Claude's Secret



As a psychologist, I have dealt with all kinds of mental illness: schizophrenia, personality disorders, kleptomania, and many others. I have dealt with some rather strange cases, but what happened last week was unfathomable.

It was a normal day at work, and I was just wrapping up some daily work. The sun was setting and many of my coworkers had already gone home. Suddenly, the door to my office opens. A young boy with cold greyish eyes slowly walks in. His appearance was, for lack of a better word, unnerving. He reeked of gasoline and his white shirt was dirty with a black substance.

"Hello, are you lost?" I asked.

With his cold, almost empty looking eyes, he responded, "I know... exactly where I am."

I felt like what had just happened was some type of sick joke, or maybe he had been working under a car all day. Those cold grey eyes bothered me greatly. I was also dumbfounded on how he got past security. At this point I should of escorted the child out of my office, but he interested me greatly. After about ten minutes of conversation, the only thing I got out of him was his name. Claude.

"Claude?" I thought, "Why does that seem familiar? Was my foster father's name Claude? No, no it wasn't."

Claude told me he was here to show me something, and that is all he told me. So, at this point I thought he was here to reveal some sick secret of his.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

I did as told and shut them tightly. As I did this I felt a sudden sense of dread, as if everything around me was gone. At this point I knew this wasn't a sick joke. I jolted into consciousness again, and I was in a solid white room. From the floor to the ceiling the room was plain white. The only exception were two dark doorways at the end. I was sweating and getting more tense as every second slowly passed.

"Claude?! Where the hell are we?" I asked as I caught him in the corner of my eye.

"This is your memory... follow me," he said coldly.

I had no idea if I was dreaming, but I was infatuated with the idea of exploring my own mind. I followed Claude into the dark doorway and closed my eyes tightly. I woke up on my back, gazing into the clear blue sky. When I stood up, something inside me awoke. I was at my childhood home. My real home. It was a warm summer day, and the house was just as I remembered it. The fear in me faded and was replaced with a comforting feeling. The ugly light-green paint and cluttered garage were exactly as I remembered. Claude walked in the house and instructed me to wait outside. He shut the front door behind him and locked it. All of the sudden my heart started racing.

"Claude! No! Get out quick!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

It was all coming back to me; my house burned down when I was 10. The familiar smell of gas had entered my nose, and I started shaking violently. I heard screams... those awful, fucking, bloodcurdling screams!

"Get out of the fucking house! Please!" I yelped like a helpless child.

I sprinted to the window and peered in. I saw my family. My family burning alive. Their eyes were gone, but they kept screaming and screaming! Their faces were melted, their eyes were gone, but they kept screaming. Then, I saw Claude dashing out of the house with a bright-red gas can in his hand. I fell to my knees in front of the window, paralyzed. As I gazed into the window one last time, I realised that my eyes were exactly like Claude's.

"No! I didn't do this! This is your fucking fault!" I screamed at Claude as he approached me.

"We all have repressed memories of what we have done. Some are lucky and don't ever discover their dark secret, but that doesn't mean they don't have one. Remember, you aren't alone... there are always more demons to find," he said.

When I woke up I was in an ambulance. Doctors said I was screaming for almost a full hour and they had to sedate me. I have been in the hospital for a week. My family members are in every window I look in. Their contorted, melted, eyeless faces screaming at me! "Why Claude?! Why?!" I can't take it anymore, and I will spend my last moments alive the same way they did. Burning.