Dissected (1)

The cool night air makes my breath turn to mist as I walk quickly over to Zero. I cross the street and give some cash to the security gorilla outside. Ethereal music reaches my ears from within and I plunge inside and get lost in the blue flashing lights. This is a different sort of world and the ordinary rules don't count here. You've left yourself, such as you are, with all your fears, frustrations and inhibitions, outside, when you paid the admission fee. People don't come here to listen to you whine, they come here to forget the world ouside is fucked up and someone they loved just broke their heart. And another thing. Whatever you do here stays here. If someone offers you some dope and you take it, no one ever knows. Not if you're found the next day in the sewer in which case it's your fucking problem whatever and wherever you took. I guess the owner has to pay up with golden notes when the cops come on a visit, but God knows he earns ten times more.

There're strippers up on stages pole dancing. The blue rays of light slide over their bodies and make them look like they're wearing blue wigs. A bunch of guys're standing around and cheering at them. I make my way through the dancing mass of people toward the bar and order some vodka. I'm actually eighteen, but as I said, no one here gives a shit unless they see milk trickling down your chin. I sit on a high chair and let the rhythms run through my body, making my pulp resound. I down a couple more vodkas in a quick session and light a cigarette. I'm planning to get really wasted today, just as the day when I rode to see mom in the hospital. I shake my head to get rid of the memories. I turn around and stare into the crowd. I never dance cause I'm just no good at that. What I do is memorize some of the stuff I see and draw some pictures of it later. Suddenly, a familiar sight meets my eyes and I have to blink several times before I fully get this. There's Ryan and his blonde chick dancing just a few feet away from me. I slide off the chair and attempt to smooth my black shirt and pants. Then I head over to them.

"Hey, man!" Ryan yells at me and attempts to hug me. I pat him on the back and surreptitiously study the girl. I have no idea how Ryan could've dumped Natalie for this one. Her hair is obviously the work of peroxide and she's got way too much make-up on. Even when she laughs I can virtually hear the number of cigarettes she smokes a day. But I guess she's perfect for Ryan's purposes. She excuses herself and goes to the bathroom to add another layer of make-up on her face. Ryan and I head over to the bar again and order tequillas. The alcohol's making my head swim a little already. I guess I shouldn't have drunk so fast, but I don't really care anyway. Before I even know it, I open my mouth and speak up.

"So this is the new girlfriend, huh?" I ask him.

"Yeah, what about her?" he grins back at me stupidly. I guess he's had a few, too.

"Nothin. I just can't understand how you could've dumped Natalie for this slut," I hear myself say before I even realize the meaning of the words.

"What the fuck did you just say?!" he yells at me and slams the shotglass into the bar.

"Haven't you noticed Natalie's a wreck now that you've left her?!" I yell at him in turn. To this he just throws back his head and laughs.

"Man, I thought you'd be happy. She's finally free. That's what you've been waiting for, huh? You finally have the chance to f..."

I don't even let him finish. I slam him in the nose with my fist and hear something crack. He staggers back a little, but in a minute he turns his backward movement into forward and hits my stomach with his head. I fall back into the chair which nearly knocks the wind out of me. The dancers nearest to us stop whatever they're doing and just stare at us as if they weren't even sure if this is some part of the program. I get up and Ryan's cleaning up the bar's floor with his back in no time. As I continue my destroyer mission, my head is unexpectedly clear. It keeps telling me that I'm doing all this for Natalie. But a small voice still whispers in my ear that maybe I've had it in for Ryan for a long time, for being with Natalie at all. I don't even know how long I've been improving his face till one of the gorilla's strong hands lift me off him and send me flying on my back on the sidewalk in front the bar. The door closes behind the guy and I just keep on lying there on my back in the snow. It takes a long time for me to replay what I've just done and fully comprehend what it means. So now I've lost my best friend and probably screwed up any chance I might have had with Natalie. Shit.

But I don't want to get up just yet. It's kind of cosy there in the snow, staring into the sky. It's clear today and the stars're sharp and as little as a pin's head. A frosty cold comes from them and I can already feel the blood on my face freeze. I turn my head a little and try to make out the constellations I've learned as a kid. I make out a few and wonder how far they really are and what's behind them. I keep wondering if there's some kind of a better world orbiting one of those stars. Or maybe there's a little dude lost a blizzard in one of them too, just like me. Maybe he hasn't figured out yet how to ignore the unfair stuff that happens to him every day either. Or maybe he's already found out that the more you try, the more people stab their knives in your back. Maybe he's learned not to hate so much and love so much as I do. Maybe he's reached the red light already, whereas I'm running around it in ellipses, some bringing me closer to it, some farther away. I start remembering how when I was a kid I'd run up to my bedroom and lock myself in every time dad came home. How I'd use all the brainpower I had to ignore the sounds that reached me from down bellow. Dad yelling at mom and mom crying. Sometimes it'd be over soon, other times it would stretch on and on for hours. That's when I took up painting. I didn't have any radio or tv in my room, so there was really nothing else to do to block the horrible sounds out. I still remember the fear I'd have of dad suddenly climbing up the stairs and knocking my door down. The fear I'd have everytime the sounds from downstairs stopped. My hands'd shake like hell and all I'd be able to think about was be how to get out, how to run so far he'd never find me again. I used to wonder if I could jump out of the window if he made it in. Or what would happen to mom if I left. There was a time when I used to think all the quarrels they had were because of me. Because I wasn't the son dad wanted to have. I wasn't weak, but I was never really interested in any sports and never looked for fights. I sometimes wonder about that even now, even though I've managed to turn the fear into hatred over time. I guess memories keep haunting me a little more than they should. And I keep running and running until they find me cornered in some dark forsaken alley in my brain and make me relive them. All.

The stars before my eyes suddenly get covered in a hot mist and I pass my hand over my vision not to see anymore. In the darkness I hear footsteps nearing me. They grow louder and louder the closer to me they get. Finally they just stop a few feet from my head. I keep my hand over my eyes not to see as if I hoped that by some miracle the person wouldn't see me either. I try to still my wild heartbeat not to be heard. Maybe if I led things to perfection for once, the heartbeat'd simply disappear and I'd cease to exist. I wonder what it feels like to die. Maybe death by freezing isn't so terrible. Maybe you don't even feel the cold shutting down your system. Maybe all you're finally left with is the pair of your eyes, which can stare on until the last moment, and then glaze over. But I don't want to see the last moment. I'm too afraid of seeing Death bending over me.

"Shawn?" I hear Death whisper to me. I didn't know it'd sound so much like a question, but maybe Death's surprised at me deciding to die so soon. Am I supposed to answer, say something? Or is it just a rhetorical question to which I'm supposed to nod. So I use whatever energy I still have to nod. The snow close to my ear crunches a little and I can feel Death hovering over me. Maybe he wants to make sure it's really me but doesn't see me across the hand. Do I have the courage to remove it, look him in the eyes? Can't he just take me as I am?

"What're you doing here?" Death asks me again. Only maybe it isn't him after all. He has a voice of someone I know, or someone I should know. I remove my hand from where it is and look up into the eyes of Natalie.

"Are you coming to take me?" I whisper. She looks at me long and then nods.