A lost mad man [Peter]

[Sean (DELETED 6788)]

Sean sat back at the hotel he had checked into earlier that morning. Pacing the floor in front of the small room, in front of the TV that didn’t even work. He had just been about to jump in the shower but had seen a bug, a roach and it had him a bit shaken up. The man worked at getting himself calm, taking deep calming breaths. Only then would he have a go at a shower and everything was actually going well, until the very end. A single roach came up from where the water drained, then two more and soon enough hundreds and what looked to be thousands. This was an oh too familiar hallucination, one of the first sorts that plagued him. Bugs, unseen bugs that had been the first key to his madness. In the shower, a panic attack hit as he was covered by the nightmare. Falling from the shower, the hard hit to the floor had been enough to make the delusion vanish. Still the man was still very shaken up.

Jumping to his feet, with a small cringe of fighting through the pain, Sean headed out into the crummy room and quickly dressed. Making hast of hiding his bag of belongings back up in the ceiling tiles. Grabbing two full packs of cigarettes and a lighter before heading out of the room. Lighting one of the cancer sticks, he took a long drag before locking the door as the cig hung in his lips. Just as the dead bolt clicked, Sean heard his first, looking over he would see the image, the figment of his mind. The unseen man to everyone but him. He looked just like Sean, perhaps he was what the man thought he should be or maybe everything he would hate himself to be. Your such a ******* pansy. Bugs? Really? How can you be afraid of a bug? The hallucination spoke as it held up his hand, a overly large crawled over his fingers. Sean took a few more drags off his cig, casting a glare in his direction. “Spiders are arachnids….” Like that even mattered? The delusion was taunting him and Sean was doing what he shouldn’t, he was openly responding to his crazy mind, as it encouraging it to further make his life miserable.

He began walking then, no set destination, he just had to get away from that awful room. The idea of him finding any rest tonight seemed unlikely. He needed to find a place to get some caffeine and preferably not a ****** cup of coffee. His hallucination followed close beside Sean as he walked. The one cig would be finished and another would be light up in its place. He was a chain smoker, no doubt about it. You really think caffeine will keep you awake? Could try some speed, black beauties. That could be fun? “I don’t do drugs…” What only the legal ones? Caffeine and nicotine? What’s next? Alcohol? The figment of his mental mind questioned and laughed. Sean just continued to smoke, heavy and hard. You really think those help? As this was said, Sean would give him a sideways glance, his eyes full of hate.

He walked quite a way and he had smoked nearly half a pack of cigarettes. Only slowing when he realized he might not be able to find his way back to the hotel easily. The hallucination found this amusing and laughed, he had been hounding him the whole venture and Sean had been doing his best to ignore him. Enough had been enough to finally press an annoyed response then. “Just shut up, shut the **** up! I can’t take it any more….” Said before his free hand rubbed over his face and through his hair. He had to calm himself down, didn’t need to break and possibly make an even bigger scene then he already had. Not that the streets were over crowded. Sean actually hadn’t seen anyone for a few blocks now but heard something then and the hallucination would wave to Sean and speak a few taunting words before vanishing. Have fun explaining such a crazy outburst. What kind of crazy person talks to himself? “I ******* hate you…” Said under his breath, not that it mattered, his delusion needed him to speak such a thing aloud.

[Peter Parkman]

Pyjamas and long nights inside had become the norm for Peter Parkman. Though, as all norms, it was broken up in between by swift adventures. Well, the nearest to a swift adventure that Peter could summon, which was a brisk walk to the animal shelter and back again. He was the boss and the owner, in any small case, which meant he had to show his face every now and again. As much as he might wish never to leave the house and to be able to run that particular ship from a distance, it was not possible. Ships drifted, and they needed an anchor if they were to stay grounded.

Thus it was that one night a week Peter got out of his crisp and clean pair of pyjamas to dress in a crisp and clean outfit which usually consisted of a pair of jeans, a button-up, long-sleeved shirt, a plain tie, and a plain sweater-vest over the top. Tonight’s sweater-vest happened to be a dark navy blue cashmere.

It was a balmy, humid evening. At least, a temperate warmth as far as Canada was concerned. The clouds gathered and rain was no doubt on its way; Peter could feel it crawling beneath his skin, the way the atmosphere became heavy with the promise of a deluge. Or maybe it was only a tease and there would be no deluge. Just a piddly mist that might only just pass for rain. It would probably be ice-cold. Maybe there would be sleet. Peter had his walking shoes on just in case, and carried in one hand a sleek plain black umbrella. The metal tip clacked on the ground as Peter walked; all five leads for all five dogs were held loosely in the other hand. The leads were just a formality. He could walk without the leads and the dogs would not stray from their leader. The public seemed to prefer to see animals caged, however.

It came to a point where Peter was passing by another living being. A man; tallish, rangy. Peter assumed the man must be on the phone, except when he turned and there was no phone to his ear. He had turned, and he had cursed and uttered hatred. Peter’s feet scuffed the pavement as he came to an abrupt halt, his mouth ajar and his eyes curiously inquisitive.

Subconsciously, he had been counting his steps.

Nine-hundred-and-sixty-three. Nine-hundred-and-sixty-three.

He repeated the number to remember it, so he could restart one his trip resumed.

”Excuse me?” he asked. He’d never met this man in his life. Not that Peter could recall, anyway. There was no reason that he could think of that a complete stranger could hate him. Furthermore, there was no reason why said stranger should so vehemently utter such a proclamation in public. Surely he must have Peter mistaken with someone else. But, if Peter had done something grievously wrong, it was within his limits as a person to try to rectify it. Peter did not like to leave thing unrectified.

[Sean (DELETED 6788)]

Sean would shiver for a moment, the night air was cooler then he was used to. That was definitely something that would take time to get used to. Especially once the winter months came, Sean had never even seen snow before and would definitely need to be updating his wardrobe for such a change in climate. For the moment, he was wishing he had brought a jacket, among other things, like not having wondered so far from where he was staying. Too late for all of that now, at least the hallucination had vanished (for the moment).

Someone was approaching though, he heard a paired number of sounds. Sean’s heart started racing slightly, the anxiety mostly due to what the other person had certainly heard. It was his all-time secret, one shared with few (as he hated the way someone looked at him once they knew the truth). Just breath, regain your composure and be proud of who you are and know that you are special Sean. Special? Sean almost laughed at the idea of such a thing. He did what the delusion suggested though, taking a few deep breaths (that really helped) as his attention would look over to the man who looked to be walking a small pack of dogs.

As the other man spoke to him, Sean could feel himself tens up slightly. Did he think what had been said aloud last, had been directed at him? Unable to control it, Sean could feel his cheeks go a bit warm from embarrassment. Clenching his right hand, he found himself wishing he had something to knock upon. Was this real? Panic was slowly creeping up but he had somehow managed to keep it at bay. Thoughts raced within his mind…. What should he say? Just be honest… Be honest? How the **** was he supposed to do that?

An apology seemed like a fitting place to start, and he decided to go with that (then maybe wing it). “I’m sorry….. I was just…. Just um…. Talking to myself.” Because people told themselves aloud all the time that they hated themselves? Sean didn’t exactly hate himself, but he did hate that part of him, the part that felt a constant need to torcher him with words. He would glance around, and noticed none else about. Why would this man be out walking his dogs? Sean had never had a pet….. They probably were a lot of work and took up a lot of a person’s time.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter was aware of how he must look. A man with five dogs—one Great Dane, one Border Collie, one Husky, and two Jack Russells—wandering the streets at night time. But there were other people who did it, right? People who worked late hours or people who could not sleep. People who needed something to distract themselves; or a bit of fresh air to help them think.

Peter was wary to not take another step and mess up his count. He knew exactly how many of his own long strides it took to get to the animal shelter, and if they didn’t match up each time he went, he had to adjust his stride to make it work. He didn’t like having to adjust his stride. And, given his tendency to stay inside a lot these days, social anxiety was quick to creep up on his heels. Head down and forge on, was what he normally did. Why he had stopped this time he did not know, except that he was affronted by this stranger’s hatred.

The guy stumbled over his words before telling Peter that he was talking to himself. Though, Peter could see the rise of colour in the stranger’s cheeks; could almost feel the human heat radiating from his body. Or maybe Peter was just imagining it. Unlike most other vampires, however, the thought of blood repulsed Peter. The heat and the colour did nothing to arouse Peter’s thirst. Any hunger was completely non-existent; he’d had his ‘dinner’ earlier. It was the first thing he did after letting the dogs out to pee. He would never allow himself to lose control like he had once before, and he went to great lengths to keep his life ordered so as to keep that control. The blood he had consumed had been heated in a thick Styrofoam cup with a thick lid and a thick straw, so that he could swallow it almost without even having to taste it.

Peter glanced between the other male and the dogs. A person would only admit to hating themselves if they were in some kind of trouble. If they were ashamed or guilty. People who hated themselves were prone to suicide, and Peter’s bleeding heart reached out to the human. He cleared his throat and was reluctant to leave the man by himself lest he do something to harm himself.

”There are studies that have been done. I’ve read them—articles in journals. By scientists, so they are legitimate. Pets help to reduce stress. Would you like to pat the dogs? They wont’ harm you…” he said. The dogs had already tried to drift closer to the stranger in order to sniff at his shoes and his clothing, though Peter had held them back. Not everyone was a fan of dogs, or animals in general. It was best to keep them distanced, unless the other person was interested. So Peter waited, to see if this man would like a few minutes of animal therapy.

[Sean (DELETED 6788)]

Pets help to reduce stress? This was hardly the response Sean had expected, after having just admitted that he had been talking to himself. Odd, that the stranger offered such a thing…. As if a means to help him? Sean would sway a bit, his weight shifting from his right, then left foot before standing still for a short moment. The man’s words made sense though, Sean would then recall the few semesters he had taken at a community college (before his illness had hit). During midterms and final exam time a small group of people would come in with dogs for the students to hang with and help calm some nerves. Still, it didn’t add up that this stranger had not just shaken Sean’s words off and been on his way. Most would have thought him crazy, maybe laughed or even be creeped out by his weird confession.

The stranger did not approach him, but his dogs looked friendly enough. It appeared as if they were curious of him. ”They won’t harm me?” Spoken aloud, as if to reassure himself… Pressing back the several paranoid thoughts that drifted through his mind. Such as none of this being real, or that maybe this was all a ruse and once Sean god close enough, the dogs would attack. He took a single step closer, then another. At first his hands were closed tight, wishing he had something to knock on. As he got closer though, he would open his hands and hold his palms up in front of him. Reaching his hands lower, the closer his got, so the dogs could possibly sense that he meant no harm.

Then, if Sean had not been odd enough before, he would take a seat right on the sidewalk where the dogs could surround him a bit. His eyes closed, hands would still be held out, palms up. After a few passing moments, and the anxiety he had brought upon himself would fade a little, Sean would move one of his hands to pet one of the dogs. Opening his eyes, he would see it was the Husky, the animal was beautiful and seemed quite friendly. Sean found the action of patting the dogs head, and behind its ears, quite relaxing. In turn, he would pay each of the animals a bit of such attention. As if greeting them with a kind action, as a form of saying hello.

What an odd meeting this was between two strangers? Sean had not even introduced himself to the other man, but here sat becoming acquainted with his dogs. “Are they yours?” Asked when finally his eyes would drift up at the stranger. It was possible that he was just a dog walker? Back home, where he was from, there were people that did those sorts of things. Especially in the city he lived in, not many people had yards to let their pets run about and get exercise, and some didn’t have the time to walk them. Those more privilege could certainly afforded such a luxury, of having someone what their dog for them.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter was odd in his own way, and this interaction seemed almost normal to him. Though, he wasn’t thinking about how strange the other person might be, or that it was abnormal to introduce a stranger to one’s dogs before introducing oneself. Peter was more preoccupied with the time, and how many seconds were passing by, and the strict scheduled routine that he kept to. He had already lost a few precious minutes, and had to account for a few more. Maybe a lot more, he thought, as the stranger sat down after Peter’s offer of the dogs as a stress relief. For some time, he didn’t say anything; he was busy recalibrating his schedule, shifting things around and taking certain activities out that he could afford to lose.

When the stranger asked whether the dogs were Peter’s, Peter nodded.

”The big one here is Hunter,” he said, fingertips resting on the Great Dane’s back. He then went around in a circle, gesturing to each animal as he gave their name: ”The husky is KD. The Border Collie is Lady. And the Jack Russels are Jack and Ellie – you can differentiate between them by the colour of the collars,” he said. Jack was wearing blue, and Ellie a coral pink. Although the two dogs were well able to be told apart by those who knew them well, it was quite easy to get them mixed up upon first meeting them. ”They’re siblings. They look quite alike,” Peter added, stating the obvious.

”I own and run the Animal Shelter. Though I had adopted these five before I took it on. I was on my way to work,” he said. And, throughout all this, still completely forgot to give his own name. Peter often didn’t think himself all that important; he didn’t think people wanted to know his name. Introductions were generally the last thing on his mind. Though, the dogs were helping his stress, too. It was easier to forget about his strict schedule when he was focused on the dogs. It was why he had so many to begin with.

[Sean (DELETED 6788)]

Sean’s attention would shift to each dog, as the man gave off their names. Hunter, the larger dog. Though the dog may have looked intimidating, due to its size, it actually seemed quite nice, and Sean would give the dog a pat behind one of its ears, lightly. KD, his gaze would shift to the Husky, then to Lady, Jack, and lastly Ellie. His eyes would linger upon the Jack Russeles, siblings, how lucky they were to still be together. Sean had always wished he had had a sibling, though with what his father had passed on to him, Sean would not wished for that to have been cursed upon another. He almost drifted off, lost in his though before finally turning to look up at the stranger as he spoke. An animal shelter? That was neat…. Then what had been said last, had Sean jump up to his feet. Taking a moment to dust his jeans off a bit before speaking.

“You’re on your way to work, I don’t mean to keep you from such.” Spoken with an apologetic tone. Sean hated to be late, for anything, it simply stirred up his anxiety. His hand would move over the outside of his pocket, checking to be sure that his pack of cigarettes that were still there. He could really have gone for a smoke, definitely right about now. “It’s getting late for me anyways, I should probably head back to the….” Dare he say hotel, how pathetic did that sound, not to mention that he was lost and didn’t even know how to get back to said hotel. It had still completely slipped his mind that Sean had not introduced himself to the kind stranger. One of his hands would more then, to mess at the back of his hair nervously as he thought further on how dark it really was out.

“If I stay out any later I might run into a loup garou, or maybe a Vampire…” Spoken as a joke and followed by a small laugh. That was always the running story back where he was from, in New Orleans. Mostly because his paranoid father actually believed they were real. Sean had always seen the loup garou stories as a way to persuade Cajun children to behave, most of the time they were mentioned as a threat. What are you thinking? Speaking of such thing? The man probably already things your ****ing crazy and now you go and mention that ****?! What the **** is wrong with you! The delusion hadn’t been made visible, but Sean could hear the cold voice within thought. It was hard not to agree with it on some level. Back home, all the questions he had been asking sure turned some heads and had many questioning his sanity (they had every reason to do so).

Yet it was at the very end of his father’s life that the man had claimed he was being stalked by a loup garou. Claiming that the beast was going to curse him with a bite, and this was the reasoning Sean’s father used to justify taking his own life. Claiming he was better off to be dead, than be cursed by the beast. Sean had begun asking around after his father’s funeral, and he had actually learned quite a bit about some of the city’s legends and myths. Sean’s own illness had begun to surface though, and after a year, it was hard to decipher what was real and what wasn’t. With fear of being locked up, for his own safety Sean had planned to ditch town. Out of the blue, a man had approached him, and to this day Sean still questioned if it had been a real person (or just a figment of his paranoid mind). He had told Sean about this city up north, Harbor Rock and insisted that it would be a place Sean would be interested in. Sean had never seen the man again, but looked up the city and had been surprised to find it actually existed. It had been a drastic decision, but now here Sean was and in the moment he was seriously questioning many things.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter’s world was filled with numbers. The numbers may as well be a split personality in Peter’s head, dictating what he could and could not do. A constant frustration to those he knew, he was aware. So much so that he had removed himself from the family lair and moved into an apartment of his own. Only two blocks away, of course; close enough that he could go back whenever he wanted (though he had a tome for that, anyway). The cabin he owned at March hill was number eight, and the apartment he had bought (and he had waited, especially) was apartment number two-thousand-and-four. Two by four is eight. The treatment room that he had claimed at the Asylum was number two, and it resided on the second floor. Two by two is four. By two is eight. It all fit neatly together.

The fact that he owned five dogs was a little bit of a constant itch; but six wouldn’t match the twos and fours, and there was no way he was getting rid of one of the precious beasts to bring his number of ‘flatmates’ down to four. He could, of course, adopt another three dogs. But whoever thought of a man living in one medium-sized apartment with eight dogs? The neighbours would surely complain. The five that he had now were well-behaved, however. They did not bark unnecessarily. They had been trained well, though it was almost as if they sensed their master’s anxiety and did their best to keep it at a minimum.

When the stranger stood up, Peter would almost have been able to recite the man’s height, just by looking at him. Glancing at his watch, he would be able to spurt just how many minutes he had idled here on the sidewalk. He did look at his watch. It probably looked rude, but the expression on Peter’s face—though slightly edged with anxiety—wasn’t angry or dismissive. But it was relieved, too. Terribly relieved that he should be able to break away and continue. He was distracted, of course. He’d taken one step and started to count again in his head; but he was also keeping in mind the time, and trying to calculate how much faster he would have to walk in order to get to work at the same time as he had already planned.

So when he answered the stranger, it was with the first thing that came to mind. The guy had mentioned vampires as if he believed they existed. At least, it seemed so to Peter, who was oblivious to humour, the majority of the time. His response was only natural.

”We aren’t all monsters. Most are, though. So you should get going,” Peter said. There were plenty of vampires he knew who did not blink an eye at violence and death, or so he assumed. He did not know them all too well, except through violence. Even those he did know well were prone to violence. The warning was sincere; the human should get indoors, or at least somewhere crowded.

[Sean (DELETED 6788)]

We aren’t all monsters? Sean would repeat this within thought, and then laugh. He might have assumed the man had been joking, but he didn’t look the joking type and that lead Sean to believe one other thing. This was not real? How could this be real? Vampires weren’t real, even if part of him might have hoped they would be. That’s why he was seeing this? It was an illusion of a desire of his subconscious? His last therapist had played off many of his delusions to such things. The two constants he had been explained, one being an altered form of himself, created from some deep desire that he could be more assertive. The other, a woman he had never known, but she looked kind and apparently represented the motherly figure he had been missing throughout his life growing up. This was just another figment of his unconscious thought?

Sean would pull out his pack of cigarettes, placing one to be held between his lips as the pack was returned to his pocket. Lighting up, his eyes held with amusement to what he assumed to be a hallucination claiming to be a vampire. From the corner of his eye, it could be seen as the cold voice within though, whom he had been arguing with earlier, had taken form once again for a brief moment. There was none really around was there? Sean would cast his eyes over at the vision of the figment of himself. “You were what made it so believable…… Don’t talk about that bla bla bla Ha!” Said with a hint of madness, he was truly losing it. This was a new low of crazy, even for him. Another drag would be had from the smoke before Sean’s cast his eyes back to the vampire. “The dogs seemed so real…. When I touched them, I could feel them….” Words shared as he pondered over the power of perception and how his mind seemed capable of producing something so believable.

It could be his lack of sleep? When was the last time he had slept or even had a decent meal for that matter? A man could only go so long on cigarettes and caffeine. Eventually he would have to reach some breaking point of madness. Was this his? He laughed lightly again at the irony of it all. “I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere anytime soon.” Spoken to himself, as that’s what he was doing technically when he spoke to his delusions. Sean noticed the figment of himself was gone, leaving only the man with the dogs. Sean was surprised to see it still held strong. Most of the time, after a figment of his mind was reviled, it didn’t linger long. “I’m lost without hope, maybe to come across an actual vampire would not be such a bad thing? They could end my madness….. Maybe I understand why he did it now.” Speaking of his father then. “ I was never mad at him for going through with it. In a way, it was a relief to know that maybe he had found some form of peace. But to be turned, if vampires were real, Death would be one less thing to fear?”

Thinking out loud, allowing his mind to wonder would sometimes help him remember things. Like what way should he walk to get back to that ***** hotel. Sean’s eyes held to the man, and as he finished his cigarette, pulling out another to light with the last of the one burning. Chain smoking, some frowned upon such but Sean always found a burst of nicotine could help his schizophrenic mind feel normal (if but for short moments). “I would have though, my first delusion of a vampire would have been…. I don’t know…. Maybe more Dracula like?” Shared as he slowly exhaled his smoke. Seriously though, a vampire wearing a sweater vest? Walking five dogs and claiming to be an owner of an animal shelter?! His therapist back home would have a field day trying to determine the hidden meaning of all of that.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter had expected some form of goodbye. A have a good evening or see you around. The latter of which Peter never did like, because it was so vague and uncertain. He wanted to know exactly when he would be seeing a person, and where. He didn’t like the idea of surprises, or meetings that were not planned. But he didn’t get that from this stranger. He got something far more perplexing. Peter had stopped in his tracks, freezing that number yet one more time, though he had a feeling he was going to lose it, soon. Those numbers were so fragile and they fell apart so easily.

But, other living beings took precedence over the numbers, and as much discomfort as it might have given to Peter, he found himself concerned for the other man’s sanity. Not because he thought he should be off the streets and locked up somewhere, but because he knew what it was like to have issues. But it was almost as if he assumed Peter was some kind of hallucination. And then Peter realised what he had said; it dawned on him that he had been the cause for whatever miniature breakdown this might be. This man might not have vehemently told Peter that he hated him, and there was no past wrong that Peter had to rectify. But he felt at least obligated to rectify this.

He couldn’t possibly live with the fact that some stranger thought he was insane, or was thought to be insane, because he believed in vampires. Peter wasn’t going to backtrack; it didn’t cross his mind to try to say that he must have been misheard. He’d changed a lot since he’d first met Jersey, when he’d been clumsy and awkward because he tried to avoid anything that could give him away as the walking undead.

And anyway, what the man was saying was ludicrous. It gave Peter an eye twitch, thinking about all those stereotypes that needed to be banished.

”Crosses and garlic don’t harm us. We don’t have to sleep in coffins. We can’t go out in sunlight. That’s about the only thing…” he said, he frowned. He reached down to touch the dogs as if to reassure them that they were real, that the man didn’t mean anything by what he had said.

”We can still die. But we can come back. I haven’t had to experience that, though,” he said, fully aware that he shouldn’t be saying any of this, but he was thinking logically. It was clear that the man did have issues and if he did go around repeating any of this, people wouldn’t believe him. Simple as that. He offered the information because he thought it would help.

”Come with me,” he said. He really had to get to work. Time was being insistent, haranguing him like some demonic monkey on his back. He didn’t wait for a reply. Just started walking in the direction he needed to walk.