Lost In Purple

Chapter 62: Drifting

Johnny's POV

What's the point of moving on to better things when there's nothing else that could ever possibly be on the other side of a closed door? You might think that there would be someone waiting for you, you might believe that there would be some sort of object or person that would bring you a sliver of happiness, but in reality it's just nothing. It's just another empty room filled with 'possibilities' and dreams that can never be achieved. If that's the case, then what's the point of moving forward if nothing's going to change? Would it be better to simply turn around and walk back down the endlessly bleak hallway with no exit in sight? That's all I was ever lead down, one hallway with an end that nobody else would ever want. Ever since I was a kid I've been forced to walk into a life where I would end up like my father. Alone in an office, counting stacks of money that don't mean anything with nobody to talk to, with no other goal than to be rich and famous and insufferable to anyone who's normal. I hate it, every single second of it. How could I possibly be compared to such a dry, lifeless personality that is my father? Why must I follow in his footsteps and hate my life until I inevitably cross into a painful eternity unsuitable for anyone? Why do I have to be like him, why do I have to follow in the footsteps of those who came before me?

…It's pointless to even ask all these questions when I'm already succumbing to the decay I've been so afraid of. I can already see my corpse rotting away in the ground a hundred years from now, with no fur and only dry, calloused skin that's become horrifically pale as no one even remembers who I was, or what I did. I can already tell that my ghost would think that it would be better for the all the decomposers of the world to stay away from me so that they don't become tainted, spreading my sorrows and failure into the world inadvertently. I would wager that everything would have been better if I didn't exist. hSimply put, this life I've slaved away for all these years will be the end of me. The rules I've followed, the legacy that I've been manipulated into upholding, they're the reason why I won't ever be happy. I put myself on a throne and reaped the rewards of being a Worthington. Having to become the best, having to make my parents proud, all it did was hurt me and take away the things I loved. I couldn't like football or tennis or soccer because I'm a Worthington, I couldn't pursue classical or metal music because I'm a Worthington, couldn't be friends with certain people because I'm a Worthington, and I couldn't love certain people because I'm a Worthington. I'm just a tightly strung puppet for my father to make money off of, to farm glory off of, and now he's finally taken something from me that's made my strings snap.

She was everything to me. A diamond in the rough, the one rose that hasn't wilted in a pile of thorns, a shining ray of light on a cloudy day, a butterfly trying to find shelter during a long lasting tempest. There won't ever be another monster like Melanie. Now that she's not around, I'll continue to fade into the deepest depths, into the darkest shade of black, where nothing could ever hope to be left alive. There's no way to fix it, I just have to be left by myself, drifting endlessly in a sea of disappointment. I would do anything to go back in time to mend I have disintegrated. All I am is a fragment of broken glass, searching for the pieces that have been scattered lightyears away. I got so close to finding them, but I only ended up collecting them so that I could lose them all. The pieces only ended up being smashed into infinitely smaller shards that could be blown away to another world. I was told to never be so fragile, so transparent; I was told that there shouldn't ever be a time where I could be broken down to a point where all my weaknesses can be sifted through. However, without any support, every strike to my being only fractured me further. Melanie was the last piece, the deciding factor that would have keep me from feeling as empty as I am now. I don't think I'll ever be that close to becoming whole again. I feel like I have to stay awake so that I can hold on to the pieces that I haven't lost yet, fighting with all I have until the real me is lost to the everlasting void. She was the only one in this evolving world who cared, and now she's silently asking the heavens where I was when she reached the end of the road. No experience would be worse than that. It's all my fault, I subjected someone to the worst of monster emotions.

I finally lift my head off the bed, seeing my knees dig into the floor while my eyes burn at the sight of the light. The world seems so happy, trying it's best to make me see some sort of brighter side but it doesn't work. These muscles of mine are unbearably sore, I'm nauseous, there's a slow dull ache that won't leave from within my chest. I'm like a battery that's been drained of its charge, being forced to work off of the very little I have left. My mind has episodic switches from despair, rage, and uncertainty, and I can't decide if it should or should not move. Would it be too much for me? Is it even worth it? What will change if I do move? Probably nothing…it's not like I'll feel any better by just walking.

Slowly putting my head back down onto the side of my bed, I feel drowsiness try to take over my body no matter how much I try to resist. I know that my mind will become more distraught if I simply dream…but I can't help it. I haven't slept since before I went to the Cormeadow General Hospital. Sleeping isn't a kind of luxury that I have anymore because of what I've seen and what I've been told, but life has decided to bless me with this complex process. The sudden darkness turns into a dull purple glow. There's an occasional crackling coming from multiple directions around me of which I can't see due to the blurriness of the image. I think I'm looking at the ground, filled with scorched matter that lays untouched. My vision clears for a moment before returning back. I'm crying, and each tear drops to the ground before being replaced by another. Aside from that, there's nothing else that happens, it's just a boring and uninteresting dream. I can tell that this is what my life is going to feel like from now on. The only thing sacred I'll have left will be regret. Beyond the purple flames is the destruction of a forest, filled with the suffocating black clouds of ash that continue to linger in the air, which fills me with a sense of familiarity. my mind can't retrieve any information about this though. It's as if my mind had involuntarily decided to delete a certain part of my memory, constantly running into an error after every attempt of recalling what this place means to me. Is it really important to remember this though, because nothing is left alive, except me, soon to be engulfed by the slow moving inferno that's counting down its final kill. Abruptly, I feel a hand touch my shoulders. There's no force in its grip and I can't feel any malicious intent behind it. It's instead laced with the feeling of concern, and prompts me to look over my shoulder.

There's a ruby red wolven monster with a beautiful long mane, two horns that curl around her head as if it were a tiara. She has a fang that sticks out of her mouth while the other is tucked away. Her bright yellow eyes look like some sort of reptiles optics, making my instincts realize that this monster is setting off all sorts of red flags. Although, her hourglass figure makes her look like a princess, and she's tiny compared to me. She's just a fragile little creature, lost within the ring of purple flames with me. I involuntarily stand up, turning myself towards her while wiping the tears from my eyes. I instantaneously remember that I've had these dreams several times over the past year, the first being infinitely more beautiful than this. The forest wasn't blocked off by a daunting purple fire, and the horizon was filled with many shades of greens and yellows, and I knew that Melanie was sitting right next to me... at least I think she was. Was it actually this monster the whole time? Was the moonlight making her look magenta when she was actually red?

The ruby red wolven monster cautiously moves closer to me, concerned with my well-being and placing her right hand on the left side of my face. A deep, kingly voice comes from within me even though I don't open my mouth. "I'm sorry."

The monsters' emotions never change, and all she says in return, comfortingly yet filed with sorrow, before this nightmarish image in my head disappears is, "It's alright...Everyone knew that I didn't deserve you."

Even though I can't see anything, I can hear and feel an aggressive vibration coming from my right. The monotonous tone is actually…very annoying! My body jerks up, ignoring all the aches that engulf my body, and I find my phone ringing on my bed. It's my father calling me. I couldn't care any less and never pick it up. There's only two seconds of silence before my phone buzzes again, and I'm immediately pushed to the verge of insanity when my irritability spikes and the sound bangs against my skull. I clench my teeth and pick up my phone, pressing the green button and then swerving it up to my ear canal.

"I get it, you're disappointed in me and I'm not worthy to be part of the family! You can stop calling me, you can stop associating yourself with me, you can go back to thinking about yourself. Now get out of my life!" I scream before hearing confused stutters from my father.

I hang up then walk over to the window, sliding it up until it's all the way open, and chucking it as hard as I possibly can. I send it over the JOX house and into the wilderness beyond, never wanting to see that accursed object again. A majority of my issues that involve my father are because of that thing. If I didn't have it, he never would have said anything since he never leaves the scream factories he's employed at, and I could have lived my life the way I wanted to. I don't feel any better though, because my heart is still racing and my blood is still pumping within a fit of rage. After slamming the window shut, my dresser is next. The pictures I had sitting atop it are thrown to the walls, shattered into several pieces. I growl violently while pummeling my dresser, sending my fists through the wooden planks until splinters litter the carpet. My nightstands get the same treatment, and then the doors to my closet. I swipe everything off of my desk, but stop myself before destroying my two thousand dollar computer setup. Now I've definitely made things even more difficult for myself.

I don't want to be in a frenzy anymore though. I want to feel normal again, I want to feel like I can be myself once more. I want to actually have fun for the first time in my life, so maybe it would be good if I ditched this place, the institution that took everything away from me. The window is my only ticket out, and so I walk back over to it in order to open it once again. I do what I've always done, and escape while using the gutter pipe that runs all the way down the side of the house. Not a single soul will be able to search for me, I'll make sure of it.

And so, the first real adventure I've had since high school begins now. A quick trip down to some random bar, and my search for pleasure has finally been satiated after so long. Even though I didn't say a word to anyone, I'm able to try the many tastes of alcohol. I lose track of what's happened, but seeing all those colors and all these various images efficiently takes my broken mind off of everything. What makes things better is that I also can't feel anything anymore. The numbness that engulfs my being is relieving, and I want nothing more than to do something theatrically amazing. I could take on the world while finally being given the chance to be born anew. It's almost addicting being like this, and I can't believe this feeling has been within my grasp for so long while never being acquired. Those crippling expectations that I've been conditioned into following kept me from experiencing them. I know I won't regret doing this. That is... until the first strike of pain hits my head.