Rated T for: swearing/dark themes
Song: The Uglies by Harley Poe
Notes: Most was written in the wee hours of the morning, and is in Johnny POV. I had that song on loop for foreeever. It's eerie how JTHM-esque that band's songs are. Anywho, this takes place-ish in Zarla's Vargas pre-Edgar-goes-crazy. That's as specific as I can get, sadly. Everything in italics are lyrics.
I own nothing of JTHM or the Harley Poe lyrics.
I breathed in deeply. It was so cold out. Damn, it only chilled me more to hold that gulp of air in my lungs. My hand gripped a steel frame. It might as well have been ice. That feeling ran up through my nerves, to my brain, jarring me from wanting to let my lids fall. Was I really going to fall asleep standing? Shit. Freezing air passed too easily through my clothes. They were pretty much threadbare. So cold…
It was bound to happen. God, even when I resign myself to sleep, I, they linger. The eyes. They never bother me, so wide. I sometimes see myself in them, but I try not to look at myself. How many? I can never remember. Their faces blend together, their screams are hardly any different. But they resonate, and their words… Bargaining, pleading. I can't concentrate. I feel like a goddamned goldfish. Gulping for air, flopping around helplessly. There's plenty of water down there. I'll probably fuck things up again, but who knows… I've had enough encouragement to keep on trying, haven't I? Not a fucking failure. For very long. This time, this time things will go right. Everything will be more pleasant.
I've been here too long
My teeth are chattering. No cars, no other sound. Completely and undeniably alone. The coat doesn't do anything much. It still has that smell. The phone doesn't work anymore. When was it last? There's nothing here to say anything to me. They're all far, far away in that hell hole. Trapped, restricted, subjugated. I feel like smiling, but my face feels numb.
Thin ice is directly below, several stories. There nothing can touch me. Even if they tried with everything they had, their words would be fruitless. Nothing would make sense. No going back then. It would all collapse on me, and I would be able to do nothing about it. Free from feeling, too. There was no question about it. Only days ago the most severe winter hit the area. It was supposedly the coldest temperatures ever recorded. No one wanted to be out that didn't have a death wish. I hope he stays inside.
Goodbye, my love, goodbye
May my soul rest in peace
May the voices all cease
He'd be too occupied. There was no chance he'd fuck things up this time. I'm only inches away. How much of him is him? I still feel myself torn in separate pieces. They're silent, but they still try to whisper. Brain worms or some shit like that. If I screamed, how far would it carry? Could I rupture my throat? It sounds appealing enough. Just raspy sounds at the end of the line. Is now good or should I wait my hand feels stuck and the dial tone still sounds and sounds and I feel paralyzed to do anything but
That night. It was dark, but cars went by from time to time. Just glimpses of a face. It was quiet then, too. He was trying. Everything told me to leave. How could he have done anything? Useless. He couldn't understand it. Beyond redemption, if my memory serves me. Ha, I'm funny. But nonetheless, he tries to put off the inevitable. Those damned glasses don't do anything. He felt warm.
They whisper in my ear
They tell me what to say
This was for the best. Someone else will clean up all the mess behind me. There will be nothing to worry about. Edgar's burden will be lifted. Fuck, I'm going to fall asleep and not even know what happened. Maybe then if I stayed unconscious long enough, and with frostbite… Ice is clawing its way into my pores, my bones. They'll probably find their way out. The house will cease to be unseen. I kind of wish I could've seen the moose. I imagine it's pretty fucking ugly. It hasn't been fed in so long, I can feel its rage and its hunger. It would find me. It would crawl out and scour every shady alley and the very second I slept or didn't pay attention or tried to contact him. Maybe it will just spontaneously explode, or implode, or some cool shit like that. Should've left a video camera down there.
His eyes were wide and calm.
Edgar was good at listening. Was he one of those that waited at the phone? Maybe if I had called right before I left, he'd feel less inclined to go out. Always so concerned. He'd probably jump the bridge if I asked nicely. Still no cars, no people. Snow plows probably were even scared shitless over all this. I couldn't visit Edgar's anymore. He'd offer coffee or something and then he'd say stuff and I'd want nothing more than to reach for them and he'd not do anything about it because. I tried to clench my empty hands, but I can't fucking feel them anymore. If I'm not going to do something now…
I can't take it anymore
So I've gotta go away
The sky was clear, even after all that goddamned snow and hail. December at its finest. It would be hours until sunrise. The stars are always bright enough this far out of town. They blur together now, I can't think straight. No sign of the moon. I wonder if it's some kinda omen. I was never really much into that shit. Even though it's not there, I couldn't help but try to look for it. How can there still be this much light out? My throat feels raw. There's not any saliva I can swallow. Why tonight, of all nights, did it decide to not show up? Oh, right. Another reminder that nothing will be like I wanted. Damn, it's almost like the stars want to fade out. They're faint, I can't reach for them. No more stars.
I said goodbye to the sun
His hands had reached out to me. Hadn't I reminded him enough of my dislike of touch? Of all the empty, meaningless gestures… How could such a thing have rendered me unable to do anything? He'd trapped me, that was it. Honest my ass. As if he didn't have an actual reason for touching, some sickening ulterior motive. He wants what they all want, but he'll never say it. Not to my face. Shit, why did keep the coat… It still smells like him. An Edgar smell, whatever the hell that is.
I should've killed him then.
Goodnight, my love, goodnight
Gonna end all this pain
Before it makes me insane
What would've he said then? 'Oh, okay Nny. Go right ahead. I aim to please.' Disgusting. He was still, too. Even the alarm clock on the nightstand with those glowing red numbers would've worked. Only a matter of time. They know he's getting too close, I know it, he…he's clueless. Stop killing, what kind of a joke is that. They're tearing me apart, I can feel the seams ripping, and it's from all kinds of fucked-up directions. Might as well have me quartered or something. Probably less painful. The two fuckers know that if I don't hurry up and actually do something…
Then I'll just try to fix things. Why is it so bright? There's no moon, the stars keep moving around. I think my eyelashes have ice on them. They keep on getting heavier and heavier. It's senseless that I just keep standing here and thinking and doing nothing while he could be on his way to ruin everything even though he'd kill himself on the drive with all that fucking ice he knows that I'll try to-
Damn! My foot slipped. The tread on my boots is wearing, or something. Too much fucking ice.
They beg me to do
Such horrible things
They play with my mind
They make me ashamed
What's he going to do afterward? Some good fucking friend I am. I never liked any flowers in particular. Something red. The wall was turning darker and darker by the day. Flaking, tremors every couple of minutes. I cheated it out of him. I had been so close, but something had come. A distraction. Why had I fucking called? He wanted nothing to do with me. No one does. Going out alone this time. A partner had never worked out. I wasted bullets on them, batteries, then none left for me. Those bleeding cracks. Even in death no one will share shit with me. No…
Did he ever stock up on Skettios? Damn, he had nothing good in that place. No chips, soda, caffeine. How could anything be so plain and clean? Did he even have a hobby? Shit, mine may be fucked up, but I have one. It had been too close. He was just begging for it, he knew what would've happened. Why did he even try, then? He's gradually stopping making any goddamned sense anymore. Some anchor. He's just going to keep pushing it, and then-
-there it is, swirling down there. I almost got there on accident. Under some ice, maybe, but not much. No one will be out for days. The ice storm will only worsen. Fucking house is already a meat locker.
I'm afraid they're going to make me
Hurt you
I wonder if I could be a ghost or some cool shit like that. Haunting sounds appealing enough. It's so quiet, I can hear just my breaths and that white noise that accompanies silence. There's never total quiet, there's always that faint buzzing no matter how much you try to block it out or how much sound you make. I could scream to the entire town right now, and no one would hear me. I could lay out all my plans, tell my secrets, and no one would hear. Or even care. I wonder if he'll find my Die-ary later. A nice memento or something, 'Memories of Nny: The Good 'Ol Days,' or some shit like that. He seems the sentimental type. I hope he stays inside.
It's getting brighter. There's no sun, there's still stars and they still won't be immobile for one second. A car engine, maybe. Shitshitshitshit. A car is coming. Please let them not see me and keep on driving like they always do instead of stopping and gawking and asking why I'm out in the cold and why I'm standing all alone on the ledge of a bride. My body is stiff and I don't know how long I've been standing here. I don't know if I could run away or if I'd just fall over on my face. Even though it's getting closer and closer I can still hear my breathing and now my heart it wants to pound out of my chest any second now-
The car stopped behind me. I can hear a door open. The brights are right on me. I feel like a fucking deer in the headlights, but I'm not even facing them.
I think I'll take away
All the torture in my mind
But now you must defray
For the cost of suicide
The door closed. The engine's still running, I can feel the vibrations from where I'm standing. What the hell are they doing? Do they want some sick kind of show? I swear, if they don't say something soon, I'll just…
"Nny, what the hell?"
No. No, it can't be. He's supposed to be inside. Inside with his books and his heating and TV. He should be watching some cheap Christmas specials on those middle-aged women-oriented stations with all of those films packed with gooey displays of affection and washed-up actors. Sipping cocoa or coffee or whatever the hell he drinks. Not caring about me. He knows I'm going to kill him. It could be any day. He's just insuring his demise, but he doesn't even seem to care anymore. He might as well be where I'm standing. Fuck.
Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll go away. He'll realize I'm not me, just some hobo or something. An honest mistake. He'll drive away and go home and wait by the phone some more, but there won't be any more phone calls and he'll have a white Christmas or something like that. Or was it supposed to be blue? Fuck, I don't care what color it's supposed to be. He's probably still there, gaping, trying to think of something that'll make me look him in the eyes and then it will be ruined. He's good for that. Edgar can ruin almost any of what I want to do, and it never helps with his self-preservation. He doesn't have any, I guess. He's getting closer, I can just feel it.
Bonjour, my love, bonjour
The last time you touched me
I was lying on the floor
"Nny? Can you hear me?"
God, he's just feet behind me. There's all sorts of ice here, black ice. He's going to fall and take me with him, and if we're lucky it won't be onto the pavement.
"Jesus, Nny. You're shaking. How long have you been out here?"
Too long, probably. I should've been done with thing a long time ago. Then we wouldn't be having this conversation and you could just drive home and expect me to show up sometime. Shit, it's so cold out. What I wouldn't give for that dumb blanket or maybe some cocoa. That shit is the elixir of the Zeus or something. Maybe some mallows would be good, too, floating on the top but never really ever going into your mouth. The motherfuckers.
Warm. There's warm on my shoulder. It's his hand, holding onto my shoulder. What does he think he's doing now? If he made the slightest misstep, neither of us would have the strength or coordination to do anything but plummet. I told him I'd kill him one way or another. Doesn't he know I'm doing him a favor?
"You could kill yourself out here, you know. There's tons of ice and snow, and…" He stopped talking for a moment, then inhaled sharply. "That's really, really far down. Uh…were you planning on doing something?"
There's nothing in my mouth to swallow. I can barely get my voice over a whisper. It seems he's unreceptive to the silent treatment. How lucky for me.
"I was going…" to do something good. "Go back to…" the car and drive fucking far away. "You're not supposed to be out."
He sighed. "You haven't called or made any contact in weeks. And with the freakish weather, I wasn't about to let you freeze."
Edgar inched towards me more, trying to see my face or something. Does he even fathom how easy it would be to fall? Of course not. He just worries about me catching a cold or something. Why does he insist on being so damned considerate? His hand is warm, almost like fire on my skin. It's getting through my clothes. Shit, my teeth are still chattering. They're going to freeze and shatter and I'll only be able to ingest liquids like Brainfreezies and some of that goddamned cocoa.
"You should."
Bonjour, my love, I'm near
It's my voice you hear
So you mustn't fear
"No, Nny. We're going to go back to my place. It has heat, and I got more food before this god-awful front came in. There's a fresh blanket in the car, okay?"
"I wish the moon was out."
The sky looks so empty without it. If I had paint and any talent anymore, I'd paint it back up in the sky and then Edgar could see what a mess I am and he'd leave me alone. He'd take his hand off and leave. He'd realize that he can't do anything to "fix" me, or whatever the hell he thinks he's doing. I wonder if it is made of something useful like cheese, with those holes. What day of the week is it?
I wonder. What exactly would he do if I made a move toward the edge? Surely before people do stuff like this and their friends are in mid talking them out of it there's some interesting confessions or something dramatic and newsworthy. He cares too much. Do I even want him to?
Carefully, very carefully, I move my right foot forward. I can barely feel my feet or legs anymore. Bugs are crawling all around under my skin, they'd gotten so numb with cold. No slipping. As predicted, Edgar is in flip-out mode. He's so consistent.
He's shouting things that barely make any sense. I feel something around my chest, it's constricting me and dragging me. The river is leaving my vision, I can't control my legs anymore, just dead weight. Searing heat across my chest, permeating my thin clothes and burning. Edgar trapped me in another one of his hugs, I can't get out of it this time. He's gotten me when I'm weak. His eyes are staring at me, I can see them now. He's afraid.
You can't see me in your room
I'm here every night
I whisper in your ear
As I watch you sleep tight
"Nny…" he says. His voice is so quiet. Is he starting to cry? "It's Christmas tomorrow. What do you think…"
"Oh?" Well, that's interesting. A very merry Christmas it would've been. He's not letting go.
"I had a present for you, okay? I don't have a tree or anything, but…"
I tried to move my fingers around a little. Sweet Jesus, he got a present? For me? What could he possibly find in a store that I'd want? I don't want any of those idiotic material things people buy and then wrap in glorified newspaper. As if it's a secret that it's meaningless shit. At least he has enough sense to not put a tree in his place. They stink up everything. Since when was a dying tree appealing?
"Will you come into the car? It's a lot warmer and I… I don't want you to freeze to death or anything."
I can feel his breath against my face. It makes my skin tingle a little. He had pulled me right onto him, trying to take me away from that ledge. He risked falling down himself, he knew about all of the ice. He's just inches away, and it's dark just like that one night when he pulled me onto him and wrapped his arms around me and it was quiet. I'm still shaking. He's not going to leave. Some of me wants to tear away from him and make another try at that ledge and then he wouldn't have to worry about me anymore and he'd have all the cocoa to himself and he could return the gift and his money back and I'll be gone. No more voices.
I'm with you 'til the end
I'll show you what's wrong and what's right
"Would it…be okay if I gave it to you now? Your present? I know it's just Christmas Eve, but…" He's nervous.
"I don't care."
Edgar is getting closer now. One of his hands left my torso. It's up on my face and damn, it burns. My skin is freezing. My eyes are clamped shut, I can barely get over the heat coming from his fingers. Warmth on my lips.