So I bet you are wondering who I am, well my name is Jacob J. Whitney. The year was 2016, and I was a 24-year-old man, who is also a criminal investigator in the city of Komo, Ohio. And, well, I don’t remember much of my childhood, but from what people told me, maybe that’s for the best. I suffer from a condition called DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder); that’s the reason I don’t remember much. I used to take medication for it, but now they are at a shortage, so they are too expensive to buy, which means I just don’t. I can also lose my job for being “insane” as well as multiple other problems that can arise. So with that being said, welcome to my terrible life.
*RING RING* *RING RING*
“Hello,” I asked.
“Yeah, is this Jacob Ummm Whiety? No that’s not it, Whitney? Yeah that’s it, is this Jacob Whitney?” the caller asked.
“Yeah, who’s asking?” I exclaimed.
“It’s your new boss. My name is Robert Simmons, but for you it’s Mr. Simmons,” the new boss declared.
“Oh, sorry, I’ve just been getting a lot of spam calls recently,” I lied.
“Oh, trust me, I know what you mean,” Mr. Simmons said.
“Yeah, I think everyone does,” I claimed.
Simmons laughed. “Yeah, anyway, I’m gonna need you at work an hour early today,” Simmons explained.
“Why’s that? Is something wrong?” I asked.
“I guess you can say that, we have a new crime scene and would like it if you could come down a little early,” the boss explained.
“Why can’t it wait till my shift sta–” I tried to finish.
“Four people were hung at 64 Main St. with their stomachs cut open,” Mr. Simmons blurted out.
I hung up the phone and went in an instant. When I got there there was such a disgusting smell and yet it was not as bad as downtown. I rushed right in and asked if they already got the photos they needed, they told me yes so I went in to investigate. They told me the cause of death was not the hanging but rather the dissecting, meaning that not only is this person a gruesome killer but this is supposed to be a message… or they’re just insane. And as I’m standing there I got an extreme feeling of anxiety and tiredness, and then it started to feel like I was looking through my own eyes but couldn’t move, like I’m in a dream…like a feeling of wind but it’s more like others thoughts, but I can’t grasp their meaning. And as I’m looking out of my own eyes I can see myself moving and even talking to people asking questions. I can’t really tell what they are, but they felt like sad questions. And then I realize what’s happening, they’re taking control, I start screaming but it feels like I’m in an abyss and just keep sinking. Then I hear them speaking to me for hours and yet it feels like seconds, and then in an instant I’m back in my body… It felt like a warning.
I ignored it at first, but as I started to try to solve the murder, I just kept getting the feeling that something was wrong, like really really wrong to the point of it was all I could even think about.
“Pay attention,” one of them screamed.
“Hey Detective,” Mr. Simmons yelled while shaking me.
As I finally got out of my mental haze I realized I was being called for “Uh yeah yeah sorry captain,” I stuttered.
“Are you okay? You haven’t moved in half an hour after asking others what’s the point of living? Maybe you should go home, maybe this isn’t the case for you,” Mr. Simmons explains.
“Yeah maybe you’re right I just can’t concentrate due to the news I got recently,” I lied.
“Yeah, you should probably go home,” Mr. Simmons explained.
On my way home everything seemed to be a blur, and nothing felt real, like a fever dream. Like I couldn’t control my own body but can at the same time, like someone else was… no is controlling it with me. My vision was blurry and I felt like I was gonna pass out or throw up. When I finally got home I fell asleep almost instantly. I didn’t dream but it felt like I was stuck in that abyss again, like I was stuck there for an eternity, but when I woke up it felt like no more than a second. And when I woke up I was about to go to the bathroom when I realized I fell asleep on my couch but woke up in my bed. I checked the time on my phone and realized I’ve been asleep for 37 hours, but that makes no sense, meaning someone else was in my body. My legs felt weak from pain, so I took some pain meds then got a phone call.
“Hello.” Ugh, it’s the boss.
“Yeah, hello?” I ask.
“Your fingerprints were found on the body at the crime scene a couple days ago, do you know anything about that?” Mr. Simmons asked.
I trembled in fear and couldn’t move. I dropped my phone so… that confirmed it. That’s what the warnings were: I killed those men… I fell, unable to move like even breathing was a chore… I heard the boss from the phone on the floor.
“Um hello… you’re not in trouble detective. Just make sure you wear gloves at the crime scene next time. Also, are you okay? You’ve not answer in almost two days. Just take the week off, okay?” Mr. Simmons told me.
“Yeah.. yeah, thanks boss, I needed that. I just haven’t been able to get out of bed,” I lied.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t want the entire precinct sick, so maybe just tell us when you’re better,” Mr. Simmons explained.
As I put the phone down I could feel my fingers. I felt like I was going to pass out, but if I go to bed, then he may have taken over again. I need to get whatever this is out of me. I made a coffee, then in the living room I saw multiple notes on the ground, written by the others saying that we are all in danger. They said that the killer doesn’t go by a name and with multiple sets of evidence that shows he is guilty… no that I’m guilty I would need to go to jail to stop him… or kill myself. And I had no good options there but he needed to go away even if it ruined my life. I called my boss…
“You know the rest of the story doc,” I say.
“That I do,” the doctor said, continuing to write his notes.
