Countless restless nights draining the will to get out of bed just to avoid further stress of this strange thing that everyone refers to as everyday life.
Nightmares by night level the amount of trouble and misery seen by day. Many times before thought of just ending it all came to his mind. Thinking whats the point of counting sand grains in the desert when you can see desert storm approaching on the horizon.
Dressing up and getting ready to pretend to be a normal person all day long is weighing harder and harder by each passing day. Sense of loneliness even tho surrounded with people. Feeling of being the last of my kind, a dying breed of some strange species that did not manage to adapt and survive.
Struggling to find a reason to keep going has become normal thing to do between two meals. Starting to doubt if i have made any contribution to this meaningless thing they call civilisation thees days. Everyone feels so distant even tho you touch them, they sound so cold and disconnected even if they are saying words of gratitude or praise.
Driving on a dusty trail seeing nothing but smoke of bad fuel mixture and dust in the mirror is a constant reminder that there is no way of going back, no forgiveness. All understanding that is left is only used for doing business and making chips as looks to be a new parameter for determining ones worth.
Desks covered with nightmare journals and lists of failed solutions to what seems to be bad uncontrollable lucid dream, are gathering dust in the corner as if the one writing them is long gone. In front of bathroom door there was a pile of things that would usually be in it. Towel rack, shelves with improvised oils and colognes, shower curtains, toilet seat and even the toilet brush.
In the unwashed bathtub of the dirty hotel bathroom sat Tom with only his briefs on, hugging his knees as he rocks back and foreword. Mumbling things while firmly clutching the key to empty bathroom in one hand and his revolver in the other. The echo of mumbles and gun barrel occasionally hitting the tub in Tom's rocking motion bounced around the empty room.
While waiting for his next inevitable drift to sleep he would look around to see if there is anything he forgot to throw out of the bathroom knowing that when nightmare happens, the more things there around, more horrific it would be.
As cool air with a scent of stale urine pinched his skin, he would let out a groan every so often, trying to remain in one place in bathtub that became slightly less frigid than the rest.
Occasionally hearing someone trying to reach him on a radio in another room didn't seem motivational enough to even flinch.
While waiting and pondering what can he expect this time, he shrugged his shoulders few times still trying in vain hopes to fix his neck pain that even his medical knowledge cant explain. Checking if the key is still in his hand and revolver fully loaded thinking to himself:
"Ok.....ok, no, no, ok, ok, im ready........but am i really? No, don't start doubting now. I can get trough this.....i think........Hard, its soo very hard.....why me....why..."
As the train of thought get sidetracked, with few shivers and dry coughs, he slowly stops rocking and drifts to expected purgatory. A cold drops start falling on his bare knees and hands hugging them.
A single shallow sigh preceded a single thought in his head: "It's starting." Thoughts of what might happened started preparing his crumbled mind to find solutions. His inner pacifist and kind spirit would struggle to come up with a solution while trying to hold back cage shut and beast of violence and hurt contained.
Slowly raising his head fearing he will see something in the other end of the bathtub but nothing is there. Slowly getting up and setting one foot out of the bathtub expecting something to grab it from the tiny crevice under it, but again nothing. Scent of burned hair slowly replaced the vomit inducing smell of stale urine. One complete turn around the bathroom and he saw nothing. His neck pain was getting more and more intense as the drops of black liquid formed a small puddle at his feet.
Expecting something to happen, Tom would walk around the bathroom with his back to the wall at all times. Except increasing neck pain nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Thinking it is calm before the storm he would listen to the people yelling at him and insulting him over the radio, thinking to himself: "Yes, this happened before, what else is gona happen?" before smirking and continuing to look around. Grunts in pain started just outside of the door. Familiar but still uneasy and scary to think of whats causing them made Tom back off. Soon after it started it seemed as not one but many things were outside. Among the mumbles and groans, the words and phrases in different voices that would stick out were : Uncle Tom, open up. Its Watermelon, open the door please. Its called chocolate Tom. Come on Doc, lets go for a walk.
His sanity fighting the things he hear just to not shatter completely, tight grip on his revolver but hand with key slowly opens up just to see if he still has it. Quick glance revealing his hand holding up a spider on his palm. Shutting his eyes and clenching his hand again wanting to believe that it is a key, not a spider in it. One more glance would reveal hairy spider legs twirling between his fingers as his palm deceives him that something is wiggling in his hand.
He threw whatever he was holding at the corner of the bathroom before he heard that metallic sound hits the wall tiles and falls onto the flor. Sighing disappointed in himself he continued walking around the bathroom refraining from looking at his revolver. Soon after, the groans outside of the room stopped and radio died out. Tom stopped and simply nods his head with his eyes shut firmly as his teeth grind agains one another, thinking: "Here we go. This is how it always starts."
Even tho expected, putrid breath on the back of his neck still sent chills down his spine and his throat somewhat tightens, the heavy breathing made him nervous even after so many times before. Griping his revolver tighter and rolling its barrel knowing it is useless and when he turns around nothing will be there. Turning around anyways confirmed his thinking even tho breathing continued. Reaching behind his head revealed nothing except more cool air.
Still not getting used to the somewhat familiar feeling, Tom took s few slow steps reaching the sink and opening the tap while plugging the drain. Closing the tap and looking as clear water slowly settles sown. Gazing up at himself in now calm water, he squinted his eyes thinking he sees a lock of black hair sticking out of his brown one behind his ear. Running fingers trough his hair left him in awe as he saw long, wet, black strands of hair dripping dark ooze into the sink.
As he watched black drop mix with water, with a corner of his eye he saw a reflection of another face looking over his shoulder. Turning suddenly and raising his revolver at empty room left him questioning his sanity yet again.
Turning again towards the sink looking deeply into its unsteady reflection from a distance, fearing something could come out of water or sink his head and drown him, he caught a glance of something around his neck. Not feeling anything he immediately thought of a mirror he took out of the bathroom, but as he started walking towards the door, a loud slam was heard near near the sink. As he turned around he saw a mirror in place above the sink.
Carefully walking over to it seeing nothing at first glance. But staring at himself for a bit longer seemed like revealing something tied around his neck. The more he stared more the picture became perceivable. It looked like a strangely tied bow tie. Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and middle finger while still holding the gun in right hand, while feeling his neck with left one. His breath stopped as felt something soft and cold. Looking in the mirror once again revealed a pair of hands holding one another. Looking in astonishment and fear for a single second before he sees a black haired head peak around his own, looking at him with a hollow eye socket before quickly hiding behind again.
In a split second as all the blood left his face, Tom violently started trying to shake off something from his back while clawing his neck to break free of stranglehold that he does not see anymore. Sure that it is there but he cant see it, he tried to brake free of it up until he saw his bloody hand that he drew blood with from his neck. He took a deep breath looking at his hand walking back to the mirror and closing his eyes while facing it thinking: "Its not real, its is not.... no, it cant be."
Cold floor tiles made his bare feet numb as his left hand's fingertips wet from blood and right moist from sweat covering gun handle. Smell of burnt hair still lingered in the room. As another wave of neck pain hits him, Tom opens his eyes.
The sight that followed made his blood run cold.
Gazing up at the pair of legs hanging from each side of his head as he now becomes aware of the weight of someone sitting as his shoulders, his mouth slowly open wider and wider as sees slender, bare arms lead to hands that are clutching his hair. Torn dirty gray dress on the body revealing lower neck with a bullet hole encrusted in black blood. Last and highest thing reflected on the mirror were ends of black, messy hair, dripping down.
Feeling as if he could pass out at any time, leading internal conflict in a split second wether he should try to see the face or just start shooting, his eyes get misty while his breath barely reaches his lungs. Unsure of what to do, mind racing with impossible answers. He rubs his eyes while whispering to himself: "This is not happening." His whole body shaking as feeling of dread and cold consumes him. Weighing on his shoulders causing the neck pain more intense than ever.
His moment of respite is torn away from him by a single painful jerk as his hair is being tugged on making him raise his head toward the hanging lightbulb. Eyes clenched, afraid, knowing that is will be unable to unsee the horror they could gaze upon. Feeling that same old putrid breath on his forehead. Petrified for a single second as the hair strands tickle his chin and neck. He feels he is nose to nose with whatever this might be. Creaking sound of jaw slowly opening like old rusty door hinge made him clench his eyes even tighter as his left hand slowly comes up to his head, hoping he can wedge it in between to out another layer of protection to his eyes in case his eyelids betray him.
As his hand came closer, another drop falls on his face before he feels he could bring his head down as the resistance goes away slowly. Doing so he opens his eyes again hoping its over, but it was still there. Legs a d arms hanging idly as hair slowly sways in rhythm of heavy breathing. Barely gets enough air to makes a small sigh before raising the revolver in front of him. Unsure if it would do any good to try and shoot at it, would it enrage it or kill it? His tired face reflection on the revolver cylinder looked like it was smiling for a second.
He smirks while a tears forms in corner of his eyes while looking at the bottom part of the figure in the mirror quietly saying: "Its time we separate." Nods a few times as he takes another deep breath before opening his mouth and putting revolver barrel between his teeth sliding it further back. That all familiar feeling of chrome barrel touching the roof of his mouth as he tried to do it few times before, but just couldn't. Click of a cocked hammer penetrated his thoughts with a feeling of almost fainting. Trigger never seemed so hard and stiff before. Moment turned into what seemed like hours, thinking of what he is doing, what he is leaving behind and what he did t manage to do. His breaths made hollow whistle noises as the warm air from his lungs gets obstructed by gun barrel.Closing his eyes making tears run down the sides of his face ass the last waft of uncleaned barrel hits reminds him what he is doing. Small click, violent kick against his lower jaw as the expelled gas made his eardrums play the one constant note was his last tiny fracture of memory that was in his brain before .45 bullet passed trough.
Silence followed. Feeling of warmth engulfed him as pleasant unknown smell tickled his nostrils. He opened his eyes to see him standing in his own bathroom in his old clothes with a gun in his mouth. Taking out the smoking gun barrel and checking the cylinder revealed one of six was empty. Sounds of people talking in the room distracted him, making him walk out of the bathroom to see whats happening. Opening the door and walking slowly just to see his room filled with people joyfully talking to each other.
One by one, Tom recognised thees people, Farmer Molson's boy who's broken leg he treated, Thodorovic sisters that he treated from food poisoning, Christoph who's ankle was broken, Baknker Goodkind's problems with ladies. Hugh O'Boyle and his constant infections and all of people he considers his friends... All those people that he helped or st least tried to were present there. But in the crowd one face stuck out. A small, slender, black-haired girl. Face that he last time saw when he was carried away out of Linewood. A girl that died cause of his escape attempt.
She was slowly walking toward him with holding his white hat. Unsure of how to react or what to say, he just stood there thinking while she came closer. Saying nothing she stared looked at him with a warm smile holding out his hat in her fragile pale hands. Biting his lips and dropping his gaze to hat held to him before grabbing it unsurely. Another look at her warm smile made his start feeling something he did not feel in a while. Just when he was about to open his mouth and make words of apology leak out, he is surprised by an unexpected gentle hug from the girl. Dropping his hat and hugging her back with that special kind of smile.
After few moments, the girl whispered something gently to Tom, something that he will remember in times to come. (No Spoilers on FERP :P) But those gentle words made him start immediately start shedding tears on her shoulder hugging her a bit tighter.
Few moments Tom watched everyone in his room get up and start slowly walking out while still talking. As sound of laughter and marry talk dies down in a distance, a cold gust out chilling air, of nowhere pinches Toms skin as he starts fading out in a flash of blinding light. Sudden jerk made revolver make one more clanging sound against the bathtub edge.
Still not sure what was real and what was not, he pills his almost numb and tired body out of the bathtub and crawls to the bathroom door unlocking it and crawling his way to dream journal. Sneezing and coughing but a smile on his face firm as he thinks of ringing words of the girl.
Writing down few lines before turning a new page and scribbles the title "New cure."
( Finishing up the story here, not nearly as good as i thought. Guess not everyone is meant to be a writer, but anyway i hope at least some of you enjoyed it or at least had a good laugh about my poor grammar and spelling. ;) All in all, thats all from me.)