My parents could no longer afford to pay for my therapy sessions. My psychosis was beyond redemption, it persisted to manifest into reality and left us bankrupt. I weaved a cocoon, shielded from the world, incognito and depressed. The people around me no longer had the power or courage to recognise me or Bushwe.
Inundated in a sea of hopelessness I stopped fighting him and allowed the psychokinesis full fledged control. I took asylum at the back of my mind as a subconscious entity. Bushwe began to live my life while I quietly watched on. He was very interested in learning so naturally I excelled in school, a straight A student and top of my class. Social stigma was my nemesis, rejected by the world, ignored and isolated. I hated him, he robbed me of my right to live a normal happy life and pushed away the people that I love. This backward chauvinistic pig had me on wardrobe malfunction on a daily. He made me wear atrocious combination of clothes. He cut my mothers leather handbags to make loin skins for underwear. That night my mother wept for hours that it broke my heart.
At university I was the infamous weird lesbian. Bushwe chased every girl that he laid eyes on. He was a repulsive animal that preyed on the female species. Just when I thought my nightmare could not get any worse, in my final year of college, he began to have sex with me. He raped me every night for hours that felt like eternity. This infernos burnt my soul to the core. I could no longer escape this reality in the comfort of sub inertia. Bushwe had to die. We had to die.
I planned my suicide with detailed perfection. It was a sweet way to go. He sensed my thoughts but just when he was about to unravel it all, I would distract him with the anguish of my pain. The combination of a benzodiazepine and an opiate will trigger respitory arrest and I would fall asleep in perpetuity. The irony of it all is that I had never been more alive than than the moments I planned my death. I anticipated my rendezvous with hades with the eagerness of a tick on a hound.
It was a virulent cocktail of Bromazepam, Codeine, Tylenol and vodka. I added a few painkillers from my mothers batch for good measure. It tasted awful but I gulped it all. Bushwe realised a little too late. Heavily sedated we slipped into a deep slumber. I have never felt so peaceful.