Notes:
AU fic
[- Ramblings -] = thoughts/telepathy
POV: POV of Schuldig
Yaoi: Pairings: SchuXblah blah blah
Author's note: /Disclaimers/ This chapter is focused to Schu's thoughts, just as I've promised that I'd do.
My Suicide, My Pain
Chapter 4: Hello, sanity
Who would actually believe that after a near-death mental pain, also include the fact that I'm a respectable psychologist, I'm here in the greatest club in the whole country, evidently enjoying the pitiful shortest evening of my life? (Just because Manx spent the whole two hours of my precious evening trying to persuade me to rest and lie the whole time. Like hell I would!)
Probably no one, eh? But fuck the hell out of it, because the people here are the proof of my astounding social fondness. Believe it or not, I come here on a nightly basis, for some reason I'm still seeking out. For now, I'll stick to the reason that a boring life of a psychologist needs to be spiced a bit, so to get away from the attacking insanity.
However, it's not just for spicing my life. This club is also for my entertainment. A peek in their horny complicated minds was worth the while, better than reading the minds of my boring insane patients.
And I just love watching the youth trying to get away from reality, and resorting to the blinding and almost dizzying lights of the club, giving them the kind of a dream paradise they thought they'd never visit in their entire locked-up childhood.
And to tell you honestly, I didn't have to suffer those long toddler years to search for this dream paradise. Hell, before I can even speak I have seen so much in my parents' mind to send me out of the innocent thing they thought a child first possessed.
I smirked to myself and gripped the second shot glass waiting for me. It was a good thing I don't get drunk easily, a dozen of shot glass might even perk me up to that hyperactive level where I can still manage my shields and my mentality. It's also an advantage - I can watch those kids writhe in extreme high while drinking my favorite alcoholic drink.
Absolute entertainment.
This is so much entertaining than sitting in front of the TV, with a beer in hand, watching some Academy Award winning something of a series where all those superficial things emerge, albeit not paralleling to the true nature of this rotten world.
The woman bartender in the pink dress - if a dress it were called, for it was sticking to her skin like a snake skin - approached me, replacing the empty shotglass with a new and filled one after I downed the drink.
"Thanks, Asuka," I uttered to the Japanese bartender, then blowing her a flying kiss. The woman chuckled, all the while blushing and proceeded to serve the other customers, majority of them already drunk. I laughed mentally, thinking they are pathetic little creatures for this drink I got here was my 15th, and it's even Johnny Walker Black Label.
"How absurd," I muttered to myself, donning the usual smirk, and downing the drink, waiting for Asuka to come and replace it. The pounding bass of the techno music blared in my ears, threatening to break my eardrums, to the blissful delight of those teenagers dancing in the heat and light.
Something came in contact with my biceps, and when I looked at it, it was the girl I once "hired", with the usual showy dress - showy in the sense that it showed more than what is required - and heavily make-up face. But sorry for her, I am not in the mood...
"Doctor Schuldig... how about tonight, hm? I remember our first night, you were fabolous," her voice was fake honey tainted with the trademark of a worn-out whore. I cringed and nodded to Asuka who gave me my 17th drink. And still, I'm so fucking sober, which made me glad, or I'd mindlessly hire this bitch and waste my money.
"No, thank you, I would rather stick to my whiskey," and I downed the drink, proceeding to the euphoric bodies twisting onto each other. I shoved money on the counter, signalling to Asuka, or this dirty bitch would undoubtedly steal it.
Pathetic people with pathetic lives...
I read her mind, which screamed profanities at me, but all to my indifference. Who cares? They build their life, and it happened that I build mine too, and it wasn't in the dark direction, rather to the semi-bright side. I'm a doctor, helping people, after all.
Different acquaintances every night, yet all leading the same lives. In their minds, they can see me as a person like them too, but I wasn't. I'm a man with a lot of memories to trash, but eventually comes back to my annoyance.
And that makes the lack of drunken stupor a disadvantage. I must drain my wallet first to gain that oblivion, and drown myself in the everlasting blackness with nothing at all to disturb me.
My flame-colored hair swinging with my every move, I made my way into the heart of the dancing bodies. I'm too young to give this euphoria up, and might not give it up until I'm capable of doing so. The light and the bass was overpowering my telepathy, and I feel satisfaction creep into me. The alcohol making its entrance to my head... Nice...
Though I'm still sober, damn it. I joined the rhythm of the bodies around me, and soon, I found a partner in this bliss, a teenager wearing leather and shin-high boots, a goth with a psychologist in disguise swinging her body with the pounding music in front of me.
I read her mind, and found interesting information. And soon I'll trash all those memories of hers and just focus on how to break her... slowly... until she'd experience the pain I've been on all my life. And then after those hell-raising days, she'd come to me, in the therapy section, to me...
[- Nice outfit, like it. -] I mentally said to the goth girl, and her expression didn't change a bit. Doped out.
I laughed loudly, they won't care anyway. Everyone in this dance floor has his own world, no one would care if you'd vomit right in the center of it. As long as they had their bliss, no one would care about you.
Of course, it's a matter of time when this girl would seek for the true me. Right now, we're just partners in this happy imitation of a party, indifferent to what we are, and what we will be some hours from now.
No one to care about, no one to care about me.
My perfect dream of utopia.
Just like that first night when I was shoved into the streets, to the marble floor of the park, out cold, and alone.
I laughed again, then halted when a hand began trailing from my back to my hips. I looked behind me and saw a good-looking man with auburn hair tracing his hand, mesmerized on my body. From reading his thoughts, I figured that he's doped up with heroin.
"Baby, want to get it on?" the man grunted, his erection obscene from his all-black attire. I screwed my face in disgust, and shoved the man away.
"Don't fucking touch me, idiot!" all at once, my euphoria faded into the unwanted memories bombarding my mind. And the image that came to me was my mother and father who half spent their lives living a whore in the clubs and even in the streets. I'm so glad when they threw me away.
If only you can see me now, stupid parents, you'd drool to death for all I care. And beg me until you bleed to atone what you have done.
With all my anger, I punched the man on the face, then stormed out of the dance floor, heading for the bar to get more whiskey. The goth girl disappeared in the throng of people, and I was disappointed for the missed opportunity...
Oh well...
Asuka was immediately in front of me, me being the daily customer of the club. I asked for the last ten shots, and I decided that after getting myself reeled from alcohol, I'll go home and sleep for the next boring day of my life.
Right. The first shot comes...
And the second...
Before I know it, it's already the eighth. Why am I still sober?
"Hey, are you sure this is whiskey?" I asked Asuka, who looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
"Of course. It's Walker Black Label, Schuldig. Why? Still not affecting you?" Asuka replied, laughing. She knew how I handle alcohol, and perhaps I'm the best drinker in this club she knew. I smirked.
"Yeah, yeah. Torture," I said back, finishing the ninth and the tenth. I placed the money on Asuka's palm and stood up, walking outside the club, heading home.
And this is where the true show begins.
Nausea comes onto stage.
Nice, just nice...
I woke up with a pain in my head, instantly remembering last night. It was not a very nice visit to the club, most of the time I'm just angsting about my past. I didn't enjoy it a bit, and now it's getting its revenge by ravaging my day with a headache.
I hated it. I prepared for the day, topping my day with a shower, then a cup of black coffee, then I have to search for the right suit to match my mood. Hell...
I picked out a black knee-length double-breasted jacket and a pair of black pants to go with my entire glum mood. Now they'll think I work for the C.I.A. rather than in a hospital...
I sighed and drove my white Mercedes to the hospital, not bothering to strengthen my shields.
The usual happened when I entered the hospital, though the only thing that made it different was the way the thoughts got in my head. They were chaotic, and blurry, almost unnoticed from the great headache I'm having.
I just wish there weren't too much patients or I'll die in this miserable day. I removed my trench coat, cradling it on my arm, for the lady in charge with the coats was somewhere else, and I won't even bother to look for her.
Manx was waiting in front of the door, his eyes a bit worried for me. Then she thought:
[- Someone wanted to talk to you inside. -]
I caught it clearly, amidst the chaos in my head, and I replied:
[- Thanks. A patient, I assume? -] before I received her answer, I was staring shocked from my position on the doorway of my office.
Because on the seat adjacent the table, the mighty 'boss-psychologist' with a scary reputation, was Dr. Brad Crawford, dressed in my same black, and wearing a very, very, stern look; and sitting there very, very straight on the plush chair.
Oh what an awfully nice greeting...
TBC…
Author's note: Weee! Finally I had the inspiration to write this. I hope you liked it, and please review. I'm open to all kinds of review, so feel free to voice what you think of this fic. Thank you for reading! Finished: 10:39 PM 4/30/03