Volume VI: And Introducing Harley Morrow As - Herself

21. Holy Sins & Deadly Commandments

        Thunk.

        That’s a very definite sound, when you get right down to it. When all else fails it’s the final sound that decides the end of an action.

        Suicide is contagious. I think the idea is entirely wrong. I think it is death in general that is contagious. In all its forms and ways. Death is intoxicating. And nobody wants to be alone.

        And it’s a great power to end someone’s life.

        Just a slight pull. A soft squeeze, that’s it. Nothing more than that. And someone dies. Someone you love. Someone you hate. Someone you never met. Someone you always knew.

        Thud. Shiver. Gasp.

        “Aren’t you tired of being weak?” I whispered.

        “This is taking back what you’ve stolen,” I whispered.

        “It’s always darker in my eyes,” I told him.

        “You judged me and now you are me,” he replied. In coughs and gasps. I merely smiled.

        “I did it all for you, Hun.”

        And I walked away. For the first time in my life, I walked away. I would have to pay the cost of my...madness, but I didn’t care any longer.

        I left him there to die. I walked away as he bled to death.

        Goodbye Art. Burn in Hell, Gothik.

        And what led to this fateful point? What brought the child, the good kid, to kill her master? Why did I sign my own damnation? Why bite the hand that feeds you?

        Because it was choking me.

        How to explain, how to explain...

        Things settled down. But I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know how it came to light - I guess I just wasn’t doing my job up to par. But Gothik was sent to stay with me. I didn’t realize the extent of my problem until I woke up in his arms a few times. He said I was a mess. Did I believe him? No.

        I knew that the problem was serious when I missed my cue at the show because I dozed off backstage. I woke up at home. Happenings like that were more common as time passed. Serkis would make sure that someone was always around to take me home. But when times were busy, we’d have to resort to Gothik. And as much as he was her partner in show business, he was still changing. He was a guy. And I trusted him about as far as I could throw him.

        The more time I spent with him, the less I could tolerate. He had his moods, his ups and downs, but he reminded me too much of Doyle. He changed the bandages for me. But there were days when he was cold and cruel. When he pushed buttons because he could. Handling the situation was having a physical toll on me. I was healing, but time was against me.

        Gothik started drinking. And he became violent. Push came to shove too many times. And I covered it up. I saved him. If word got out, I’d never get better. There was enough going on without this. I smiled, and I dealt.

        And then he just pushed too damn hard.

        Being sick takes up everything. It’s comparable to addiction; my manner is comparable to that of a junkie. If you lose focus of the truth for one second...it’s over. Distraction must be avoided at all costs. Gothik was a risk to my mental stability.