Dead Inside

Chapter Eleven No more life this way

I am drenched to the bone by the time I make it to the abandoned power station on the outskirts of town. Rivulets of water stream down my face and I wipe them away only for more to take their place. I wrap my arms around myself as I enter through the hole someone cut into the chain-link fence years ago. There is a well-worn path that I can follow even in the hazy light from the sun that is hidden behind black rainclouds. I avoid the main entrance and make my way around the back of the building, searching for a small hole in the bricks where I could sneak inside. I almost miss the bit of shadow that is darker than the rest.

I kneel down to move the corrugated iron sheet to the side before laying down on my stomach and wiggling through. I use the small amount of light seeping in through the hole to look around the room. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the dark but when they do it's exactly as I left it the last time I was here. There's a mattress leaning against the far wall and a small gas light on top of a chest shoved into the corner. I light it after locating a box of matches tucked inside a plastic bag and the yellow lights fills the room. Now that I have light I slide the iron sheet back across the hole. The other side of the room has the remains of a fire and a mural I'd been working on covers the wall. My paints were still piled on the floor. I lay the mattress down and retrieve the sheet and blanket from the chest. They smell a little musty but are otherwise fairly clean. I strip out of my wet clothes and hang them over a piece of string tied between two exposed pipes.

My teeth are chattering by the time I get the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I sit on the bed with my back against the wall and stare at the mural. At the first glance it just looks like a random collection of colour splattered against the wall but when you allow your eyes to lose focus just a little bit the real picture comes into view. It shows two figures standing over a third that will be kneeling on the floor (I have only done the outline of the third person). One of the standing figures has their hand upraised and there's a black heart in their fist. The other is holding a dagger to the thirds throat. They both have huge toothy grins on their faces. The outline of the third shows them with their back arched and their chest ripped open. I had created this in a drug fuelled rage after I learnt the truth about Stacey and Beau. They had ripped my heart from my chest and driven me close to ending it all. The only reason I didn't was because I wanted to prove to them that they didn't break me. It's been the only thing driving me to stay alive since then.

Days like today though seriously tempt me. I stare at the mural until I have stopped shivering then I dig through the chest until I find my stash. I pull out my knife and turn it over in my hands watching the light reflect off the blade bouncing spots of yellow across the walls and roof. Maybe today is the day, I think I've had just about enough. I'm sick of being kicked while I'm down. No matter what I do I manage to fuck it up somehow. Never mind trying to please everyone I can't even please one person. What's the point of proving them wrong when I'll never see them again? Besides, I'm barely living so they have already won anyway. Why prolong my, and everyone else's, suffering?

I place the blade against my wrist and press down. I feel the skin split and a line of blood wells up on either side of the blade. I lift the knife and stare at the line of red. A drop runs down the side of my arm and drips onto the lid of the chest. I stare at where it splattered and I see the baggie in my peripheral vision. I stare at it for a long moment wondering why it's caught my attention. Then my eyes flick to the unfinished mural. I have to finish it. I can finish this once it's complete.

I place the knife on the table after wiping it clean on a piece of cloth, which I then wrap around my wrist to cover the wound. I pick up the bag and shake it eyeing off the contents. I take out one of the smaller yellow shards and grind it up in my snuff box. I create a small line and use the straw to suck it into my nose. I feel it burn and put my head back, staring at the ceiling and pinch my nose shut for a moment until the sting in my eyes subsides and they stop watering. I sniff a few times and sit on the floor in front the mural near the paints with the blanket tightly wrapped around myself waiting for it to kick in.