The perfect Mary Joan - short story

Mary Joan. The straight-A student, the people pleaser, the most compassionate, kind, and even the funniest person that most people had ever met.

Beloved by all and envied by all.

This girl was everything that the suburban women in our small, isolated town could ever wish for in a daughter - which would explain the constant adoration and gifts that she got not only from her friends, but also from their mothers.

I’d known this girl practically my whole life. We were neighbours, and even though we didn’t speak much in our early years, I always felt that we had an unspoken bond - a connection of some sorts.

All I ever wanted in life was to be around her. It didn’t matter when, where, or how, she was always on my mind.

For a long time, I just admired her from afar - which may sound weird and like I was some kind of crazy stalker, but my intentions were never as such. I felt responsible for her. As if my one goal, my one purpose in life was to protect her.

So, for many years I did this as best I could from a distance.

My life’s work became a whole lot easier when we started dating in 1993.

Even though I had never thought of Mary romantically, I didn’t decline her offer to be her boyfriend. It had nothing but advantages for me – I now could protect her even more. On top of that, I got all the advantages of dating little miss perfect: the whole town respected me.

She was a very easy person to date. I won’t pretend that being with her was a hardship. We became very close, and even though I didn’t have any romantic feelings for her, I grew very fond of her. From an outsider’s point of view, we looked like two eighteen-year-olds who seemed made for each other. I sometimes wonder if Mary thought that too, or if she saw past my façade.

She probably didn’t, to be honest. If she did then why would she have stayed? She must’ve thought that I was smitten for her – it’s the only possible explanation.

However, as we grew closer, so did my paranoia. In my eyes, everything became a threat, everything was made and lived to try to destroy the rare jewel that was Mary Joan. I couldn’t take it anymore. My whole body was consumed with the thought that she was in constant danger. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, I even had trouble breathing at times. The thought of her being hurt was drowning me. It was present in every aspect of my life, filling all the crevices of my small, meaningless existence.

Something had to change.

So, I did what any rational and logically-thinking person would do – I fabricated a situation in which I was completely in control of her every move.

I did it slowly of course; executing each step in such a way that she wouldn’t become suspicious or ask too many questions.

I know it sounds bad - but trust me, I did this for her.

It wasn’t easy. Human interaction is a vital thing for the wellbeing of a person. I knew that she would need more than just my company in order for her to live a full and happy life. However, despite this fact, I executed my plan.

After painstakingly concocting various reasons and excuses for her to cut contact with all of her friends, getting her fired from her job and breaking the close bond that she had with her parents - I had finally succeeded in separating her from all outside interaction. I finally had her all to myself.

The first few months were absolute bliss for me, I had never felt so at ease and relaxed.

Finally, no one could harm her.

However – with no one else to confide in, Mary would stick to me like glue, not leaving my side for a second.

As you can imagine, this became increasingly irritating. To the point of physical violence on my behalf. I was absolutely exhausted, all I needed was a moment alone now and then. But it transpired that my only escape was when I wasn’t in the house.

Things were getting worse and worse. The more I saw her, the more my hatred grew. The way she ate, the way she breathed heavily at night and spoke too loudly in the morning, even the smell of her became triggering for me.

I knew that something needed to change.

That’s when it clicked. Me, myself. I had become the thing that I had sworn to protect her from. With all my violent outbursts, I had become the element of danger in her life.

It all came so easily to me then – I had to separate myself from her.

So, I put her down in the basement.

Sounds weird, I know. But trust me, it was what was best. I fed her of course – I was no psychopath. She became my little pet of sorts, her life depended on me. My little human project.

But, like all things in life, interest and motivation don’t last forever. I very quickly became bored of the little Mary Joan. Feeding and watering her became a burden and I found myself doing it less and less.

She was so ungrateful. Every time I went down to the basement to care for her, I was faced with cries and moans, complaint upon complaint. Did she not know that I was doing this for her safety? Did she not know that everything that I had done in my life had been to keep her safe?

........................................................................

As I write this, it has been exactly 62 days since I haven’t been back down to the basement. I just can’t face it.

Remind me. How long can a person survive without food or water? I hope she’s okay.

Written by Lily Dale, 13/09/2022