Stay With Me

36

The cruel, sickening pain had been with him for months and it showed. His cheekbones had sunken, darkness circled his eyes and his once bright eyes were dull and lifeless. The voices in his head that normally contradicted each other now screamed in unison and told him to stop what he was doing and find a way out of this misery. Ten seconds passed, then twenty, then thirty, the pain never subsided. At least it wasn't getting worse, yet.

Fighting through the pain was becoming increasingly difficult, but above all else it became increasingly annoying to have to deal with. He tried to remind himself that it would all be worth it by the time his eyes closed, that the pain would bring him closer to what he craved. Grabbing the small roll of paper he began to inhale the familiar white powder one more time before collapsing onto the bed.

No one knew what he had been doing, he was sure Euronymous was somewhat suspicious but he had never really bothered to question anything. Dead had learned rather quickly that as long as he kept writing more lyrics, giving the perfect performances, there was no need for anyone to check up on what he did when he was alone. No one needed to know how the voices died out when the powder went into his system or how he would only ever hear her voice when he finally closed his eyes. The voice was always so clear like that of a dream but faint enough to remind him just how out of reach she was from his grasp, but it always seemed as though he were listening in on a conversation rather than having her talk directly to him.

Gripping the sink, Dead looked up at the mirror. "Just once more."

His vision blurred, the second dose of the powder hitting him quickly. Stumbling backwards towards the bed, Dead tried to remain calm. The voices that had once been silenced had come back full force screaming all at once, the throbbing in his head making him even more disoriented.

You're going to die!

"No," he breathed out. "Not...not yet."

You're going to die!

"Stop!"

Blood, there's blood everywhere. It's drenched my clothes, they're sticky and heavy and red. Red, everything is red, even the ground below me is turning red with blood.

My blood.

His body shook. When had he picked up the knife? When did he start bleeding?

I'm dizzy...so dizzy. Why won't the room stop spinning? please make it stop!

Each step echoed through the room, moving in slow motion as he fell on the bed.

I can't feel my arms anymore. Everything is starting to feel numb.

Movement seemed impossible. His energy now completely drained from his body as he panted against the wall, the blood running down onto the mattress and drenching it with the sticky red liquid. There was no one here to find him, no one here to come to his rescue. Euronymous was gone to his parents for the weekend and there was no way he could make it to the phone to call Necrobutcher or Hellhammer. No. This was where it was going to end.

Through clouded eyes Dead could almost make out her silhouette on the far side of the room. Her eyes shrouded with fear as tears fell down her face yet she did not come any closer.

"Please don't leave me alone," he begged.

The pale arm reached out for her once again and it truly felt as though she would finally be able to feel his touch this time. To rescue him before it was too late. The blond mess of hair framed his face as tears cascaded down the sides of his face, his icy blue eyes looking into her own. As hard as she tried, she couldn't move from the spot she was standing, as if a piece of glass separated them.