Red lips and green hair and a broken boy. Then blackness. Then green water and then...
Are you insane like me?
He grabbed his hair, pulling, pulling. Maybe, if he pulled hard enough he would forget, forget the flashes of red, the insane laughter, laughter, laughter, pain... He remembered the pain, like an iron branded into his skin.
Been in pain like me?
Pulling even harder, pulling until sharp pain shot through his scull. Maybe, if the pain was enough, he would forget. Forget the sound of metal soaring through the air, the sound of maniac laughter, giggling, gloating. The sound of pain. He learned to like pain, to know pain, but pain from his own hands was different, was better, was control. He needed control (he had been at another's mercy for too long).
Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me?
Pain didn't work. Why? Pain worked back then. He'd forgotten. He'd just wanted out. Maybe forgetting in a different way. Drinking, drinking until he was gone. Gone, forgetting. But it didn't work (nothing did, the voices in his head were too loud to drown out). Pain. Pain and insane laughter, gloating at his pain. A flash of green. The taste of alcohol on his tongue.
Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me?
Screaming. Yelling. No pain, please. A crash of shattering glass, the smell of alcohol and shards of glass embedded into his hands. Pain, but real pain, no memories, not this time. A smile. So maybe pain did work. The laughter inside his head subsided. Fight fire with fire and pain with pain. More shards of glass, more blood, more tears, more pain. Anything but memories. Bliss.
Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?
Are you high enough without the Mary Jane like me?
But it didn't last forever.
Empty bottles littered the floor, pill after pill until he felt sick to the stomach and could barely keep his eyes open. Good. No pain. Just darkness. More pills, more empty bottles on the floor. Less pain.
Do you tear yourself apart to entertain like me?
Blood seeped out of his skin, coating his arms in red. Beautiful red. He remembered red lips twisting into a gruesome smile. No red. Red bad. Red pain. No red!
Do the people whisper 'bout you on the train like me?
There was no one there. No people, just him and his thought. And laughter, the painful, tormenting laughter, talking about him, talking and talking and talkingtalkingtalking! Make it stop! (Please)
Saying that you shouldn't waste your pretty face like me?
Red all over his face, a red tear rolling down his chin. And then pain. He remembered the pain. He wanted it to stop.
It didn't.
And all the people say
You can't wake up, this is not a dream
Death. He had been dead, he knew. He could feel it. But not anymore. Now he's just suffering. It felt surreal. Like a dream, like a nightmare.
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being
Pale skin and a red smile, animalistic features twisted and cruel. He needed to get away. But he couldn't, no escaping, just pain. He knew pain by now. He did. And it scared him.
With your face all made up, living on a screen
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline
Burning, burning, burning fire. Burning hatred. Burning pain. He knew burning. He had burned.
I think there's a flaw in my code
And tears were red and falling down and the eye-stinging smell of alcohol made him gag. It surrounded him, suffocated him.
These voices won't leave me alone
Laugh, little Robin. He winced. He remembered that voice. Why so serious? Please, stop. Quiet, searing tears.
Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold
He shivered, ice dancing through his veins. He was so cold. So, so cold. No one there to keep him warm. Just coldness and a red smile.
Are you deranged like me?
He heard voices, felt fingers, saw red, felt metal, smelled blood and tasted ash. But there was nothing there. Just darkness. Void.
Are you strange like me?
His numb fingers fumbled for something, sharp and cold, smooth and reassuring. Glass.
Lighting matches just to swallow up the flame like me?
The sharp edges cut into his fingers, but he didn't feel pain. No pain. Not anymore. Just numb. Numbness and darkness. And red smiles. He didn't like red smiles.
Do you call yourself a fucking hurricane like me?
A storm of blood. His blood, the blood of others. On his hands? Why? The red smile, it had killed the kid. The innocence. The childhood. The Robin. It had killed it all!
Pointing fingers 'cause you'll never take the blame like me?
No, he himself killed the kid. The innocence. The childhood. The Robin. Stupid. He was stupid and dumb and he killed it all. He did, not the red smile.
And all the people say
You can't wake up, this is not a dream
But he felt the blows raining down on him. He had felt it. Now there was nothing. Just the growing cold and the numbness. No pain. That was good.
You're part of a machine, you are not a human being
His eyes. The devil's eyes. The devil had green hair. And a red smile. He shuddered and curled in on himself. No red smiles, please.
With your face all made up, living on a screen
Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline
No red... He couldn't remember. No red what? He was so tired. His eyes... were they closed? He couldn't remember. Everything was fuzzy. Nothing mattered.
I think there's a flaw in my code
These voices won't leave me alone
No laughter anymore. Why were there no laughter? He couldn't hear anything. No breathing. Was he breathing? No sound. Was that good? Or bad?
Well my heart is gold and my hands are cold
He felt the numbness spread and the blood leave his veins. He felt drowsy... He smiled. So there was a way to escape. And he'd found it. No pain. Just bliss.
A sigh escaped his lips. A relieved sigh. The last sigh, the last intake of breath. From now on, there was only blackness and this time, it would be for eternity.
