15 Chapter 15 - If I Am Conscious, Then Why Do I Feel So Dead?
I entered our home and was surprised to find that Mephisto had yet to arrive. It was already 11:30. He usually came home around 9 in the evening.
*Perhaps he was busy making deals with other fools like me.*
"NOPE, I WAS BUSY ANSWERING QUESTIONS MADE BY A SHORT GIRL WITH A SHORT FUSE!!!" I was surprised at his voice.
"A girl?" I asked him out of curiosity.
He gave me a hateful look like the topic was out of the question. "None of your concern." He went to the fridge to deposit the chocolate bars he just purchased and asked me about the gig.
When I was done, he looked dissatisfied. "So you didn't get to tell her she did well or that she was really beautiful? You know, compliments"
I shook my head. "She signed some autographs for the fans who patiently waited even after the show was done and I thought that it'd look weird if I approached her again after yesterday."
"That's such a lame excuse. You told her a story, she liked it and now that you've started a ball rolling, you refuse to roll." He went back to the kitchen. Glasses clinked and he was holding a bottle of Jack when he was back.
"Do you mind if I put some music on?" I asked him.
"Nah, go ahead." He replied.
I plugged my phone to the audio jack and put the music player on shuffle. We were just drinking in silence, neither happy nor sad, just there. The music was a background, that is until Nine Inch Nails' Something I Can Never Have. It was the Still version, a stripped down version that felt more raw with its piano verses and haunting melody. It caught me off guard, and the buried memories I thought I had forgotten started to resurface, it felt like I was caught in a hurricane.
**
It was the house where I grew up in, a cabin near the beach in the outskirts of Nevermore. It was where my grandparents died and where I went to die. I was seventeen then, full of booze, incoherent thoughts, and the world meant nothing to me. A few days before I found myself there, I was in my parent's house with my father yelling at me, scolding me while my mother did her best to curb my father's anger. He was shouting the same curses and my reply was still the same, silence. My mother meanwhile kept asking the same question. What was happening to me? I already knew the answer, I just couldn't face it. I couldn't tell them I was falling apart.
I was taking up computer engineering in college and I was imploding. The pressure was too much but I didn't want to admit it to myself, to my friends nor to my parents. When I think about it, even my so-called friends never really bothered to ask why I was drinking all the time. It was the only escape, the only thing that allowed me to detach myself to the world.
On that particular day, I went to class drunk and somehow managed to insult both the instructor and the guidance counselor. Even to this day I can't remember fully what happened. All I know is that I went and grabbed a few drinks before I went to class. By the time my blackout was over, the damage was done. I didn't know why I lashed out, the frustration, the pressure? I had no idea what the culprit was.
And so when my father was done yelling at me, telling me how worthless and ungrateful a son I was, I went to my grandparents cabin.
It looked the same, with it's carpeted walls, my grandmother's antique collection, my grandfather's wooden sculptures displayed on a table, and a picture frame. I picked it up. It was a photo of both of them with a seven year old me wedged in between. We all looked happy. I remembered that we took it after my grandfather built me a wooden truck from his workshop. I loved playing in the sand and during the afternoon, my grandmother would pack us snacks and we'd walk on the beach. Sometimes they'd let me wade in the water.
I felt my eyes sting. I could hear someone screaming. It sounded like a desperate wailing, the sound of a beaten animal. It was only when my throat felt like it was tearing apart that I realized it was me, the one screaming at the silence of the world.
I had the gun in my hand, finger on the trigger, and the muzzle on my head. I was kneeling in the sand staring at the sea, wondering if I would ever see my grandparents again. The all-consuming need to end the pain and the struggle that made my life a living hell had drowned all reason. I was ready yet a part of me who loved my family, my mother and father, knew that it was unfair to leave them like this, without a note, without giving them an explanation so I went back to the cabin to write one. Even then I've already started writing, unfinished prose and reluctant poetry, but this was something else, it was a note that needed to explain the reason of the act I was about to do. I needed to make sure that my parents didn't spend their lives tormenting themselves.
I had the pen in my hand but I couldn't write a damn thing. So I took out my music player and played it on shuffle since I was able to focus more with music in the background.
Instead the pen and the paper became the background, because as soon as the first piano lines of Something I Can Never Have played, I started to cry. It's funny because I've listened to the song a hundred times, but this was the first time I truly felt it. And so I found myself listening to the song, letting it was over me, allowing it to take over what was left of my will to live. I fell asleep with my head on my grandfather's desk sitting, the blank piece of paper lay forgotten.
When I woke up, my resolve to disappear perished. The morning light brought a sense of comfort that the pessimist in me will forever distrust. I took the photograph and kept it with me. I resolved then and there to live, not for myself but for the ones that would've been left behind. I stayed there thinking about all of it, whether I was going to make it through if I stuck with life. All my questions were left unanswered and though I did live that day, I lived like a dead man, a zombie unfeeling and removed from the world.
**
When I woke up the next day, Mephisto had left me breakfast, eggs, bacon and fried rice. He also left a sticky note on the fridge. 'Coffee in the thermos, DON'T TOUCH MY CHOCOLATES.'
*That's just like him.*
While eating I thought about what to do today. Ever since I've signed the contract, the daily cycle of my life has radically changed. I no longer had to work to support myself, thanks to Mephisto's seemingly endless wealth. When I asked him about it, he brushed it off. "Money is the least of your concern. If I were you I'd think about how to fulfill the contract because all of this is only temporary. If you fail, then I take everything you have including your soul."
Once I was done eating, I went to the bookshelf and grabbed a book, The Metamorphosis by Kafka. I must've read it a number of times already but I've never really gotten tired of it. Then I went to Caroline's fan cafe, with a fool's hope of seeing her again.
Angela looked happy to see me when I arrived. "You're back? Didn't get enough of Caroline last night?"
"Nope, I'm here hoping against hope to see her again." I told her.
"Well, she's quite busy doing promotions for the new album and stuff, so it'll be quite some time before she returns for a surprise visit." She replied.
"I know, well what can you do? I'm enamoured with her." I admitted.
"Yeah, you and everyone else." She smiled and went to take my order.
*Perhaps he was busy making deals with other fools like me.*
"NOPE, I WAS BUSY ANSWERING QUESTIONS MADE BY A SHORT GIRL WITH A SHORT FUSE!!!" I was surprised at his voice.
"A girl?" I asked him out of curiosity.
He gave me a hateful look like the topic was out of the question. "None of your concern." He went to the fridge to deposit the chocolate bars he just purchased and asked me about the gig.
When I was done, he looked dissatisfied. "So you didn't get to tell her she did well or that she was really beautiful? You know, compliments"
I shook my head. "She signed some autographs for the fans who patiently waited even after the show was done and I thought that it'd look weird if I approached her again after yesterday."
"That's such a lame excuse. You told her a story, she liked it and now that you've started a ball rolling, you refuse to roll." He went back to the kitchen. Glasses clinked and he was holding a bottle of Jack when he was back.
"Do you mind if I put some music on?" I asked him.
"Nah, go ahead." He replied.
I plugged my phone to the audio jack and put the music player on shuffle. We were just drinking in silence, neither happy nor sad, just there. The music was a background, that is until Nine Inch Nails' Something I Can Never Have. It was the Still version, a stripped down version that felt more raw with its piano verses and haunting melody. It caught me off guard, and the buried memories I thought I had forgotten started to resurface, it felt like I was caught in a hurricane.
**
It was the house where I grew up in, a cabin near the beach in the outskirts of Nevermore. It was where my grandparents died and where I went to die. I was seventeen then, full of booze, incoherent thoughts, and the world meant nothing to me. A few days before I found myself there, I was in my parent's house with my father yelling at me, scolding me while my mother did her best to curb my father's anger. He was shouting the same curses and my reply was still the same, silence. My mother meanwhile kept asking the same question. What was happening to me? I already knew the answer, I just couldn't face it. I couldn't tell them I was falling apart.
I was taking up computer engineering in college and I was imploding. The pressure was too much but I didn't want to admit it to myself, to my friends nor to my parents. When I think about it, even my so-called friends never really bothered to ask why I was drinking all the time. It was the only escape, the only thing that allowed me to detach myself to the world.
On that particular day, I went to class drunk and somehow managed to insult both the instructor and the guidance counselor. Even to this day I can't remember fully what happened. All I know is that I went and grabbed a few drinks before I went to class. By the time my blackout was over, the damage was done. I didn't know why I lashed out, the frustration, the pressure? I had no idea what the culprit was.
And so when my father was done yelling at me, telling me how worthless and ungrateful a son I was, I went to my grandparents cabin.
It looked the same, with it's carpeted walls, my grandmother's antique collection, my grandfather's wooden sculptures displayed on a table, and a picture frame. I picked it up. It was a photo of both of them with a seven year old me wedged in between. We all looked happy. I remembered that we took it after my grandfather built me a wooden truck from his workshop. I loved playing in the sand and during the afternoon, my grandmother would pack us snacks and we'd walk on the beach. Sometimes they'd let me wade in the water.
I felt my eyes sting. I could hear someone screaming. It sounded like a desperate wailing, the sound of a beaten animal. It was only when my throat felt like it was tearing apart that I realized it was me, the one screaming at the silence of the world.
I had the gun in my hand, finger on the trigger, and the muzzle on my head. I was kneeling in the sand staring at the sea, wondering if I would ever see my grandparents again. The all-consuming need to end the pain and the struggle that made my life a living hell had drowned all reason. I was ready yet a part of me who loved my family, my mother and father, knew that it was unfair to leave them like this, without a note, without giving them an explanation so I went back to the cabin to write one. Even then I've already started writing, unfinished prose and reluctant poetry, but this was something else, it was a note that needed to explain the reason of the act I was about to do. I needed to make sure that my parents didn't spend their lives tormenting themselves.
I had the pen in my hand but I couldn't write a damn thing. So I took out my music player and played it on shuffle since I was able to focus more with music in the background.
Instead the pen and the paper became the background, because as soon as the first piano lines of Something I Can Never Have played, I started to cry. It's funny because I've listened to the song a hundred times, but this was the first time I truly felt it. And so I found myself listening to the song, letting it was over me, allowing it to take over what was left of my will to live. I fell asleep with my head on my grandfather's desk sitting, the blank piece of paper lay forgotten.
When I woke up, my resolve to disappear perished. The morning light brought a sense of comfort that the pessimist in me will forever distrust. I took the photograph and kept it with me. I resolved then and there to live, not for myself but for the ones that would've been left behind. I stayed there thinking about all of it, whether I was going to make it through if I stuck with life. All my questions were left unanswered and though I did live that day, I lived like a dead man, a zombie unfeeling and removed from the world.
**
When I woke up the next day, Mephisto had left me breakfast, eggs, bacon and fried rice. He also left a sticky note on the fridge. 'Coffee in the thermos, DON'T TOUCH MY CHOCOLATES.'
*That's just like him.*
While eating I thought about what to do today. Ever since I've signed the contract, the daily cycle of my life has radically changed. I no longer had to work to support myself, thanks to Mephisto's seemingly endless wealth. When I asked him about it, he brushed it off. "Money is the least of your concern. If I were you I'd think about how to fulfill the contract because all of this is only temporary. If you fail, then I take everything you have including your soul."
Once I was done eating, I went to the bookshelf and grabbed a book, The Metamorphosis by Kafka. I must've read it a number of times already but I've never really gotten tired of it. Then I went to Caroline's fan cafe, with a fool's hope of seeing her again.
Angela looked happy to see me when I arrived. "You're back? Didn't get enough of Caroline last night?"
"Nope, I'm here hoping against hope to see her again." I told her.
"Well, she's quite busy doing promotions for the new album and stuff, so it'll be quite some time before she returns for a surprise visit." She replied.
"I know, well what can you do? I'm enamoured with her." I admitted.
"Yeah, you and everyone else." She smiled and went to take my order.
RECENTLY UPDATES
Fantasy
Action
Eastern
Contemporary Romance
Action
Action
Contemporary Romance
Action