Darker Shades of Fear

(Installment 32)

 

I chose this cup that I drank from

Knew what I was getting into

But I couldn’t let out what I had to keep in

 I’m ashamed of myself and unspeakable sins that I’ve committed and…

 I’ve made mistakes but I’ll find my way

No explanation for the things I’ve failed at before

They can’t hold my hand

It just hurts to be a man

Through the tortures of the damned

If I wake up now I can be pure again

Look at me now, I’m on the tracks with my back towards the last train leaving town

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘What… what the hell am I supposed to do?’

Now you want my advice?

He didn’t know what he wanted, to be honest.  All he knew was that he wanted whatever was happening to stop and to do so immediately.

This was so far removed from normal that it created a new category in his personal view.  It had become serious and the worst part was that he had no idea how or when it started, neither could he answer why.  To make matters infinitely worse, he had nowhere to go.

‘There was someone… I know, there was someone.  They cared about me.  Maybe I can… what if I… do you think they’d help me?  God I can’t remember… she was taller… dark hair… beautiful girl.  She was so good to me.  Maybe she can help me… what was her name, damnit….’

Leah?

‘Yes!  Her.  Whatever happened to her?’

She died, Kenny.

 

“Leah died at eleven twenty four last night.  I’m sorry.”

“It was an obvious homicide, and we’re on a hunt for the suspect.”

“Please, let us know if there is anything that we can do for you.”

“She was a brave girl.  She fought back.”

“We should have him in custody within the next day or so.”

“You can spend the night here if you’d like, dear.  I won’t be putting it up for rent anytime soon…”

 

He couldn’t tell whether the nausea had set in first or if the reeling sensation in his head had inspired the lurching in his stomach, but the reality was what hit him the hardest.

He just stood there, unable to think of any words that could possibly be relevant to his situation.  The truth was that there were no words.  There was no possible way to explain the absolute shock that paralyzed his senses, the overwhelming terror that crippled his thoughts or the dread that settled in him as sheer helplessness was realized. 

Losing time seemed trivial next to this.

He was accustomed to forgetting things.  He’d forgotten more than half his life.  There had been a time when, if he didn’t catch his reflection by chance, he wouldn’t have known the color of his own hair.  This was nothing new.  But to have forgotten Leah… it seemed impossible.  She was such a huge part of him, or so he had thought.

‘It feels like a dream…’

His whole life felt like it was a dream.  Had any of it really ever been real?  How was he supposed to know?  What if… how had he…

‘Maybe I’m just a dream.’

Kenny, don’t do this again. You’re real, you know that.  Calm down and breathe.

‘You said it yourself, once before, didn’t you?’

That was something completely different.

‘You said that maybe I was the figment of your imagination.’

I was trying to get you to think Kenny! 

‘Maybe you are real after all.’

Please don’t do this…

‘It makes so much sense now…’

Oh God… what are you doing?!  You can’t do this Kenny, this is sick please oh God that wasn’t ME that was YOU you can’t do this it’s not – that’s not how that happened holy shit please God I never did that we never I didn’t it was oh SHIT STOP KENNY PLEASE JUST FUCKING STOP ALREADY oh god this hurts

‘It was you all along.’

No it wasn’t!  It was never me you created me you needed me to help you I’ve been trying to FIX YOU Kenny please be rational you can’t just reformat your memory like a hard drive this is WRONG you have to stop just oh GOD JUST STOP

It sounded as if it were struggling to breathe.  Panicking, definitely panicking.  So much pain.  It was suffering.

You can’t just take yourself out and paste me in, I’m you but I don’t oh God I don’t control you I can’t I never could please oh please just make this stop please please please I never

‘I never existed after all.  All this pain… it was never happening.”

Oh Kenny please don’t do this ohgodit’stoomuch I can’t… I can’t oh christeverythinghurtsohgod…

‘You were right.  I can’t prove that I exist.’

Oh God oh God oh g- remember that book she gave you?  Please Kenny, remember that?  You gave it to her, remember?  That proves you exist!

‘… It does?’

Yes!  Remember what you said to me?

‘It does.’  He paused thoughtfully, ‘It does.  You were right.’

It seemed to be taking deep breaths, wheezing slightly as if it had just been denied oxygen for a period of time.

‘Are you okay?’

I… I’ll be fine.

‘I’m sorry…’

It’s okay, Kenny.  Let’s calm down and talk this through.

He paused.   “I want to remember things.”

Are you sure?

“Yes.  I’d rather have the bad ones than forget her.  I don’t want to lose her again.  I can’t.”

Okay then.

“I think I’m going to find that guy.  The one the bartender told me about.”

It sounded like he plays pretty dirty.

“So do I, if you remember.”  A smile.

Dirtier than you.

“At least it’ll be interesting.”

That’s for sure.  Though ‘interesting’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.

“How bad can he be?”

Bad enough, I’m sure.

“It’s not like he’ll be able to kill me.  It wouldn’t be that easy.”

Not to mention anti-climatic.

“See?  He can’t hurt me.”

That’s not what I’m worried about.

“What then?”

You’re… what’s the word I’m looking for… fragile right now.  I don’t think you’ll be able to deal with anything this big in a good way.

“I’ll be fine.”

You just convinced yourself that you didn’t exist and then rewrote your memories to read the way you wanted them to.  ‘Fine’ is not the first word that comes to mind.

“Well than, what does?”

Sick.

“I’m not sick.”

Lost.

“I know exactly where I am.”

Misguided.

“And I know where I’m going.”

Hurt, confused, abandoned, lonely, empty… I can keep going but I think you get the idea.

“…Nobody believes in me.”

That’s not true.

“Even I don’t believe in me.”

Kenny, I know that you can do it, which is why I’m telling you I think it’s a bad idea.  The bartender believes in you, Leah always believed in you.  You don’t have very many social contacts so I can’t name any others but if you did, I’m sure they would too.  It’s not a question of belief.

“What do you suggest, then?”

Do this the right way for once.  Go through the proper channels.  Get yourself some help.  It’s not safe for you to do this alone.

He contemplated this advice.  It would be the first thing he’d done right in a long time.  He could find a place, check himself into the psych ward or something… he had no idea really, how to go about such a task.  But he thought that maybe the voice was right.  Maybe he should.

 ‘Okay.’

It was not the response that the voice expected.

‘I’ll do it.’

…Are… are you serious?

‘We’ll try it your way this time.  I have nothing to lose.’

All… all right then.

‘What do I do?’

I think you should check yourself into the hospital.

‘Okay.’

He stood up, grabbed his coat and shut the door behind him.

 

It was a large building, quite typical of what most hospitals looked like.  It also gave off the creepy vibe that was customary of them as well.  He pushed through the glass doors and entered the sterile, bland décor.  The smell hit him first.  The smell of disinfectant and something comparable to mothballs.  It nauseated him.

He approached the nurse’s station and was greeted by a pretty young nurse whose nametag read Jennifer.

“Can I help you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, why are you here?”  It wasn’t short tempered, instead her voice had a smile in it and Kenny got the impression that perhaps she was flirting with him.

“I’m… I’m not safe.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need to talk to someone.  A therapist or something.  I can’t… I… I think I need help.”

“Okay.  I just need you to fill out these forms.”

Kenny took the clipboard and frowned.  He could tell this was a bad idea.

Just try it.  Please, give it a fair shot.

He sighed.  ‘Okay.’

He sat down in a remarkably uncomfortable chair and read over the questions in front of him.  Name, age, birthday, mother’s name, father’s name, grandparents, have you been hospitalized before?  For what?  Any history of… in your family? 

Basically, Kenny realized that he could only answer two questions for sure.  Those being first name and are you currently taking any medications.  This had to be some kind of discrimination against people with amnesia. 

‘I hate hospitals.’

I know. 

‘This is so pointless.’

Do you have a better idea?

‘There’s always my way.’

Your way never ends well, Kenny.

‘Well, can you at least help me with the friggin survey?’

It sighed.  All right.

 

By some miracle, he’d managed to get enough information to do a half-assed job of finishing the questionnaire.  He made up a social security number, because they probably wouldn’t take him if he didn’t have one.  He handed it back to the pretty nurse he’d first spoken to.

“Thank you,” She said, scanning over his completed paperwork, “Mr. Johnson.”

“Please… don’t call me that.”  It wasn’t a name that belonged to him.  It was just a name like Joe or Bob, Smith or Baker.  There was no connection between him and the last name. It might as well have been made up, but he’d been assured that it was the correct title.  Last names were such a bother.

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Just Kenny.”

She smiled.  “All right, Kenny.  A doctor will be with you shortly.”

In hospital-speak, he knew that meant anywhere from two to ten hours later.  And waiting had never been one of his talents.  Still, the voice assured him that everything would work out and that this was for the best.

 

He had actually taken to the idea that this might actually have been worth his time.  That feeling wouldn’t last very long, he could tell, when some nurse instructed him to wait in the hospital bed until the doctor arrived.

‘I don’t like this…’

He had an awful feeling in his stomach.  It was so cold, and he was so alone.  The beeping of various machines bombarded his ears and the slow, steady panic did nothing to ease him.

‘This was a bad idea.  I know it.’

You haven’t even talked to a doctor yet!

‘What do I say?  Hi, I’m Kenny and I’m a psychopath? Yeah, that’ll go over real well.’

With that kind of attitude, you’re not going to get anything out of it.

His internal banter was interrupted by the entrance of a man dressed in a lab coat.  “Kenneth Johnson?”

Again, the name that meant nothing.

“That’s me.  So I think, at least.”

The doctor nodded.  “So, tell me why you’re here.”

‘Hmmm, let’s see… I’ve lost everything, I’ve killed more people than I can remember and I’m doing things that I have no recollection of.  That’s a start.’

Take this seriously will you?

“…I need help.”

“Yes, but with what?”

“Everything.”

“That’s kind of general.  Can you give me anything specific?”

“I can’t remember anything.”

The doctor blinked, glancing over whatever was typed up on that little clipboard of his and muttered something that sounded very much like hypochondriac in a very confused tone.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that.  I meant that I honestly don’t remember anything about my life.  I space out and when I come back it’s days later and God knows what I’ve done.”

“Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“That’s hardly healthy.”

“I smoke, I drink and I fuck like it’s my job.  I’m not the health and fitness guru.”

“All right, then… how often would you say that you drink?”

“At least a glass a day.  Usually.”

“Could these instances simply be the repercussions of your alcoholism?”

“First of all, I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Sir, the behavior you described is a classic profile of alcoholism.”

“Do I look drunk to you right now?  Am I complaining about alcohol?  It’s a reason to get out, an excuse to contribute to the outside world and nothing more.  The problem runs a lot deeper than drinking.”

“Are you alone often?”

“I’m not very fond of people.”

“I see.  And why not?”

“Because they’re all selfish little fucks.”

“Not everyone’s like that.”

“Yes but that’s the majority and I’d rather not take my chances when the odds aren’t in my favor.”

“What about women?”

“I only knew one woman that was worth my time.”

“And what happened with that?”

“She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well so am I.  It’s not gonna bring her back, is it?”

“Do you think that a lot of this stems from your inability to cope with her death?”

“Did I say that I was having trouble coping?  The trouble is that I’d practically forgotten her completely!  Are you not getting this?  I don’t remember anything!”

This man was getting more and more frustrating by the minute.  Jumping to conclusions that Kenny could easily have ruled out himself.

“Do you feel depressed often?”

“Not really.”

“Do you have a history of suicidal behavior?”

“…I… I don’t know.  Maybe.  I think so.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.  I mean, I’ve had flashes of things… they’re memories, I guess… they have to be.  They feel too real to be dreams.”

“Well, I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning.  Can you tell me something, anything that you can remember about yourself?”

“My name’s Kenny… I don’t have a home, I just kind of hang around motels.  Not that I can’t afford anything better, because I can, I just don’t.  I have no desire to.  I go to a bar sometimes, I’ve become something of a friend to the owner.  And the girl I talked about before… her name was Leah.  I knew her in high school… but I didn’t remember that until she told me.  I stayed with her until she died.  Things were really getting better, and then it all just shot to shit again.  I remember Chicago, but I don’t know why.”

The doctor motioned for him to continue.

“I can play the piano.  But I don’t remember how I learned, either.”

“Were you in any sort of accident?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  All I know is that I woke up in Chicago and don’t know where I’ve been since.  Speaking of which, where the hell is this, anyway?”

“You obviously have some sort of amnesia.  It could be trauma-induced, since you can’t recall an accident but if it’s really amnesia, I don’t suppose you would.  Do you mind if I ask you some more questions?  Maybe we can figure out the nature of your amnesia.”

“All right.”

“Have you hurt yourself intentionally?”

“Yes.”

“Have you done so recently?”

“Yes, but I don’t remember doing it at all.”

“What exactly did you do?”

Kenny sighed.  “I woke up with somebody’s name in my arm.  It’s cliché, I know.”

“Do you know who that person is?”

“All I know is that they’re someone important… but I don’t know for what reasons.”

“Do you have any violent tendencies?”

 “Um… not really.”

Liar.

‘Well, do you want me to get us locked up forever?’

You can’t benefit from therapy if you can’t be honest.

“Can you… what’s wrong?  Mr. Johnson, are you all right?”

Kenny sighed.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t do this.  I’m just not ready.  I need some time to think.”

The doctor looked confused beyond reason.  “We can talk about something else, if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not your fault.  I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

‘I know you’re angry.  But you said it yourself.  I can’t be honest with him.’

It was bitterly silent.

‘What?’

That was your last chance.

 

No part of Kenny was surprised when he found himself standing outside of a rather large home, in a strangely familiar neighborhood. 

Please reconsider.

In response, Kenny knocked on the door.  When no response came, he pressed the doorbell.  A piece of classical music sounded off in shrill notes.

As expected, the door opened and he was greeted by a butler.  “Good evening.  Can I help you,” he asked, looking Kenny over and with no small hint of disgust, “Sir?”

“I need to speak with Mr. Pezziano.”

“Oh.  You’re one of them.”  That condescending tone, again.

“Not here for the drugs, buddy.”

“Mr. Pezziano is extremely busy at the moment.  You’ll have to come back another time.”

Kenny stuck his foot in the door just as the butler was closing it.  He shot the man a death glare and said, “Tell your boss I have some information on who killed his partner.”

The butler’s face illuminated with understanding.  “My apologies, Sir.  I’ll let him know right away.”

Kenny just stood in the foyer silently and watched the well-groomed man disappear behind a turn.  This man obviously had no idea what it meant to be a great butler.

‘This is going to end.  Starting now.  I’m going to put all this behind me.  This is the last time.’

The final cut, I suppose.

‘When all this is over, when I figure everything out, I’m done.  No more.  I’m going to buy an apartment and get a job.  I’m through with this.’

If you make it out alive, that is.

‘What makes you think I won’t?’

These people, your past… it almost killed you once.  Now you’re going to relive it.  You’re not a kid anymore.

‘You always told me that I needed to remember everything.’

Not like this.

‘I’m going to get out.’

It’s too late for that.

‘I thought you of all things would support this decision.’

It’s not going to happen like that. 

‘How can you know that?’

Because I know everything you’re trying to discover.  I know where you’ve been and I’m beginning to understand why you’ve let it go.

‘You’re saying that I’ve been right all along?’

No.  I’m saying that I sympathize.  Understand your motivations.  But believe me, without a safety net… Kenny, this is not good.

‘It’s the only way.’

It’s the easy way.  There’s a difference.

“Mr. Pezziano will see you now.”  It was the voice of the butler.

Kenny nodded and followed him through a series of hallways and then into what he assumed was the study.

“Please, leave us Davis.”

The butler nodded and obediently disappeared and closed the door behind him.

“Have a seat.”

Kenny obliged.

“Do I know you?”  He asked, with that same sort of familiarity that Salantino had expressed.

“I don’t think so.  But let’s cut to the chase.”

“Fair enough.  What do you have in mind?”

“Straight trade.  Information for information.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

“Good then, we have a deal.”

“So, you know who killed my partner?”

“Yes.  His name is Anthony Capizzi.   Big time gambler.  Used to play poker in the back of a bar downtown.  I sat in on a game or two.  Actually, I was there the night Jack died.”

The man sitting opposite him was staring intently.

“He lost big that night.  Pretty deep in debt, owed Jack a lot of cash.  Jack wanted him to pay up… something about a deal he needed some extra money to make.  He was bitching about it before we started.  So he and Jack had a private conversation after the game, had a few drinks.  Then Capizzi walked him out to his car.”

Kenny sincerely hoped he had remembered the man’s name.  The story sounded logical enough and he knew the bartender would cover for him should Pezziano investigate, which he undoubtedly would.

You’re so lucky you’re a good liar.

‘I know.’

“Thank you.  Now, the real reason you came here.  Who can I help you with?”

“I have a name.  Nobody can seem to tell me anything about him, but I’m told you can.”

“We’ll see. What you got for me?”

“Clark Campbell.”

It was obvious that the man knew exactly who Kenny was talking about.  His face changed completely, his features morphed into cold stone and his posture stiffened.

“What you planning to do with what I give you?”

“Let’s just call it unfinished business.”

He nodded, relaxing a little.  He poured himself a glass of scotch.  “Want some?”

Kenny nodded in agreement.

He fixed Kenny a glass and sighed.  “I know your guy from a long time ago.  Started out just a kid, you know?  He became a regular, ran up some debt.  Disappeared for a while, and then came back.  Said he wanted to work off what he owed.  Me and Jack… we were nice guys, so we agreed.  Things worked fine until he started pocketing cash under the table.  Little bastard stole our shit, started selling it by himself.  Stole our routes, started trafficking his own deals.  Found a supplier, cut us out completely.  Left us with nothing.  His stupid fucking ring nearly wiped us out.  But we fixed that.  We fixed it real good. 

We had friends in the system.  Can’t be that big a name in the drug world and not have any friends on the force.  He didn’t know that.  None of those little punks did.  It was easy.  All we hadda do was call in a favor, and BAM.  It was over.”

Kenny was digesting slowly every new piece of information. 

“I know who you are!”

“You and that kid I used to deal!  Shit, man, that was years ago!”

So Clark had betrayed Jack and Joey.  But where did Kenny fit into this mess?   There was something he was missing… he had to be.  Some fundamental piece of the puzzle he couldn’t put his finger on.

“So what happened?  You guys take him out?”

“Tried to.  Never got him, though.  When we finally figured out where he was living… wait.  Are you sure that I don’t know you from somewhere?”

“What difference does it make?  I gave you what you wanted.  I need information on somebody you couldn’t kill.  It’s pretty obvious what I intend to do with said information.  I don’t see a problem.”

A frustrated sigh.  “Some little bastard ratted us out to save his own ass.  Clark’s little blond boyfriend or whatever.”

It was Kenny’s turn to freeze.

“We’d only seen that kid a couple times.  Wasn’t real interested in the merchandise.  All I know about him is that he was the one who exposed Jack and me.”

“What happened to him?” He felt the Sahara desert in his mouth.

“Fucker disappeared.  Never heard about him again.  Probably offed himself by now.  Or something.  You okay?”

“…Yeah.  I’m fine.”

“Even trade?”

He nodded.  “Good enough for me.”

Kenny made his way out of the building, trying hard not to stagger or pass out completely.  He was surprised that his legs were still holding him up. 

It was too much.  Too much information and not enough.  Too much for him to handle and not enough for him to put together a coherent picture.  He realized that he didn’t want to see the picture but he had no choice in the matter.  He had chose this path and now he had to walk it. 

I told you so.  It’s so cliché but I told you so.  You thought having your memories back would fill the void in your life and you’d be able to put it behind you.  Well, Kenny, it’s coming back.  It’s coming back and you can’t stop it.  You’ve just gone and done yourself in.  That man wants you dead, you know.  You’re the reason he and his buddy Jack got busted.  They did time because of you.  Sure, they got off easy but they did time.  You destroyed their livelihood.  You’re the reason they cleaned up the streets those men used to work.  You did it, and sooner or later, he’s gonna figure that out and when he does, he’s gonna come for you.  You can’t stop this.  You can’t stop him.  You’re in so far over your head.  You’re drowning and no one is coming to save you.  You haven’t got a life preserver; you’re out of favors and IOUs.  This is going to end and it’s not going to end well.  You know it.  You’ve known it all along.

Somehow, though, you kept going.  You never listened to me.  Never once!  And now look at what you’ve done.

‘I’m not gonna die.’

Keep telling yourself you’re invincible.  Even Gods have fallen.

‘I don’t need this right now.’

No!  Now you need it more than EVER.

‘You’re not my mother.’

True.  I’m not.  But you know who your mother was.  I’ve done more to help you than she ever did.

‘Shut up!’

You know what I’m talking about.  But she was always better to you than your father.

‘Please stop.  I don’t need this…’

You remember him too.  You hated him, you still do.  That’s why you killed Harding.

‘Who?’

He was one of your dad’s drinking buddies back in the day, before he got his act together and his dad shipped him off to business school.  Small world, wouldn’t you say?

“You… hey, you!  Blondie!  Yeah, you!”

“You’re Dave’s boy, aren’t you?”

“Dave Johnson.  I remember you.  Haven’t seen you since that little… mishap you and what’s-his-name had.”

“I can’t take this anymore!”  He wasn’t aware how loud he’d said it, but no one was around so it made no difference.

Sucks to be you, my dear friend, because there’s more to come.  Oh there’s so much more.  You have no idea.  You thought you’d figure things out the fast and easy way and everything would be fine.  How does it feel?  How’s it feel to know you used to love him?  And he betrayed you.  You know it.

‘He never said anything about that!’

You know it was you who went to the police.  You know why you did it, too.

“I didn’t have a choice!”  He blurted.

Ahhh so you do remember!  Well, then, I think we should share!  After all, what good will it do either of us to keep secrets from one another?  Then again you two always kept secrets.   You never told him why you were so depressed all the time.  You knew.  He always asked you and you always lied.  And you had the nerve to get upset when he started lying to you.

“That was different!  I know it was… it was different.  It had to be.  I… no, I don’t remember but… I know, it – it was different he was – I – it was-”

Different?  Kenny you were both killing yourselves… except, I guess you had the intention of doing it.  His was more a side effect.  Do you remember, Kenny? 

“Please STOP IT JUST STOP I can’t… I can’t… too much, it’s too much oh God I can’t….” He was choking on his sobs, but unaware that he was crying.  If asked, he couldn’t have told when he started to break down.  Or for that matter, when and how he’d reached his motel room.  “What do you want me to do?  I’ll do anything, just please, no more.  Just stop, I can’t.  So much it’s too much God I’ll do anything just stop….”

There was momentary silence.

I can’t help you anymore.  It sounded sad.

“Please don’t leave me, I can’t do this by myself it’s too much.” He pleaded desperately, “I’ll do anything just don’t leave me.  It hurts so much…I can’t breathe.  So much pain….”

Go to sleep, Kenny.  I’ll still be here when you wake up.

Sleep.  He couldn’t sleep, sleep was bad it was bad oh God he was exhausted his eyes burned.  Don’t think.  Just turn everything off for a little while. 

“I just wish I could turn everything off.”

A nod.

“…forever.”

A glance.

“I want to sleep forever.”

“Call me crazy, but that sounds a lot like being dead.”

“I don’t want to feel anymore.”

“What’s so bad about feeling?”

“It hurts so much.  Everything… it’s just so much.  It’s always here, it always hurts.  I can’t make it go away.”

“Why do you feel that way?”

“…I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I can’t make it stop…”

“I wish you’d be honest with me.  I wanna help you.”

“It’s not fair.  They’re bad people and they get to rest.  I wanna rest, too.  I wanna go to sleep and not remember who I am.”

“Don’t say that, Kenny.”

“I don’t want to be me anymore.”

“I still want you to be you.  I’m still here.  Still your friend.  I owe you my life, Ken.  I’m not gonna forget that.  You’re not as bad as you think you are.  Everything was pretty much my fault anyway, so you shouldn’t feel like this over it.”

“Maybe we should’ve stayed.”

“And done what?  Wait for your dad to put you in the emergency room?  Wait for my old man to get out of jail again?  Face it Kenny, life fucked us over.  I know it sucks now, but we’re not gonna give up.  Someday, this’ll seem worth it.”

“The end justifies the means…”

“See?  It’s possible.  Things can still be okay.”

“Still be okay… I wanna be okay.”

“We’re gonna be just fine.  I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Have I ever broken one?”

“…Well, no.”

“I don’t intend to start with my best friend.”

“I wanna believe you so bad.”

“So trust me, then.  Trust me and we’ll be all right.”

“I do trust you.”

“No you don’t.  But that’s okay.  I hope you will someday.”

“How do you always know when I’m lying?”

A smile.  “I know you.”

A nod.  “Guess you’re right.”

“We’re gonna be just fine.”

“I believe you.”

A beat.  “Good.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

© Danielle Lovallo, 2005

Lyrics © Bayside, Tortures of the Damned