Legion -part 1

It was last Thursday morning when I woke up a different person. Again. I came out of a dream thinking of a nice bowl of celery soup, my mouth started to water and I knew that it had happened again. The change, I mean. The day before I had hated celery. That’s how I know, you see. Well its the first thing I notice anyway. There are other …differences.

Now I’ve read a lot about this sort of thing, naturally, and seen a lot of nonsense on telly. But I’m not like that. Nothing dramatic, no Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde rubbish. No-one knows any different about me, even Beth can’t tell. I’m the same bloke on the outside, same voice same clothing, everything. And I’m aware of the other one – I don’t forget. But inside I’m another person. This one likes celery, no loves celery, all vegetables in fact. The other one, well, he’s more of a carnivore I suppose you could call it.

I got up, showered and dressed and noticed with a little annoyance that the drain seemed to be blocked. The house was quiet, Beth was nowhere to be seen. I assumed she’d gone to work without waking me. The kitchen was a mess and I looked through the cupboards for vegetables. None. I set about cleaning up as the coffee percolated. It was 8.30am and I would normally be at work at this time – if I still had a job. It is kind of odd “remembering” the events of the previous month when he was in charge, the other one, and how he had lost us our job.

Again annoyance as I thought about him and his so called assertiveness. There was no point in being exasperated – it was fruitless. We had been on this seesaw since, well since a long time ago. You just have to make do you know? Make the best of a bad situation as they say.

Breakfast was porridge, it was the healthiest thing I could find, and as I filled up the pan with water to stop the cooling remnants sticking, I noticed the calendar. Now that’s odd, I thought, someones torn off the month too soon. Bad luck to do that, I thought.

The house seemed strange. It wasn’t just the quiet – it smelled peculiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I began to notice the scents that were missing; the delicious smell of baking, the lemon of the cleaner Beth liked to use to clean the bathroom, the perfume she wore that lingered in the air after she went to work. Not there. Instead there was a stale odour, like old wet clothes. The smell of emptiness.

Beth and I had been together forever, and though we didn’t talk about my diverse nature, I think she suspected something as she called me by two names. Sometimes she called me Johnny and sometimes she called me Jack. It wasn’t as if she identified my two sides and called them by name – she wasn’t always right. She loved the both of us, I know that, but I did feel jealous that he, the other one, was more physical.

Where was I? Yes I thought I’d better look into the blocking drain and went out to the garage to get my toolbox. I was shocked to see the state of the place. Tools every which way, the old motorbike lay on its side, and boxes and shelving had been pulled over and strewn about. I wondered for a moment whether to abandon the drain project and clear up the garage and was standing there, frozen in indecision when I saw one of Beth’s shoes.

It was underneath an overturned box, just poking out a little. My stomach kind of flip flopped when I saw it. One little shoe all by itself. I bent to pick it up, and on getting closer realised with horror that there was a foot in it.

I reeled back, I think, flailing my arms and sort of fell into a pile of old carpet pieces that had been stacked up. Then I heard the laugh, I heard it quite clearly – you’ll think I’m mad – but I heard it inside my head.

That’s when I called the Police Station, and you arrived so promptly. I don’t know what else to say. You have to charge me – it’s the only way to catch the killer. I know he’s in there, I heard him.