He didn’t know how long it had been

Darker Shades of Fear

(Installment 28)

If you want to find me I'll be
Lost
Lost in this sound and
Lost in this dream
That I've lived, I've breathed
This melancholy sadness
This manic extreme

* * *

He didn’t know how long it had been. Weeks, maybe even months… in Kenny’s mind, at least. As far as he knew, he’d been lying in a half-drunken stupor for years. He knew better than that, though, because he’d have gone through more than five bottles of Jack at this point. He spent his time sprawled out on the decrepit motel bed staring out the window, watching the days give way to nights, rain to snow to sunlight. At first his plan had been to get completely plastered, but he soon abandoned it after memories began to play uncontrollably in his mind. That had been quite painful. He found it much more effective to remain semi-lucid and half conscious. This way, he had some degree of control over himself – or so he liked to believe.

The annoying voice in the back of his head had at first reprimanded him. It had made suggestions, nagged at him and other generally irritating things, but by now it had lost interest and Kenny remained in complete silence, save noises from the world outside his window… that he wasn’t even sure still existed at this point.

You realize that your world has been reduced to four walls and a window?

‘I was wondering where you’d gone off to. Want something to drink?’

… You’re retarded, Kenny.

‘Thank you.’

Do you plan on ever getting off your ass? You’re going to leave an imprint in the mattress at this rate.

He seemed to ponder for a moment. ‘No. No, I don’t think so.’

You need to eat something. You need to put that fucking bottle down and get out of this stupid motel.

‘Not hungry.’

Why are you doing this?! It demanded angrily.

‘…Huh?’

I can’t believe she loved you. I’ll never understand what she saw, how she or anyone else could ever honestly love you.

‘Shut up.’

Look at you. Pathetic. Lying there, wasting away. You know what the best part is? You’re going to drink yourself to death and no one’s going to notice.

‘I said, shut up!’

It continued, despite Kenny’s interruption, you’re going to die in this bed. Nobody will know it until you start to rot and stink up this shit-hole worse than it smells now. They’ll open the door and you’ll be rotting there, looking out the fucking window with a bottle of whiskey, dead as a fucking doornail if you’ll pardon the cliché.

‘Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!’

They won’t even bury you. They’ll burn you to ashes and scatter them somewhere along the New Jersey turnpike so you’ll always remember what filth you really are.

“SHUT UP, GOD DAMNIT!” he screamed, hurling his last bottle of Jack Daniel’s at the nearest wall. “What the hell do you want from me?!” He shouted, too angry to notice that he’d begun to cry.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to keep you alive.

“Just go away! Give me my life back!”

What life?

“The one I had before you!”

I’ve always been with you, Kenny. You just never listened.

“Then I’ll ignore you again!”

You can’t ignore me. You need me. I’m too big a part of you for that now and you know it.

“I don’t fucking need anyone!”

Liar.

“Shut up!”

Liar.

“I hate you!”

Li-ar. It replied in a singsong voice.

Kenny gripped his skull and emitted a guttural howl, feeling his head pounding and heart racing. He thrashed wildly about, knocking over things he hadn’t noticed were there to begin with.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Suddenly, he stopped. He slowly lowered his shaking arms until they hung limply at his sides. He closed his eyes calmly as he caught his breath and it returned to normal. He opened his eyes and took in the sight of the room: a shit-hole it was. An absolute mess. The lamp had fallen over and broken, the bed was rumpled and unmade, there were shards of glass scattered around the floor, and whiskey dripping down the wall that had been hit by the projectile. He simply shrugged and stepped into his shoes before putting on his jacket. He wasn’t going to live like this anymore.

He closed the door quietly and as customary, he never looked back.

It was cold, but he did not feel the chill. He should have, but somehow the sensation failed to register in him. He didn’t know where or what season it was, but he did know that it was nighttime. He’d watched the sunset calmly, feeling a pseudo sense of peace. He drank in the sight of the sky. It was by no means extraordinary, but taking another drag he realized that it was appropriate given the circumstances. He stared at the sky for some time, how long he was not certain in the least. He watched the stars come out and shine high above him. It was nice here, wherever he was. Outside that stupid city of diseased pollutants. He didn’t have any kind of light, only the weak flame from his lighter that was used only to light up when he’d smoked the whole thing.

He liked the sky. It was so big. Like a huge blue blanket filled with happy, shiny things… like diamonds or… something. He laughed out loud for a moment; a full hearty laugh so rich with life that he could hardly believe it was his own. It was, and this only inspired a long fit of laughter, which he indulged in.

Once his laughter had subsided, he sighed with a smile still on his lips as he laid back and took in the overwhelming sight of the universe. He began to hum softly a little tune he made up as he went along. Improvisation was the key. It was they key to everything, really. It was one of the reasons he liked jazz so much, or at least he reasoned that this was so. Notes that constantly changed and rhythms that flowed or jumped into an entirely different melody, pieces of music that faded into silence, exploded in a grand finale, or simply just stopped depending on the preference of the artist. It was what made it so beautiful. So absolutely extraordinary.

He sighed softly and sat up slowly. He took one last panoramic view of the scenery and decided that everything was finally right. He collected himself and opened the old shed door. It creaked as he did so, signifying its age. No one had ever bothered to paint it. The wood was weathered and worn, but smooth. It was a grayish sort of color now, though he hadn’t a clue if it had ever been any other. He decided that he really didn’t care and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

He sat static, staring blankly at wall across from him. Not that it was an interesting focal point at all, but it all looked the same by now. He really wasn’t paying attention to anything. His mind was so far gone at this point he might as well have been considered comatose. This had been his goal, and things were going according to plan. Had he the energy or level of consciousness to understand and remember, he would have been terribly pleased.

Not paying attention in the slightest, Kenny’s hands absentmindedly began to roll another joint until he realized that he only had enough for one more. He stopped, and stood up with the help of a wall. He stumbled across the floor and was able to open the can he needed without much effort. He smiled at this, and began to pour the contents onto the floor. He doused the walls clumsily, and with another can made sure to get the outside as well. When he was finally satisfied with his work he returned to his previous spot on the floor and finished rolling his last joint.

He put the cigarette between his lips and flicked his lighter on. A dazzling flame erupted from the small butane lighter and he found himself entranced by it. It might have been forever or only thirty seconds, but he was far too stoned to care. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, sinking against the wall. He searched the pockets of his coat for something he didn’t remember. He found the old book of matches he’d been unconsciously searching for and smiled. He didn’t know why at the time, but he smiled anyway. He struck the match and looked at the flame for a moment before throwing it across the room. He watched the flame crawl up the wall of the shed and ultimately engulf the entire thing. It was beautiful.

There was something terribly familiar about it, but he could not remember for the life of him why. The wood made a cackling sound as it burned, and he watched the fire spread across the ceiling. A roof of fire blazing over his head made for a spectacular show. Bits of the ceiling began to crumble and fall to the floor, a chunk landing dangerously close to Kenny. He just stared, completely stupefied.

What the fuck are you doing?!

He could have sworn he heard something. He looked from left to right but found nothing that could have spoken. He shrugged and went back to watching the shed burn from inside.

Get the hell out of there!

“It’s so pretty.”

There’s something seriously wrong with you, you know that?

He ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. “Don’t you think so?”

You so philosophical when you’re high. Seriously, what the fuck are you thinking?! Are you thinking?!

“It’s better this way.” He said to no one in particular. “This way, it’ll be done. She’s gone, so I’ll be gone and I won’t hurt anymore.”

Please, Kenny, you’re being ridiculous. Not to mention selfish.

“No more. I won’t hurt anybody anymore. It’s best this way. No more. No more. They’ll all be safe and so will I. No more hurting for anyone.”

You’re not hurting anyone! … At the moment. Don’t do this, please don’t do this. This is so stupid, do you have any idea of what you’re doing?!

“I’m doing something noble.” He said, unaware of the question that had been asked. “I’m paying for my sins, being cleansed with fire. Burning at the stake…”

You’re hardly a martyr, Kenny.

“I’m bad. I’m a bad, bad person. Bad. I deserve this.”

Get over yourself and WAKE UP and get out of here, you’re going to die if you stay!

He continued to mumble to himself unintelligently. “Bad. This is good. This is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

No, actually, this could quite possibly be the worst idea you’ve ever had.

“…It’s hot in here.”

Hmm… maybe that’s because the shed’s ON FIRE and you’re INSIDE it.

By now, all but the wall he sat against had been utterly consumed with fire. He coughed on the smoke and thought a moment.

Please do something intelligent. Anything.

“I’m hungry.”

Brilliance. Sheer fucking brilliance. You’re an idiot, Kenny. You’re about to burn to death and all you can think of is how hungry you are?

“So pretty…” he said like a child, mesmerized by the bright orange flames burning closer by the second. He reached out toward it, feeling the heat against his palm. The second the fire touched his flesh he cried out in pain and his vision went white.

“Daddy… please, my hand hurts.”

“Your hand hurts? That’s not hurt! THIS is hurt!”

He pulled his hand close to his body and looked around with terrified eyes. It was at this point that the haze from the drug had lost effect and Kenny realized that he was inside a shed that was burning to the ground. He didn’t panic so much as realize that the situation was completely hopeless. He cursed himself for a moment and then decided that his only option was “stop, drop, and roll” so he decided to go with that.

Covering his face with his jacket, Kenny bolted through the flames, throwing himself on the wet grass and rolling around for a while. By some stretch of a miracle, he hadn’t caught fire, though he reeked of kerosene, marijuana, nicotine and smoke. The sun was just beginning to rise in the distance, soft hues of pink and gold flooding the sky. He watched as the last of the shack caught fire and collapsed in a flaming heap.

He continued to stand there, alternating his stare from the rising sun to the burning pile of wood that had once been a shed. He couldn’t help but feel foolish. What the hell had he been thinking? He couldn’t have been. He guessed that the perpetual half drunkenness had helped him come up with the idea, but couldn’t remember for the life of him. Maybe that annoying voice had finally driven him to it. The latter seemed quite logical and a perfect complement to his other guess.

He did see how it would have seemed appropriate, though. He guessed that if he hadn’t been reminded with that memory or whatever it was, he’d probably be a part of that pile he was watching.

“I am so fucked up.” He said.

He was grateful when no internal response came. He was not so grateful, however, when he felt the world begin to slip away.

“Okay, my question is: if you knew that you wouldn’t get caught by anyone, what would you do?”

“Walk around public places in only socks.”

The three others laughed and made various noises of disgust.

“What? It’d be funny!”

“Whatever you say, Clark.”

“Shut up, Kenny.” Said the latter, “I’d like to hear your answer.”

“Umm… maybe steal a million dollars… I don’t know.”

“I’d do porn.” Said one of the two girls present.

“Nice, you and Clark are perfect.” Replied the other female.

“Shut up, Michelle!” she said, slapping the other’s shoulder. “What about you, then? What would you do?”

“I… I’d get really stoned in like a shack or something and set it on fire.”

They all looked at her, some confused and some interested.

“It’s not like I’m gonna do it.” She said, “But if I wouldn’t get caught and it wouldn’t matter, I don’t know.”

“I guess that’s kind of cool.” Said Clark.

“Beats the hell out of my idea.” Kenny replied.

“I still think porn is better.”

“You would.” Michelle commented.

“Hey, shut up!”

“I think it’s hot.” Clark added.

“Thank you.”

Kenny just shook his head.

“What, Ken, you got a problem with porn?”

“Nah. Porn is great for people who can’t get laid. I can see why you like it so much.”

“What would you know anyway?”

“Enough.” Kenny replied.

“Ah, fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Fuck you both,” Said Michelle, “Somebody come up with another question.”