This, too, shall pass

“Hi there! Long time, no see,right? But that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here now. And, truth to be told, I’ve never been so happy to see you, dear friend. I have so many things to tell you, so much to get off my chest. I truly missed the freedom of our conversations. Oh, sorry! Maybe you want to say something, too, and here I am, just rambling endlessly. You can interrupt me at any point if you’d like to speak to me.”

He falls silent, waiting for his conversational partner to say something. He awaits in silence, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Good minutes pass by without any answer. So he proceeds.

“I appreciate you letting me finish what I had to say first. Thanks! For real. Nobody else… Dude, they all just never listen. Like, truly listen. No… everyone only cares about themselves, the selfish bastards! But you are not like them, my friend. You listen. You get me every bloody time! I owe you the world for this!

“Back to what I was about to tell you… You see, she’s become a total monster. Impossible to stay around. She’s supposed to be the best thing in my life. But she’s tranfotming my life into a living hell. In fact, the only good she’s done this week was bringing me back here, to you. Other than that… she keeps hating on my friends, who just want to help me cope with her, she keeps hating on me for the smallest reasons ever- like not wiping her floors correctly– and she keeps kicking and shouting and yelling and what-not.

“She’s quite a paradox, this woman. I remember she taught me to avoid bad people, people who hurt me. But then, she becomes the bad people and trust me, old pal, if there was something in my power to do, to avoid her, I would oh-so-gladly do it!! But there’s nothing, you see? Ab-so-lu-te-ly no-thing!!”, said the boy, while softly kicking the wall in front of him. He was desperate and hurt and scared and panicked… and lonely. He couldn’t name these emotions, though. He simply felt like crying. Only, he never cried in front of his friends. He wouldn’t really enjoy beginning his career as a professional mourner now, of course. He was a big boy. And big boys never cry. Or… do they?

“They do”, he heard his friend whisper. “So you can, too.”

The boy smiled, mouthed a warm “Thank you!” to his friend and, not being able to hold back his river of tears any longer, he gave in and let it overwhelm him. He was not feeling in his own house… but he knew from all the fairytales that he had read, that “this, too, shall pass”.

***

“ANDY! Get the FUCK out of there and let’s discuss like two responsible, fully grown adults!”

“NO! GO AWAY! I’ve nothing to tell you!”, he screamed back at her through the door, his throat sore from the tears that he was trying not to shed. He knew he was angry. He was almost a grown man now. When he was younger, he would keep telling himself that “this, too, shall pass”. But if anything’s changed, it’s changed for the worse.

“Andy! Don’t do this to me, you ASSHOLE!! You know that any minute I could… I could leave this world… my… my heart problems… ANDY! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!”

But Andy was trying to block out her voice. He was replaying songs in his mind, movie lines, uninteligible sounds. Nothing was working, however. That creature simply wouldn’t shut the hell up and leave him alone.

“H-hey, old pal!”, he whispered desperately. “D-do b-big boys c-cry?”

“Of course they do, Andy”, the well-known voice in the dark told him. “So you can, too.”

Andy let himself slide along the wall behind him, hugged his knees to his chest just the way he used to, when he was a child, hid his face in his palms and let the rage inside him unleash in tiny springs of salty tears down his face.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had always known something was wrong with his mother, but was never able to put his finger on the exact problem. He had, however, a feeling that he would never get to know the answer to this question. Nor to any other question related to his so-called maternal model. He would, or rather could never understand why his mother used to lock him up in their dark, smelly and scary basement when he was a kid. He could never understand why, instead of protecting him, she was the very person who was destroying him.

“Hey there, old freind. I’ve missed you. I don’t think you’ve missed me, though… Nobody ever seemed to be missing me. Anyways. I have to tell someone. So I chose you, because you have always kept my secrets. I have a secret now, too. You see, I borrowed something from a classmate of mine. Here, I’ll show you.”

And he proceeds to search frantically through his pockets, until he finds it: a callibre 9 Beretta.

“ANDY! Can you tell me what the ACTUAL FUCK are you doing in that basement?”

Andy smirks and thinks “Oh, mother, but I’ve been a bad, bad boy and here’s where the bad, bad boys in order to consider what they have done… right?”

“The thing is, old friend, should I use it?I heard that strong men use them. What do you say, dear Darkness?”, he asks, manically laughing through his tears.

“Yes, Andy. They do.”, Darkness replies. “And you can do it, too.”

“Thank you for being here for me when I needed a friend. And thank you for understanding. I was thinking to use it on her. But then I couldn’t live knowing I did this. I also thought I could use it on myself. But I heard that you’re going straight to Hell for this. And you know what? The prospect of an eternity in the company of the Devil still sounds less scarier than God knows how many more years with her.”

He loads the gun, points it to his head and smiles.

“This, too, has passed.”

Published by patryswritings

I am a reader, a writer and a dreamer. I like to believe that I am really good at the first and last thing. However, I don't think that I am the best person to say how good I am at writing. Which is why I'm looking everywhere for feedback. :)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: