Hate Culture - the loss of control. |
The lighting was dim, my eyes barely seeing the table in front of me. The entire room smelled awful, like hell on earth, and I’d been sent there to be punished. The air was humid, tainted with the scent of sweat and cigarettes. A sound of drunken laughter destroyed me. It was the most disgusting thing I’d ever heard. The giggles, the small gurgling noises erupting in the throats of people around me. Human beings. They disgusted me.
The small cloud slowly circling towards the ceiling, from the slowly dying cigarette in my hand, intrigued me greatly. Nicotine was my greatest friend in this inferno, and the smell of it gave me much pleasure.
I took a shallow breath, the movement causing a stabbing sensation close to my heart. My teeth rattled, and my fingers shook as I brought them back to my lips for another drag of my cigarette.
A man not far from me moved to take advantage of the fragile girl at the bar. My mind put her at about fifteen, the man somewhere in his mid thirties, and I had to fight back the urge to vomit.
I took another drag, my eyes moving west, sweeping the room, taking it in. They were on fire, they were burning. They were dried out. I found no hope. Nothing to cling to in my time of need. Someone stabbed me again, I choked, and the smallest sound of a whimper escaped. A ragged breath.
The guy sitting next to me looked over. I ignored him, resisting the urged to beat the smirk off of his face. He fidgeted in his chair, changing so his body faced mine.
“You alright, man?” He asked, smiling horridly, toying with his wristwatch but looking perfectly at ease.
I gave him no reaction, still staring straight ahead.
“Hey, man? You good?” He inquired again, leaning close to me.
Absolutely nothing.
“If you’re…” He began, and moved even closer, looking around him as he went. “If you’re feeling under the weather, I’ve got just the thing to take care of that.”
I closed my eyes, just a few seconds of blindness, fighting back the thoughts erupting in my head. I would’ve given anything for the ability not to think. A familiar itching which I hadn’t felt in over a year came back. I ignored it the best I could.
“Go away” I growled at him, my brain screaming. “Go away or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
He left, still looking at ease, and I took another drag, my fingers shaking more than ever.
Rain was splattering the dark windows, and I struggled to make out the sound of it. I didn’t manage, and I longed for it all to end. My cigarette died, and as I reached for another one the door in front of me opened and the girl from the bar and the man left. She had to lean on him for support.
I lit up the new cigarette and placed my ear to the wooden surface of the table, resting my head. Closing my eyes, I let myself feel for a few seconds, before I opened them again. My breathing eased up, the air tasted colder, and the stabbing stopped.
Drunken laughter still danced around me and so did the humungous roaring of my heart. Older thoughts echoed in my skull, slashing me up inside, making wounds that would later turn to scars.
The sound of a chair scratching the floor reached me as someone sat down next to me.
“WiL?” Nick asked, placing his arms on the table, crossing them with each other, and resting his chin on top of them. “Are you alright?”
“No” I answered him quickly, barely giving him enough time to complete the question. “No, Nick, I am not alright.”
My voice was quieter than a whisper and had he not been less then a couple of inches from me I doubt he would have heard me.
“WiL, I’m sure it’ll be alright.” He whispered back to me, frank as he always has been. “One day, you’ll--“
“No, no it won’t.” I cut him off, closing my eyes again. “Nothing—“
“WiL, listen to me,” Nick persisted and sounding upset, ignoring my statement. “I’ll make it better, alright? I promise, I’ll help.”
“No, Nick, you can’t…” I stopped as my voice broke, swallowing loudly.
“WiL.” He answered me with, sounding panicked. “Just, don’t talk like this.”
I didn’t answer him, keeping my eyes closed.
I fought back the tears I hated, listening to Nick’s calming breaths. Pictures I didn’t want to see burned across my cornea, former smiles. Something that once made me happy now made me suffer.
“I asked her to marry me.” I stated suddenly, quietly, opening my eyes again. “I asked her to marry me, Nick”
“I’m sorry, man.” My best friend answered me, the sincerity in that sentence unmistakable.
“I asked her to marry me.” I whispered again.
“Look, WiL, how horrible it might all seem—“ Nick began.
“How did you find me?” I asked him, my voice distant. My thoughts distant.
“She told me.” Nick said, sounding both cautious and worried.
I closed my eyes.
“It’ll be alright, WiL.” Nick persisted, reaching over and ran his fingers through my hair.
“No, it won’t.”
The sadness disappeared, and all it left to replace it with was hatred.
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