My Brains!!! ep, 3

I should clarify.

When I refer to my brain as a separate part from myself, my mind, it's because it is. Technically, I have two of them. But the other one isn't like a normal brain. First off, there's not enough room for a whole second brain inside my head. It's a mostly flat, spider-like thing on top of my brain. It's 'legs' stretch out from its main body, digging into several different lobes. Like the parts that regulate respiration, vision, balance, memory, and yadda-yadda (I didn't really pay too much attention when the doctors explained it to me). They didn't understand it at the time, but they learned enough from it at the time to convince the prosecution to drop all charges.

But there had been conditions.

At first they tried to get me to sign off on exploratory surgery. They wanted to open up my head and take it out. It would have been extensive and I would have probably spent the rest of my life being fed through my stomach and given a nice corner to stare at. I told them I'd rather go to prison. So instead they came up with a contract that allowed them to take a tiny piece of my other brain to study and when I died they got to take the rest. But my release hinged on Nancy taking me back.

She was an angel for not killing me after all I'd done. I begged her when she eventually came to see me. Even with the doctors explaining what was going on in my head and how it more than likely wasn't my fault what I'd done she'd been apprehensive.

I'd finally resorted to begging her for the sake of our child and she put her own condition on my release: counseling. I'd agreed immediately, but counseling was more of a everything-was-my-fault session. I mean, it was, but kinda not.

Six weeks after I'd been released the results of the biopsy came back. Inconclusive. Under a microscope it had definitely looked like brain cells, but it was no organic material that had ever existed inside of a human being. The closest thing to it was the remnants of some meteor shower five years earlier. The doctor who'd called asked if I'd be interested in coming in for a follow-up. I promptly hung up on him.

While I was in the hospital, they'd poked and prodded me, tested every single fluid that ran through every part of my body. The only thing they found extra was some kind of hormone that apparently all people have a little of, but I had in abundance. They didn't know what so much of it would do in my system, but had pieced together that it was my other brain that was making my body produce the excess.

But a combination of two drugs, measured out for my body weight seemed to counter my body's ability to produce the hormone and after I'd been taking the pills for about three weeks, I didn't see the things I used to or feel the urge to do the things I had done.

So I was normal as long as I took my pills.

At least, I had been.

I remember this morning I'd taken them. It was as normal day as the past three forty-five before (yes, I keep count).

But what if…

What if my brain had been faking?

I wrenched the wheel to the right and bounced up into a pharmacy parking lot. Not my pharmacy, but a different one, just to shake off whomever (if anybody) behind me. I pulled out into the street, jetting in front of oncoming traffic and turning left back onto the street from where I'd just come from. None of the cars I passed looked familiar.