Seanday Shorts: Dirty Fix

Only a short story this week,
currently working on "The Other Mitchell pt2."

Being an agoraphobic was a problem for me. The quack told me I needed to get out a bit at a time. He'd given me some drugs to calm me down, but he had no idea what it was like.

I took a couple of pills, and decided to take a step outside the door. The Doc had told me to take it slowly, and today I was feeling brave.

Opening the door, I gingerly peeked outside. The small hallway between me and my neighbour was usually all I could manage. But today I took a few steps from my door, then it hit me--something like a vertigo rush. The walls stretched away from me, I started to sweat, and my heart pumped so hard I thought it was going to burst.

I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes, and staggered backwards until I felt a wall against my back. Gasping, I sunk to the ground pulling my knees to my chest. I felt a little better, and with my eyes still closed I edged along the floor.

Ding!

It was the lift, small and confined. Through the gaps in my fingers I realised I'd gone the wrong way, and now I was closer to the lift than to my own apartment.

The door opened, and I knew I would be safer there than in the hall. Without opening my eyes I dashed towards the lift and hit something big and heavy. "What the fuck!" A shout went out, and I recognised the voice, it was James my neighbour.

I had enough time to open my eyes and see his grey vest before we both tumbled into the back of the lift. James collapsed to the floor, and I fell on top of him. Thud, thud, we hit our heads together, and it went dark again.

Ding! The doors closed.

I felt myself being shaken. "Are you OK buddy?" Someone asked. The voice was dull, and I let out a groan. Opening my eyes I looked up at the ceiling, a couple of spots dazzled me and I closed them again.

"Hey, wake up buddy," the voice came again.

Squinting up I saw a guy offering his hand. "Thanks," I replied accepting his help. He pulled me to my feet with a grunt and handed me a motorcycle helmet. "No, that's not mine it's James'." I looked at the floor behind me expecting to see my neighbour, but I was the only person in the lift. My gaze drifted up to the reflection in the mirrors, and saw James staring back.

Startled I need a place to think. Pressing the button for the fifth floor, the door closed. I looked into the eyes of my reflection, I was James, but I was still me. I ran a hand over my thick arms, and took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders I felt James's strength and confidence. My fears were gone.

I flashed a confident smirk at my reflection and pressed the button for the ground floor.

Ding! The door slide open again, the openness of the foyer didn't bother me. Maybe it was the tightness, of being inside James, perhaps I'd inherited his confidence, but I walked out of the building and into the afternoon sun; the first time for years.

I pulled on James's helmet and jumped on his bike and rode into the traffic. I'd been riding for a while before I remembered I didn't even know how to ride a bike, and yet it was like I'd been doing it for years.

By the time I'd arrived at the beach, I knew everything about James. It was then I knew, I was going to go missing. James was the solution to my illness, I was going to continue as my neighbour, run his life as best I could.