Paranoid

“I’m not paranoid!” Neil snapped, annoyed at the man walking next to him. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t care! Does that sound paranoid to you?”

His companion kept his opinion to himself and kept going. He was the epitomy of long-suffering patience, his once square jaw gone rounded and his temples gray. He looked like he might be the other’s psychiatrist, and that wasn’t far from the truth. But he was the other’s sounding board.

Neil glared at his friend. He didn’t appreciate the silence.

“I’m not delusional, either!” he fiercely insisted.

“Didn’t say anything,” the man delicately pointed out.

Neil grunted sharply, but couldn’t bring himself to reply. He didn’t have to. Barry knew what he was doing and how much it bothered him. That’s why he did it.

“How long have we known each other?” his companion asked in a slow, thoughtful manner.

Neil eyed him suspiciously. The man was up to something; he could smell it. Warily, he admitted, “Since kindergarten.”

“And in all that time,” Barry deliberately pronounced, as if speaking to a child, “Have I ever once called you ‘paranoid’? Or ‘delusional’?”

Neil eyed the other again, his mind racing for the real meaning behind his friend’s question. But he couldn’t see any trickery involved. Still, he warily replied, “No.” Then, he saw his opening and snapped, “But you were thinking it!”

“That’ll be hard to prove,” Barry replied with a chuckle.

They continued in silence for a moment as Neil picked apart the answer and digested its meaning. Barry didn’t once glance at him, but kept his attention focused on the path ahead. Above, leaves rustled in the wind and from unseen quarters birds chirped merrily. From everywhere, the mating call of treefrogs buzzed in their ears. A distant smell of a barbecue mingled with the scent of fresh-mown grass and tree moss to remind them both that they were only a shout away from civilization, despite what lies the trees told them. The weather was clement, and as long as it lasted, so would their outing. But it didn’t distract Neil from his problems, like Barry had planned.

It was, Neil had to admit, a nice outing, despite the judgemental nature of his companion. But what did his life-long friend know, anyway? Barry didn’t have to put up with the things he had lately. And when Neil got home afterwards, it would likely start up all over again

“I’m not paranoid,” Neil insisted, studying his companion’s face for his reaction. “I know what I saw!”

“I know,” Barry simply replied.

“You don’t believe me,” Neil accused, squinting at the other.

“I never said that,” his friend very diplomatically replied.

“No,” Neil accused. “But you were thinking it!”

“You already said that,” his sounding board reminded him.

Neil exploded. “So, you just came over here to pick me apart, is that it?”

Barry stopped short, but Neil was ready for it and positioned himself so he could search his friend’s eyes for any deception. There was no way he could keep his feelings secret for long. Barry rolled his eyes and looked away, but Neil craned his neck to keep Barry’s face in sight, and his friend was left with no choice except to face him.

“Neil,” the second addressed his friend carefully, “I know it’s been rough lately…”

“…Since my delusions?” Neil bitterly finished for him. “Is that what you were going to say?”

Just as bitterly, Barry snapped, “Okay, Neil! Have it your way! Yes! Since your ‘delusions’!”

“I know what I saw!” Neil protested, more than ready to defend himself whichever way he had to. “I know what I felt!”

Barry was about to say something fierce, but bit back the words. He glared furiously at his friend for a split second, then swallowed his fury and let his shoulders sag. He looked too tired to continue the conversation.

“I know you do,” the man breathed wearily. He paused, as if trying to grapple with a very hard decision, then he added, half-hearted, “Look, if you need to get out of the house for a while, maybe I could talk to Agnes, see if she -“

“She won’t want me in her house,” Neil spat. “And, you know it! She thinks I belong in a home!”

“Don’t put words in her mouth,” the second man mildly admonished.

“She’s my sister!” Neil fiercely reminded the other. “I don’t need to!”

“I’ll talk to her,” Barry promised.

“Talk til you’re blue!” Neil grumbled. “That girl’s too stubborn!”

The second man couldn’t help a little chuckle. “Maybe if you referred to her as a grown-up instead of a little girl…”

“She is what she is!” Neil snapped. He froze when he saw the long-suffering expression on his friend’s face, then turned away. After a moment, he mumbled, “Sorry. Sometimes I forget -“

“It’s okay,” the other told him with a smirk. “It’s only been twenty years.”

Neil stared straight ahead for a bit, then said, “I don’t need to leave the house.”

“Neil -” his friend began, but Neil finished the thought for him.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a tired sigh. “‘If the house is causing you stress, just leave! Sell it!’ I wish I could, Barry. I wish I could.”

“Why don’t you?” the other asked, concerned.

“It won’t sell,” Neil told him, feeling the memory of the realtor’s words pressing down on his shoulders. “Word’s gotten around, and it’s a pariah!”

“What if you lowered the price?” Barry suggested, making Neil scoff.

“It’s not the price,” Neil bitterly told him. “It’s the reputation! Three owners suffering strokes, and one a heart attack. It’s got a reputation,” he repeated in a mutter. He thought a bit and added, “You know, everyone thinks it’s cursed.”

“Why’d you buy it, then?” Barry demanded. Neil could hear the reprimand in his voice, and chose to ignore it. This time.

“How else do you think I got it so cheap?” Neil told him. “I’m not going to let some fairy tale keep me from a bargain!”

Barry shook his head silently, and Neil could feel the judgement oozing from him. That was something he couldn’t let slip past, but even as he gathered his bile for a counter-attack, Barry clapped a hand on his shoulder. It was brief, and the man soon let his hand fall back to his side, but for a moment, it felt like old times again. Neil couldn’t bring himself to utter any of the words burning his tongue.

“Even if you have to lose some money from it,” Barry sympathetically replied, “Get rid of it! There’s no use in holding onto something -“

“- that’s causing me grief,” Neil again finished for him. His anger was all but burned out. “I know! I know!”

“Well?” Barry probed.

Neil paused a while before he softly muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

It was Barry’s turn to be cynical. “No, you won’t.”

“No,” Neil admitted wryly. “I won’t.”

That night, every light shone in the house, just the way Neil wanted it. He supposed his light bill was going to be pretty high, but that was fine with him. He wasn’t exactly hurting for money, anyway. Some lawsuits were like that. Besides, it was worth it.

Every door was closed. Bathroom, bedroom, closet, even cabinets, wherever there was a door, he made sure it was closed. It was inconvenient, going through the entire house like that, but anything was better than the alternative. Any of them that he could lock, he did, and carried the key with him everywhere, just in case. It was the only way to make sure. Things had been too weird lately.

Brushing his teeth earlier, he’d had the feeling that someone was behind the bathroom door, but when he looked, he was alone. Same thing happened in the bedroom as he was changing into his pajamas. Torn between keeping both doors open and shutting himself in a confined space, he chose to keep his escape routes unobstructed, just in case. If it came to it, that allowed him a straight shot from either room to where he kept his bat. No one was going to mess with him that night.

He made his rounds for the fourth time before going to bed. So far, nothing was amiss. Maybe he would get through a third night without any weirdness. In the living room, he tugged at the door to the knick-knack cabinet, the only cabinet in the entire house that locked, and found it securely shut, then proceeded to the bathroom. It was locked, too. As he headed for the bedroom, he made sure he had the right keys, in case he needed to make a night deposit.

He turned towards the master bedroom and froze. The door was ajar.

He didn’t hesitate. There was no question as to whether or not he’d checked it already; he wasn’t that senile, yet. He knew he’d closed it. He slowly backed for the hall closet, his eyes glued to the bedroom. There was no guarantee the bat would be effective against whatever he found, but he was tired of the game. He wanted it over, one way or another.

He reached back to take the knob and felt nothing except air. Swiveling, he found the closet door ajar, too. He studied the dark crack for malicious intent before he leapt forward and threw the door open, letting the hall light flood into the closet. The shelves were exactly the same as when he’d checked earlier that night. He quickly grabbed the bat and slammed the door shut as fast as he could.

Backing away, he held the closet door in his gaze for a second before glancing at the bedroom door. Whatever was inside must have heard the racket. He gripped the bat harder and slowly crept towards his bedroom.

Something creaked behind him, and he jumped around, the bat held ready. The closet door was once more ajar.

He gripped the bat even harder as he cursed the unfairness of it all. It was bad enough feeling someone hiding behind the bathroom door, or constantly shutting doors that he had not opened, but when they caught him between forces, that was the last straw. Holding the bat ready, he kicked the closet door open and swung. The sound of the wood banging against the shelving vibrated all the way up his arm, and almost sent the weapon spinning from his hands.

In pain, he took turns flexing the stiffness from his fingers as he kept an eye darting between the bedroom door and the closet, keeping the bat firmly in one hand at all times. From behind him came another squeaky creak, and he whirled towards the cabinet in the living room, its door slowly yawning. The same cabinet door that he had tested mere seconds ago.

Another door clicked behind him, and he whipped around, already recognizing the sound of the office door well before he saw it pop ajar. Across the hall, the guestroom door followed suit with its tiny squeal of protest. Then, a loud crash sounded from the kitchen, and he recognized the clamor of cabinet doors thrown wide, the oven door dropping down, the refrigerator springing open, the microwave banging. All around him rose a fearsome, atonal clatter as more and more doors, big and small, succumbed to a force determined to have its way and to thwart Neil’s will. The auditory assault brought home quite clearly just how many doors his house contained.

Neil cringed in the abrupt silence as the last of them slammed open and an eerie calm settled throughout the house. Was it getting colder? Neil couldn’t tell if the AC was now malfunctioning, or if his blood had just turned to ice. His feet were freezing, and so were his hands. He peered everywhere at once, looking for his unseen tormentors, grateful for his own foresight in keeping every light in the house blazing. He would find whoever or whatever it was, and he would put a stop to the nonsense once and for all.

The creak behind him sounded different from all the others. It wasn’t from a door, or anything that had a door. It was more like a concentrated settling of weight on the floor boards, like a sneaky foot step. Neil whirled around, and it was the last thing he remembered doing.

Barry looked over the outside of the house, his face grim. He wouldn’t let Agnes see the expression, though. There was no sense in making her feel any worse.

“I knew he should have moved to a home,” she said tightly.

Barry knew it was just her worry talking. He put a supportive arm around her shoulders, and she snuggled closer to him.

“We couldn’t have known,” he told her. “Strokes are funny that way.”

“He shouldn’t have been alone,” she muttered into his chest.

“No,” Barry told her, giving her a gentle squeeze. “But he won’t be anymore.”

He glanced at the For Sale sign planted at the edge of the yard. Agnes’ power of attorney had allowed her to put the house on the market. At least that way, it would no longer be a bother to her brother. He just hoped he would be able to explain the decision if Neil ever woke up.

From the window, it watched them on the lawn and licked what passed for its lips with what passed for a tongue. Soon, it told itself, others would come. Soon, it would feast again. Soon.