Obsessive Compulsive Disorder II – Short Horror Story

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There was an imperfection in the paint.

A hue of red stood out among the expanse of egg shell white.

How could they have done this? Were the painters completely incompetent or did they intend on torturing me so severely?

The intention seemed nefarious. I sipped my wine and glared at the spot of red, the size of a dime, could you believe it? A pin point or a micro-graze of the brush stroke would have been bad enough, but a dime sized blot? Unforgivable.

The spot haunted me. No, It consumed me.

I simply couldn’t live under these conditions. At first I set out to erase it, which didn’t work. Then to cover it with a matching paint, only the paint didn’t quite match the exact shade of eggshell. Now the spot was the size of a half dollar.

A dulled red hue with an imperfectly matched egg shell white.

I fussed, I fumed, I fucked myself silly. Nothing helped.

Please God, the spot.

I read online that I could lighten the spot with lacquer. A joke to be sure, it looked worse than before.

I shaved my head in despair. Long locks of Irish red hair covered the sink. I cleaned the mess for seven hours. Until every hair was neatly tucked in the bin.

I paced and plotted my next move. How to fix the spot that grew and grew.

I’d repaint the entire room.

Yes! That’s it!

But instead of eggshell, I’d go with red. Yes, red. Then there would be no evidence of the blemish.

I must have tried a thousand shades of red. Wine, Brick, Apple, Mahogany… nothing fit.

It wasn’t until I pricked my finger, chewing my nail to the nub, that I realized the color was blood red. The painter must have nicked himself and dropped a bit on the wall.

Euphoria overtook me as I reveled in the revelation. A sweet discovery indeed.

I quickly slit my wrists vertically, to gather the necessary amount of blood into the paint tray.

I set out to paint the room with great fervor. Luckily it was quite small, and there was just enough blood to do the job.

I admired my work as the cold from the hardwood floor bit at the nape of my neck. I lay still, my vision began to swim and darkness crept into the corners of my sight.

The sacrifice seemed worth the peace of mind, something I did truly need. After all, it was now a wonderful room indeed.

submitted by /u/papamishka89

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