Another new set of writing prompts this week from ‘Inspiration Monday’. For this story I used the prompt, ‘The other me.’
The Other Me
I’ve always known about my other me. He has been that small whisper in my ear encouraging me to do things that I either knew I shouldn’t or was to scared to do. My harsh upbringing at home together with a strict, almost barbaric, schooling, gave me the tools I needed to rebuff those enticing whispers, until now.
I’m not sure if it’s a case of him becoming more clever and devious or me weakening for some reason. He’s always had this knack of knowing when best to appear, usually when I’m feeling a bit down or unsure of myself. The combination of me losing my job, the drink and Mary walking out on me must have seemed like a golden opportunity for him. When the whispers started this time his ideas were more outrageous than ever before.
I still can’t explain why I took any notice of him. Normally I would dismiss him as soon as the whispers began and, with a bit of a grumble, he would admit defeat and disappear. This time though I made the mistake of actually spending time listening to him. He recognized this chink in my armour and went for it. Before I realized what I was doing I was engaging him in conversation, questioning him, trying to counter his arguments. It was at this point that he knew he had won. I could sense the satisfaction in his voice knowing his patience had finally been rewarded.
So that’s why I’m here today. It was all his idea. I know that when my friends and family hear about this they will be flabbergasted. I can picture them telling the police and press that what I had done was completely out of character, not like me at all, and of course they will be right, it’s not really me standing here with this shotgun in my hand.
He had convinced me that everything would be OK. All I had to do was go in, wave the gun around and walk away with enough money to solve all my problems. He told me not to worry because he’d be there with me the whole time telling me what to do and of course he was.
Once we were in there he took over. I didn’t want to do any of those things and I kept telling him that but he wouldn’t listen. As soon as the police arrived he left. I dropped the gun straight away and told them it wasn’t me. I kept shouting out how sorry I was as they handcuffed me and led me away. All I could see was the carnage he had left behind.
He has deserted me now. As far as he’s concerned his job is done. I’m the one left with the nightmares that are going to keep me awake in my prison cell. I’m praying that he’s gone for good but deep down I know that he will be back one day.