leATHERMØUTH -frerard-

Leviathan

I feel myself choke on my own air, life threatening to leave my lungs. It stings and feels as if it's leaving bruises. But I know it's not death I'm feeling. It's life. But death leaves a sting sometimes, reminding you that it isn't done with you yet. I reach over in my dark room, finding my bed side lamp, holding my throat, an invisible pair of hands grasping my windpipe. Then, as my vision starts dotting, I see who is behind this feeling. It's them. The thoughts in human form.

He's lanky, pale, and distressed. His eyes are filled with tears, the bags under it look more like bruises than anything else. His arms are covered in what looked to be tattoos at first but soon were realized to be veins and nasty bruises. In fact, he's covered in purple and blue. He looks desperate and scared, as if he doesn't want to do it. I grasp one of his hands that press harder and he meets my eyes, tears spilling out onto his cheeks. I tug at his hands and finally he lets go, scurrying off of me and into the corner of my room. I reach over to my lamp and turn it on, the room lighting up. The boy looks about the same age as me and I study him as his eyes adjust to the light.

He's skinny and has extremely long black hair, hitting just past his chest. His eyebrows furrow as he stares back at me, tears still pouring down his cheeks. His lips are full but busted, turned down into a frown. Then I notice he's chained to the wall by his neck, the collar rusty and studded with sharp points. His hands are in chains as well, but far enough apart to choke someone near him, as I learned the hard way. I scoot down my bed and look at him closer but he freezes.

"What?" His voice is low and raspy as if he hasn't spoken in years, "Do you not recognize me?"

"I recognize you." I nod, "But I don't know what to call you."

He grins, "I know you. You're Frank. My master." His grin fades and he lunges at me, but I back away quick enough for the chain around his neck to catch him, making him fall backwards and cry out in pain, "You did this to me! For years I felt your pain. You chained me up and told me to sit still. I'm tired of it! Everyday you bruise me till I can't breathe! I'll choke you till you can't!"

I slowly move towards him, feeling less scared upon realizing I was the one at fault. As I move, I feel something weigh down in my pocket. He stares at me as I reach in and pull out a metallic, almost Victorian looking key. Our eyes meet and I know what I am to do.

I lean down next to him and grab his chains, finding where they keyhole is on each restraint. He looks at me with this shock that I can't really explain. But as the restraint around his neck is broken, some of his bruises disappear. He smiles genuinely and offers his wrists to me. I unlock them and start to massage his wrists, knowing the feeling can hurt. His tears are gone now and his face is completely healed, just like the rest of his body. I sit next to him and the light in his eyes floods back, showing that he is actually a fairly attractive person. I wasn't attracted to him, mostly because I knew he wasn't real.

"Now," I smile back at him, "What are you?"

"I'm your thoughts." He responds, "They call me Radio."

I tilt my head to the side, "But what do you call you?"

His smile grows wider, "You know your thoughts better than I remember." He leans against me, "Bert. I like to call myself Bert."

"Bert." I meet his eyes and finally stop touching his wrists. He places his hands in his lap after brushing hair from his face, "What did you mean when you said I hurt you? Made you like that?"

"I'm better now. But... you chained me up because you were afraid to feel. I'm not dangerous, but the demons made you think I was. Feelings- emotions... we help people cope, we are a comfort in solace. We're here now because you need to heal, Frank. You've been through many things that you aren't dealing with healthily. Dreams, things you've seen, and..." he breaks eye contact to look at his lap, "And Gerard."

I sigh, "I didn't want to let him go. But he killed our friends. He said he was getting better, but he was lying to me."

"You did the right thing. He was a danger to you. He almost killed you." Bert looks back at me and smiles sympathetically.

"I hope he's okay, though. I don't want him to be put on death row." I frown and Bert does the same.

"I doubt he'll be put on death row. Maybe a high security mental hospital. But not death row. They're gonna wanna do research y'know? Try and make him better?" Bert scoots back to adjust his position.

I feel my eyes start  to sting, "What will happen to us?"

"I'll still help you, but you? I'm not sure what's gonna happen next. I want to think you'll be happy, but who is truly happy?" He pauses and laughs to himself, "What kind of question is that anyway? Are you happy?"

"Exactly." I respond, "So when I took the chains off of you did I...?"

"Free your thoughts and emotions? Yes." He pauses, "But it's a good thing. You'll be better off, trust me."

Everything starts to blur around the edges and I take that as my queue, "Do you really think?"

He puts his hand on my knee and smiles, "I know so."

And this time when I awake, I'm not drenched in sweat or scared for my life, but happy, almost. Content.

Or perhaps I'm numb.