EXCERPTS
I wake up to the same scenery, the same setup, the same blank space inside and around me, and to My Brain chanting: Told you so! I greet my corpse; none of this is her fault after all. All my first thoughts are about her. I’m convinced that I didn’t kill her. I’m sure she didn’t deserve to die. And I’m determined to solve her murder. I want to give myself, and my corpse, a deadline, because I don’t like it when things linger. However, I still can’t tell what time it is, and the city’s round-the-clock funereal state is of no help in the matter. “I’ll find your killer ASAP, at my earliest convenience. Don’t you worry.” There, that must have reassured her, even though it did nothing for me.
I then note that I didn’t get my girlfriend’s number. I didn’t even catch her name. If this relationship is going to work, I need to put in more effort. Not that she minded my lack of interest in her. She was too busy inquiring about me. And I satisfied her curiosity at every turn. With my now well-established deception skills, I told her all about my friends, with My Brain’s benediction: Yes, you do have friends, as hard as that is to believe. I even told her about my cats, my trip to Italy and my fear of pandas. All of which My Brain confirmed were factually true. I get up, shower and head for work, in the hope of running into her. I don’t. She seeks me out instead.
She comes into my office just as I’m about to pinch myself to see whether I’m in a dream. A little overdue, but the thought had just occurred to me. She tells me she gets the mystery act. Are mysteries a package deal with the lost souls she kept going on about last night? I don’t ask because what difference does it make? She’s fine taking things slow. She doesn’t ask for my number. She’s awfully understanding; or is she hiding something? I know I am, so why wouldn’t she be? What if she killed my corpse? What better way to cover her tracks than to keep the main suspect in her sights? I don’t know the first thing about this woman. I guess I really have to pay attention now.
So, I start listening. And asking. Being a therapist has its uses after all. I find out she had a normal childhood, loving parents. My Brain offers up that I had those too: Whether you deserved it or not, you were cared for. I don’t say anything. What’s the use? She studied chemistry and now works at the hospital lab, which explains her presence on the premises. She’s not here to spy on me. All this will need to be verified of course. But for the time being I focus on sizing her up by what she’s saying. I fall in and out of concentration, until I hear: “The beatings weren’t even the worst part.”
“My heart beating is by far the worst part of my life.” I snort at this confession. Seeing her frown, I promptly disguise it as a cough.
Turns out she was in an abusive relationship for years. I don’t get why she didn’t just walk away, but I try to make a compassionate face. She swore she would never let anyone else in ever again… Yet here she is pouring her heart out to a possibly, though unlikely, murderous stranger who’s not even really invested in her life. She sure knows how to pick them. If this is the company she chooses to keep then honestly, she’s asking for it. I refrain from telling her this, just so she won’t stop providing me with information. But she is done anyway, that’s her whole deal. Uninterestingly normal. I won’t get anywhere by questioning her. I need some sort of proof, which I set out to acquire, but not before getting her name. I pretend we just met, as a way of letting her know that I’m okay with everything she shared; that I’ll still have her. I hold out my hand for her to shake. I don’t say my name, because on the off chance I’m not an Alex, I don’t want her to think I have multiple personalities when I barely have the one.
___________
Premise: Detective Me (DM) suspects Suspect Me (SM) of murdering my corpse. Motive: unknown / Proof: SM found the body. SM is keeping the body. SM’s Brain says SM is hiding something. SM is conveniently amnesic.
Date and Time: Third day of my current existence. Still no way to tell the time.
Place: My apartment.
Rundown of Events:
Sat down at desk with SM. SM looked uncomfortable. Maybe because chair uncomfortable. Started writing conversation.
DM: Don’t hold anything back. Now is your chance. Focus and try to remember… No one is judging you. Well except for Your Brain, but we won’t write what It says, so you’re safe with me.
SM: Thank you… I hope this works… Okay here it goes: I don’t feel like myself…
DM: Tell me something I don’t know.
SM: I can’t, you know everything I know! Maybe you should try asking me some questions.
DM: We’re doing this because we’ve established that you know more than I do… But I’ll bite. Did you kill my corpse?
SM: I don’t recall.
DM: Did you know my corpse?
SM: I don’t recall.
DM: Did you love my corpse?
SM: I don’t recall.
DM: Did you like pizza?
SM: No.
DM: Now we’re getting somewhere!
SM: We are?
DM: Sure! You are remembering important things. Murder is important, isn’t it?
SM: It is.
DM: See? You remembered that. So, if you had in fact killed my corpse, you would recall it.
SM: Makes sense.
DM: I know, right?
SM: Can you ask me what my name is?
DM: What’s your name?
SM: I don’t recall.
DM: Then it doesn’t matter. Thank you, SM for your cooperation. You’re free to go.
Notes:
- I am cleared as a suspect.
- Never order pizza (if I ever get to eat).
- Don’t let My Brain play mind games with me.