*I hurt myself today/ To see if I still feel*
He sat on the empty couch, a half-empty brandy glass hanging loosely from one hand, numb eyes fixed blankly on the pocket knife he had borrowed from Wilson and never returned.
He tilted his head, setting down the glass and picking up the knife.
He slowly opened it, contemplating the slightly rusty blade.
He considered his wrist, but that had more chance of messing up his muscles and nerves than killing him.
And he was still sober enough to know that was a bad idea.
Suddenly, he gripped the rough handle tightly, pushing it down into his leg.
*I focus on the
pain / The only thing that's real*
The pain was
refreshing, after being numb for so long. He had cried himself out of
tears, and he hadn't had anything left to feel.
He lifted the knife slowly out of his leg, watching the blood slowly soak into his jeans.
He felt it rising up again.
*The needle tears a hole / The old familiar sting*
the blood soaking through the pants... the bus, the smells, the blood, he was caught up in it, it was all around him again, the familiar, haunted, half-nightmare waking dream.
*Try to kill it all away /But I remember everything*
He shoved the glass over, leaning back and holding his head.
Go away. Go away! LEAVE ME ALONE!
*What have I become? / My sweetest friend /Everyone I know /Goes away in the end*
He shoved the bottle and glass off the table, holding back a yell.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Leave me alone, I'm sorry. Wilson, amber, I'm sorry. I'M SORRY!
*You could have it all / My empire of dirt / I
will let you down / I will make you hurt*
I'm sorry! I'm
sorry! I did my best, I had nothing left to give! I did everything I
could have! I didn't care that you asked me to kill myself for her,
what more do you want from me?!
His vision was starting to go black.
He was loosing blood.
He reached for the phone.
*I wear this crown of thorns / Upon my liar's chair / Full
of broken thoughts / I cannot repair*
He sat, shivering a
little bit, on the hospital bed.
The curtain pulled back, he lifted his head.
Just Cameron, holding a swab and looking sad.
"Don't, just... don't," he said, hollowly, looking at her with empty eyes.
She shook her head, still looking sad.
"I know what happened. Everyone does. I'm just sad about it."
He shrugged tiredly.
"I can't stop it. I tried—he won't..."
"Shhh. It's ok, you don't have to talk about it. Get some rest, I'm just going to check your stitches."
He nodded, closing his eyes.
*Beneath
the stain of time / The feeling disappears*
For the first
time in weeks, his dreams were not plagued by ghosts of amber and
buses and blood.
He supposed that had to do with how long it had been since the accident—a month.
He wasn't sure if he was happy or guilty that the dreams were limited to the older nightmares from his childhood.
*You are someone else / I am still right here*
It had been another week, he had come back to work at last, and he had raised his head as the doors to the hallway out of the elevator opened.
Wilson.
He swallowed.
Wilson didn't seem to see him, just walked into him, causing him to stumble heavily.
He swallowed, walking out and leaning heavily against the wall, his chest heavy and aching, out of breath.
He was not going to cry in the middle of the hallway.
He wasn't that much of a mess.
Damn, yes he was.
*What have I become? / My sweetest friend /
Everyone I know / Goes away in the end*
I'm sorry. I have
nothing left to give, except more pain and tears.
I'm so sorry, Wilson.
*You could have it all / My empire of dirt
/ I will let you down / I will make you hurt*
I would do
anything if you would come back.
I would do anything if I could undo the hurt.
I'm so sorry.
*If I could start again / A million miles away / I would keep myself / I would find a way*
I wish I could go back.
But I can't.
So I'll keep living this way until you can forgive me.
I'll keep punishing myself so you don't have to.
So you'll come back, and I'll stop crying.
I'm so sorry.
He plunged the knife in again.