Teddy's in a jam. Poor Ted.

Ted: ...

He's not talking to me. Let's figure out why. And I got a Jeff muse. Yay! He's not active in this moment.

Chapter 22
Painted Pain

You're painted me in pain
December, 30, 2009
Which of us do you love

I can't believe what's happening to us, it's like a never ending nightmare, I want Randy back and as I stride through the streets, no sound, just silence, I give up the only torn piece of hope inside of me and as I look around the empty streets and feel the thick, ice cold air brush against my face, and the skies are still as gray as ever, and I feel like I'm living in the world were colors don't exist and emotions are just overlapped by the stabbing pain that's burning me to the core, it's not fair that I can't even find an escape in my own head. I can't control my own head and I can't control my body or anything anymore…I feel like a deranged puppet, crazed with a seek for a haven out there, and I've recently found out that the world hates me too much and I'm never going to find a haven, just trapped in this horrible world of uncertainty and shattered love and—the scent of alcohol burns firmly in the air and my stomach sloshes and my head spins…oh so horribly…spins. Randy? Randy?! Alcohol? Why…?

Randy's skin is so very cracked and his eyes are so broken and his face's burning with desolation and misery and pain and all I can do is stare into those broken blue eyes of his, trying not to crack or get cut just by looking at them but it's no use… I break under his gaze, the scent of alcohol is harder than ever before and—he pushes me towards the wall and kisses me, a drunken sloppy kiss and he's so out of his head that his force is pushing me so hard to the wall…well, I don't care anymore, Randy. Kiss me. Rape me. Burn me. Kill me. Who cares anymore? I'm just a piece of mess right now. I know that. Go ahead, Randy. Just break the last pieces of me. I don't care… no more masks, no more emotions, just a dull straight face, because that's how it's supposed to be. Thank you, Randall Keith Orton, you made me hate myself to an extent I didn't know I could…or maybe it's my fault. I don't know anymore. Don't know anything at all. Then I taste something all too different in his mouth, something strong and bitter…something…

Cocaine.

I know that taste. I know the feeling. Of burning up into just nothing, feeling black fire burn inside of you until your skin just doesn't feel there and my heart just melts and the blood is sticky and hot and you don't feel like you're human at all and you feel weightless behind everything except for the fire that burns violently oh so violently inside of you…it feels like you're alive…but Randy…why does Randy need it? Why does Randy need to feel this? He tastes so bitter, bitter honey in his mouth, so bitter, so sweet, so broken, so fixed, so…everything. It's like I've never really tasted all of Randy until now. It's scaring me. It's scaring all of me feeling the hot skin against mine, feeling the sweaty, hot skin stick and attach and glue towards my body and I feel his heart thud and I feel him…all of him…so scary. Two pieces of a broken puzzle attached and they don't fit together…

I don't fit together with him.

I don't say a word because really, what's the point? I just stare as he discards our clothes in quick, swift movements and I don't really care that it hurts or it burns…everything hurts…there is no happiness in the world anymore and I am just his possession, right? I forgot how my emotions work. I don't care if I'm happy or sad—hell, I don't think I know what happy is anymore. Life's just turned so horrible and bitter. I turned horrible and bitter, too. I feel his panting and I don't care and as he falls asleep, I look out into the open world, no one lives here but me and him, and I know it all too well. We're the only people in this world. Loneliness just cripples through us, doesn't it? In truth, even if there's a thousand people, I won't feel any less anymore. In truth, now that there's just me and him, nothing's really changed. Just that I give up. I seriously give up. Let them do whatever they want. I don't care…I really don't care… I think I've lost my identity through this all. It's when he wakes up that his eyes feel with pain and our bodies are still stuck together. "Ted? Theodore?"

I stare deep into those eyes of his and he stares back at me and I know what he's looking at, nothing—just nothing, no emotions, no control, nothing at all. I can't wait until the day I die. I can't wait until the day I burn. It's what I deserve. And I think he sees what I feel; I think he sees the emotions that are fizzling out of my body…why is everything so out of my reach? Randy lifts my chin, "what happened?"

I don't say a word. What difference would it make? What changes it all? Nothing. Nothing at all. I don't say a word at all. He kisses my nose, "please, Teddy, say something."

Nothing. He holds me and kisses my forehead, helping me and him wear our clothing as I stare right at him, and—it's like my memory's been fizzled. I don't remember much anymore. I don't even know anyone anymore. Everyone's a stranger. I'm a stranger. I don't even know who I am anymore. He carries me back towards our house, placing me down onto the bed and kissing my forehead, covering my body with my thick sheets and he runs his hand through my back, kissing the back of my head. "Ted, it's going to be okay…just speak…"

No. No more words. Ever again.

It's all black.

I don't know what I was thinking of when I wrote this. It just made sense somehow to me. Somehow. :P Review?? So Ted found out his own way out but now that he swore never to speak again, you think Randy can figure it out, too? Oh, just ignore my questions and tell me what you think. :)

;) Sam