All In Your Mind - Creepy Pasta
Gerry heard the rustle of blankets and felt his brother sit up in the bed beside him.
“Gerry?”
He sighed and opened his eyes. “Yes, Clyde?”
“I’m having chest pains again.”
Gerry clenched his jaw. Not this shit again, he griped. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am! And I think my pulse is irregular!”
“It’s not irregular, Clyde.”
“How do you know?” The pitch of Clyde's voice heightened. His breath came out in quick, sharp bursts.
“Because,” Gerry said, “we’ve been over this before. Multiple times.”
"I know, but---”
“And you’ve been checked out by doctors. Multiple times.”
“But what if this is really something?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
Gerry spoke through gritted teeth. “Because health problems don’t just spring up like that.”
“Don’t they?”
“If they do or they don’t, there’s nothing wrong with you!”
“Gerry!”
“Clyde, go back to sleep, damn it! There is nothing wrong with you! It’s all in your mind!”
“Please don’t yell at me, Gerry.” He heard Clyde retreat back under the covers as he spoke.
“You make me yell! You’ve been driving me crazy with this hypochondriac bullshit for months now! I’m tired of it!”
“I’m just scared.”
“And I told you: don’t be!”
Meekly, Clyde answered. “It’s not working.”
“Well, make it work!”
Meeker still, Clyde replied, “You’re mad now.”
“Yes, I am!”
“You’re scaring me more!”
“God fucking damn it, Clyde!” Gerry wrestled himself free from the covers and sat up. “I’m sick of this! And I’m sick of you! Look at me! I’m forty-five, broke, and sharing a bed with my brother in a fucking one-room apartment! And why? Because of you and your fucking problems! Because of the promise I made to Ma that I’d pick up where she left off! Because you’re too much of a pussy to live on your fucking own, and she bought it! Well, I’m done! I swear to fuck, if you don’t shut up right fucking now with your chest pains and your bitching, I’ll strangle you!”
Clyde didn’t answer.
“Did you hear me, Clyde?” Gerry barked.
More silence.
It only stoked Gerry's rage. His cheeks flamed and his blood boiled. He grasped the blankets that shielded his brother and yanked them away. “Clyde, god damn it, answer---”
Clyde was still, pale, cold. His head was tilted back onto the pillow with glassy eyes fixed on the ceiling. A ring of darkening bruises ran around his neck, impressions of thumbs and fingers.
A chill ran down Gerry’s spine. Regret stung his eyes. He knew he’d hurt his brother’s feelings.
He swallowed hard. “There, there, Clyde,” he said softly, tenderly patting his brother’s chest. “I’m… uh… I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just tired.” He sighed. “Say, you really don’t look too good. You’ve got yourself all worked up. Just try to calm down, okay? You’ll be fine. Now get some sleep, buddy.”
Clyde gave no answer. Gerry laid himself back down gingerly, trying not to jostle his brother. He pulled the covers up to his neck and closed his eyes. Before long, he had almost drifted off to sleep again.
“Gerry?”
He sighed and opened his eyes. “Yes, Clyde?”
“I’m having chest pains again.”