HeatMarie

A single star wavers in the darkness, blurring the boundaries between the physical world and phantoms that haunt me. It threatens my mind, making me wonder if the monsters are mere figments or something far more real. The star’s light draws me in with a strange allure, connecting us to a secret that not even the darkness can understand. In those moments, it distracts me from the monsters, and I feel a fleeting sense of happiness and… or is it pure pleasure? 

Despite those feelings I know I will fall. I walk an inch from the ledge, with the monsters always lurking–close enough to sense, yet not close enough to see. I sense their eyes on me as I watch clouds move across the sky. I know all too well that wishing and begging for the clouds to leave the star alone is an unavailing effort. Yet, what is life if there is no hope? And I do hope, up until the clouds block out the star’s light and claws scratch against my skin before I feel the heavy hand of fate shoving me over the edge. 

Sometimes, I’ve found the strength to catch myself before the depths of the darkness’s silence consumed me. This time I fell-harder, faster, further. 

Letting out a curse, my mind yells as it tells me I should have been paying more attention. But here I am scratching my fingers at every rock and limb until my hand brushes against a thick branch with its roots well mounted into the rock wall. I cling to it, knowing failure would mean losing all hope.

I feel those eyes again. Getting closer, and closer, and closer. The dark figure looks over the edge, “If only you were a bit more careful.” It says to me. It’s what they all say! Every one of them. But what do they know? After all, they’re monsters, aren’t they? Or is it I who is the monster? Hanging from the branch I forget which is the truth. Hell, I don’t even remember which of us is real. Reality is distorted in the darkness, filling the gaps in my mind with illusions that warp my senses.

This is it, this is the end, I’m too high up this time. Fuck, how could I be so stupid? My thoughts raced as I gripped the branch tighter. Stop it, you’ve been here before. You know what to do. You just have to solve the puzzle. Find something else to cling onto and pull yourself up. 

I hold on for a long time, analyzing my situation. The clouds refuse to let the star shine its light and in the darkness it’s hard to tell what my options are. I glance at shadows, depths of darkness. But still there is no concrete way back to the top.

My body grows weak as the monster stares down from above. He laughed as I cried for help. “Aww, poor thing, you look to be struggling.” 

“I wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you! I could have made it! I could’ve!”

“So you say, but I have given you plenty of chances. You know that, I know that. And we both know, you deserve this.”

“What do you know? You’re just a monster!” I scream.

“Am I now? I wouldn’t call myself that.”

I shot him a look–disgust, frustration, confusion. It could have been all the above.

“Now, don’t go giving me that look. After all, it’s really you who is the monster. You know you deserve this. But…” He gave a small shrug before leaning forward and holding out a hand. I didn’t think twice before grabbing it and I sighed with relief as his firm grip clung onto mine. I hung on, trusting nothing but the hand in mine. And in that moment I realized he was right. No monster would ever hold out their hand to save a life. Not if it meant risking their own. What do monsters know about compassion? I looked at his dark horns and black eyes, and thought I could see the kindness hidden beneath soot. I shook my head and tried to use my strength in his hand to get me back onto solid ground. 

“I told you, you should have been more careful.” My mind snapped back–I was holding the monster’s hand. But what do monsters know? They don’t know compassion, or love, they only live to feed on someone else’s pain, and misery. Am I the one who is the monster? I forget which is the truth. Hell, I don’t even remember which of us is real, as reality is distorted in the darkness.

His grip grew tighter and his claws broke into my skin, drawing blood. 

I should have known I had a better chance to outlast him. I should have trusted my strength, my mind. But his thoughts were like roaches infesting every part of me and then, I felt the grip of his hand release and I saw that evil grin.  

And then everything spun. I fall harder than I ever have before.

He didn’t mean to let go? Did he? He couldn’t have. It was me, I didn’t have the strength to hold on. I struggled too much; I took too much time. It’s amazing the amount of thoughts you have as you fall into a dark chasm.

Highway to Hell plays through the car’s speakers. It’s a disgusting amplification periphrasis to the hazed red sky that hung over the ash covered trees. The bridges that burn away from the acid rain, begin to crumble to the ground. I watch out the window and hold on to my numb emotions. It doesn’t matter, nothing matters. Desolation is all this place is. 

I turned my gaze from the window to the man dressed in a white suit. His omnipresence was a contradictory statement to the world outside.

“This is where you are headed.” His soft gentle words broke everything inside. I did not break from fear, I broke from the guilt, the hurt, the shame. An image of me appears: I hold up my phone and see a message, I don’t answer. The phone rings and I pick it up, “He’s dead,”. The image changes, I send a message on my phone, “Sorry I can’t tonight.”. The phone rings, “she’s dead”. I say out loud, “You’re going to do what you’re going to do, clearly my love for you isn’t enough to stop you.” I end the call then it rings, I pick up the phone, “She’s dead.”

I collapse to the floor, begging, pleading, “Please don’t go! Don’t leave! When people leave they don’t come back! No one ever comes back!” The truth and pain sting, and the guilt overflows as tears wash down my soot covered cheeks. I was a terrible person–I am… Am I still that person? I thought I killed her long ago, but if that was the case then why does everyone continue to leave? To find the answer to any problem you must always find the common denominator. And that is me. So yes, I deserve this. I deserve this hell.

There is no man in white, no music playing, there are only my thoughts in the darkness.  I can’t stop my mind from wandering. Realizing that I am the monster makes it hard to let the idea go. 

“Take a deep breath, it’s going to hurt a little bit.” I look up to the voice off in the distance and there I see the star emerging from behind the clouds. I do as it says, and feel my body relax even as the pinching pain surges through my body. “That’s it, now another.” I follow its steps, doing everything it suggests. I gaze at the light, dazed, as it whispers, “Now tell me a story.”