For a friend.
Part One - Masochists Anonymous.
"Hi, my name is Aidan Thanos and I am a masochist.
The first time I cut myself, it was with a two-inch black pocket knife. Stainless steel, too. I thought I would taste the blood to see if it was any different than that of a paper cut or a busted lip, but it still had the same iron-like taste to it. I watched as all the crimson red blood flooded from each gash in my body like a little kid watches his favorite cartoon--motionless. I would blink every so often, my speech was very limited, I had a sigh of relief occasionally, and the blood was staining my carpet. I have always been one to inflict pain on myself."
I then sat down in the circle of about seven or eight people all sitting in identical black folding chairs. After I sat down, a man jumped into the middle of the circle looking at me.
"Thank you Aidan," he said with a bold, confident voice. "Won't you tell us more about yourself, now?"
Part Two - Aidan Thanos.
"I was born in Kokomo, Indiana. I do not have any brothers or sisters. Growing up was tough watching my father murder my mother and then turn the gun on himself. That's pretty much all I can remember about my seven year stay with with people in my family. The cops that showed up found me drenched in blood; absolutely covered. The officer pulled me aside and spoke in a quiet voice to me. 'Son, if you want to be taken to a foster home, you're going to have to get cleaned up first.' I had cried so much before I got there that all I could do was sit in silence. It's not that I didn't want to tell them what happened, it's that I couldn't. I never got adopted. I guess children that had witnessed murder and suicide aren't important enough for a home, so once I hit eighteen they let me move out of the foster home. Thankfully, I had a nice inheritance from my father's side of the family. I found a nice apartment and one of the fellow orphans who I had grown close to moved in with me. We were both pretty cozy inside a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment. When I moved into the foster home, they asked me if I had any interests. It wasn't until the age of ten where I got into music and they used some of my inheritance money to pay for a guitar for me. That's the only thing that has kept my sanity throughout these eleven years. I decided that I wouldn't dry out my inheritance and would only use it for emergencies, so I needed a source of income and got my first job working at Guitar Center."
I paused and took a deep breath before sitting back down. The guy who kept asking me to stand and announce my life to the entire room had a name tag. Kendrick in perfect cursive. I could tell he wasn't intimidated by my spiked hair standing about seven inches tall. I'm certain he was fascinated with the faded pink color soft on the eyes.
"I will hopefully see all of you next Tuesday in this same warehouse at about 7:30. Goodnight, everyone," Kendrick announced. He then dismissed us. "Aidan. Would you mind staying after a little bit? I was wondering if I could discuss a few things with you."
Part Three - It Gets Me By.
I stood there contemplating running out as fast as I could or finding out what he had to say. I know this is only the second group session I have been to, but it seems like he was picking on me asking me about my life. I turned around just as I was about to walk out the door and saw his eyes meet mine.
"Could I possibly meet with you at a later time? I am running a bit late right now."
As soon as the final syllable left my mouth, I turned and ran out the warehouse door without looking back to see if he was going to respond. My feet flailing behind me, eating pavement, it felt like I was running from death itself. I continue to run until I can barely breathe. I sit at the bus stop and wait patiently for the bus. I need a little bit of pain but I don't want to create a scene in the middle of the city. I then decide to torture myself mentally.
"You are the scum of the earth. You are an idiot. You are a prisoner to yourself. You are the monkey and the organ grinder. You dance like the puppet you are."
I look around to see if anyone is around me. Quick glance left. Quick glance right. Quick glance behind me. "Looks clear," I think out loud. I need a little bit of something to subdue the mental torture right now. I punched my face so hard that I heard my nose crack and I can now wiggle a few teeth with my tongue.
Part Four -Backstabber.
I stand up from off the ground I fell back onto and dust myself off. Swishing the juices in my mouth around for a bit, I spit red out onto the dirty ground.I bend down and see a solid white piece and realize it's a tooth. Boss won't be too happy with my appearance, but he knows better than to fire me. I am proud to be the employee of the month four moths in a row and I will continue to keep up sales if they keep me happy. I look to the left and see the bus approaching. The doors open with the sound only similar to nails on a chalkboard. Three people stumble off the bus, none recognizable. After the last person got off, I was hesitant to get on. As if I knew something were bound to happen. I just needed to get home. I stood very near to the back where there were not so many people.
As the bus slows to where I get off at, I feel a slight prod in my back. I start to turn around and I hear a dark voice mutter to me, "Don't turn around if you want to ever walk again."
I walked off the bus with this mysterious character behind me. He was very tall and lanky. Long limbs. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. It was a steady pace. I could tell he didn't have a gun to my back because it was very pointed, more like a knife. The first step off the bus gave me the advantage of a head start. Left foot first, I started running to my apartment. Hopefully Riley would be home.
Part Five - Riley Grayson.
My head twisted around in the most uncomfortable way to see if this guy was still behind me. I slowed to a brisk walk still glancing behind me. The only thing remotely close to following me was a plastic bag caught in the wind. I was almost back to the apartment. I wasn't sure if the flibbertigibbet, Riley, would be home.
The door normally isn't locked if he is home, but there are some occasions. I attempt to open the door and then dig for my key. I try the door once more and it opens this time. I call out to Riley hoping for a response. He is a great friend, band mate, and the closest thing to family I have. "Riley?" I call again. I walk to where his room is and hear the cat meowing from inside his room. I opened the door only to find Riley lying face down on his bed. I shake him conscious.
"Aidan? What time is it?" Riley questions as he is opening his eyes. "Is there something going on?"
I never understand how he always knows there is something wrong with me. "Nothing really. Just hoping that we could have a little band practice, maybe?" I watch as Riley rolls out of bed and walks to the fridge in the kitchen full of miscellaneous energy drinks.
Part Six - Slow Breath--One, Two, Three.
"I'm just so tired of living. I don't want to kill myself only because the pain is so amazing. I get so close to death and feel how great the trip to it is. Soon enough I will go to the extreme and just kill myself. The pain won't be enough. I'm tired of the drama around me. The people never know when to leave me alone. It's one big giant snowball effect. One thing gets the ball rolling, and every one else's shit just adds to the fire."
I need a life. I need to get away from writing my own problems on the internet. I want to travel the world, but I know the entire time, I will be thinking, "This would be great for my people to read." Or, "This is a nice picture for my website." I need to get away from all of this drama, these people, these lies. I need a way out of my life. I need, I need, I need. Not only do I need, but I want. I am a greedy bastard.
This all goes right into the already massive snowball.
"Going on a road trip.
--Aidan."
I tape it to the fridge.
Part Seven - Signs.
I don't think I'm leaving too much behind for now. Just a few songs with and unknown band consisting of me and Riley. I could be gone less than a week and make it back in time for the clinic with Kendrick and everyone else. But where can I go? I can't go back to Kokomo because there is nothing left there for me. Mom and Dad wanted to be cremated and have his ashes scattered over the Pacific Ocean. It was in his will according to the attorney, but I was too young to understand what those things meant. She told me in simple words that a seven year-old could understand, "When you are old enough, you will have all the money your parents ever had!" and then she gave me a smile. I couldn't tell you what color her hair was, or if she had gaps in her teeth, but I do remember the softest blue eyes. They were so gentle and I swear I saw the ocean in them.
That moment, I realized that's where I needed to go. The Pacific Coast is what was calling to me. My parents ashes, the attorney's eyes, and a chance to think about life.
I packed lightly for the few days I would be gone. A drive from Colorado to California's Pacific Coast. I grabbed my keys to my Ford Explorer and walked out the door, silently closing it not to disturb my neighbors. I started the car and drove west.
Part Eight - Dearly Departed.
One thousand miles. Fifteen hours. Hundreds of dollars worth of gas. A few days ought to do me some good. I grabbed the black , one hundred sixty gigabyte, iPod from out of my backpack in the passenger seat and plugged it into the stereo and let it play through any and all the songs in my library. The first artist, cooing to me through the vibrations of the sub woofer safely positioned in the backseat, was Rainer Maria. Caithlin's voice was calming my thoughts with her soft tone and her steady bass lines vibrating against my back; Kyle's guitar riffs putting me in my own trance; William's drumming keeping my racing thoughts in time. Thoughts like my childhood and the future were standing out more than any of the others. They were going by so fast that my mind couldn't process them.
I put my focus back on the road so I wouldn't get into a car crash this early in the morning. As I noticed the few cars that had passed me or that I had passed, I then realized I could ease up on my tension. I scrolled through the artists and once the highlighted area was over Tool, I went to settings and turned on shuffle. I stared down the blackened highway with the few red lights that meant they were leaving, and scarce amounts of white lights that meant the were coming. I was with the red lights. I was leaving for now.
Part Nine - You Are Now Entering Love.
Somewhere between the Utah-Nevada border and the Nevada-California border, my thoughts started scaring me. I never thought about the future so hard until I was alone in a car for several hours. I was never one to cry about being alone, but I have come to realize that when I'm around others, I often act happier, without trying. All I can think is the fact that I'm always going to be alone. With no one to ever tell me every thing is okay. There is hope, granted, it's most likely false hope, but I wish so much that someone will give me this sort of hope.
The sign screams, "California." The sign shows a bear. The sign welcomes me to its home. My eyes beg for rest. My body pleads for energy or sleep. I pull into a Starbuck's parking lot. The moment I walk in the door, my eyes snap open to the aroma of love. My muscles tense slightly as I catch the glance of a beautiful dark-haired woman. My heart skips a beat and I cough as it tries to jump back on beat. The moment my eyes left the dark-haired woman, I couldn't think straight. The cashier in his cute, green apron asked me what I wanted and I pointed out the woman behind me. He chuckled it off and asked me again.
"Surprise him."
The voice makes me melt. I don't know who it is, but the cool breath on my neck wants me to believe it's her. Goosebumps. I turn around and see her standing there. Her eyes smiling at me. Her hair caught in the breeze from the air conditioning above us. Her short stature and lush lips. Everything about her, teasing me.
I get a nudge from the guy whose name tag read 'Randall' telling me my drink was ready. My feet don't wait just long enough for me to grab the hot beverage before I'm dragged to the fuzzy chair. The woman follows me to the crowded area.
"The name's Jezebel, in case you were wondering."
My heart skips another beat.
Part Ten - The Chase Begins.
Posed to death in the comfortable chair, I think. I think about all the things in my life that have gone wrong and if this Jezebel woman is here to make things worse, if there is such a thing. She stares at me with her her deep brown eyes, beautiful smile, her perfect teeth. I'm sure she knows my thoughts are revolving around her. She doesn't even know my damn name. I know hers. I don't know what I'm drinking, but it tastes perfect, just like the woman before my eyes.
I drift off into a land of perfection. My father is playing basketball with me and my wife is in the kitchen cooking with my mom. I see the kids playing hopscotch in the driveway. I'm standing in the middle of the basketball court driveway like a spirit figure. The basketball flies through my face and I don't even flinch.
I drift back to reality with a splash of hot to my face. I didn't feel like wearing my drink, but Jezebel thought it would be funny to wake me up with the scolding hot coffee. I know it was her because she is giggling right in front of my face holding my cup.
"Let me show you around."
Does she know I'm foreign to this state? Does she know I'm falling for her?
She dangles my keys in front of her and runs out the door. Sure enough, I follow.
Part Eleven - What Are Friends For?
My face crashes through the windshield of an innocent car. I feel the blood run down my forehead, slowly to my lips. Still, that same iron taste. The ooze of blood down my cheeks reminds me of the nights I spent trying to sleep, stabbing my arms with the sharpest object available. My eyes start to flutter trying to get the shards of glass out of my eyes. The sharp stabbing pain leaves my eye, revealing to me that I got most of the glass out. I'm ripped out from the windshield by the collar of my shirt so hard that I hear the tear and feel the burn on my neck. As my back slams into the lamp post, I can't help but notice how beautiful the weather is on this dreadful night. I exhale and see every last part of my breath. The man standing in front of me is steaming. His body heat from beating the shit out of me creates this fog that impairs my vision. I can't see in front of me, but that just might be the windshield in my eyes. Everything has the volume turned down. All I can hear is the contact of his fist to my face.
From the sidelines, I can hear a woman cheering this heavy hitter on. Her beautiful voice still sustaining itself in my ears from a few hours prior. I can't believe she would trick me like this. Luring me out here just for a good ass kicking. It feels great, but I almost feel like this guy is trying to kill me.
I've swallowed three teeth and multiple ounces of blood. My sides are swollen from my broken ribs. There are still a couple fragments of glass in my eyeballs that will need to be surgically removed. My once white shirt is now a chalky red that only dry blood would create. I feel a nudge from my left side and it's this same bulky figure that was just beating me to a bloody pulp moments ago handing me beer. He smiles without a single scratch on his face. I couldn't feel anymore pathetic. On my right side, I have a beautiful dark-haired woman inches from my cheek about to kiss me. I don't how she could kiss me, I must look worse than a masochist left alone in the cutlery section of the supermarket.
"We'd make a great pair. You, one that loves pain; me, one that loves hurting others," the stocky guy throws me a smile and punches me into Jezebel's lap.