by B. R. Miller
“I’m sorry,” I begin, “I can’t understand you.”
The man repeats himself then holds out his hands holding a carefully wrapped blanket.
“I think he wants you to take it,” Patty says.
I stretch out my hands slowly and the old man sets the blanket in my arms. I nod in a way that says “thank you.” Unwrapping the blanket, I find that it is big enough to cover all three of us so that’s what I do.
A crack of lightening grabs my attention as I look at the small hole in the ceiling a few feet away from me. Rain slowly begins to fall and drops of water make their way into our car through that little hole. One by one, the remaining men in the car lie down where ever they can. Skinner lies down and rests his head on my lap. Soon he is asleep. That man could sleep through anything.
I look over to Patty and notice he is playing with something on the ground. I lean forward and notice the dead flower that once grew in the cracks of the boards. Patty picks it and holds it with both hands. The flower begins to bend and straighten itself out. Petals are forming and the center is turning yellow. In just a few moments time, the flower is completely back to life.
“How do you do it?” I ask.
Patty lets out a small smile. “The same way you are able to do the things you do.”
“I was born this way.”
“Exactly. Well, sort of,” Patty begins. “What is the strongest force in existence? What can make a mute man sing or a lame man dance?”
I look at him not knowing the answer.
“Love.” Patty holds up the flower. “All it takes is a little love.”
I clutch the flower in my hands and bring it in front of my face. Looking over at Patty, I see him smile at me then slowly shut his eyes. Another clap of lightening startles me.
Ishnaha. Ishnahan. Olerah. Rahnahan.
I sing the lullaby over again but the next time, I translate it. But just as I’m getting started, Skinner begins humming the harmony.
The stars are bright. The stars are bright. They’ll bring you home, home to me.
We finish and I smile at Skinner who returns the expression. The car doors slide open and guards begin shouting orders. Everyone is quickly on their feet as the guards begin yanking men out of the car and into the rain. A guard comes up to Patty and throws him out. He grabs my shoulder and soon I am thrown out of the car. I land on face in the mud and soon Skinner is next to me, looking at me with fear in his eyes.
The guards lined us up into two lines Skinner and myself in one and Patty in another. They led us to the center of the stadium where we were joined with other prisoners. Half the prisoners, including Patty, were on one side while the rest of us were on the other. The rain ran into my eyes so I bring a hand up to wipe the rain away. Then the guards aimed their guns at Patty’s row. Patty just looked at me as if telling me everything was going to be okay.
I started to run towards Patty when two guards jump on me, tackling me to the mud. They yank me up and the gun shots go off. Everything is silent. I look around and see everyone frozen. The rain has stopped midair and there is no sound. Skinner is in his ready to fight position.I can tell he’s getting ready to release an energy pulse. I look at Patty who is taking slow steps towards me.
“No…no!” I yell. “Patty, you’re ascending…”
Patty lets out a smile. “I guess this is where we say goodbye, my friend.”
“Just run! Get out of here!” I plead.
“You know I can’t do that. When it is my time to go, it’s my time to go.”
I hang my head, trying to hide my tears.
“What’s your name?”
“You know my name…”
“What is your name?”
I take a few deep breaths then look him in the eye. “My name is Tristan.”
“Never forget who you are.”
Patty begins walking back to where he was standing. He looks at the oncoming bullet then at me. Everything slowly begins to have life again. Right when the bullet makes contact with Patty’s forehead, Skinner’s energy pulse sends everyone flying through the air. I thrust my arms behind me to stabilize myself and see the guards rushing to their feet. Gun fire erupts to my left. Amille, Fletcher and Cooly begin storming the stadium, guns aimed at all the guards.
Seeing that they are greatly outnumbered, I dive down and land with a crushing blow on the nearest guards back. I instantly ascend just to come down hard on the next guards back. I do this for all the guards near me. When I land on the last ones back, I stop to catch my breath.
The gun fire ceases and I spot Patty’s body lying ten yards away. I stand up and slowly walk over to it. Kneeling down in front of him, I can’t help but notice the stream of blood that once flowed from his forehead. His eyes were open so I run my fingers over his eye lids to close them. Skinner and Fletcher walk up behind me.
“Rest in peace, buddy,” I say through my tears.
Instantly, the far side of the stadium erupts. Huge chunks of concrete fly through the air landing all around us, some impaling the prisoners. Through the dust, we see a horde of men running towards us. Raves.
Chapter Eleven
I quickly burst to my feet as Fletcher and Skinner begin sizing up how many Raves ther actually are. Rave after Rave keeps emerging through the dust. Skinner runs to the center of the stadium and I see him charging up a pulse. I shoot up into the air and plan out who I’m going after. Then, Skinner charges for the oncoming Raves. The Raves begin shooting their weapons at him but he barely dodges each one. Then, when he is maybe five or six yards from the leader of the pack, he releases his pulse. This was the strongest one yet. Raves go flying through the air. Some are thrown against the side of the stadium, knocking them unconscious or killing them. Others are thrown maybe a few yards and quickly scammer to their feet.
I can see Skinner recharging another pulse as he fights hand to hand with a Rave, Another Rave is coming up behind him so I dart for him. Landing on the center of his spine, the Rave’s mist is silenced forever. I stretch out my hand and instantly, the three Raves that are steadily approaching ascend fifteen feet in the air, legs kicking. I thrust my hand to my left and they go soaring to the side of the stadium.
I quickly duck to miss a punch. Twisting my body around, I come up with a deadly blow to the Raves chest. A solid blow to the back of my head makes me fall to the ground. I stammer to my feet and quickly turn around. A Rave is swinging the butt of his gun around again. I thrust my arm out in his direction. He slowly rises off the ground, gun dropping, and then flies through the air when my arm thrust to the right.
That’s when I hear it. A maniacal laughter that I’ve heard before. I turn around and I see a dark figure slowly coming through the settling dust.
“Tristan!” the voice calls out in a deep register that seems to echo off the stadium walls.
I wipe the rain out of my eyes and see Ruan slowly approaching, gun drawn. I plant my feet firm on the ground and poise my arms in the combat ready position. Looking him dead in the eye, he stops maybe thirty yards from me. No words are said, none need to be. He simply lowers his gun before dropping it the ground. Then he thrust his arms behind him and he quickly is approaching me. I lunge my arms behind my back and instantly we are approaching each other at a terribly fast speed.
We collide midair and rapidly fall to the ground, Ruan on top of me. He throws a punch but I bob my head out of the way, his fist making contact with the dirt. He throws another punch and it hits me square in the jaw. I thrust my arms to his chest and flies off of me. Lunging to my feet, I bring a fist up to my jaw and wipe away and small stream of blood. I hear a cry to my left and see Skinner standing next to a Rave with a knife sticking out of his collar bone. I quickly thrust my arms behind my back and I’m soaring through he air towards Skinner. Ruan collides with me midway and we tumble to the ground again, this time, I’m on top.
I throw a punch which hits him in the temple which temporarily distorts his perception. Grabbing a hold o
f his collar, I throw him high in the air, thirty, forty feet up. I stick out my arm Superman style and ascend rapidly towards him. My arm collides with his chest and he goes flying through the air, making a hard impact against a stadium wall.
I watch, watch for signs of movement, of life. Nothing. I slowly move towards him and lower myself right in front of his still body. Then, in an instant, his arms thrust behind him and he collides with my gut. He pushes me higher and higher into the sky. I eventually am able to break away and throw a punch which hits him in the jaw but does not phase him. He brings a leg up and around and it collides with my chest, sending me back another twenty feet. Before I can recover, he’s right there, blowing punch after punch to my gut. I keel over in pain as I try to catch my breath after each punch. Finally he stops, but he quickly grabs ahold of my shoulders and flings me higher into the sky. As I slowly reach my highest altitude, Ruan is there. He delivers a heavy blow which sends me careening towards the Earth.
A thick black cloud of dust and mud shoots high into the sky as I make contact with the ground. I can not move. Everything hurts. I turn my head ever so slowly and see Fletcher going hand to hand with two Raves and loosing. Skinner is right next to him, trying to fight with one arm. My heart beat thumps loud in my ears. Everything begins to go blurry when a single beam of white light pierces through my blurry vision. I’m struggling to breath but I focus all my energy on this white light which is slowly growing. A white figure approaches out the light very slowly, as if in slow motion. That’s when I can tell who it is. Taume kneels down at my side. I look her dead in the eye, gasping for air. She places a soft hand on my chest.
“Breathe…breathe…” she says.
I focus on my breaths, inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. It is a struggle but soon I can breathe normally.
“You’ve got this, Tristan. You are so close to defeating him.”
“I…I can’t,” I mutter through broken teeth. “He’s too strong.”
“Nothing is impossible.”
She brings he hand up and begins caressing my face.
Ishnaha. Ishnahan. Olerah. Rahnahan.
As she sang, a tear begins to form in my eye. Suddenly, a new strength begins forming deep inside of me. I feel it welling up to the point where I have a new determination. I close my eyes one last time and listen to her sing. As she finishes the last line, I open my eyes and Taume is gone. I turn to my side and struggle to my feet. Ruan slowly descends five yards from me.
“Let’s finish this,” I say to myself.
My arms thrust behind me and I am quickly approaching Ruan. I collide with his chest and send him flying through the air. I quickly ascend to where he is headed and thrust my foot into his face. He flies towards the ground and I descend and land hard on his chest. He swings his feet around, knocking me to the ground. I quickly stammer to my feet while he does the same. He throws a punch which I dodge then return with a blow to his gut. He keels over in pain and I bring a knee up to his face. He falls onto his back before I grab him and throw him high into the air. As we ascend, I place each on either side of his temple. I focus all my energy. Everything that I have gone through is building up inside of me, the pain, the hurt, the feeling of being alone. I watch it travel down my arms and out of my hands. His head instantly implodes, blood splattering all over me. I let go of his head and he slowly falls to the ground with a loud thump.
I look around and see all the remaining Raves begin to scatter. Their leader has been defeated. I slowly descend and land right beside Amille and Skinner. Skinner is lying on his back, screaming out in pain. Amiller grabs the knife and quickly jerks it out. One final scream from Skinner and he’s quiet. I walk over to him and kneel by his side. His hand comes up and grabs ahold of my head.
“You did it,” he says through the tears.
I nod then place my forehead to his. We both are shedding tears at this point. It’s over. It’s really over.
Cooly and Fletcher help pick up Skinner and we walk off. Although it’s still raining, the sun begins to creep through the clouds. We walk out of the stadium and past all the prisoners who are now set free. The jeep is waiting for us just outside.
Pulling out of this crappy little town, I look out my window and feel the sun warm up my face.
Chapter Twelve
The rain bounces off the window as if it were doing a dance. I sit in the chair, staring at it, getting lost in its movement. I look to my left and see a lump lying in the bed next to me. He’s always sleeping. He could sleep through anything. The door behind me opens up and Fletcher pops his head in.
“Tristan?” He says calmly. “It’s time to see the doctor.”
He walks in, green scrubs contrasting his dark skin, and pushes my wheel chair out of the room. Right before we leave, I turn and look at the bed. Skinner rolls over and smiles at me. I’m wheeled down the hall, past another set of rooms. We pass the nurses station and inside I see Cooly busy doing paper work. He looks up at me and waves.
I’m wheeled into the doctor’s office and there, sitting like he’s been doing this for years, is my Hungarian friend, Amille. I look at him and let out a smile.
“Hello, Tristan,” he begins. “How are you today?”
I just sit there and smile.
“I understand that you were close to Patty. I want you to know that suicide if hard on everybody. So, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m all ears.”
I turn and look at his pictures on the wall. Amille with another bald headed man, both dressed in military attire, are smiling at me. Amille notices me staring at the picture.
“Ah, yes. That was my CO back in my military days.”
I turn back around and stare at him.
“Listen,” Amille begins, “schizophrenia is a terrible disease. You can’t tell what is real and your perceptions of events can get exaggerated or mistaken for something completely false.”
I look out the window and watch the rain dance off the glass.
“Tristan? Are you here with me?”
Am I here? No, I will always be there, on the run.
EPILOGUE
One in four Americans will get diagnosed with a mental illness sometime in their life. Although an even more alarming statistic is that half of all Americans actually have a diagnosable mental illness. My Name is Tristan is my account of my delusions. While some of it is fictionalized, the main events and themes were how I experienced them. Some of the people are real and my mind just decided to include them in my delusions while some are completely fictional. I started writing this story before I was diagnosed and treated because I thought people needed to hear my story. After being diagnosed, I put the story on hold, thinking that it would put me back into my delusional mindset. I picked up again after some really good friends of mine told me that I need to finish it. It took four years and a lot of mental anguish to come face to face with some of my nightmares.
If you or a loved one is experiencing a mental disorder, know that there is hope! There are originations all around the country that are set up to help you despite income level or status. NAMI is one of the more prominent organizations that has classes set up that can teach you or your loved one about your condition.
If you feel you need treatment, the best case scenario is to get into a doctor right away. Another option is to become a resident, like I did, ata therapeutic community like Hopewell. (www.hopewell.cc) There they work with you on learning to cope with your illness and give you tools to become an independent, successful member of society.
If you still have questions, talk with someone who is experiencing a mental disorder or their loved ones. They should be able to point you in the right direction.
If everything else fails, know this: no matter how dark your night may come, know that the sun is just around the corner.
My Name is Tristan
By B. R. Miller
© B. R. Miller Media 2017
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or t
ransmitted by any means without prior written consent from the author.
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