The voices refused to leave Adam alone.
He was curled up into a ball, covering his ears. Not that it helped. The shapes in the endless darkness were screaming, all reminding him of how horribly everything had gone.
The clock was the most ear-piercing of them all. When he needed to feel in touch with something, Adam tried to count its beats. But each tick was another reminder that he was more and more screwed as the seconds passed by.
One, two, three…
His throat was raw from screaming into the eternal abyss in front of him. In the shadows, there were no hidden saviors or ways out. He was increasingly certain of that.
Who would come back for Adam?
Nine, ten, eleven…
He heard faint whispers underneath the messy chorus of shouts, and a sound made him jump. He looked over to the source, near the voices that wouldn't stop. Deep into the dark.
"Nobody's coming for you."
"Not again," Adam cried.
The chain had been hissing at him. It insisted on constantly telling him that his last hope would never come back. That he was completely alone in this.
But Lawrence would come back. He promised he would bring someone.
"And they'll get me outta here. It's okay! They-they're coming. Lawrence said so, and he never lied to me."
"Oh, yeah right. As if anyone would ever care about you."
"Don't worry, Adam. You-you need to stop worrying about it! Lawrence must've gotten out by now! Any second, that door will be kicked down. P-people will flood in and they'll all help—"
"Why would they help you? Why would anyone ever help you? 'People?' You're bold to even assume one person would care enough to come by, you selfish, stupid—"
"Stop it, please!"
The whispers told him what he already knew. Something he had learned a long time ago.
He tried to catch his breath and push the words out of his mind. Not that that ever worked, either.
Nothing was going as he had planned. Nothing.
And even beyond the confines of this place, he had driven the people he loved away. He would try to learn. Every day he would wrack his brain to find out why everyone in this fucked-up world seemed so annoyed. Seemed so tired of him.
But of course, he couldn't figure that one out either.
One, two, three…
Adam looked up at the mirror, and he stared at the only source of light he could find here.
The camera behind the one-way mirror turned back on a bit ago, and the little red light danced along in his vision. The person behind it was surely snickering, taking bets on what Adam would talk to next.
"Let me the fuck out!"
He swore that if he listened hard enough, he could make out the vicious laughter behind it. And the saws hidden away in the corner were inching closer and closer with every tick of the clock.
One, two, three…
The camera needed to go away. It, and the mindless sounds pelting at him from all sides, they were going to drive him fucking crazy.
But the light swayed on, doing some weird dance to the voices' words.
Tears swelled in Adam's eyes as he stared at the little dot. Someone hated him so much that they were more than content with watching him rot away.
His eyes stung.
He was going to die here. He was going to fade off into nothing, trapped in this cell.
No one was coming for him.
Because what was Adam?
Nothing. Absolutely no one.
No one would miss him, few would even notice. Who was there enough to realize he was dead? His clients would have to find someone else to take crappy pictures of their cheating husbands. The neighbor, convinced that Adam was hellbent on making his life miserable from afar, would find a replacement. His landlord would find someone else to yell at every time he came home to start it all over again.
"Fuck…"
Was that it?
The tears streamed down his face. He searched the room for a reminder of anyone who would care.
He whispered in his cracking voice, "Is there really no one who would miss me?"
The eternal darkness didn't answer.
Adam repeated the people he managed to think of in his head over and over.
His clients, his neighbor, his landlord…
"Mom," Adam choked out.
He had never called his mom back. He had refused to answer her after another one of their arguments, and now he would never be able to make it right.
Adam slammed his hand against the ground.
He was going to die here. And she was going to live the rest of her life thinking he hated her.
"Fuck," he said a bit louder as tears scalded his cheeks.
Adam pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged himself tight. A warm little cocoon hiding away from the hell surrounding him. He buried his face down.
"I'm gonna die," Adam whispered to his lap. "I'm gonna fucking die."
This is what he had idly hoped for, he supposed. Some sort of escape. Wasn't ever brave enough to do it himself, but he had thought about it. Life was shit. Society was shit. People were shit. And so was he.
And the constant voices would remind him of that fact until he finally faded away.
Of all the sounds around him, all he wanted to hear was Lawrence. But his foot was all that remained, and it refused to speak. He kept glancing in its direction, hoping that eventually, he would scowl at it just right, get it riled up. Maybe he could follow the voice and get an idea of where the doctor could possibly be.
Adam sighed.
The only person who had ever wanted him around was Scott. His band, Wrath of the Gods, was having a concert. Adam had been handing out posters for his passable ("as far as buddy bands go") music before going to his apartment and waking up here. And any moment now, the performance would start, and Scott wouldn't have his cameraman and organizer to help.
The ticking came back. Adam started his counts over again for what felt like the hundredth time.
One, two, three…
Zep moved out of the corner of his eye.
Despite everything, Zep had stayed. He remained cemented to the ground, and he listened to Adam every step of the way.
"He's not coming back, is he Zep?"
Adam squeezed his eyes shut when Zep stared at him silently, judging him.
But it made sense. Adam had bashed his head in.
A murderer. He was a…
"I'm sorry."
How hadn't he said it before? He had thought it more times than he could count. But how could he say it? What could he possibly say to make the fact that he had killed a man any different?
"I never meant for this to… I didn't know…" His voice cracked as he whispered, "I'm sorry."
How could he ever make this right? He had screwed them all over as soon as he decided to try and get out.
"You know, I should have just let you do it. Or Lawrence. You would be alive, and he wouldn't have probably bled out somewhere."
Adam chuckled to keep the tears from returning.
"Of all the people here, how the hell am I the one who made it the longest?"
If he had let one of them shoot him, at least they would be okay, and Adam's death could've meant something. But now, he'd rot away being chastised for killing someone. For not being better. For fucking up every step of the way and—
"I wanna go home."
He hadn't missed home in a long time.
His miserable routine had sucked the life out of him with each wasted day. Home was where he went to remember how badly he had messed his life up, and where he prepared to start it all over again.
But it was where he so desperately wanted to be.
When he noticed the ticking of the clock again, it sounded like it was traveling around the room, mocking him.
One, two, three…
His childhood home was where his parents were, and where Scott was. He missed them all more and more with every passing second.
Seven, eight, nine…
He just wanted to see them.
But would they want to see him?
Why would they? Him? After Zep? After…?
Did he have anything left, now that Lawrence had left him here? After he let down the last person who ever seemed to care?
No. No, he…
There was nothing.
Nothing but the darkness, and…
He was hopeless.
Absolutely hopeless.
Adam sat up. His shoulder made him grit his teeth.
Where the hell was it?
He crawled on the floor, feeling in front of him for glass or rogue tiles.
There was nothing. And then Zep's foot.
"Oh, sorry," Adam murmured as he kept feeling on the floor around Zep.
And then he felt it.
His fingers shakily closed around the barrel of the gun.
He dragged it over to him.
And he felt around as he made his way back to his pipe. He stared into the dark, gripping the gun.
He could've sworn things were moving and shifting out there. Swimming in the black. Swirling wheels of squares and triangles, barely visible beyond some static his eyes were coating everything with.
This couldn't be all there was anymore.
His entire life, reduced to the dingiest corner of the dingiest bathroom in the world.
He hated it.
Absolutely hated it.
Adam felt around the gun, familiarizing himself with it.
But he couldn't bring himself to do anything more.
Apathetic.
The word from his tape bounced around his head. Around the walls of the bathroom.
He forced the thought away, replacing it with ideas about Zep.
About the life he had ripped away from this world.
Did he have friends? Were there people out there who were starting search parties, desperate to find him?
Did anyone miss him?
"Lawrence said you were quite a loner," Adam muttered, still fiddling with the pistol. "I get it. I was always shy too, out there. Never really made friends… Always a loner."
The only company he had in his apartment was a stray cat that always found her way to him. He would give her milk and pet her as long as she would let him.
That's who would miss Adam. His mom and the cat.
Most pathetic funeral ever.
"I wanted to be a vet," he admitted to the dark. To Zep. "I wanted to be one so bad. And I tried in school, I really did. But I just couldn't figure it out, no matter what I… And…"
Adam trailed off and Zep silently nodded along. Didn't contribute much to the conversation.
Zep was never good with conversations.
"Neither am I, Zep." Adam sighed and fixed his grip on the gun. "Neither am I."
His last one outside of the bathroom had been a disaster. He had made a pitiful attempt at becoming friends with a girl he stupidly called "Rockstar" as he handed out more of Scott's flyers. Playing it back in his head was painful. He'd rather be stuck watching a car crash.
If he had to be honest with himself—and if this was it for him, then he sure as hell did—his conversations in the bathroom weren't much better. Just him throwing hissy fits at Lawrence before the doctor fucking lost it.
No wonder Lawrence had left him behind.
Adam didn't know how long he sat there, staring in the direction of the floor. And the clock ticked on and on and on.
One, two, three…
Every time the sound rang out in the room, it would change. The tone. The speed.
He was gonna lose it, wasn't he?
"I'm so sorry."
This time, he said it to more than Zep. He said it to his parents, to Lawrence, to himself. For fucking everything up beyond repair.
He looked down and felt the barrel. He should have let them do this to begin with.
But what if Lawrence did make it back? He had promised.
"Right? I didn't mishear him, did I?"
Zep's silence answered Adam's question.
Lawrence had promised.
And the doctor had never broken his promises. He could take care of himself. And maybe, just maybe, he would be able to find a way back.
Adam let out a few shaky breaths and let go of the gun.
Tears stained his cheeks as he stared ahead, focusing on the nothing that was in front of him.
Lawrence never lied. Not once. He promised.
So Adam needed to wait. Hold onto hope while he sat on the cold, hard floor that made everything numb. He would hide from the darkness surrounding him. He would listen for words of encouragement from Lawrence and ask Zep for advice.
He would stay there, and the clock would sing on.
One, two, three…
He took in soft breaths and closed his eyes, fresh tears freeing from his lashes. He waited for sleep to come over him, a momentary bit of relief that washed it all away.
And he felt himself start to drift off as the sounds fell into some sort of rhythm.
Adam couldn't help but wonder who Lawrence would bring. Who would come with him? Who cared enough to come out and find him before he turned to nothing with the rest of the room?
Further into the dark, a raspy, familiar voice chuckled.
"Nobody."
The corners of Adam's lips twisted as he fought down more tears.
"You're lying. He'd never…"
Lawrence had said it himself, and Adam kept reminding himself of that.
He just needed to wait a little longer. He would wake up and the door would open. Then he could leave, apologize to his mom for constantly screwing up every one of her plans, and he would pet the cat. Then he would figure out the rest.
Just a little longer.
All he needed to do was wait. Lawrence would handle the rest, just like he promised.
Adam faded off, and all he could hear was his breathing and the clock. Eventually, it would hit the right time, and the sounds of his saviors would finally drown everything else out.
Just have to wait.
One, two, three…
