Not So Helpful
Chapter 1/1
I was at my desk like usual, waiting to be told to go out and see my friends. That may sound strange, but believe me it's a completely normal thing in my profession. I work as an imaginary friend, sometimes it's imaginary enemy, but how about we not talk about that part of my job at the moment. Eventually my supervisor did get to come over to my desk. He handed me a paper and said to go see, Valerie Brent. When I opened the paper it told me I was suppose "help" her. I grabbed my jacket and left.
This is where the imaginary enemy part comes in. We need to become an enemy whenever someone isn't do anything or is doing something bad with their life. By being an enemy the person we try to help usually do one of three things. One: They go crazy and kill themselves. Two: They go crazy, attack the enemy, and other people in the room. Three: They change their life and/or self for the better and fix whatever the were doing wrong or do do whatever they needed to do to begin with. Three very rarely happens, but it's our goal. A lot of the time number two happens. That's why so many murders happen. Some of us just aren't very good at our jobs.
I went to see Valerie. She now lived at 629 High Street and was thirty-five years old. Her home was small just big enough for one person. The outside was painted white. A small black mailbox with her house number on it was attached to her house. There was nothing extraordinary about her home and nothing that showed her personality. Then again, this might be her personality. Perhaps she as a person is now as plain as her home and nothing special. I reminded myself not to ponder these things as it's not my job.
I strolled up the concrete path that led to her doorstep and went in. I gave myself a tour. Each room was spotless. It felt so, what's the word? Empty? It didn't feel lived in I knew that. It looked as though all she did was go to work and clean her house. Most people at least have a pet. Valerie didn't.
I went into the bathroom and checked myself out. I ran my fingers through my brown hair messing it up a bit.
"Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" Valerie was home.
"Don't remember me? I'm Kev. I was your imaginary friend. I'm here t-"
"This is a joke." She cut me off. Of course she wouldn't believe me. I knew it sounded crazy. "I want you outta here. Now."
"I'm sorry,Val, I can't do that. You are in need of my assistance." I said to her.
"Only thing I need is for you to get out of my house." Valerie didn't look happy. Such a change From a happy little nine year old to this miserable bitch.
"Listen. You have done a horrible job at running your life. I'm here to get it back in shape." I explained. I thought I explained it well, but I don't think she liked me being here anymore. She tried hit me and started screaming. Her screaming was the only thing that hurt me. Her hands just passed right through my body. Only mortal children can hurt people like me. The adults normally don't have the imagination power to do something like that.
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" She yelled at me. Her neighbors thought someone was robbing her house so they called the cops.
"Lady, calm down. What're ya yellin' about?" One of the cops said. She was stilling hitting me. To the police it looked like she was hitting the air.
"Why aren't you doing anything? This man broke into my house!" Valerie pointed at me. The cops looked at each other deeply confused.
"Ma'am. There is no one there. No one broke into your house." a cop explained. She looked at him like he was stupid. She kept repeating, "He's right here. Right here."
"Alright. We'll be right back." The cops left the house.
I sat down on her couch and told her, "They can't see me. Only the one I am meant to help can."
Well them and children. I couldn't have her know that though.
"Oh, so now I'm crazy I suppose. Great! Just fuckin' fantastic!" She was being over-dramatic to say the least. I thought maybe that she would take it quieter considering her neighbors must already think she's crazy.
"You need to calm down. If you listen to me I'll go away and you most likely won't have to see me ever again." This got her to shut her mouth. She asked me to continue so I did. "You haven't done anything with your life. You have no husband not even a boyfriend, no children, no pets, a dead-end job, no goals. There really is no reason for you to exist at this point. You do nothing."
"So maybe I like just living." She said. There she goes. Valerie did this a lot when she was little. She had a bad habit of lying to herself. She lied to herself about her cat dying, her mother's leaving her and her father, and her bad grades. That was the only way she was happy. I thought I had broke her of that. I guess I suck at my job.
"Lier. You're lonely and your life is void of meaning now. All you have is a spotless house and a job that's going no where for you." She started crying when I finished my sentence. I suppose Valerie had suspected this before and I confirmed it. She walked over to me and tried to beat me again. In her eyes I was a bad guy. I was the one who ruined her perfect little world by showing her what was wrong, by reminding her that she was miserable. It didn't really bother me. After all, it is my job.
Eventually, she stopped hitting me. Valerie was giving up. I didn't try to talk her out of it. That's not part of the job. Imaginary enemies, whatever the case may be, only present their clients with facts and the clients have to choose what to do with them. She chose the cowardly, easy way out.
I went back to the office and to my supervisor. I told him the one thing I've said many times before: "We lost another one."
This is where the imaginary enemy part comes in. We need to become an enemy whenever someone isn't do anything or is doing something bad with their life. By being an enemy the person we try to help usually do one of three things. One: They go crazy and kill themselves. Two: They go crazy, attack the enemy, and other people in the room. Three: They change their life and/or self for the better and fix whatever the were doing wrong or do do whatever they needed to do to begin with. Three very rarely happens, but it's our goal. A lot of the time number two happens. That's why so many murders happen. Some of us just aren't very good at our jobs.
I went to see Valerie. She now lived at 629 High Street and was thirty-five years old. Her home was small just big enough for one person. The outside was painted white. A small black mailbox with her house number on it was attached to her house. There was nothing extraordinary about her home and nothing that showed her personality. Then again, this might be her personality. Perhaps she as a person is now as plain as her home and nothing special. I reminded myself not to ponder these things as it's not my job.
I strolled up the concrete path that led to her doorstep and went in. I gave myself a tour. Each room was spotless. It felt so, what's the word? Empty? It didn't feel lived in I knew that. It looked as though all she did was go to work and clean her house. Most people at least have a pet. Valerie didn't.
I went into the bathroom and checked myself out. I ran my fingers through my brown hair messing it up a bit.
"Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing here?" Valerie was home.
"Don't remember me? I'm Kev. I was your imaginary friend. I'm here t-"
"This is a joke." She cut me off. Of course she wouldn't believe me. I knew it sounded crazy. "I want you outta here. Now."
"I'm sorry,Val, I can't do that. You are in need of my assistance." I said to her.
"Only thing I need is for you to get out of my house." Valerie didn't look happy. Such a change From a happy little nine year old to this miserable bitch.
"Listen. You have done a horrible job at running your life. I'm here to get it back in shape." I explained. I thought I explained it well, but I don't think she liked me being here anymore. She tried hit me and started screaming. Her screaming was the only thing that hurt me. Her hands just passed right through my body. Only mortal children can hurt people like me. The adults normally don't have the imagination power to do something like that.
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" She yelled at me. Her neighbors thought someone was robbing her house so they called the cops.
"Lady, calm down. What're ya yellin' about?" One of the cops said. She was stilling hitting me. To the police it looked like she was hitting the air.
"Why aren't you doing anything? This man broke into my house!" Valerie pointed at me. The cops looked at each other deeply confused.
"Ma'am. There is no one there. No one broke into your house." a cop explained. She looked at him like he was stupid. She kept repeating, "He's right here. Right here."
"Alright. We'll be right back." The cops left the house.
I sat down on her couch and told her, "They can't see me. Only the one I am meant to help can."
Well them and children. I couldn't have her know that though.
"Oh, so now I'm crazy I suppose. Great! Just fuckin' fantastic!" She was being over-dramatic to say the least. I thought maybe that she would take it quieter considering her neighbors must already think she's crazy.
"You need to calm down. If you listen to me I'll go away and you most likely won't have to see me ever again." This got her to shut her mouth. She asked me to continue so I did. "You haven't done anything with your life. You have no husband not even a boyfriend, no children, no pets, a dead-end job, no goals. There really is no reason for you to exist at this point. You do nothing."
"So maybe I like just living." She said. There she goes. Valerie did this a lot when she was little. She had a bad habit of lying to herself. She lied to herself about her cat dying, her mother's leaving her and her father, and her bad grades. That was the only way she was happy. I thought I had broke her of that. I guess I suck at my job.
"Lier. You're lonely and your life is void of meaning now. All you have is a spotless house and a job that's going no where for you." She started crying when I finished my sentence. I suppose Valerie had suspected this before and I confirmed it. She walked over to me and tried to beat me again. In her eyes I was a bad guy. I was the one who ruined her perfect little world by showing her what was wrong, by reminding her that she was miserable. It didn't really bother me. After all, it is my job.
Eventually, she stopped hitting me. Valerie was giving up. I didn't try to talk her out of it. That's not part of the job. Imaginary enemies, whatever the case may be, only present their clients with facts and the clients have to choose what to do with them. She chose the cowardly, easy way out.
I went back to the office and to my supervisor. I told him the one thing I've said many times before: "We lost another one."