He guys. Listen I HATED my last update. So I am taking it down to replace it with this. It's longer like I had hoped. So people who read my other chapter, This one is revised, so please read and review.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own Ideas. So I don't own the song, or any of the recognizable caracters. And also the name of the city is pronounced (siya) It is japanese...I know.
Enjoy.
Chapter one: enduring the pain is easy, finding the pain is hard
Every where I turn I hurt someone
But there's nothing I can say to change the things I've done
Of all the things I hid from you
I cannot hide the shame
And I pray someone, something will come
To take away the pain
It hurt.
The pain emanated from the very core of his being. Sending shockwaves of the unpleasant sensation coursing new through out his body with every new thump of his heart. The pain was all he knew, was all he could feel.
Pain.
Self inflicted pain that was caused by his own hand. He knew it was wrong, somewhere deep down he knew. But even though he knew it was wrong, the pleasure he got from it discontinued those thoughts quite quickly. It was wrong, yet, it just felt so...
Right.
The pain helped him mask what he truly felt. And that was nothing. The horrible void in what seemed to be in everything had consumed him long ago, leaving a ghost of a man in its devastating wake.
Over the past three years the emptiness was allowed to grow and remained untamed and unkempt for so long that now it was near impossible for its victim to over come it. But then again, he never tried.
Never.
Not once.
He always thought it was pointless. Why bother? He knew it wasn't normal to not feel, he knew. So what did he do? He tried to be normal, tried to feel something, and that something, was pain.
To be honest, he would have probably offed himself the first year. He sure felt then. He was hysterical for those few months. Hey, at least he felt then. Like dying, but at least he felt that. He recalled coming up with millions of ways to do it too, ranging and scaled from no pain to agonizingly painful, which usually involved a shot gun bullet piercing his cranial cavity or his personal favorite, drowning, but he never followed through on anyone of those plans. And why? Because he was a coward.
He couldn't do it. Those ideas terrified him to think that no matter what, he wasn't able to help anything, not even him.
He knew he was deluded, he knew he needed help. And he knew he wasn't strong. He knew, dear lord did he know.
He knew...right?
He wasn't alright. He was broken inside.
His existence was worn.
In the three long ,tedious, life draining years. In those excruciatingly long months, weeks and days, it was as though he lived his long existence on the cruel world all over again.
He was tired. Just so god awful tired.
And alone, we mustn't forget that.
The good lord knew that he was suffered to remember that.
All alone.
No friends.
No family.
Not anything.
Although he did have a companion. And his only companion to watch his decline into insanity? The horrible numbing and , in addition to, this new sensation of agonizing darkness. The very things that consumed him, body, mind and soul. The things without form, without shape that inched their way up his skin and seeped into his bones. Slowly and painfully merging into his very self. They was a part of him now. No, that's not right. They were him now. He was nothing. Only nothing and always nothing.
Nothing more and nothing less.
But then again, nothing was less than something that was condemned to forever be nothing.
That make perfect sense.
It used to hurt. To think of himself as nothing, but the years had changed him profoundly. And not just his mind's ... Condition. Those voices he hears and all his suicidal thoughts. No, he himself had changed on the outside as well. He looked ok, after all he was only 26. No facial hair save for the occasional five o' clock shadow, but other than that, none. When he spoke, no hick accent could be found at the very surface of his rather smooth talking voice. That he had grown out of rather quickly after leaving his home in Savannah, but still, if you look for it, you will find it. It's there somewhere hiding in the far depths of his larynx. His overalls and other assorted hick accessories had been discarded long ago, replaced by dark material, often with long sleeves accompanied by blue dark jeans.
Yes, those three measly years had changed him, and he believed it wasn't for the better.
It never could be.
Within those years he knew he would never rid himself of the crushing darkened haze he knew all too well, nor did he ever truly try. It was familiar. And he needed familiar. So with limited social contact he himself became his only companion. His 'darkness' as he once called it, was almost always there. Cloaking him into a world of his own. A world by himself. A darkened world.
He didn't remember when 'it' first started to come back but when it did the fog returned. The fogish haze draped over and clung to every part of his mind, shrouding him in shadows. He knew it was unhealthy to think of something that was not real as a friend, but the darkness would never leave him. He knew that for a fact, it was always there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Ever so silently, as though a hunter would its pray.
The darkness he knew was inside of him grew every day. Gradually intensifying as he let it consume him for the longest time. He knew what its main goal was, Degeneration. To propel its victim into the utter oblivion of hell formally known as insanity.
At least he thought it to be insanity. After all, he had never heard voices inside his head before. Nor did he, though seldom, see apparitions before the darkness took its hold on him.
And the worst of it all?
He didn't care.
No. That's not right. He would care, if he knew...
Ellis could honestly say that he didn't mind the fact that his brain was slowly deteriorating into jello. In fact, he didn't even know there was a problem with him, the years of living with the wrong had left him in a false sense of normality. He, was normal, and everything else, everyone else, was a lie.
What's the name?
God! He was so numb. So painstakingly numb. Just so goddamn unfeeling.
Ellis sat rocking himself in the farthest corner of his bathroom. Perched between the tub and the toilet he began to cry. For what, even he didn't know. The lights, turned off, portrayed a picture painted black. The darkened shadows stretched across the crying figure, as though trying to reach him with long fingers belonging to a cloaked specter. Darkened fingers, cold, hard, dead.
Through his violent sobbing he leaned his elbows on the two objects beside him. Bringing his hands to his face he began to caress his head. Just sitting there, wide eyed, gasping for breath and visibly shaking, he sat.
He hated when these 'fits' came. He was always powerless to stop them from happening and powerless to make it end. His crying was so violent it hurt. But he welcomed the pain of what it brought him. And he believed he always would.
The tears, hot and flowing, slowly slid down his face. The heat was welcomed as well, even though it felt like someone was tracing the path of the tears with a dagger, ripping into his flesh causing his tears to turn red.
And in a way, he was half right.
What's the name?
Ellis sat there for god only knows how long before his mind started to wander as far as the haze allowed. It wasn't far. He wondered why he always put up with it always blocking him off from not only his own thoughts but his own actions. It seemed as though that this cloud covering his mind in a blanket of eerie fog always controlled his actions and everything he does.
He felt restricted. As if trapped inside his own mind. He wanted out, or at least he did in the beginning. But now, he felt at ease with it. If something else was in control of his body then he could not be held responsible for anything his shell of a being did. That thought put Ellis at rest. He didn't want to be held responsible for anything, not when it was not his fault.
He thought about the town where he settled down in. It was a hick town, but it wasn't. It was as though the two worlds of the city and the country combined itself to form a hybrid town. A place that couldn't decide on what it wanted to be, so it did the only thing logical and combined itself to form the mutation he had the honor of living in.
And the inhabitance of this mutation? Survivors, survivors like him, yet, not. All these people in town were happy, carefree and optimistic. So fucking optimistic. It sickened him to no end. It was as though they didn't lose anything to the damned apocalypse. And some, maybe they didn't. Those were the fortunate ones. The ones that got to the evac on time, those who god were on their side.
This place could and would never be Savannah. He hated this place, with his heart and soul. That was, if he still had both those things left. He didn't know. He always felt so hollow inside, so dead. This place would never be home and he knew it. This little town had all the traits Savannah had; a church, good people, nature, but it wasn't Savannah, it was not his home.
He didn't belong here. No matter how many times his two friends tried to convince him otherwise. Rochelle and Coach were just being too nice. They both very well knew he didn't fit anywhere in this town in which they lived, they knew he didn't belong. HE knew he didn't belong. And he didn't just mean this small city town he had settled down into. No. He didn't belong to this world anymore. Didn't belong to Earth, didn't belong to god. Didn't belong to the realm of reality nor himself. He just didn't belong.
How could nothing ever belong?
The name? What's the name?
Ellis, in the past, could have told when his 'fits' were beginning. But now, his 'fits' took over every minute of his expired existence. But now? Now he couldn't even distinguish reality to the illusion that portrayed itself to be the real thing. Now, it was his life.
Wait, did he still have a life? Could he call this empty hollow shell that he had become, life? Or was he merely just lifeless, gone. Not dead but close.
Ever time he had those horrible feelings. Those horrible feelings that coursed though his veins and pumped themselves throughout his being made him sick. He couldn't deal with the emotional pain that he was forced to endure day in and day out.
It's your fault...
Schizophrenic!
There's no way out of this dark place
No hope, no future
I know I can't be free
Well I can't see another way
I can't face another day
Ellis gasped.
That voice! Oh god-damn-it! Please not the voice! Anything but that!
His eyes widened in sheer terror as he shook violently and retreated into himself even further. Thrashing his head about, he forcefully applied pressure to his head. The pressure hurt, yet his hands continued baring down even harder onto his throbbing skull. He had hoped the self induced pain would stop the voice he knew was just in his head.
He had no such luck.
"Please no... I didn't do it. It's not my fault."
Yes, it is. And you know it...
"NO! Oh please no! I didn't mean it, I swear!" Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You're just my imagination! You're not real! "Just GO AWAY!"
He didn't want to hear it, couldn't hear it. But not for the reasons you may think. The only reason why he couldn't listen to that voice that so smugly replied its answer was because he knew, he knew deep down inside, that the voice, it was right. It WAS all his fault. But even though Ellis knew that he was the cause of his own suffering didn't mean he had to accept it. After all, it was easier to blame others for his own mistakes. It was ok to blame other people, other humans, other survivors, for his pain. It was only natural...it was only human.
Yes Ellis, go and blame others for your own stupidity. Believe what you want, but you know deep down inside that it is your fault. Even if I am the only part of you who will admit it.
Of course the voice had heard his thoughts. It WAS his thoughts.
"NO! You are NOT me!" Ellis practically shouted his response in fear. Why was this happening to him? Surly that voice inside his head was not his own. Was it just another one of his illusions or just an imposter using his voice? Sure it had his voice down to the 'T', even with his subtle hick accent, but it couldn't be him. Could it? After all, Ellis' own voice was caring, sweet kind, this voice was void of all emotions. Cold, uncaring, heartless.
But then again. That was the key word, was, wasn't it?
"You're too cold hearted to be me..."
Oh? Have you took a peek of what you have become Ellis? All these years alone have turned you cold, heartless...sick. You can't hide it from your own self any longer. Ellis, I AM you. I am the you, you have become.
"No..." The word didn't really come out as a strong resistance, but more so a weak recognition of what he knew to be true.
Yes, accept it, accept the fact that I can help you.
"Help...me?"
Yes. Look at you wrists.
He did.
What do you see?
Blood. He saw blood for one thing. The blood that beaded out of the small slits caused by the razor blade he had obtained long ago. The blood seeped gnarly lines of blood that ran down his arms onto the tile of his bathroom.
"Blood." His voice was scratchy, as though he hadn't used it for years. But he knew that was wrong. He had talked just moments before. Had he not?
Good. What else?
He didn't want to look again. He was ashamed of what he had resorted to. He was disgusted and sickened but then again, why should he be ashamed when he was alone?
He looked.
He saw within his closed had a blade. The razor blade he realized. It was rusted with very dull edges, but the rest of the blade was quite sharp it seemed, if it was able to cut so cleanly.
You are doing a very good thing with cooping with the pain like you do. Cutting is a great way to deal.
"Yeah?"
Ellis knew he liked to cut. He loved it. No-. He thrived off of it. Every time he had to deal with the outside world, every time he had to deal with people laughing and smiling like the apocalypse had not even happened, or it didn't effect them at all, every time he saw people being happy like that, it always made him mad but to a greater extent, sad. Bitter-sweet actually. They all reminded him of what he lost and how naive he had been, how stupid, how alive. He didn't just hate them, he loathed them. So much in fact that he wanted to kill them all and show them how much pain was hidden Behind his obviously fake smile he had always plastered on his face once out in public, around his 'friends' and at the garage.
But never once did he think it was ok. Even though it helped a great deal better than that stupid therapist that his so called friends recommended he go to. He'd rather be at the garage fixing up a rusted piece of shit car instead of going to that over paid ass fucker.
And oh how he despised the garage. The smiling people, the happy and care free people. The ones god favored during the apocalypse, the ones that lost nothing. It made him sick, and he longed for the hour to strike when he can come home and relieve himself of the pains that people caused him for the day. And what better to relieve the pain than with a sharp blade slicing into the very thing that spreads lived through out his empty shell.
"How?"
Ellis' voice seemed dreadfully eager. He knew he shouldn't have been portraying such emotion for such an appalling thing. But what else could he do? He wanted to feel so bad. He missed that optimistic kid he once was. How could three years change someone so much? He used to love going out with his friends, Keith and Dave, to the bar almost every night, but now he didn't have a single guy friend to do that with. Nor did he want one.
Listen, so all you have to do is…
"Is...?"
let go…
...
"Let go?" What did the voice mean by that? Let go…?
Yes, let go…
"Let go of what?" What did it mean? Ellis knew he was out of it, but he should have been able to comprehend the words that his mind was telling him.
…
And when the voice seemed to have left him, he panicked.
"Please tell me!" Ellis franticly looked around the darkness of his bathroom to find the voice he knew he couldn't see. "How do I get rid of this nothingness? HOW? I need to know, please…I'm so lost…" Beads of sweat rolled down Ellis' forehead as he began to quiver ever so slightly. He didn't think, the voice was himself right? Or at least the sane part of himself that is. But if the voice was himself then he wouldn't ditch himself right? He wouldn't leave himself to hang out and dry. Would he?
No, I would never do that.
He realized he had been holding his breath, and that his lungs were in desperate need of air or else he risked passing out or worse.
He breathed.
"Then please…tell me…what do I have to let go of?" He sounded desperate, and the reason why? Because he was.
Everything.
He blinked.
Did he just hear it right? Give up on everything? Everything? Ellis was horrified, not of the mere fact that his mind would think that but by the fact that he was liking the solution that this other half came up with. He liked it. He didn't feel at all like he belonged so why not let it all go.
He had nothing left, nothing to hold him down to sanity, nothing left to keep a hold of, not since he lost him.
This realization of that fact left Ellis with a sense of ease. Why didn't he think of that? He already didn't belong, didn't associate with the beings that were quickly repopulating the Earth, he didn't even go outside that often. So… who would miss him if he let go? He could very well answer that question. No one. That's who.
This fact brought tears to his eyes and the loud cries that emanated from his throat. One person who have missed him if he were still here. But he wasn't and couldn't miss him. Ellis folded into himself. The darkness weighed down on him and a heavy could of despair misted the room making it hard to breath. He would have missed him. Would have made the nothingness go away. But he wasn't, so he couldn't. he wasn't here and he never was coming back.
Tell me where, did I go wrong
Everyone I love there all gone
I'd do everything so differently, But I can't turn back the time
There's no shelter from this storm inside of me
Ellis ceased in his suffocating sobs as he once again recalled that horrible night that was so bitter-sweet. The day that he lost everything. The day he found something, and the day he had lost it. He hated to remember. All that memory brought him was pain, despair, sorrow, and... nothing.
Yes, you know that too. That night caused you to alienate yourself from the others. What more do you have?
Ellis cringed at how hollow yet feeling the voice sounded. It made him wonder if it truly cared about his well being. "Nothing."
That's right. All you have is me. Now…SAY IT!
He didn't hesitate. "All I have is you." He began to weep, but softer this time. This was true to an extent. He did have himself and he would never leave himself.
Trust me.
Could he? Could he really trust something he couldn't see? But then again. You can't see air. And you always trust that air will give you oxygen to live. You trust love and you trust faith. Hell, people even trusted god and they never once seen him. So why the hell could he not trust himself to lead him in the right direction? He knew the voice was waiting for a response, so he gave the answer they both knew was inevitable to fight.
"OK."
Two hours brought Ellis to the town he despised ever so much. It wasn't the town itself that he hated, more so the people in it. He never really looked around to notice its true beauty, with the spring passing right through the very heart of the town and the wonderful nature of things mixed in with old buildings littered with ivy and colorful graffiti that should be considered more art than vandalism. He didn't even take notice of the cars that passed him by ever so furiously. No, he didn't notice the witty writings for loved ones dearly departed or the beautiful cemetery or the wonderfully nice people that always seemed to wave to him. Nope, he only saw its horrible deformity that he saw through his own mind's eye.
The wind blew, ruffling his hair as he made his way swiftly from his side of the city town to the other, where he knew the river widened. The sidewalk he walked on was made of concrete as any other city and the buildings were tall and the sky held no clouds in its grasp. People hollered to him a howdy or a what's up, but Ellis paid them no heed as he kept his gaze fixed on the ground.
Ever so often the mechanic would look at a person's friendly face as they spoke to him, and he wondered if any of them knew he was an emotional time bomb. But then again, they won't have to wait long until the truth came out. After all, he wasn't actually in his right mind. Hasn't been for years. But these people soon would know that.
Yes, if everything goes according to plan, not every long indeed.
The cement path gradually shifted to a hard dirt road leading to the outskirts of the mutation he called home. Ellis had never been this far out from his home before, so he was very skeptical to continue as he read a huge red sign nailed to a tree near the road.
"Saya's city limits. Not protected by the city's guard. Leave at your own risk."
The risk that is, were the zombies.
Ellis knew, he wasn't stupid, that not ALL the 'infected individuals', as CEDA had once put them, had perished in the burning.
He looked down the long widening path and all he could see were the burnt charcoaled remains of what was once an overgrown forest. The land was charred and the trees looked as though they were toothpicks standing out amongst the ruins. But everything was black and nothing grew to replace what had been lost. In this place, time too, had a horrible effect on things.
If he continued on this dead path he would be at the risk of the infected. And he knew this, even as his mind willed his body to advance.
He advanced.
And in doing so, he made himself walk alone in silence. No noise came from the dead forest, no signs of wildlife, but then again, what wildlife? Nothing could live in such horrible ruins, not even the cockroaches.
There's no way out of this dark place
No hope, no future
I know I can't be free
But I can't see another way and I can't face another day
Ellis didn't spend much time sightseeing until he found the river. It was wide like he knew it would be. And as a bonus, there was no infected around, common or otherwise. The river didn't look too deep, but depth wasn't what he had set out to find. What he had set out to find were the wicked rapids that twirled around in the it really wasn't the rapids either, but the noise. The noise of the rapids were so loud that almost nothing could penetrate the sound barrier that thing produced.
It was perfect.
Just like the voice had said.
Almost nothing could be heard over it. Not a scream. Not a plead. A prayer.
A gunshot.
Yes. Defiantly not a gunshot. And as 'luck' would have it, Ellis was able, and going to, test the theory himself.
Ellis shuffled his way to the edge of the river. The atmosphere was heavy, the air, thick with dust particles. The sky was still as blue as ever, so cheerful. It didn't belong in this gruesome image of a forgotten waste land.
The sorrow was suffocating, making Ellis have to swallow huge gulps of air to keep from passing out. He fell to his knees and as he cradled himself he reached into his pocket to pull out a black gleaming weapon.
A gun.
The desperate man turned it over in his hand. The pistol was black and dented. Showing that this gun had had a good life of use. That this gun was a trust worthy gun. After all, it was Nick's. Proof of the ownership was the big 'N' engraved on the butt of the gun's handle.
The mechanic smiled at the memories of his loved one cleaning and polishing the very same gun he had in his hands every night. Him taking it all apart just to put it back together again within a matter of seconds. He remembered when he asked Nick how he re-assembled the gun so fast and all that he got in response was, "In my line of work El, you've got to know how a gun works." When Ellis had first heard the conman's answer, he had thought that there was no one cooler than the man that stood before him. He was filled with so many mysteries and secrets that, to Ellis, he seemed like a human shape jigsaw puzzle. Something the mechanic was always up for.
But now all Ellis wanted to do was clean up the mess of all the pieces, put them all in the box and never look at them again. He had nearly finished it, the jigsaw puzzle, when he realized that pieces were missing, never again to be whole.
He needed to do this. For his own sanity. He couldn't live like this anymore. No, not like this, he just couldn't live anymore. He was done with the heartache, done with the loneliness, done with the breaths that he always had to force into his needy lungs to sustain his pathetic excuse for a life. He. Was done.
Everything seemed to satnd still as Ellis fummbled and nearly dropped it while he loaded a single bullet into the gun. He slowly cocked it and examined his surrounding. He was too far out of the city for anyone to hear him. No one would miss him. Hell, even if someone found him missing, it would already be too late. Far too late.
He really didn't feel anything. No emotions passed through his seemingly emotionless eyes. No pain, no regret, not anything, all that there was was darkness.
It had told him to do this. It was looking out for him, right?
It was looking out for his best interest.
It was his friend.
...
Right?
Right.
Ellis had tears in his eyes. He had always been an outward crier, and at one time he never was ashamed of it. But now he hated when the things came. He fell to the ground, his legs were unable to sustain his weight anymore.
Why did he have to die? Why did he have to die?
He didn't understand it at all. But then again, why should he? He was going to die anway. So why not end it all now? Make it easier on him. Make it less painful, and if he didn't understand why he was doing it then, who cared?
He didn't.
So, shaking for no reason, he lifted the barrel to his head and listened. For what he did not know. Maybe he hoped that deep down inside that someone actually cared enough to go looking for him? Or maybe he wanted to listen to a world with his presance one more time before he so effortlessly ripped one more being from this world. He was good at that.
And he guessed that, what better way of going out of this world than doing what you were best at.
And with that in his mind and a distant noise of water, he closed his eyes and tightened his finger on the trigger.
BANG!