We start to walk down 3rd Street and I am getting confused as it becomes a familiar area. He said he didn’t have plans on where we were going. His grip on my hand is heavier than before and my heart beats faster. I have the same feeling that I did before we picked up that man. Look how that turned out; watching my lover get fucked violently in the ass only to be reverted back to the abused younger version of himself, a complete and total wreck. I think it broke me just as much because part of me is him. Maybe I should trust my gut, intuition, whatever it is called. I want to talk to him, to ask him where we are going, but the words won’t come out.
Fear has the upper hand again and I can’t understand why. It grips my tongue and prevents me from asking so many questions. I see the place we visited previously, its shiny vintage awning wrapping around the corner of the building. There are several buses parked on the side of the building and my pace ceases. Welch tries to continue to walk, yanking my arm.
“What are you doing?” I snap, forcing myself to speak.
“Don’t be afraid, sweet girl. You are strong. So strong. You can lead a beautiful life in Portland…” he pulls again, the moonlight illuminating the beauty of his face.
He offers me a smile. A smile that says so many things, but mostly one that is telling me goodbye.
“What the fuck is this?” I cry, letting the tears that I used to hide from and fear fall from my eyes.
I try to free my hand from his, but he is too strong for me. The cuts on my palm burn furiously as he squeezes harder. This is another tug-of-war, one of farewell. I cry more and more with each passing second as I welcome the pain in my hand, feeling the warmth of the blood cut opening up as the scab is unearthed.
“Let me go!” I cry.
“I am trying, sweet girl.”
Oh God, that isn’t what I meant. Not at all. He can’t make me get on a bus. I won’t let him. No fucking way. I will run, fight, and follow him until death. I told him that I won’t say any goodbyes unless it was with him. I can’t fathom saying goodbye to him. I will go crazy. There isn’t a way that I can function without him. I will turn into a raging lunatic and a worthless being to society.
“Why are you doing this? Why?” I cry louder.
“Shhh, please,” he begs, trying to pull me closer into him.
I relent. I’m angry. I pull my small body back, bending my knees as he has a hard hold on my bleeding hand. He peers into my eyes, but I look away. I can’t. I can’t do this. He can’t make me. We don’t do anything without each other. Ever.
“That isn’t what I meant!” I scream, not realizing the loudness of my voice.
I hear the purring of an engine behind me in the distant night, but everything in the world is forgotten as I am faced with Welch wanting to let me go. This hurts worse than anything else. I bend down, letting my body sink as my bottom hits the bitter cold concrete of the side street. My loud sobs echo loudly.
“Shhh, Gwen,” he whispers.
Gwen, a name he uses when he is angry. Great, so now he is angry before we leave each other. A less than blissful goodbye is the last thing that my broken heart and soul needs. I fall back like an abused ragdoll. He can’t drag me into the fucking bus station. My lungs feel constricted and breathing is getting harder and harder to do. He doesn’t give up his grip on my tattered hand.
“Gwen,” he seethes.
Angry. Be angry at me. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care about anything. I refuse to let him go. How can he want to let me go?
“This is your last chance to get away and be free, Gwen. Go to Portland,” he says.
I look up at him as he stands over me. No. No, I won’t do it. I won’t let him send me away. I won’t let myself be thrown into another city only to be eaten alive. Fuck, this goddamn city is small and I already feel more broken. I can’t survive without him. I choose death.
“No!” I shout, feeling my chest and throat burn from the loudness of my scream.
The once purring of the engine in the distance turns into a roar as I hear a shriek of sirens. Welch’s grip loosens.
“Police. Run, Gwen. Run!”
I look at him one last time, steadying myself on the backs on my hands, welcoming the tearing on my injured palm. The police sirens get more intense and everything starts moving in slow motion. Welch turns on his heels and I jump to my feet, allowing the fight or flight response to take over. Adrenaline is coursing through every vein and feeding all the cells of my body. I only have one mission.
To die or get away with Welch.
My arms move in perfect synchrony with my feet and I feel high as the wind kisses my cheeks, feeding my lungs as I pant more to feed my body with oxygen. Welch is steps ahead of me as he darts across the street, making it to the other side. I don’t take in my surroundings; there is only one thing on my mind.
Him.
I follow his path as I see him across the street, slowing his pace briefly until I cross. The adrenaline I once appreciated is dwindling and is being replaced with something else. Darkness creeps over my body, hardening itself into an impermeable shell. I scream, reaching my arms out for Welch as I hear the sirens burst into my eardrums.
I’m shattering because the dread is returning and I am not sure what that means. Fear of being separated, caught, and the world not showing mercy. The Earth is not capable of having valor and understanding of the events that have plagued us. My hearing is stabbed more and all I can see is Welch, turned around on the other side of the street, wide-eyed.
Slow motion, everything is happening at a snail’s pace and I am confused. I feel like I should be running, moving and into Welch’s arms long gone away from the shrieking sirens of the police car, but I am fixed. My legs won’t budge as I am stuck in the middle of the street.
Suddenly, I am greeted by an old friend; intense, severe pain as the feeling of the hard steel from the car meets my body. My eyes aren’t taken away from Welch as he mouths something to me with his arms out, grief washing over his face. I want to run to him. To comfort him like I did all those times before when he was sad. But I can’t move. All I feel is overwhelming rigid aching all over my body. I won’t let myself look at anything else except him.
My boy.
My monster.
My savior.
My lover.
My all.
Then I fly high, up into the air as the pain consumes me and I can’t breathe. My heart continues to beat, but I can’t hear the once annoying and loud sirens of the police car. Is this the end? Am I free, free at last? Have I gained angel wings? Has God finally taken mercy upon me and dipped His hands down, taking me for His? No! I can’t leave Welch. I open my mouth to yell for him, but my words fail me as I float flawlessly in slow motion in the dark, cold night. Is this death or have I gone mad?
It’s interrupted violently as I meet something cold and solid with my hearing returning with punishment. Every part of my body hurts and I can’t move, feeling the warmth of something rushing out of all parts of me as the life is sucked away. The crunching of something hurts my head and the hardness beneath me is unbearable on my back. Welch’s screams of terror fill the bleakness of the night. I can’t see anything except the black hole above me. With each blink of my eyes, the black hole seems more appealing. Confusion washes over me as I try to comprehend what happened. I feel myself slipping away from this life that I fought for, one that I wished for with Welch.
A warm hand touches mine, bringing me back to the edge of holding on. Pain and the warmth of someone’s touch is what makes me realize this is real life, not a dream, not a nightmare… this is real.
“Sweet girl, no!” Welch sobs as I feel the softness of the lips that I always admired press onto my hand.
Pain sears through me, but I don’t mind. His blissful touch takes me back to the devotion that we shared. I come to the realization that even though I lived through perdition, I got a glimpse of heaven between it all and found love through wickedness. How beautiful that is. I close my eyes
and for the first time I feel at peace, understanding that this is a fight I may not win.
His hand is torn away from mine and the peace that I welcomed is gone instantly. I want to scream out for him, to have Welch along my side as I say goodbye to this horrible world, because I told him any goodbye would be sweet as long as we say it together.
I see a police officer stoop over me.
“Hold on, you’re going to be alright. Just hold on.”
I look into his eyes and see softness. No, no, that can’t be. The world is mean and evil. I close my eyes, focusing on the pain and the rush of heat leaving my body. My bones hurt and my soul is damaged beyond repair. I’m ready to be done with the fight as it becomes more difficult to move my chest to breathe.
My heart slows and the pain starts to ease. I don’t see or hear anything until my body becomes completely numb. The aching is gone and before I succumb to the black hole that is calling my name, I say a prayer. One of hope…
For my boy.
My monster.
My savior.
My all.
May he find peace from the devils that have chased him for far too long. May he find solace through the pain that has consumed his great heart and I wish for him to find someone beautiful to love him more than I loved him.
I let go of the past. The pain. And the love that I had with my boy as the black hole wraps itself around me, hugging my body and making me feel safe. Everything else goes blank as I feel something that I have searched for since my parents died.
Complete and total harmony.
Limbo: a transitional state of unknowing
Punished. I am being punished for being such a bad girl. How silly of me to think I would make it to heaven after deceiving so many; after taking the lives of two people, whether they deserved it or not. I took fate into my own hands when I gripped that knife and sliced away their body parts as well as their lives.
Hell.
This is hell. I am basking in eternal madness for all of the awful things that I have done. There is nothing but a black hole of pain surrounding me. I want to push it away but it is far too strong. Something that I thought I could let go of when I allowed the black hole to swallow me whole courses through me with vigor and it is too much for me to handle.
Anger. Pure, pitting insanity.
I want to thrash, hurt, kill, and discover the awfulness of the world and show them what they deserve, but confusion is all that surrounds me. I see nothing, but feel too much. This is my retribution for the fire I presented to the world, being thrown into a forgotten society to wreak havoc and cause more chaos, more hell…
Madness. I’m untamed, begging to allow the claws and teeth to destroy something, someone, or anyone because I let myself go. Stupid me thinking that something as simple as letting go would provide me with eternal peace. Instead, I am bathed with terrible feelings of scary, creepy things that hurt and destroy.
Penance isn’t for you, little girl, a scary voice calls out from the dark. Insane. I am crazy while living with the devils of the world because after taking two away from the Earth, I didn’t see that I, too, became one.
I am a devil too.
I see a light in the distance and I want to chase it, hoping for a second chance because giving up wasn’t the right choice. Second chances aren’t given to mad little girls like me, though are they? My lips burn like they have been sewn shut tightly with a needle and thick thread. I have been sworn to secrecy, accepting death and becoming another silent one; an overlooked one, not being able to tell my story. Whether people would have believed it or not is another question.
It’s too late. My lips are sealed and my heart is broken as I am surrounded by the villains that I loathed so much before. Their echoes are tantalizing me with fear and betrayal, haunting me for the choice that I made.
Giving up and giving in. Nothing is what it seems, little girl. Your mind is merely a façade, a mirroring image of what you wish. You wanted love and peace, but you get sharp, shiny, painful blades that take lives and wicked nightmares for the rest of eternity. We live here, in your head. Always and forever. Nothing is what it seems, little girl. Nothing is what it seems, little girl, a dark voice continues to chant in my brain.
The demons overtake my thoughts as I float along in a nothingness of pain and punishment. It’s true. The mind is nothing but a reflecting copy of what it craves. It deceived me until I made the decision to let go only to be greeted by the darkness. The hate. The pain.
Forever I am stuck in hell as I am faced with what I want; a life away from agony. I see a glimmer of light in the distance and I want to grasp onto memories of my boy, my monster, my savior, my all, but the devils won’t let me. My heart and mind are far too weak for them. I hear them laughing in the distance again as their repeats come closer, making me explode with terror.
It’s all your fault, you little cunt. You made him want you. You enjoyed it when he fucked you in every situation. You came when he got fucked harshly in the ass by the man who made your pussy wet when he took his shirt off. I am always with you, studying you, looking and watching, taking notes for your judgment day. You are not better than a whore worthy of nothing more than an eternity of pain.
I bet if you could feel more than pity and agony for yourself, that cunt would be dripping wet right now. Yes, it would, little girl. You were born for this, to end up here. You were made to be taken away from the sweet little life and thrown into the pits of darkness to show your teeth and claws of hate. You used it to your advantage. You enjoyed it. You got off on it.
Such a pathetic little slut. Too bad you can’t be raped here in your own personal hell just to be shown that is what you were made for; to enjoy it.
Fucking whore.
Fucking slut.
Worthless, fucking cunt. I bet these words turn you on, don’t they, little girl? You thought your story was going to end happily. I cackle at the thought. No, no, little girl. You are no better than the rest of the devils that live here in your head, in hell.
Get used to this. It is a constant cycle of chants to you that will never stop. You accepted what you thought you deserved.
Peace.
But what you failed to realize is that nothing is what it seems, little girl. You can’t fight it. You are trapped here and there is no way out. Ever. Now, let’s dream a little dream, shall we? Let’s play a scene within your head, raping your mind. Perhaps the devils of your mind will allow you to enjoy it for moments. Come on and play, little girl. Play along as your mind gets raped while your worthless little cunt drips with need.
I want to cry, scream, and beg for mercy. I’m scared beyond measure, but I am given no other choice but to believe what the beasts are telling me; that I am a devil. I deserve to be here to be punished for the rest of my days for choosing my own goddamn fate. I can’t cry for help as my lips remained sewn shut. I want someone to show me pity, but the vibes from my heart are withheld by something stronger than steel as I continue to float along in my own personal hell restrained by the memories, the images, the times that I thought were love.
But the brutes tell me it wasn’t love. They tell me that I convinced the boy otherwise. My mind was disloyal to me. How stupid of me to think that I was a good person, despite the murder part. What else is not what it seems? I want help, but the voices in my own head won’t stop their mantras until I break down completely and give in.
Feeling so terrible about oneself for eternity is maddening. That is what I deserve as I watch the light dim away, being sucked into the darkness. The pity I crave dissipates as the demons continue their chants. They know exactly when I will break.
Something painful is strapped to my wrists. I couldn’t feel my hands before. Maybe this is part of my punishment as I watch the movie of my life play about in my mind. I’m pulled about in a million different directions as I try to scream out from the aching in my core. I break the stitches from my mouth free and let out a blood-curdling scream as I watch the blackness b
reak like shards of glass, melting into a million tiny pieces.
Bright lights surround me as the pain from the villains sits on my shoulder, reminding me that the hell I wallow in is what I deserve. Their repeated echoes become more distant as the light becomes brighter and brighter. I fight to find my hands to cover my eyes, but the tightness around them is too great for my weak, worthless soul.
I reach deep down into the darkened heart that I once had and dig out the uncontrolled girl that begs to rise to the surface to fight through and understand what all this means. I let out another loud scream and feel an unbearable burning sensation in the back of my throat. The grisly scene flashes into something different and I am beyond confused.
Is this all part of their game? This is cruel, so cruel.
The florescent lights above me flicker on and off as I am forced to remain in this stationary position. The sensation that I lacked so much before returns as I feel my head wanting to explode like a ton of dynamite. I try to move my hands but they are stuck at my sides as something burns into my skin. Am I being prepped for more torture? The blinking lights above coupled with the whiteness surrounding me is too much for my awful soul to bear. My head hurts as my wrists burn.
I roar like a goddamn bear, begging to break out of this torment. I finally find the strength to thrash my head from side to side, seeing part of my pale, thin skin. I throw my head back and laugh like the lunatic that I am. I pull my lips behind my gums to show my teeth and turn my head to my shoulder, biting down into my fragile skin. The hot liquid and taste of blood runs into my mouth and the pain is barely present. Is this real? Is this what they want? I cackle again, bathing my once pink lips with the blood from my self-induced wound. I hope the demons are enjoying their show.
I scream out again as the flickering lights become too much. A rush of commotion disturbs me, tugging me between the hell that I deserve and the reality that I slipped away from. I tell myself again that nothing is what it seems as the loud noises interrupt the twirling thoughts in my head. This is all part of the plan for the rest of my days.
Gwendolyn vs. the Band of Barren Hearts Page 15
