Driving.
It numbs the mind.
The wind flowing in through the broken window made the air crisp and made my skin crawl with goosebumps. It tousled my hair, sending flyaway bits into my eyes, but I didn't care. I just focused on the road ahead, allowing the bumps in the road to lull me into a kind of waking dream. The silence was bliss, surprisingly. Normally I drown everything out with deafening noise, but today the silence did the job a hundred times better.
Like I said - driving numbs the mind.
Eventually, the desperate urge to outrun my demons died down, sinking away with the fading moon. Without thinking, I gripped the wheel tighter, which did nothing but send shooting pains up my arm. I silently cursed myself, loosening my grip and shaking out my hand. I could feel bits of glass stuck inside, cutting miniscule slices further and further into my skin. I knew I needed to have someone look at it. It was the right thing to do - the sane thing.
But when the fuck was I ever sane?
Slowly but surely, the car's rhythmic patterns lost its effect on me, and I awoke completely out of my semi-conscious state. Finally taking a proper look at my surroundings, I realised where I was.
In Angie's town. Of course. I couldn't believe I had let myself come here. Couldn't believe that I didn't even know I had. She was so close, so close to where I wanted her to be - with me, in my arms, fitting perfectly like she used to.
And yet, she was as far away from me as wolves were to the moon they bray at.
I stared blank eyed out of the windscreen, refusing to allow my eyes to search for her house, for her, for places she had been to, for places she told me she wanted to be. I refused to give in. Instead, I headed to the 24 hour clinic I knew was nearby. The pain in my hand had gone from a comfortable friend, to a burning annoyance that refused to realise its iron grip on my nerves and skin. And I also could not ignore how angry it looked, and clearly the drive had made it worse. So, resigned, I pulled into the clinic parking lot, got out of my car. No, I didn't bother locking the door - for there was a broken window, and it would have been pointless. Besides, it was a shitty car. I didn't really care.
I walked into the clinic, and was assailed by the scents. Everything was so...sterile. Everything smelt almost too clean - so clean in fact that the fumes of the disinfectant burned my nostrils. And it wasn't the comfortable burn of last night's crisp air - it was like someone had put oil on my nose and lit it with a match. See, everyone a screwed up person like me understands the difference between normal pain and uncomfortable pain.
The smell was too much for me, so I instead decided to breathe through my mouth instead - even if it made me look and sound a little weird. Hell - my hand looked like an absolute mess, so I am pretty sure no one would be paying attention to me slightly-less-than-normal voice and breathing.
I noticed a pretty little black haired woman sitting behind the front desk and sauntered over.
"Can I get someone to look at this? Right now?" I said, slapping my injured and grotesque looking hand right in front of her.
Looking entirely way too startled, like a deer caught in the headlights, she picked up the phone somewhat shakily and checked to see whether there was an available space for me to get fixed. I stared at her, noticing how often she glanced back at my hand - also noticing how she paled every time she did. Her dark brown eyes seemed too innocent and too naive to be working in such a place - I concluded that she must be new, as she was entirely unprofessional. Not that it would matter, for I would be out of here as soon as I could, and this woman would be just another blip in my overwhelming tide of fractured thoughts and tainted memories.
She nodded slowly, and pointed me down the corridor to the only open door. I followed her finger and ended up in a small room with walls covered in motivational posters and happy, smiling pictures.
I hated it.
After plonking myself in the available patients chair, I waited for someone to come in and remove the
glass in my hand. Hell, I didn't care if they just chopped the entire thing off. I just wanted to get the hell out of this place filled with a past that could now never be my future. Soon, but not soon enough for my liking, a crumbling old doctor walked in, his stomach straining his shirt buttons, and his face bright red from what appeared to be a wheezing fit.
My immediate thought was this - I hope I don't live long enough to ever become that.
We didn't exchange a word at all, miraculously on the same page. He just brought over his medical tools and started working away at my hand, tugging, pulling, prodding, stretching, adjusting, fixing, and doing whatever else it is that doctors do to people who had half a windows glass fragments stuck in their hand. Quickly growing bored, I stared out the window and saw a hill.
Or, more like, the hill.
Fuck, no.
I hated this room even more.
I wanted to bolt right now, but the wheezing old geezer was not even halfway down fixing my hand.
Good job, Cole. Well done.
Sighing resignedly, I sunk lower into my chair (careful not to move my hand in fear that it would make this thing even longer) and waited for the onslaught of memories to hit.
I didn't have to wait very long.
It was hot. Cloyingly hot. My shirt stuck to my skin and my jeans clung uncomfortable to my legs. I knew I was still good looking, but that didn't mean I couldn't feel disgusting. The heat caused my world to spin, or was it just my head? Either way, something was spinning, and it wasn't normal. I could see the waves of heat rising in front of me, distorting the shapes in the distance until it looked like a scene from Hell. I walked, walked fast, walked to the girl who might be able to make this better.
Walked to the girl whose smile could melt away my pains.
The girl who meant the world to me.
The streets were empty - clearly everyone was being normal and creating their own little winters inside their houses, cocooning themselves in a cold blanket from the scorching sun, the burning pavements, and the hell on earth. The concrete beneath my feet was so hot that I could feel it through my thongs. Cheap, rubber thongs that was the only thing I could wear for one of my feet was twice the size of the other - another little present from my dad. Wearing anything else hurt so bad that I couldn't stay in them for more than a minute. My jeans covered up the worst of my recent leg injuries, but I didn't want to look like a complete fuckwit, so I opted wearing a t-shirt - even if it meant some of my bruises showing.
I continued on my path towards her. She was a magnet, pulling me in, the pull getting stronger the closer I got. And I couldn't stop it.
And I didn't want to.
I thought about writing her a song to perform in Narkotika. Maybe for the upcoming tour, maybe for the next concert. I got excited at the thought, imagining her standing in the crowd, eyes trained on me as I poured my heart out for her on stage. I knew I was a jerk at the best of times, but she was my redeeming quality, and I wanted to prove it. I probably didn't deserve her, but I am selfish by nature.
Her perfect house came up on my left, and I hesitated before walking up the steps that led to her front door. But her pull was so insistent, I couldn't hesitate long. As I said, I am selfish by nature. Knocking three times, I stood back and waited for her face to fill the space in front of me. If I had guessed correctly, she was the only one home - there were no cars in the driveway, and I couldn't hear Vic's music blaring out the windows.
My heart sped up as I saw the door handle turning, and soon enough I was able to get my Angie fix.
Her beautiful brown eyes widened in surprise, and she stood stock still for a split second but then she was in my arms, holding me so tight and I realised that she was the one holding the broken pieces of Cole together. She laughed her enchanting laugh, squeezing me tighter, and I tried to hug her back just as tightly but my injuries wouldn't allow me, and I accidentally let out a moan of pain.
And she was gone. Jumped back from me, an arm's length away with concern filling her eyes. She grabbed my hand ever so gently, beckoning me inside, but still being careful not to cause me pain.
Once we were settled in her room (I was right - she was alone), I could barely stop her before a torrent of worried words came spilling out of her mouth. I let her speak. And just waited.
"Cole, what happened to you? Did you get in an accident? Did something happen at your last concert? Oh god, when did this happen? Did you tell your parents? Did you go to the hospital? Some of those bruises look pretty bad..." She questioned hurriedly, as if there wasn't enough time to get it all out.
I waited for as long as I could, but I figured that she wouldn't shut up unless I interrupted. I placed my finger on her lips, effectively silencing her, and took her face in my hands.
"Angie, it's okay. I am fine. It's nothing I am not used to, and everything is better now that I can be here with you. Please, just leave it at that, okay?" I asked her, trying to read her emotions. Quickly, I saw a spark of understanding light in her eyes.
"You are used to this? Does that mean...does that mean...Cole, oh my god. I didn't even realise things with your dad were that...were that...oh Cole. Cole," she murmured, tears welling and spilling down her cheeks. She crawled closer to me, and held me tightly.
I felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders - she knew. She knew and still loved me. She didn't even ask if it was my fault that this was happening. She just accepted. I lifted her face to mine and kissed her, softly at first, but then my hunger grew and I deepened the kiss. She reciprocated, cautiously, being careful not to hurt my anymore. She lifted up my shirt, and gasped at the rainbow of bruises there. Lightly drawing her hand across my chest, I saw horror and anguish colour her expression. I tried to pull her back into the kiss, but she was both fascinated and appalled by the bruises.
"Come on, Angie, please. Just let me be with you. Just let me forget. Please," I pleaded. She made everything manageable, but she had always been separate and unknowing of what really happened.
Now I feared that everything would change, that this knowledge would make her change.
All I wanted was her, who she was, who I was when I was with her. I just wanted what had made so many unending hours of pain bearable to stay there.
"Please, Ange, just leave it. Come here, and kiss me. We're alone, we have time, we can do whatever we want," I asked. But from the look on her face and the tears in her eyes I knew it wouldn't happen. I sighed, grabbed my t-shirt and got up to leave.
"Cole, where are you going?" she wondered. Her voice was a little hitched from her tears, but she was stifling it.
"I am leaving. All I wanted to do is forget. To be with you. To not have to worry about anything else, to only focus on you and making you happy. I wanted to lose myself to you. But it is clear that that isn't going to happen, so I am going," I spat at her, unintentionally letting frustration tinge my voice.
That made her furious.
"Is that all I am to you Cole? A way to forget? Just some random girl who allows you to kiss your problems away? I thought I meant so much more to you. I care about you Cole, but all you want is a fuck and then you will leave, won't you? Well, hell, you are leaving now anyway. You are such an asshole, Cole. I can't believe I thought that there was a decent guy somewhere beneath the layers of fuckwit. But maybe some people are just fuckwit all the way through. Goodbye, Cole. Come back only when you think that I am worth something to you," she replied, complete anger bursting through her voice. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and she was visibly shaking.
I laughed cruelly.
"Are you so blind Angie? Can you not see how much I care about you? I could have any girl I wanted - they practically throw themselves at me whenever I have a concert. But I want YOU."
She blinked, and then narrowed her eyes at me.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Cole? Knowing that you might be cheating on me with some random chick? Oh, great, the great Cole St Clair chose ME. I feel so special. I never realised it was such a PRIVILEGE to be in your company. Wow, if only I had known, then we wouldn't be in this situation, would we?" she yelled, striding towards me powerfully.
"Go fuck yourself, Cole. Or get one of your little fan girls to do it for you, because I sure ain't anytime soon. THAT is a promise. Now leave, before I actually consider punching some of your bruises. They look pretty painful."
She poked me in the chest to further her point. But I got the picture. I stepped out of her room, unsurprised to hear it slam shut loudly behind me.
"Shit," I said to nobody in particular.
The girl I loved, the girl that made everything easier, the girl that made me smile, the girl that was probably the one positive thing in my life, had just shut me down and kicked me out.
And again, it was completely my fault.
Again, this was what I deserved, what I had expected from the beginning.
I didn't want to be this person - clearly, though, I had no choice.
This, this asshole, this is who I am, who I always will be.
This is Cole St Clair.
Jerking myself back from the memory, I looked down to see that my hand was almost done. And surprisingly, it didn't look too bad. The doctor finished up neatly, and sent me out with a piece of paper to take to the front desk. Time to bolt. I saw that little miss pretty had left her desk temporarily, so I quietly slipped out the door, ran to my car, and got out of there. Jamming my foot on the accelerator, I drove out of town, not daring to look anywhere else but straight out of my car to the road.
Again, I let myself just drive with no intention, no direction, no aim.
And found myself at the edge of a cliff, looking down.
Maybe this was the answer.
Maybe this was what I needed - to get away from memories of my father, to get away from the remnants of a family, to leave behind heartbreak, loss, pain, and everything else that was fucked up with the world.
To leave behind Cole St Clair.
Maybe this was the right thing to do.
All
I
had
to
do
was
jump...