Rebirth – Chapter 41: Half-Empty Glass

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He stared out at the wall like it accused him of something. But he wasn't truly focusing on the wall. In truth, he wasn't focusing on anything. Adam's mind had become blank over the past day or so…

Time was a hard thing to guess when you just didn't give a damn. He wasn't aware of how many times the sun had set since he last talked to someone; it could have been hours or days. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting here, either, on the floor beside his bed staring at the wall with no view of a clock and no notice of the light that came in from the window. The reason he hadn't taken rest on his bed, as he rememebered it, was because that somehow seemed to be too much of a moping gesture. To crawl into bed and lie there like some over-emotional headcase too depressed to get up. Even if that's what he felt like. Somehow, a petty part of him reasoned that sitting here was better than lying there.

His thoughts were a complete jumble of sensations. Every time he said to himself, 'I should get up. I should get something to eat. I should go out, get out of this apartment.', …some mundane apathy would keep him planted carelessly here. He moved about his apartment with a nonchalant mechanicalness, preforming tasks such as grooming and whatnot out of pure habit and without thought. He despised this place, he hated it from the deepest core of his hatred, but at the same time…he couldn't leave it. After all…it had so many memories of him and Lawrence. Much to his own inner disgust, no matter how hard he tried to shut those memories out, to put them behind him, to pretend that they didn't matter, the fact was that he was clinging to them. It didn't do him any good to remember that Lawrence was bad at drinking, or that he thought pilots were overpaid. It didn't do him any good to remember that Lawrence's eyes were blue. He knew that he had to let Lawrence be, it was right…But that didn't change that Adam was now alone again.

He slowly craned his head back against the bed and closed his eyes, listening to the anguished silence with both ears. He admitted that he never liked being alone before, it was just that he didn't have much of a choice. His family didn't exactly boast about him, or live close by. God forbid they call him, but he wasn't really bothered by it. He hadn't ever had close ties to his parents. He hadn't even thought about them in almost a year before Lawrence brought it up for the first time, asking if there was anyone who would have missed him. The occasional girlfriend would keep him company, but…well what was he supposed to do about that now? Homosexuality, he had no idea where to begin. Up until Lawrence he had never been attracted to other men, would he be now? To be honest, however, the idea of any other relationship made him feel positively ill at the moment.

Sighing deeply, he opened his eyes and looked to the ceiling. Being alone was just a reminder that he was vulnerable. He had never been afraid in this apartment before. Maybe bored, unhappy, disillusioned, but never afraid. That's what Jigsaw had made of him. He made him a scared little rabbit. No wonder Lawrence had been so strained to try and care for him, some child clinging to his leg because he was frightened of the dark, of being alone. Even now he was beating down the paranoia to go out and make sure that the chains on his door were locked. He had become dependent on Lawrence's comforts, and he was disappointed with himself immensely. He had tried to reciprocate the things Lawrence had given him, but how could he be so selfish as to think that it was enough? Lawrence didn't need to busy himself with babysitting a grown man. Stop thinking these thoughts, stop thinking them…My life was Hell before him….

Your life was Hell after him. Maybe you should stop tacking things on to the end and face facts, Adam; your life is Hell.

Adam bowed his head back down and clenched his fingers in his hair. When he closed his eyes just right, when he let his mind drift and he sat in the stillness like a piece of his furniture, he could almost feel the cuff around his skin. The cool, rusted, heavy metal, weighing his foot the the ground. If he fooled himself hard enough, his carpet was stained tile and he was wet and freezing. Freezing? Maybe not freezing, maybe just afraid, maybe that's why he was shaking so badly. And in breif, time-bending moments, he could still hear the gunshot, the screaming, the feeling of bones breaking and shattering as he smashed them. There were somehow still traces of blood underneath his fingernails, or at least there seemed to be. Stuck little bits of pulp and gore clinging to his hands like the memories splattered on the inside of his skull. Neither would peel away so easy. He could still taste the inside of Zep under his tongue where flecks of blood would be forever no matter how many times he had washed his mouth out, and his hands still felt gritty and covered in slime. He could still feel the excrutiating electrocution he weathered when he disobeyed the rules of the game. He was still bleeding from the shoulder. And for a moment, he didn't know where he was anymore. Was he still in that room? It was so real…

He looked up and gave a violent little shudder, eyes coming into focus in a drab, lonely place…Adam quickly got to his feet and gingerly wrapped an arm around his stomach as he headed for the bathroom. He stopped at the doorframe and leaned a bit, rubbing his abdoemen uneasily and staring at the toilet. Keep it down, keep it down…he begged himself as he pushed hard at the burning, acidic mulch rising in chunks through his throat. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't give the memories that victory, the triumph of laughing at him as he puked his guts up each and every time over this. His stomach hurt terribly for a second before the pain gradually faded away, and he panted a few times from the feeling. Slowly, it had vanished, and he carefully stepped away from the bathroom.

Taking one more look around his apartment, Adam went to the bed and clutched his jacket in his hands, holding it close to him before he put in on. He had to get out of here. It didn't matter where, it didn't matter for how long. But he had to get away from this, or he would go as mad remembering the ordeal as he did experiencing it. Because if he stayed here any longer, he would also, along with all those other terrible little details, remember the soothing voice near his ear, the warm hand on his face…and everything else that had once saved him, and now was gone.