An Invisible Battle
I’m a warrior.
For four years now I’ve been aggressive towards the enemy, keeping it locked away in a shell, bottled, where no man should have to bear witness to its wrath and fury. For four long years I’ve made sure that no one would be taken by its sly, silky, convincing voice or its dark, sadistic and malicious grip in which it engulfs said persons world in darkness… After all, I would know, I lost my sister to this sinister beast. It feeds on that ya’know? It will take all your sadness and grief and amplify and exaggerate it into something worse than you think. It is a nifty creature. For since there has been fear, misery and grief… ‘It’ has existed.
I clenched my fists and my eyes gave way to the tsunami of emotions I felt when I found out about my mother. About how she died trying to find me on this war-torn battlefield. I was too wrapped up in what the beast was doing, I forgot that my loved ones needed me…and where was I when they needed me most? Caught up in my invisible battles. And for that split second in which I grieved and mourned the death of my mother, I heard the whispers of the beast creep past me and heard it murmur, “This is the beginning of the end for you”. I turned rapidly only to find the cage in which I confined the creature to was gone, and to my dismay, the beast itself.
Suddenly, darkness overcame my body like a shadow and with it came a feeling of hopelessness. The voices again crept, “you couldn’t save your mother Johnny boy, what makes you think you can save yourself!” I felt helpless and the one person I relied on most, was now gone.
Days turned into months and the voices did not stop, then suddenly the voice exclaimed aloud, bellowing into the darkness “JOHN FLYNN! You will be my vessel, you will carry my hate, my self-loathe, my inability to express the emotions I feel and you will despise this world and everyone in it!” I am now a mere puppet to the beast, acting all of its commands out, unable to think for myself. “HELP! Please help me!” My pleas no longer came out as words but instead as actions controlled by the beast itself. I no longer cared about anyone. And any attempt to try and escape this cell of misery and despair was met with visions of my mother and sister hanging by a rope.
I am losing this battle...and no one can help me.
My name is John Flynn, and I am clinically diagnosed with depression and schizophrenia. My wrists are stained with scars from where I tried to signal for help, my words are slurred and are undecipherable from where “the beast” mangled my thoughts. I am no longer a warrior, free and brave…I am a prisoner, enclosed in my own melancholic thoughts.
Coroner’s Report:
Victim- John Mitchell Flynn
Gender- Male
D.O.B- 2/2/2000 (Age 15)
Cause of Death- Suicide by means of hanging himself
Please see attached most recent therapy session with John. Cheers
Coroner in charge of examination- Maxwell Flynn (Father)
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