing in the main hall for some time, started upstairs to her room. On her bed she sat, collecting her thoughts. Thinking of what exactly she was going to do. She was going to take someone’s breath away, but she didn’t know who just yet. Maybe Andy’s? He sure deserved it.
         Hi Andy, just thought I’d show up and give you a good piece of my mind. Or maybe I’ll just blow yours.
         And what about the others. After all, it wasn’t just him. It was everyone. They were all against her. Everyone. Even momma. She couldn’t get rid of them all.
         I don’t have to, just the voice. Whatever it takes to make the voice go away. 
         It was talking again, and she tried her hardest to will it away. Despite her efforts, it always prevailed. But what it said tonight left her with her most useful advice, as ominous as it was:
         Tear the mother down!
         She slept.

         She awoke the next morning, knowing she was going to have to do something today, if she ever would.
         She went into momma’s room, and grabbed the .44 from under her bed. She tucked it safely in her knap-sack, and jollily hopped downstairs, remembering last night. The voice had told her to “tear the mother down,” right? Mother had always called her crazy, even though Lorie knew momma was. She was a liar. And liars were bad.
         Worse than the color teal, right kiddo?
         “Right,” she said aloud, and giggled lightly, like a little girl would when she knows she’s not supposed to wear grandma’s expensive jewelry, but she does it anyway.
         

         Lorie slowly took the gun out, and called softly and sweetly “Momma?”  There was nothing.
         She went into the living room, and saw mother sitting in her favorite chair, silent, still, and beautiful. She looked so peaceful that Lorie had to smile when she realized momma was already dead. She giggled, and giggled some more. She played with her silky hair, and kissed her forehead, not concerned about how she had died. It didn’t matter, because now she had a peaceful mother, unmoving and loving. 
         Lorie sang on her way to school that morning.
         Tear the mother down. Tear everything down. Listen to me.
         What was wrong with her head? The voice made no sense. Momma was already dead. What did “tear the mother down” mean? She sat on the school steps, feeling hopeless. She was never going to be liberated.
         It came to her suddenly. She propped her head up, wide eyed. At once she understood. Momma had never actually been a ‘mother’ to her. But she knew who was. Lorie was angry and hurt.
         He had told her to kill people, when he was supposed to be the one to help and protect her. She knew it was wrong, and so did the voice. Killing Andy wasn’t going to stop the voice, because Andy hadn’t hurt her most. Did she really care what he thought? No, she didn’t. It was him. He had lied to her. The ultimate lie. That was why last night felt so dreary, and not right. Because it wasn’t. She started walking to her doctor guy’s house, visibly puffing up with anger, and betrayal. She almost knew the voice wouldn’t go away, even if she did kill ‘the guy’. But to her it wasn’t about that anymore. She had to kill him, to save herself.
         
         Lorie knew she was slaughtering everything inside her when she pointed the gun to his forehead. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself after killing the only person who had shown he cared. But he hadn’t, and she knew that now. He had given up on her. Had lied. She cried slowly and softly as she held the .44 to the front of his head. She couldn’t do it. Even with the voice screaming in her head, she couldn’t do it.
         YOU HAVE TO! You won’t get away with holding a gun to a doctor’s head! Pull the trigger!
         "I can't!" she screamed at nothing.
         He said nothing. What could he? She had figured him out, and there was no persuading Loony Lorie from doing something once her heart was set on it, and that was a good quality under other circumstances. But these were not other circumstances, and he did not think this was good. So he sat, silently, waiting for that horrible split second of pain, and then the nothing that would follow.
         When he had let her in, he showed that same look of concern. Maybe he was just pissed that she hadn’t  committed suicide yet, or maybe he did still have some care for her. She wanted to believe he did, because Lorie still cared for her benefactor. And this made her more angry.  She was stupid. Crazy. Loony Lorie. They were right.
         She screamed. A horrible, blood-churning scream. For what seemed like an eternity, she stood screaming. She started muttering, talking to herself, as he’d seen on many occasions.
         “Go away, go away, go away.” she muttered to herself, collapsing to the floor with tears pouring down her face. Her eyes hid behind her head. He assumed the voice had finally taken her over. While she lay on the floor, spilling all rational thought out of her, it seemed she had finally realized she was crazy, just ‘Loony Lorie.’ Her doctor guy knew how much this hurt her, more than anything ever could. She was far gone now, completely lost in one of her trances, only this time stuck in the abyss. She was no longer capable of human words. Gibberish was all Lorie May let out of her mouth, yet Dr. Pennatire understood completely what she was saying. 
         He took the gun from her weak grasp. Mr. Doctor guy knew what was right and what was wrong, but let it all go. After all, he didn’t see her coming out of this, she was already in a catatonic state. He remembered seeing the same void in a patient when working for the institution up north. Lorie was completely empty, uttering useless nothings. He pointed the .44 at her head, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger three times. The muttering stopped. He looked, then turned away and vomited. He had done her a favor, right? She was Loony! Loony Lorie! He looked at her corpse for almost an hour, the same blank nothing on his face that she had shown on hers.
         He pointed the gun to his own head, feeling the cold metal against his un-brushed, graying hair. He held it there for quite a while, and then laughed. Dr. Martin Pennatire pulled the trigger, taking away his guilt and his seemingly meaningless life, as often patients with manic-depressive behavior do.


THE END