(Installment 29)
Welcome the whole new pain
and take comfort in what you've become
I waved as I passed myself along the way
I have arrived so unashamed but my reflection no longer looks the same
It seems much dimmer now... it seems so dim
Just stumble and fall into a world that's over crowded
And you will find me
Won't recognize me;
and I won't recognize myself
I've arrived so unashamed,
but all my senses no longer seem the same.
I can sense everything.
My sight's so clear.
In an instant, my life just slipped away,
I fought for life, the whole time you were holding me down.
You watched me dying.
Holding me down, you brought my rebirth.
* * *
What is it like to completely descend into the realms of impossible madness? To lapse so deep in one’s circumstances that there becomes no distinction of right and wrong… what is one to do when doing wrong feels right? Does that then become their new moral code, that which they are to govern their behavior by? Instinct and impulse, the very things by which we assume in nature to be inherently good become the source of personal demons.
Is that the true catalyst for madness, then? The inner wrestling with the demons of our past, the demons in ourselves? Weaknesses, shortcomings, failures… all these become suddenly too much to bear. We are weighted down by these extraneous pains. They tear into us and force our minds to question. We question “why” and “how” and what to do. We wonder if there is a true reward for what we suffer, or any just cause for our deserving it. Confusion turns to anger… our pain becomes the fuel. Some are able to cope with this and manage along somehow. They can escape these horrible circumstances and find solace in themselves. This period of darkness was only to remind them how privileged they truly are. They awaken from their internal sleep refreshed and renewed.
Kenny was not one of those people.
He stood just staring at the charred remains of the old shack. His own personal crematorium. It could’ve been him among the ashes, the dying embers that moments ago had burned into the deep night sky. The sun was rising just over the weakened flames, dancing in the chilling wind. They still possessed a certain beauty, however weak they might still be.
But they would die soon.
They too would burn themselves out and be no more, forever regarded as the spark that destroyed the building. He crouched on the ground, closer to the diminishing source of heat. He studied them a moment, and then stood back up. He sighed into the cold air and took in the sunrise. Faded pinks were beginning to flood the sky.
He crushed the remaining flames beneath his foot and continued to do so, even after they’d been extinguished. It felt sort of good, he concluded. It wasn’t right to just let them burn away. He had started the fire and he was obligated to see that it ended. He snuffed it out just a quickly as it had been started. Sure, they might have burned themselves out inevitably, but he felt it was the right thing for him to do. Put an end to something he’d started.
Satisfied, he lit a cigarette and inhaled the sweet taste of nicotine. He exhaled into the air relaxed. He watched the rising sun and felt a rising hope in his chest. He wondered why he hadn’t figured it out sooner. His purpose was so obvious, he assumed that he had simply been reluctant to accept it. He understood now his duty to society, his place in world. A smile crossed his lips, a small genuine grin. He kicked at the ground absentmindedly as he flicked his cigarette and felt that he had finally achieved something. He could almost feel Nietzsche’s proverbial abyss staring straight into him, and he stared right back, unwavering. He had nothing to hide anymore. There was no shame in what he did or the things he had done. Power pulsed through his veins, a sense of control taking hold within himself. All this time he had been trying to absolve control, assume no responsibility for himself, actions or others. In his quest of avoidance, he had been led in the opposite direction of his purpose.
That was all right, because he had found it. It was all necessary, everything had contributed to this ultimate destiny. Kenny had never believed in fate or karma, but he couldn’t help but feel as if this was almost proof of its existence. He knew it the moment he’d seen the wind blow through the embers of the tiny fire that had been. He had started the fire and left it burning. It was only natural that he should be the one to put it out. Yes, certainly it was. He had left many fires burning unattended, and they were still aflame. It was his duty to stop them. To extinguish them completely.
Yes.
That was it. It had to be. The endless wandering had finally brought him out of the wilderness in which he lived his life and now he found the path. He knew it to be his and was now ready to walk it. It would be difficult and painful, but he would suffer through like he had always suffered. The end result would be worth it, it had to be. He imagined the satisfaction he’d gotten from watching the fire die and imagined how it would feel when magnified a thousand times. Surely that swell of pride would be overwhelming… exactly what he wanted.
Out of the ashes of the tiny shed he would rise again like the Phoenix. In a brilliant blaze of glory he would finally do something worthwhile. There would be no more confusion, no more life void of purpose. His aimless days were over. He was focused now. He had direction. He was finally going to do something with his life.
And he knew exactly where to start.
He kept his head down
as he started down the long, dark corridor as if doing so would render him
invisible. He tried to block out the
outside noise, but he would catch the tail ends of people’s conversations,
making him wonder what the hell they had been talking about. Had he not been so nervous, he might have
laughed over some of them. His feet
shuffled quickly down the hallway and he wondered idly how many others had to
do this. It would figure that he could
never catch a break.
He had almost made it,
but was not surprised when he felt himself being shoved against the wall. He sighed and made no move to defend
himself. That just made things
worse. He had learned that lesson well,
and applied his knowledge to the current situation. Maybe that was why they always seemed to target him. From the first day he’d kept quiet, and let
them kick the shit out of him. It was
not an alien concept in his mind, and found himself quite able to block it
out.
That didn’t mean he
wouldn’t try to avoid it, though.
They were saying
something, calling him names and that sort of thing. He really wasn’t paying attention enough to notice what he was
being called or what they wanted from him, and neither did he care. He never had any money for them to take, so
they just settled for this. He was old
enough to know that he didn’t have to take this, and that he should do something
about it – or at the very least, fight back.
“Leave the fucking kid
alone, you jerk-offs.”
Suddenly, Kenny was
conscious of the situation. Nothing was
happening (to him, at least), and someone had just intervened. A kid maybe a little taller than Kenny was
at the time, with messy black hair had been the source of the comment.
“You say something, you
skinny little bitch?”
“Yeah.” He replied, “I
told you to get the fuck away.” He said, revealing a switchblade to punctuate
his sentence. “Are we clear?”
The group seemed to
flinch. “He… he’s kidding!”
The boy looked at his
peer incredulously. “You wanna try me?”
The silence was so
thick, Kenny wondered if the boy’s knife could have cut through it.
“You’re a freak!” One
of them shouted before they all collectively turned and wandered off.
The black-haired youth
smiled, obviously satisfied with himself.
He flipped the blade inward and slid it back inside his pocket.
“…Was that real? The blade, I mean.” Kenny asked timidly.
He nodded. “Yeah.” He said, reaching into his jeans and
pulling out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Kenny, “Smoke?”
“Me? Um, no, thanks, though.”
The other shrugged and
leaned against the wall as he lit the tube.
“I’ve seen you before. They go
for you a lot, don’t they?”
“Yeah.”
The boy exhaled a cloud
of smoke, “They’re all a bunch of pussies.
Why do you take it?”
Kenny studied the
floor. “I don’t know. It’s easier.”
“… They’re all
bastards, anyway.”
Kenny laughed a little
and nodded in agreement.
“You got a name?”
He nodded. “Kenny.”
“Hey Kenny,” He said,
extending a hand, “I’m Clark.”
The blond haired boy
took the outstretched hand warily.
“You live around here?”
“Sorta. I – um… my, I’m…” He paused and collected
his thoughts. “My house is crap,
though.”
Clark laughed. “I’ll bet mine’s not much better.” He finished his cigarette and ground it
under his foot. “You wanna go to the
arcade?”
“When?”
“Now.”
“But school’s not over
yet… it’s not even lunch time…”
“So…?”
Kenny shrugged. He had nothing to lose. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Let’s go.”
“It’s been a while… how is everything?” Asked the familiar voice of the bartender.
“They still aren’t great… but they’re getting there.” He replied with a genuine small smile.
The bartender eyed him as if something was amiss. “Are you sure? You don’t seem like yourself….”
“I know. I really haven’t been myself… in a long time. It gets weird when you don’t remember who you are.”
“I can imagine.” Said the man behind the bar. “Can I get you anything?”
“Nothing tonight. But I do need some information.”
His expression told Kenny to continue.
“You remember Salantino, right?”
The bartender nodded.
“Right, of course you do.” He said, fiddling idly with a book of matches. “A while back, there was this thing… it was pretty big, but I don’t know if the story ever really broke anywhere else but local. Salantino was indicted… and someone else was arrested. They were let off I know that… I just don’t know much of what happened after….”
“You got a name for me?”
“Campbell. Clark Campbell.”
“…It doesn’t sound familiar, but I’ll see what I can do.”
Kenny placed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar counter.
“Consider it a favor.” Said the man, refusing the money.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know. It’s just something I want to do.”
Kenny sighed, pocketing the money. “Fine. You’re stubborn, you know that?”
“No more than you are.” He replied in that fatherly manner he always seemed to have when dealing with Kenny.
It made him laugh a little. “Thanks. It means a lot.”
“Anytime.”
Kenny sighed. “I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes.”
The man chuckled. “Patience is a virtue.”
Kenny nodded in agreement. “Do you still have that piano?”
“It’s just collecting dust in the back. I’ve got no use for it.”
“Interesting. Would you mind if I tried it out again?”
He sighed, “I bought the thing so you could play it. I can’t do a thing with it.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Replied Kenny as he stood up and headed toward the back where the piano was located.
The bartender shook his head. It felt to him like maybe the kid had finally decided to get his act together. Probably in the wrong way, but he seemed better and that helped eased his mind. He’d never asked himself why he was so fond of the man he knew to be a murderer. It felt wrong to call him that. It didn’t match up with the man he knew Kenny to be. Yes, he killed people, but it was not without reason or motivation. He could hardly believe that he was justifying such behavior. Then again, he served murderers and rapists and addicts and whores everyday. Most of the whores he pitied. He distanced himself from the killers and spit in the drinks of those he knew to be rapists. He looked contemptuously at the addicts and yet, Kenny was treated as family.
Some things just couldn’t be explained.
The piano had indeed accumulated copious amounts of dust, but that was nothing an old towel couldn’t cure. When music began to fill the room he found himself relaxed and satisfied. The melody moved swiftly, never staying in one octave too long. It was lively and even made him smile. He played on without thinking, just letting himself do whatever he wanted on the keyboard. Things that musicians had to study years to perfect were effortlessly flowing from Kenny’s hands.
He still could not explain it, but he didn’t really care to. The tune suddenly slipped into a low crescendo and a dramatic but still flowing sound began to take over. He was completely lost in his playing. Kenny could have cared less what noise was coming out of the instrument. His heart was in it and he was happy.
He no longer worried about what he might remember if he allowed himself to fall into the sound. In fact, it was better that way. He would uncover the pieces of his discarded life until he could reach what had started everything and set this course into motion.
He hurled the small
rock at the second floor window, hoping the sound would wake its occupant. He succeeded.
The window opened and a
teenage boy stuck his head out.
“Kenny? What the fuck’s going
on?”
“I’m leaving. You coming with?”
“Leaving? Where… why… what the… fuck, Ken, it’s three
in the morning…” he said, rubbing his eyes.
“I know.”
“Good. Just making sure. Where are you going?”
“No idea.”
“Great. I’ll get my stuff.”
© Danielle Lovallo, 2005
Lyrics © AFI, “Exsanguination”
Author’s Note: can
you believe it’s been a year? I can’t. Happy Birthday, Darker Shades of Fear! PS I might as well just make this Kenny’s
birthday since I never picked one out for him.
Seems appropriate. Wheee happy
birthday, fictional figment of my mind!