Requiem of the Ivory Bride: An Ode to the Seven Deadly Sins

The Second Movement: The Elegy of Brenden

The Second Movement:

The Elegy of Brenden

E Flat Minor, Affonatto Largo then Adagio

He sat outside in the bright spring day. The breeze was blowing a strong wind, like a constant breath from someone "up there", wherever "there" was. It was nice to see that at least something was breathing. For the longest time, he felt as though he couldn't expand his lungs far enough to let out his quiet internal scream. He had long since imploded, leaving nothing behind in him except a deep chasm of darkness. There, no light could touch, not even the first bright joyful days of spring. No, the breeze that day was the long exhale he had been waiting to do for years. Trying to match the pace of the wind, he realized he simply couldn't. He had had the darkness binding him for too many years now. When the implosion took place, he had been wiped clean, an empty shell just going through the motions without thought or feeling, for thoughts and feelings were too precious to human beings, of which he was less than. No, Brenden had no chance of exhaling with the vice around his torso, squeezing every ounce of energy out of him until at last he could collapse in his bed at night.

The wind chimes picked back up their song and dance, at least for this moment, pulling him back to the present. He wasn't sure if he was still swinging or if he had started to rock his body himself. He had had it all, and then he'd gone too far. One grave, dire mistake and it cost him everything. Nothing in his life could ever be the same again, and instead of being able to breath, he just screamed inside his head. It was safe there, tucked away... yet it was always there. The scream that never stopped, the scream that sucked away his life force and ability to breathe.

The things he had lost weren't as hard to deal with as the people. The gapping hole in his heart was only echoed by the long shadows that stood next to him; ghosts of the people he once had, ghosts of those he loved but could never get back.

He got up and walked inside the empty house. He felt the urge come on to do his ritual, especially after letting his mind think about "them," and so Brenden headed straight to the bathroom. Flipping on one set of dim florescent lights, he opened the doors to the medicine cabinet hanging over the sink. He made sure not to look at himself in the mirror, because all he could do would be to shake his head at himself. The lighting created a gastly image that terrified him, increasing the scream inside his head. Who was he? Where did Brenden go?

There it was, right in the middle of the cabinet, standing proudly center on the tiny wooden shelf that was painted white. He reached for his bottle of Ambien, gently closing the doors once more as though he were suddenly around a sacred artifact. Slowly, deliberately, delicately he caressed the vial of Ambien.

He dropped to his knees, and wondered again where people really did go when they died. Did anybody actually know? People that lost it all, did they get second chances or was bad karma a real thing? What about God?

He opened the lid of the orange plastic prescription bottle, and gingerly poured out the Ambien, eyes level with the countertop. He set them all on the counter, and used his index finger to gently put them in a row to count them. Once he had gotten to thirty, his month's supply, he sat himself down on the cold tiled floor like he usually did during the ritual.

"If I could... could just go to sleep. That'd be the way I'd want to go. I'm not sure I can do this anymore, and these little Ambien saviors could be of some use," he thought, re-counting his sleeping pills. They were the only ones to fill the shadows, to fill the void. These stupid fucking pills were all he had left of a life.

"It would be just like going to sleep, and not having to wake back up to this shitty existence," Brenden heard the small voice inside his head start in, like it usually did when he sat and stared at his pills. Then the rocking back and forth subtly started. He wasn't sure when he started using that to self-soothe, but it worked. It cleared his mind in ways that masturbation and alcohol couldn't. "I think sleep wouldn't be so bad. An eternal sleep," he whispered aloud, eyes watering from his unblinking focus on his Ambien.

"Why do I have to go here, to this place in my mind, and do this?" he mumbled to himself, disgusted with his near-worship of what could be his last night's sleep. Rage began to fill Brenden's chest, angry that he didn't have the balls to go through with it. He quickly stood up, too fast as his vision went spotty for a moment. He took his hand, and cupped all the Ambien in it.

Touching the Ambien alone was a thrill, and having all thirty in his hands at once made his heart thump wildly in his chest.

"Do it, you little bitch," he taunted himself. He took his left hand and turned on the water in the sink, just to spite whatever voice that would come out and tease him. "I could if I wanted to," he whispered in reply.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing from the other room. It was The Office's theme song, which was assigned to only one person: Janeli. He shut off the water in haste. Looking at himself in the mirror, he shook his head and threw the Ambien at his reflection.

Immediately, tears began to well in his eyes, scared for a moment that he might have lost one pill. He counted the scattered saviors, quickly reaching thirty once more.

"Not today," he declared, standing straight as he started to race toward his phone. "God, karma's a bitch," he thought to himself as he prepared for happy-go-lucky Brenden to surface from beneath the chilly waters that always threatened to overtake him.

"Hey you," he faked as Janeli replied from the other side of the phone.

Little did she know that he had just survived another day. Though he was drowning, the waters did not overtake him that day. Maybe, just maybe, he could tread water a little longer.