Breaking the Hold

I slept fitfully, having nightmares but never being able to see them clearly. It was like being behind a pane of frosted glass that continued all around me, caging me in like a lion in the zoo. I saw Them just beyond, blurry figures undulating and fogging the glass with their rancid, rotting breath, their claws tormenting me deaf with as they dragged down. They could break through at any minute, eat through the glass and get to me. Any minute They would find me and bring me down. I curled into myself, crumpling like unwanted paper and brought my hands over my head, in the feeblest attempt at shielding myself. I didn’t want to be brought down. I was scared.

When I awoke with a start, the room was dark, a solitary beam of moonlight dividing the room in half like a shot in the silence. I lay there, hearing my breath gasp and I struggled to get it under control. I felt the darkness around me swirl and thicken like a viscous substance, pressing closer to me, threatening a little more. My eyes roved over the darkened room. The walls seemed to press closer, the ceiling seeming to be a thousand hands reaching toward me with blind grasps. I shivered and quickly reached up to turn on my lamp. My hand was hauntingly pale and shimmered before me. Once the light was on, I sat up in bed, feeling alone and exposed. I still felt like the monsters were going to get me.

I exhaled shakily and tried to talk myself down. This was why I was here. It was just a dream; nothing was going to touch me. I was safe. I shook my head and tried to clear it. I needed a distraction. Leaning against the bedside table, bathed in a pool of light was my guitar, shimmering and begging to be touched, to be played. Still shaken up, I refused to leave my warm cocoon of blankets and decided instead to lean as far as I could out of bed and reached for it up, my hand closing around the neck like a handshake with an old friend.
The second my hand touched the wood and strings I froze, my heartbeat speeding up as I remembered the last time I touched a guitar. I could feel Brian’s breath on my neck, feeling the heat from his body pressing closer behind me, feeling the calluses on his hands as they held mine. I shivered and snatched my hand back. Brian was an animal, but I knew I couldn’t deny myself that I had liked it. Hesitantly, like I had just been burned, I reached out for the guitar again, this time only feeling the pleasant buzz of the anticipation to play, to release.

I picked my baby up gently, carefully not to nock her on anything and set her gently in my lap. I propped the pillows up behind me so I could lean back and play. Her glossy body caught me like a cherry kiss and for a second I was stunned at how beautiful she was. Smiling a little to myself I tuned her, the meticulous task a pleasurable amount of tedium. Letting my mind become wonderfully blank, my fingers picked up a tune at their own accord, the song flowing out with ease. The notes floated like birds in trees, the melody swaying like leaves in a breeze and the tempo increasing and decreasing like the swelling of locusts in summer. My eyes closed, and I lost myself fully in the heart of the music.

My veins worked in rhythm to my song, my blood ablaze with the vibrations and sounds. Finally, I was at peace, if only for a while. The seconds collected into minutes, which coagulated into hours. Time seemed to be an unknown concept to me as I continued to play. I was completely lost in my universe until the door swung open and it all shattered into a million pieces like an explosion of a star. Jimmy walked in, obviously finding it hard to contain his laughter as he excitedly told a story to one of his figments.

“And then, get this Johnny! As soon as the ice cream man pulled up at the stoplight she ran up to him and pulled out her-JESUS CHRIST! LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THAT FUCKING DUCK!!” Jimmy’s gaze had shifted to the corner of his bed. Johnny seemed to be abandoned while Jimmy crossed the room in three strides and chased his duck around his bed. “Just a fucking minute Johnny!” Jimmy called impatiently over his shoulder towards the door, lying on his stomach with his head and arms digging for something under the bed. “Come here you fucking stallion duck!” My gaze shifted from Jimmy to the door, which was still open.

Brian was standing in the door frame, leaning against the door to keep it open, a small indulgent smile on his face as he looked at his friend and his arms crossed over his chest. My body froze and went haywire at the same time. My nerves were all sizzling on fire and my mind was racing through thoughts, the speed making me want to throw up. I sat as still as I could and gulped down air, trying to force the feeling of nausea down. My stomach rolled then and I felt the feeling rise up my throat like the stench rising off of roadkill. It occurred to me as I hastily set my guitar down on my sheets before throwing them off of me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and that I always got nauseous when I didn’t eat. I raced past Brian, who looked confused and a little upset, a frown dawning on his face. I slammed the door open and didn’t even turn on the lights as I raced to the toilet and for the second time in two days I threw up what little in my stomach I had, which turned out to be some pink bile. That shouldn’t be happening. I sniffled and made strange noises while not being able to stop my dry heaving. Someone turned on the lights then and I heard footsteps approach.

“Leave me alone, Jimmy.” I gasped out quickly between spasms.

“I’m not Jimmy.” A gruff voice replied, hard. “And don’t tell me what to fucking do.” I started and looked up with shiny, wet eyes. Brian towered over me, glowering down at my quivering and disgusting form.

“Go away Brian.” I demanded weakly. I curled against the shower door, holding my stomach, my muscles aching. Brian took inhaled sharply and looked around the room, pulling at his hair.

“Look you little shit…” he started in a frustrated voice that was on the very edge of going out of control. “I’m trying to help you because Jimmy asked me to, and I’m trying to do it, but you’re making it really fucking hard!” I flinched at his attitude. His nose flared and he swooped down, crouching in front of me like he had in the garden. His eyes were still hard and menacing, but there was a dim light of kindness behind them. “Can you just make this easier on the both of us and do what I say without saying a word?” I thought about it for a minute, staring at his eyes. What more did I have to lose besides my pitiful existence?

I nodded. He exhaled in a hiss. He stood up and looked once more towards the door. If I didn’t know any better I would have said he looked embarrassed. Hesitantly, he offered his hand, decidedly not looking at me. I took it, placing my pale shaking one in his own firm tan one and let him fling me to my feet. I jumped as electricity shocked my frail body through our conjoined hands, my body quivering at the closeness of our bodies. I felt my face heat up as his eyes bored down into my own. Frowning, Brian looked away and yanked my arm over his shoulders. He began to drag me out of the bathroom when I stopped, pushing against him.

“What the fuck now?” He growled, instantly angry at my opposition. I hobbled over and flushed the toilet with my foot, before turning on the faucet and cupping my hands underneath it. I heard Brian making impatient noises from the door, his upset showing more and more clearly on his face. Once my mouth was as washed out as it would ever be, I shut off the tap and wiped my hands on my pants, turning back to Brian. He grabbed me again, more forceful than before and dragged me into the hall.

I heard Jimmy cackling madly from his bed just beyond the wall. “And then the sea weed over took the boat and all the cans of tuna cat food were flung into the Mediterranean?! Jesus, Johnny, where did you find this? Really the news? Dude, we have GOT to watch that more often!” Brian led me out to the hall and the door closed on Jimmy’s mad laughter. Sometimes he had the oddest conversations. Maybe it was the medicine.

Brian’s heavy, constant footsteps echoed solidly in the dark halls, my scuffling footsteps sounding like nothing but white noise. I thought we were going to the kitchen to ask for some food, until Brian dragged me around and down the hallway I remembered from my last early morning stroll. We were headed to his room. In an attempt to calm myself down, I tried to rationalize with myself. Who was going to be up this early anyone to give us something? Besides, Brian would most likely fly into a fury. Maybe it was better this way. I forced myself to take deep even breaths. I was scared I would make Brian mad at me again. We arrived at his door much sooner that I had in my wandering, and at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to follow him into the room. Would he make me play for him again? Would he yell at me? Hit me? Kill me? Brian seemed to have noticed my lag, because he looked behind him, his face set like stone, before giving my arm a sharp tug and making me trip into the room. He caught me gruffly before I hit the ground and brought me over to the bed. My breathing hitched and I felt tears stinging in my eyes. Forcing me into a sitting position on the soft mattress, Brian looked down at me again, his mouth open to say something before it closed sharply. His cold harsh eyes, softened, and his gaze of contempt turned into one of pity.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Zacky. I’m not going to do anything.” He said with a hint of sadness in his voice. He left me on the bed, my hands clasped tightly in my lap and my knuckles white, before striding over to a milk crate in the corner I had failed to notice before. It seemed like a makeshift kind of pantry and I was stricken with a sadness I had never felt before. Did Brian like to snack a lot or did the nurses not feed him? He rummaged around, the crinkling of bags making me curious. Moving things around the grabbed a few packets out of a box and a bottle of red liquid. He walked over to the bed, his head high in shattered kind of pride and handed me two power bars and a Gatorade. My heart sank. He must not be allowed meals all the time. He must have noticed because he suddenly yelled at me.

“Don’t you dare give me any fucking look! Just take the goddamn food and eat it so I can get rid of you!” I jumped, not expecting the sudden harsh tone and shakily took the bars and drink. I slowly unwrapped the bar and ate it with as much control as possible, not wanting to appear like a starving animal who lived on blood and flesh. As I took a long drink I looked down at the other bar sitting in my lap, feeling guilty about eating two when it was obvious Brian ate these for meals. I looked at Brian who thankfully wasn’t paying attention to me but was rather sitting in the lone chair from before and absentmindedly strumming the guitar. He was beautiful in the moonlight, carved perfectly like a Greek statue. Just as fierce and just as breakable. I smiled secretly to myself and drank what was left of the beverage quietly. I decided against the other power bar, deciding to give it back to Brian.

Extreme contentedness washed over me, the feeling of nausea and malnutrition far gone now. Fatigued from the earlier excitement, I slumped over to my side. The smell of Brian filled my nose; Cigarettes, fruity hair gel, and cologne that seemed curiously expensive and sophisticated. It was a comforting smell, one that wasn’t at all like the threatening demeanor that surrounded Brian. As the soft melody washed over me like a blanket, my eyes drooped shut and I found myself in a dreamless sleep for the first time in years.

When I woke up sunlight was streaming into my eyes, warming my face with its pleasant glow. I stretched and sighed, feeling more rested than I could remember and snuggled in to the blanket beneath me. The cloud of tobacco, hair product, and musk washed over me and I froze. I was still on Brian’s bed. Shooting up I looked around, expecting him to be lurking in a dark corner, waiting for me to be awake before he killed me. However, I was met with an empty room made of illuminated walls. Confusedly, my eyes still roamed around the room over and over. Where was Brian? And why was I still alive? Deciding Jimmy would know in the way that he always does, I shuffled myself over and made to get off the bed when something slid on my hand. Jumping, I looked down and was shocked to see my sketchpad, brush and paints lying neatly in a stack.

In a flurry of movement I snatched up my sketchbook, hurriedly flipping through page after page needing to make certain every piece of my life was still there. It was, and I sighed with huge relief, continuing to flip through pages. I was about to close the book when a messy scrawl caught my attention. Scribbled on the last page with pencil was a simple sentence, but to me it spoke volumes worth more than a noble prize.

‘You play well.’ Was all it said, but to me it was Brian’s acknowledgement of me as another person, one with feelings, kindness, and something in common with him.