Identity [ON HIATUS]

20. In The Light Of The Mourning

Charlie Merchant had a knack for dreaming of monsters. Monsters were relentless and unforgiving as they swam around your mind just begging to be heard, laughing behind the eyelids of a broken boy with the body of a man.

Two days after the funeral, Charlie woke to find two empty whisky bottles lay beside him in his bed. They were always there or maybe it was something else; they replaced whatever warm body was there before. But there was plenty more for him to find in this God forsaken apartment, the walls closing and crawling around him making his room and the bathroom and the kitchen smaller and smaller.

He cracked open the window that day and took a big gulp of the air after a rainstorm. It was damp and smelled of water. It sobered him for enough time to take a piss and maybe change his shirt. But what did it matter? He would sweat through the day and then the night when the demons came out and swallowed him whole. What was the point in any of this? Eating? Going to work? Sometimes, Charlie was so drunk that he forgot where he worked, and so he would light a cigarette and perch on the edge of his bed and stare into the living room of his apartment. Dust would dance in the light particles and Charlie would think of a hand swishing through it, and then it did.

He squeezed his eyes shut but Rose still lounged there in fishnet tights and chunky Doc Martens, laughing at something on the television. She switched it off and they both listened to each other without looking at each other.

"You gonna come in here?" It felt like a shout in his ears but it was probably a whisper. He did and she expected him to sit with her but he didn't, he stood as far away from her as possible.

"When are you gonna leave?" He would ask, his tongue dry and his back beading with sweat. Rose leaned forward, her teeth in sharp points like she'd filed them down herself.

"You don't deserve it."

Charlie rubbed his eyes, sinking to the carpet that had never been cleaned, his back to the wall. All the police interviews and interrogations and they found nothing on him and they wouldn't, because all of this was Rose's idea. He could smell burning rubber and the gas of the exhaust and hear the dialling tone when Rose wouldn't answer her phone. It just wouldn't go away.

"You didn't die because of me." Every day he tried to reason with himself but nothing came of it because it was his motorcycle. And though there wasn't enough evidence to prosecute him, he already felt like he was in prison.

Rose kicked the bookshelf and the wood broke. "Charlie Merchant killed me! Charlie Merchant killed me!" She sang from the Heavens, breaking everything in sight, as Charlie rocked back and forth on the floor of his cell.

So, I really wanted to write a little chapter of the time between Rose's death and before Charlie met Daisy. I felt Charlie wasn't tortured enough obviously haha. Hope you like it :)