A Box Full of Sharp Objects

Octavio really didn't care what his manager his thought, said, or did. He had been riding a high and was too sleep deprived to give a fuck about anyone or anything at this point. He couldn't even remember what his manager's name was but that wasn't anything new and had nothing to do with the drugs in his system. His night had been fucked up ever since he signed his first contract to be a daredevil. That's the day he signed his life away.

Although it wasn't much of a change from the way he was already living his current life On Psamathe. At least he was now getting paid for it and pissing off his old man in even more ways for his reckless lifestyle choices. The biggest contrast was that his manager was forcing women down his throat or his manager was forcing him to force himself down women's throats. Either way, there was a lot of forcing he didn't care to be a part of.

He woke up just the way he face planted into his bed. He felt incredibly stiff from not moving, well the parts of his body that could feel still. His legs were never stiff, just always itching for a run. He wanted to run but his stupid manager wouldn't even let him leave the penthouse because he was 'grounded.'

The television was still a glow and a hum of white noise. He always seemed to leave it on. It's was comforting in a certain way because he really never had anyone around. The room was dark, it was always dark. He liked it dark then he didn't have to worry about the mess that was strewn about everywhere because he didn't have to look at it when it was dark. What did it matter anyway, it was his place.

He let out a small grunt and reached around on his bed until his hand came up with his cell phone. He tapped the screen far too many times before the phone would actually register. The screen lit up and to his surprise he had been asleep for about four days. He had hadn't ever slept that long, although he had never been left alone to sleep for that long and he also wasn't wearing his dialyzing belt. There were quite a few contributing factors to his lack of sleep.

Octavio rolled over onto his back and unlocked his phone. The only new text message that he had was summary of what happened and the disciplinary actions and 'blah, blah, blah' from whatever his manager's name was. He scrolled down to only other messages he kept on his phone from her. He briefly read their last message exchange and began to type and then quickly deleted it. Their last communication was so long ago and she had blocked him anyway, why even bother trying at this point.

He sighed and tossed the phone far enough away so that he would not have to deal with it, "So fucking stupid." It was almost 7pm and it had been four fucking days and not a single person had even bothered to check in on him; at least not to his knowledge. It's not like he had any friends anyways, so who would even bother to see if he was alive. Who even cared enough?

Still spry with energy, he rolled off the side of the bed and kneeled on floor next to the bed. He felt around underneath the bed and pulled out a box similar to the humidor that he had stashed away in the kitchen cabinet. No surprise, it was full box of drugs and sharp objects to spilt and smash them. He grazed his fingertips over the objects in the box, weighing the selection he had in his head. He then placed the box on the bed and stood up.

He knew that he need a drink first to get into the right mindset for what he was about to do. A look of disappointment washed over his face when his trusty bottle of tequila wasn't by his television. He then realized that he had finished it off days prior to his four day hibernation. He sat down on the foot of the bed where he had placed his box and as he did the televised Apex games started. That just made his night even better in the most sarcastic way of all.

He couldn't stand the Apex games. They were so stupid. Money for fake kills. They took up a primo time slot that could have been his. They had better ads. 'Legends' with 'powers.' Fuck he had these so-called-powers. He realized maybe he was mad that he didn't get formal invite; nope that wasn't it. The show was stupid. It was just a stupid show; yep.

He rolled his eyes and wished that he knock back a few bottles and just be done with everything. He grabbed the box and traced his fingers along the sleek wood edges, deciding which dose would lethal enough for his ultra-fast metabolism so that he could just get this over with. He was so numb and done he didn't care. Maybe in another four days his manager would come by and check in on him to find his body. Would she even show up to the funeral? Would she even know? Would she even care?

He realized that he was now rolling a couple of pill bottles in his hand while steadying the box with his other. Somehow his body had just taken over what his thoughts had already intended to do. He was about to pop the pill containers open but something on the television drew his attention away. Something about one of the campaign squads.

The show had already been on for thirty minutes when he had finally decided to look up at the television. He couldn't figure out why after all of this time he needed to watch this stupid show but he had a sudden urge to watch it so he did, and he froze immediately. He dropped the pill bottles back into the box and his mouth hung open as if he had something to say but nothing would come out. He didn't know what to do. He had to be seeing a ghost.

This couldn't be right. Nothing about what he saw on the screen was right. It was like his world had been turned upside down. First the media shit-storm and now this. Somehow his life had come full circle. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe he really was dead or he was just up dreaming all of this.

The voices in his head were finally silent. They were never quiet unless she was around. He was lucid and could think straight for the first time in years. What a beautiful thing. Today he fell and felt better. He was finally able to form words in the sound of a whisper, "Che…" It was her. He couldn't believe it. He slowly closed the box and set it to the side on the bed. His still didn't think or couldn't even fathom that it was her. How could it be?

He stood up and walked slowly towards the television like he was going to scare her, like she was some sort of wild animal, even though there was a barrier and miles and miles between the both of them. Everything happened so fast but as confirmed by the recap after the show, her game name identity was Lifeline. He even saw D.O.C. at her side.

Octavio's fingers gently traced her figure along the screen as he watched every single second of the recap. He thought for sure he was dreaming but he was awake and very much sober. Everything his manager wanted him to be but now things were different because she was in the picture; literally in the television picture.

The title of this Chapter is inspired by a band that I like: The Used

There is also a lyrical quotes in the chapter:

'What a beautiful thing. Today he fell and felt better.'

- The Used – A Box Full Of Sharp Objects