How You Remind Me
© MiSERY
Disclaimer: F-I-C-T-I-O-N. I WISH I owned anyone,
but sadly Andrew Martin (Test) owns himself and she is Stephanie McMahon.
Never made it as a wise man
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing
Tired of living like a blind man
I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling
Normal childhood.
Loving parents.
Good grades.
Then Her.
She ruined his life by walking into it. Maybe even by being born. He wasn't sure.His thoughts were shaken by the noise of a child next door. His basketball bouncing and bouncing. His eyes rolled then closed. He leaned back into the sofa and hung his head back. He ran his fingers through his messy brown hair.
It's been awhile since he had a relaxing warm bath. In fact, a nice homemade meal. He would have made the meals himself, only there wasn't anything in the apartment that made a meal.
He would have bought something. Except he had no money, and the little money he had he bought liquor. The warm bath; big fat chance. The water was cold as ice. Of course, he never minded it.
And this is how you remind me
This is how you remind me
Of what I really am
This is how you remind me
Of what I really am
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking
and I've been wrong, I've been down, to the bottom of every bottle
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"
He looked around the infested apartment. Roaches making their home in his home. Spiders in every corner, up high in the ceiling. His shit all over the place.
"You'll never get anywhere living like this." She always told him. He listened but never made any change. Just kept things the way they were. Maybe he should've. Then again, what goal is that?
Sure, you could have kept her... maybe.
"Stop that shit." She said once. He hit her. She never once said another word about his problem.
His problem.
What problem? He asked himself. There was nothing wrong about having an occasional drink. OK, well, maybe twelve drinks were too much for him. Maybe......
It made his life like a fairy tale; he had a beautiful princess by his side. And everything seemed to be OK. Except, she didn't seem beautiful with her black and blue bruises.
It had been first her thighs. He would squeeze them until they turned red. His fingers made marks, but he didn't care. Second was her back. He would slam her against the wall. Sometimes it had been the wall where something sharp was sticking out. He nearly broke her back. She wanted to die then.
Another time was where in their bedroom... he would have her in bed tied up. Her wrists were tied as well as her legs to the bed posts. He always had her naked. Every scar was shown to him; the scars that he left after he was done with her.
At times, he'd gag her so he wouldn't have to listen to her whining, her whimpering. He would sit on her stomach, have a knife to her throat and whisper, "Are we having fun yet?"
it's not like you didn't know that
I said I love you and I swear I still do
And it must have been so bad
Cause living with me must have damn near killed you
And this is how, you remind me
Of what I really am
This is how, you remind me
Of what I really am
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking
and I've been wrong, I've been down,
to the bottom of every bottle
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"
After his escapade he would just get up and leave. Never caring if she needed medical attention. A couple of nights later, he remembered he left her on the bed; cold, and near death.
He's take off the restraints and hold her. He told her he loved her. She couldn't hear him though. She was sleeping peacefully with her arms wrapped around herself and her legs bent to cover her naked part showing. Days of rest helped her. But, no use of it would have her to an advantage. He'd do it again, and again until she would pass out and he have no use of her. Always with the words, "Are we having fun yet?"
Never made it as a wise man
I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing
And this is how you remind me
This is how you remind me
This is how you remind me
Of what i really am
This is how you remind me
Of what i really am
Should he feel regret? He possibly does. She has a way of reminding him of what he really is. An abuser. This apartment is his Hell. An eternity of pain, suffering and guilt.
Crying, he hears. The same crying that has haunted him forever.
Not hers. Not his. Baby cry.
His body moved a little forward. He opened his eyes and looked down at his shaking hands. "Shh, little baby." he whispered.
How she reminds him, a reminder of what came. A creature he can't hurt. He feels his head spinning. He can't control it. IT.
It just cries and cries and he can't do anything about it.
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
for handing you a heart worth breaking
and I've been wrong, I've been down,
to the bottom of every bottle
it's the words in my head scream "are we having fun yet?"
He puts his hands over his ears to keep the sound down. His eyes once again closed and he rocks back and forth on the couch. No use though. He hears her whispering in his head, "Are we having fun yet?"
His head is full of her whispers. He can't think. "Go away!" He screams. Her whispers become high pitched.
"ARE WE HAVING FUN YET ANDREW!?!"
He snaps his head up, eyes open and stands. "You're dead Steph! I killed you! You aren't here!"
She laughs, then repeats, "Are we having fun yet?"
Andrew closes his eyes, "No," he shakes his head, "no more fun."
"Good."
yeah yeah
are we having fun yet?
yeah yeah
are we having fun yet?
yeah yeah
are we having fun yet?
yeah yeah
He sits back down, trying to think. It cries. Crying for attention.
"Shh, little baby." he whispers. It won't listen. "And this is how you remind me," he whispers to himself.
No no...
THE END
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