The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 60

Caspian waited in a thick stand of woods just beyond the tree line, watching the typical being a family. A tinge of envy touched his soul, knowing that he would never be where they are. His life was too chaotic; his mind too flooded with insanity. What he had been doing was his life. There was no meaning, no purpose, and somewhere inside him, beyond the pain and anger and killing, there was grief—a longing for a different life, something that would give him far more than he had now. But just as he realized what his life could have been, the monster emerged and cast any possibility of that life into a prison; not one of cold steel bars and solitude but of loneliness and mental chaos. His soul would never take refuge sitting in the corner of isolation. Caspian was now in a place where he watched the madness unfurl before him. Even if he wanted to stop, the ability to do so had passed long ago. He already felt dead inside. Perhaps he could take advantage of its chaotic nature, tricking it into participation. But the roar came back as the monster raised its head and, baring its teeth, demanded sustenance.

“You said we would eat!” it said. Its voice spoke silently as Caspian tried to keep his mind organized. He wasn’t sure why, but he was unable to simply walk away, get in his car, and leave the small family in peace. “Get her now!”

Caspian’s thoughts broke through briefly with one rational response. “We need to wait,” he said. “It needs to be dark.”

The agreement was spoken in silence as the monster slipped back into Caspian’s subconscious mind. He could feel its hunger, the longing it possessed for human flesh. It gnawed at him, eating away at his sanity. If he had only stayed on his medication, the cruelty of his diseased mind would have been kept at bay. Now it was too late, and going back home meant risking being apprehended by police. He was certain that the news was broadcasting his likeness while conveying to the public how dangerous he was. There would be few places to go should the search for him extend throughout the country, but this was unlikely unless his crimes extended beyond his home state. Then there was Camilla. What were the chances he could be connected to her death once he was placed at the scene? His reality seemed to have become disjointed as he became plagued with anxiety and paranoia, as if capture constantly waited around every corner. Yet, with the monster ripping at his soul and continuing to demand what many would find detestable, he had no choice but to keep fighting, hoping that the voice in his mind would finally die. But he was certain that it would depart when the time arrived for him to meet to pass, and the more he thought about it, the more he craved it. Sometimes, death is the only trapdoor from a life of torment as what makes us human slips beneath the warmth of the body’s last breath. Caspian knew it was an eventuality. He simply wanted to delay it for as long as possible in hopes of seeing his mind heal. Perhaps there was a way to acquire what he needed. Certainly money wasn’t an issue; he had been traveling with a great deal of cash, but thus far it only served to maintain his survival. This was no longer enough. He wanted a life— something he never had. From the beginning his existence had been nothing less than harrowing, living without a life--like fire without heat, ice without chill.