Darling, Clementine

8| Cacophony Of Thoughts

From a young age, my father instilled in me an unwavering sense of vigilance. His words were like an ironclad shield protecting me from the dangers that lurked beyond our doorstep. Whenever we approached a store, he made it clear that my place was by his side, a tether to safety amidst a sea of potential threats. He cautioned me against engaging in conversation with unfamiliar faces, warning of their insidious intentions to deceive and snatch away innocent children. Their arsenal of lies, carefully crafted to entice, would dangle the tantalizing allure of candy, toys, or any other trinkets that bewitched the hearts of kids in that bygone era. But my father's teachings went beyond mere caution. He implored me not to even cast a fleeting glance in their direction, for a single glance was all it took to mark oneself as a target—a pawn in their sinister game of malevolence. The world had bestowed upon them names that reverberated with fear in the hearts and minds of children across the globe. They were the embodiment of stranger danger, kidnappers who snatched away innocent souls, masters of deception who lured children with the promise of sugary delights. The list of names expanded, stretching into the realm of nightmares, a grim reminder of the countless ways in which they preyed upon the unsuspecting.

The kidnapper was masked with a smile, bearing gifts of deceit. But what if the kidnapper was masked with an ungodly face, a sinister smile, eyes the shade of danger, and bearing gifts of death? The kidnapper wouldn't deceive you with candy or toys, but instead forced you into surrender under a chokehold with a cloth of intoxication locked around your lips. The escape and rescue plan wasn't jumping out of a car or the police coming to get you. What if it was an escape plan of death?

Death was a guide to freedom. Whether through pain or accident. Death was a man's guide to cowardice. It wasn't a slow burn with lullabies in response to the cries of love that you were leaving behind. It wasn't a romantic idea of dying on a ship drowning with the consequences of true love. It wasn't a simulation that once you hit a date of age, your life fades away into nothing but a forgotten memory in someone's mind. Death was a joke that people laughed around because it knocked at their door every night. Death was the consequence of letting someone in close, as it tore your heart into pieces like a swirling blender. Death was my haunting ghost, following my every move, skipping with a smile.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that enveloped me, allowing me to perceive the faint outlines of my surroundings. I wasn't at the cafe with its bright burning lights, melting my eyes with its strong luminescence. I wasn't at the cafe with the overpowering smell of coffee, clogging my nose with the sweet smell of over-sugared pastries and caffeinated drinks. I wasn't at the cafe with the sea of people busying the tables with computers, phones, and tablets, as the host navigated through the waves of business. I wasn't at the cafe with the choleric people vociferating because they were late to work as if you were the reason. I wasn't at the cafe with the emptiness that echoed at closing time, as the leaves brushed along the empty parking lot.

I was in a new unknown location. I was in a new place that housed darkness and uncertainty. I was by myself. I was in the dark. I was in the dark, by myself.

The shouts of my thoughts rushed into my mind like a depressing cacophony, roaring like the buzz of a bee. My head snapped in every direction as I was bombarded with emotions that destroyed my sanity. They ran at me blaring, like a tumult. I was sucked into the middle of the crowd, as their words become clear. "You're weak" one screamed with a brief laugh. "You better off dead. So useless," another chuckled. "Kill yourself." "Hurt yourself." "You deserve nothing." You are nothing." "Pathetic." "Pitful" "Crying is your only talent, huh?" "Loser." "Miserable." "Need your mommy?" "Loveless?" "Fatherless." Motherless." "Parentless." The thoughts/voices grew louder and louder. As the words drove deeper into my skin, gluing the titles on my body like pin the donkey. I placed my hands over my ears, desiring to mute their words. But they leaked through my hands like water. My body felt like it was sinking deeper into an empty ocean, as water began to pool into my chest weighing me down, seizing my air with a pernicious grin.