Chapter Five: Crawling
The doorknob hadn't moved. Shinji didn't know how to feel about that. He dreaded someone entering as much as he desired it. But, for better or worse, it steadfastly refused to budge. So did Shinji. He hadn't bothered to tend to his arm, opting instead to lie there and let it bleed. The result was a winding network of living dye, criss-crossing wildly on the cotton sheets. For the most part, the cuts had ceased their ruddy perspiration. He wasn't sure how to feel about that, either.
"I deserve this." His words seemed to echo in the empty room, returning to share their agreement.
How did all this start? he thought. It's so familiar now. But I know it isn't normal. Something had to cause it. No…someone. My father. I remember the day he abandoned me as if it was yesterday. A bag of my belongings, toppled at my side, clothes old and threadbare... they're still so clear in my mind. And I was alone. That was the clearest point of all to me, that I had no one left. The world was so big and scary, and I was so small. Sitting there, crying like the child I was, I watched friends and couples passing by with smiles on their faces that I felt no connection with. Like I was locked away from the rest of the world. Like now.
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Nothing has changed. I'm still that crying infant. The only difference is in where my tears land. There's still no one to dry them. Even Rei is too far away to help me now. Or am I just not letting her? Maybe that's part of it. It's not as if she doesn't know the kind of pain you're dealing with, and don't you dare believe she doesn't. If you think that, you're just a selfish fool. But that's true anyway, isn't it? You could be over there helping clean up the mess you've made of her home. Was she injured too, did you even think about that? Why aren't you doing what's best for her?
Shinji rolled over to face the wall, curling up tightly to try and shut out the thoughts. "I can't. I just can't. I'm sorry, Rei."
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I find so overwhelming
Controlling, I can't seem
To find the strength within, my walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before, so insecure...
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
What am I looking for, sympathy? Is it forgiveness? I don't deserve those. But I don't deserve to live, either, and I keep on doing that. Is this a stolen life, is it right to keep it? He sighed. It doesn't matter. I couldn't walk away from it if I tried. I'm a coward.
Why do I keep saying things like that, is it some twisted form of apology? But why apologize to myself until I'm trying to get my own forgiveness? Is that what I want? "Fine then," he said aloud. "I forgive you, it's okay." He gave the words time to sink in. "This is stupid. I don't feel anything."
Then maybe I just want to hear those words from my father. I remember how wonderful it felt when he told me I had done well, even if not face to face. I relished those few syllables of praise, kept them with me as long as I could. They were freeing. They made me feel alive. But they also enslaved me…I needed to hang on to them just to feel good about myself. Being an addict is no way to live.
I know it wasn't always like this. Though I can't remember much about the years before my mother died, I know they were good times. My father, he was a different man back then, and I didn't fear being with him at all. Between the two of them, I was never far from a pair of welcoming arms to hold me, or someone to laugh and play with me.
You really are still a child, he thought, rising. At long last, the door opened. The rest of the apartment was terribly and mercifully deserted, the only light coming from the gray skies outside. He walked through the dark room to the kitchen in search of a glass of water for his parched throat. On the way, he caught a glimpse of himself in a windowpane.
The shock was far greater than he could have expected. His reflection appeared absolutely depraved. Darkened rings framed his nearly shut eyes, staring forward blankly. His clothes were wrinkled like the tattered rags of a madman. One arm had an indistinct pattern of dirty maroon scratches covering most of its surface. He looked like someone ready to kill.
Is this what she saw yesterday? he thought. Is that who I'm becoming? Shinji stumbled back from the crazed beast, holding the counter for support. Forgetting entirely about the drink, he headed for the door with only one thought on his mind: escape.
Discomfort endlessly has laid itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection
It's haunting, how I can't seem
To find the strength within, my walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)
I've felt this way before, so insecure...
Outside, the first splashes of rain hit the sidewalk at Shinji's feet. He barely noticed. His wet treaded footprints quickly grew farther apart, trailing down one street and then another, through puddles and curbs. Soon he disappeared from view completely, running aimlessly into the world of solitude.
Raindrops hit the rhythm on the pavement and drip from the blacktop into the basement
Traces of the rain pervade this to erase your hate and take this from the fakeness
Raindrops (to find the strength again, my walls are closing in)
Traces of the rain pervade this to erase your hate and take this from the fakeness
Raindrops (I've felt this way before, so insecure)
Traces of the rain pervade this to erase your hate and take this from the fakeness
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real