The Downward Spiral

Chapter 2: Piggy

I walk with no destination other than away. Away from her, away from anything that was once mine. I have nothing. That little bitch left me. Drained me dry until there was nothing left. Smashed me into a million pieces and threw them away. I wasn't enough I guess, or maybe I just got old and boring. She's taken everything that was once ours, taken it like the little fucking pig that she is. God, I hate her. But she was all I had. She's left me all alone. I don't know where I am. I don't know what day it is or even what year it is. I don't know who or what I am. I trudge along, thoughts boiling and stewing and wandering down all manner of different, terrifying paths.

God, I'm so angry. I hate her with every fiber of my being and yet I'm devastated. She was a spike-studded rope over an infinite abyss of misery, hatred, and violence. And I let go. I plummet through the abyss, speeding up with no end in sight. Hate. Anger. Pain. I want to get back at her, God I do, but I can't. Not now.

I stop and turn around. The city, once a big, looming collection of soulless gray skyscrapers, now seems like a small child's plaything. I sit on the grass and gaze into the distance, resting my tired limbs. I've been walking all day. Every step, every movement fueled by anger. As I stare at nothing, I can't help but drift into thought.

I lay, a crumpled, broken, defeated heap on the ground. Beaten to a pulp. I don't know if it was her who did this to me. I'm nothing more than a vaguely human lump of bruises and shattered bones. It hurts. I want nothing more desperately than to die. No, I want death, sure, but I don't want to die. I want to get back at her. I want to take a shotgun to her head and watch her brains fly all over the wall, watch her body crumple to the ground, a lifeless shell, doomed to rot in the ground. No, a shotgun is too nice. I don't want her to get an easy way out. I want her to suffer. I try and crawl. Just one inch. I can't. The effort is too much, the pain paralyzing. My outside is just as shattered and broken as my insides. The void approaches me. I smile and let it wash over me.

I snap back into reality. I pat myself all over. I'm fine. A little sore from walking all day, sure, but a far cry from the shattered husk I was just a second ago. The pain felt so real. I'm still in one piece though. Physically, that is. Emotionally, I'm in a million tiny pieces, so small you can hardly even see them. I fall through the abyss, watching the shattered remnants of my former self fall and disappear, tiny glimmers extinguished forever. Maybe one day I'll catch up to them, piece them together, become myself again. I doubt it.

I check into some shitty motel I found on the side of the road. The surly man at the counter hands me my key, unconcealed disgust written across his face. Like I care. I spit at him and walk outside. I let myself into my room and collapse on the bed. I'm so tired. I want to sleep. But I can't just yet.

I stare into the ceiling, my brain flashing images of my life like a sick slideshow. Memories of when she and I first met, a smiling young couple. How good those days were. What happened? Why did she throw me away? I don't know.

And I don't care.

My thoughts rapidly turn to violence, to hatred. Slicing her skin open, stomping her into the ground, fertilizing plants with the remains.

Nothing can stop me now.

I laugh. I laugh maniacally, I cry like a little girl, and I destroy everything in the motel room. Madness has overtaken me.

And it feels so fucking amazing.