Unpleasant Surprises – A suspense short story.

Unpleasant Surprises
Hey there, I know none of you exist, but at times everything feels so real. When you start settling down, fate as deceitful as it is, shatters the illusion of tranquillity you try to believe in and throws an irony at you. Imagine the horror when a psychology major is diagnosed with schizophrenia! Truman’s Delusion to be exact. I used to think that I am always being filmed by someone, that I have you people who listen to my stupid story, and that’s it. Nothing I ever said is valid now. Because I am a crazy cuckoo desperate for attention making up stories. That’s what they think. I know what happened with me, I know that I was being filmed and stalked by a man who has burnt a hole in my already wrecked life. I know what I’ve said in the past is true even though I have doubted myself at times. And yes, I do agree I am crazy to an extent because I think you people exist, but it is only because of the people who drove me crazy that I could not understand where they stopped and all of you started. And now their unnoticed sin which I scream to the world every day is ignored as my credibility is a joke.

That day was my birthday and not even a single pretentious bastard who calls himself my friend had wished me. Not even my best friend who used to support me all the time. It’s all very surprising and confusing the way in which people treat you, look at you and judge you once you are declared not fit to mingle in the monotonous social drama. My own parents, whose support I needed the most had abandoned me and had become only a source of stable income. So, there I was, alone on my birthday, desperately waiting for someone to say “Surprise!”. Epiphany was too late, so late that when I realised I myself will have to plan my party, it was 7 in the evening and I couldn’t even call my friends to meet me. The people who actually were free couldn’t care less if it was my birthday, they were the regular night club freaks who just wanted company. I got ready, I locked my room where I lived alone, and I got on an auto.

They had been waiting for me outside the club for 15 minutes when I reached. I have never been a person who gets to places in time. It’s not that I’m lazy, if I want, I could be anywhere in time. But I’m not disciplined enough for that. Discipline is a Bitch. It spoils you. It’s the drug that robs you of your creativity and makes you find peace in living the life of an ant which is oblivious to the fact that it is gradually dying in an ant-farm. What’s funnier is, you will be ready to sacrifice everything to find that peace in the end, while living in the house of cards your whole life, never being satisfied. I do not endorse the “Life is a Party” lifestyle either. Life sucks. You have to face it, the sooner you do, the lesser the damage. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of damage.

We were dancing, and drinking, and dancing some more, and drinking some more. I was flaunting my Little Black Dress and I was getting some attention. That’s when I saw him. I did not have any idea who it was. He was just a hooded silhouette in the dimly lit corner of the club. It was almost as if he was non-existent to the world. He was staring at me. I could see his eyes, or I couldn’t, I don’t know, but it felt like two red balls of fire were pointed towards me in his hood. Chills ran down my Spine. I stopped dancing. To be honest, I was pretty drunk. It could have been the alcohol which was making me see things, but he didn’t seem like something which had spawned off my imagination.

My friends-the party freaks dragged me to a table nearby and introduced me to some guys. I turned back to see if he was still there. He was not. I calmed myself and started a conversation with a Zayn Malik look-alike whom I was just introduced to. I guess he was told that I was an easy target because he was getting too comfortable with me. Yes! After my dad molesting me, my ex-boyfriend playing with my life, and getting diagnosed with schizophrenia for claiming all that, this is what I needed in my life, for a handsome looking jerk whom I just met, to grope me in a night club on my birthday. You heard it right. My mom was the first person to think I’m crazy when I told her what had happened. She couldn’t bear to look at my face. But that turned out good because she sent me away. Like all girls with daddy issues, I fell for a drug dealing jerk who thought I was an opportunity. He used to be drunk all the time and sell weed to college students. I don’t know how stupid and helpless I was in that moment to like him. It wasn’t my fault that I liked him, I never had a male role model in my life, nor had I seen any love. He ended up using me, burning me with cigarettes, beating me, and finally when I broke up with him, he started stalking me. He would send his friends and they would spy on me. They would click my pictures. When I told it to my friends they thought I was paranoid. They told I need professional help and then I got certified as a crazy person! No one believes that all of this happened to me. I know what happened to me, but what can I do in a world filled with cynics who think I am an attention seeker? Thank God, I wasn’t put into an asylum. Instead have to talk to my psychologist – my teacher in college – for an hour every day.

He was trying to make out with me and my mind kept resisting subtly, yet my body was completely ok with it. Something lit up my peripheral vision and I turned. There he was, the hooded silhouette. I was getting really uncomfortable. Was he a goon that my ex-boyfriend had sent to spy on me? Was he a figment of my imagination? Was I too high? Was I really crazy? My stomach started grumbling. I felt like throwing up. I rushed to the washroom. It was the alcohol.

There is one thing for which I should credit my ex-boyfriend. He taught me to drink. Why do people drink? It does not taste good, it burns your stomach, it makes you want to puke. Then why do they pay so much for it? Why do they drink it? They drink to make all the bullshit go away. To not talk to anyone, to not listen to anything, to just jump off a building and fly, to get that feeling, that’s why they drink. When I drink, world seems so easy. I sat down in the washroom, after throwing up. I could not bear to see my face with the make-up gone and eyeliner smudged, nor did my legs support me in my high heels. I stared at the light for a while. I was very tired. I thought about the guy whom I met, he would judge me if I went out like this. I think only flawed people judge others. They cannot bear the fact that they are flawed so they find peace in concluding that everyone else is damaged too. All psychologically damaged pigs like their girl to be a spotless beauty from heaven. Same goes for girls, they want their guys to be a Greek demigod or a prince Charming. Even the feministic bitches. Actually, they are the ones who seek male validation the most. They think they can live in a world where everyone is equal, but they are simply fooling themselves about things that are not possible. Believe me, because I was one of them. Now why would I want to equal to a guy when I can simply be his queen and enjoy? I would not give up the reservations for equality. No, I want to feel special, I don’t want all the freedom a guy gets if I have to trade my luxuries for it. Half of the women who call themselves feminist, this is what they want, for a guy to treat them like a queen. Hypocrites who want both special treatment and equality at the same time.

I covered the marks that my boyfriend’s cigarettes had left on my face with my hair, I washed my face and went out. The guy was already dancing with some other girl. One of the party freaks had just realised that it was my birthday and she pulled me to a table. She brought a hell lot of shots and kept it in front of me. She told me to drink up and that it was her treat. I was really miserable. I had just puked and was feeling very uneasy. That’s when I saw him again. The hooded silhouette. He was walking across the dance floor staring at me. I did not have any nerve to face him. I silently watched him for a second. The next moment I finished all those shots; I drank to make all the bullshit go away. It took a few minutes for it to kick in but once it did, I could not feel anything. Everything was just a blurred shaky image to my mind. Even if he was a real person and if he was in front of me, I would not know. I tried dancing but I could not. I came back and fell on the table almost unconscious. I know my limits. I knew I could drink so much, but this feeling was as if someone had spiked my drink.

They woke me up when they were about to leave, and even before I could get myself together, all of them had left. They left me alone outside a nightclub at midnight. I tried getting a taxi but there was no one around. I tried calling them back but my phone said my balance was insufficient. I smashed it on the road with anger. Fk! I regretted doing that the next second and tried to put my phone together which was everywhere on the road. Even though inside there was a whole crowd which was living it like it was the last day, the streets were deserted and the night was pitch dark as if yesterday was the last day. I did not know what to do. I decided that I could walk till my room which was only one and half kilometres away. I took off my heels and started walking. And then I realised that this was the worst thing I could have done.

No, I did not die, if you are thinking about that, but something pretty awful happened. I could see him walking behind me. Mr. Hooded-silhouette. I did not know what to do. Should I scream? – He may not be real and I may really be crazy. Should I run? – I can barely walk. Should I face him? – Are you crazy?
I started running. I did not know what was happening. I just ran. I felt a rush of adrenaline pumped by my fear to get me to run as fast as I could. And I started screaming for help. As I thought that my life was going to end soon, my mom came into my thoughts. I don’t know why her, but she did. Why is my story such a sad one? Why is it so dark? Because the world is a dark themed story. Real life is not La La land where you sing and dance and be happy. Real life sucks. My body did not want to be supportive. It was very tired. I fell. I was unconscious.

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The sunlight through the window woke me up. I turned around and wrapped my sheets even more tightly. While my mind was waking up I realised that the last thought that had registered in my brain was that I was going to die. I opened my eyes abruptly to see that I was lying down in my room. I got up. There was a bang!

“Surprise!” they all screamed. Yes, all my friends had come to wish me. They made me cut the cake on the bed. I was very happy. Turns out every one of the pretentious bastards had decided that they will give me the best birthday surprise ever, since I was feeling very low. My best friend whom I thought would stop talking to me forever came and wished me and gave me a gift. He was wearing a hooded shirt by the way. It’s all very surprising and confusing the way in which people treat you, look at you and judge you once you are declared not fit to mingle in the monotonous social drama! I loved this surprise even though it started in an unpleasant way.

I guess none of you will know for a fact if I am crazy or not. That if all my claims regarding my dad and my boyfriend are true or not. You will have to judge me and conclude like all flawed people do. But why do I care? You are all non-existent and I am a crazy person!