Prologue
Isolated, isolated from everything, that's how it's always been. Away from all others, segregated by my peers due to the personal traits they saw unfitting in their perfect world of normality, a hierarchy, a structure in which I do not belong, I know this. Not once do I complain, never do I fear their slander and persecution. Thus I have always suffered the silence. The silence of my solitude, the seed of my nightmares, there is not a sound in the realm of my existence and I loathe it so.
Forgive me, I have been the bane of your existence, the thorn in your side, James, and yet you loved me like no other, for no other gave a damn whether I was dead or alive. And even though it was you who killed me… I thank you. For all you did for me.
James, my dear, bastard James,
You broke my silence.
Lack of sound
In front of my eyes were bricks, old, stained bricks. Glued together with a grout so filthy that it seemed the building was made of some disgusting mould. I did not however see this, in fact, if you were to ask me what I saw I could not tell you. For what do you see in the proverbial space of time?
I was lost in that space, so lost that I was startled when the bell rang. The monotone drone telling us all that one hour had passed and it was time to move to another.
I stood, looking at no one, gathering my possessions only to be knocked down. Sprawling across the desk, everything scattered away from me, some hitting the floor with soft thuds, as if applauding the act.
People laughed, some ignored it, and others went as far as to shake their heads in distaste. I didn't care; I didn't care about any of them. It was only him that I cared about. The bastard, I hated him. I hated him so much that I could not possibly deny it. The others where apart from me, they tolerated me, ignored me but he didn't, he acknowledged my existence, he was my equal and I was his.
I stood for a second time, gathering, once again, my things as I watched him leave from the corner of my eye.
Equals.
We met again that day, this time alone. We were walking toward each other from each end of the deserted corridor, a cliché I wish to over look. Eye contact was immediate and unbroken; we stopped upon reaching each other as if we had arranged the meeting.
I saw raw confusion in his eyes, confusion that I shared. I asked him, "What is this?" and I think for the first time in his life he answered truthfully.
"I don't know."
With a nod I continued to walk, not daring to take the conversation any further. I didn't always pay to tell the truth.
At night, when the darkness settles in, I would sit at my window, on the floor, next to my door, on my bed, I didn't matter where really, and I would stare.
Just stare.
It had arrived hours before I gave it any conscious thought. It was a raven, a large, old raven, black as night and as ugly as the devil. It sat above my door way, perched on the old Batman figurine I glued on the protruding frame unmoving and imposing. I ignored it, like every other time I had been visited by the fiend. I merely made my way to my bed and fell asleep, waking to find it where I had left it. Usually the things that I saw were gone by the morning and the raven had been no exception until now.
That morning it spoke. It told me to skip school, go to Sullivan alley and wait. I obeyed this command without a second thought.
I walked through the murky depths of the filthy alley, not once wondering why I was there. I found an old milk crate and sat, unblinking and unmoving. I didn't see the bird above me, perched on the roof ledge, like some grotesque gargoyle.
An hour passed, thankfully with no bell, and I see him, my equal, James. He walked toward where I sat and suddenly I came to life, I moved slightly, unable to explain as to why I was sick with adrenaline. Butterflies, some call it.
I stood, and walked towards him, we were alone, moving toward one another from each end of a deserted alley. Déjà vu. We both seemed to smirk at the thought.
When we reached each other, he smiled. Something I will never forget. But there was still confusion.
Together we walked out of the alley down the street, space enough between us to seem platonic, for whose comfort I was not sure. We travelled in my dreaded silence reaching the river bank, where we sat, both of us wondering why we were there.
But we both knew.
We were bound together, he and I. Bound with some unnatural affection. I cannot recall a time before that moment where I felt so on edge as was then, as only he could make me. Thankfully that old familiar hate was present, it made us equals, or so we thought. It was a wall; much like that of Berlin, keeping us apart and creating more hate.
However he, after obvious inner debate, placed his hand on my thigh. His dark eyes were suspicious; staring at it awkwardly resting on my denim covered flesh, as if some invisible being had placed it there without his say so. All the same my heart jumped in its cage, followed by a silent torrent of unforgiving slander aimed at myself.
I, seemingly against my will, leaned toward him my eyes piercing his own, as if to challenge him. He met me, taking that challenge. We broke apart when oxygen was needed, only to find all the awkwardness and hate dissipating, as if that one act was the key to peace. I guess in a way it was.
He walked away from me then, I felt my soul being crushed, my eyes began to sting for the first time in over ten years, then he turned around and said the words that meant the world to my sound depraved self.
"I'll talk to you later."
He said he'd talk to me. That meant sound, it promised communication it meant an end to silence.
That night, I sat in my room, staring again. The raven having been silent since the morning, suddenly made a loud screech that made me jump, falling from the windowsill on which I had been sitting and into the garden below. I scrambled from the roses as they tore at my flesh, unforgiving as hell. As I made my way out, flat on my stomach, I looked up to see the raven standing in front of me, it made another screech, and began to hop away. Quickly I ran after him,
giving little thought to the thorns tearing at my clothes. The bird was surprisingly fast, like some mutated cat with feathers and scaly feet. It suddenly took to the air, its feathers shining in the moonlight, as it swooped low over the road on to which I followed.
I was struck down by a car, the wheel crushing my chest, killing me instantly.
Epilogue
I didn't know what to do; I was drunk, confused and just screwed up.
I felt good after I left the river, I walked away from you, but I promised to speak to you again, and I meant it. I wanted to be with you, I swear.
I found some of my mates on the way home and the weight of everybody's expectations of who I was came crashing down on me again. I panicked, I went home and drank. I drank until I passed out on my bedroom floor.
I woke up later in the dark of my room; I found a bird, a crow-raven type thing, I know it sounds mad, but it told me drive past your house. I didn't question it, I didn't even stop to think of how I was going to drive there the way I was. I stumbled into my car, practically blind with the grog; I can't believe that I didn't stop to think!
When I saw you step out in front of me… I-I knew straight away what had happened.
I don't know if you can hear me. But please where ever you are, I want you to know, I was going to talk to you again.