Adolescent Suicide

The feel of course fur brought her out of her dreams. Mercy sat up quickly, rubbing at her blue eyes with her fists. She was back at the dingy apartment, huddled against the wall next to the table. The rat that had just crossed her path was a few feet away, it’s nose twitching as it’s beady eyes searched for food. The place was silent. She could hear the faint sound of a television playing some old game show a few doors down, and just next door, the faint moans and grunts of a couple.

She was naked, and a slight draft was coming in from the window. Mercy pulled her knees up to her chest as goose bumps covered her flesh. Dried blood covered her head and part of her face. Her body was tender and sore from the second beating she had received as he had taken her forcefully. Her blue eyes darted every which way, much like the rat who was now moving towards the bedroom, his whiskers moving rapidly.

What was she doing back here? Hadn’t she been saved? Didn’t Frank come and get her? Wasn’t The Faithless dead? What the hell was going on? She just wanted to go back to her brother, to the band. This was all too much. Mercy felt like she was drowning. Her fingers clawed at her throat, spit gurgling in her airways. She felt forward, gasping for breath. What was wrong with her?

Mercy was so lost in trying to save herself, she didn’t hear the door unlock and open. It wasn’t until she felt his hands on her, gripping her shoulders, that she realized that he was back. She didn’t want him touching her. She didn’t want him near her. Panic gripped her in it’s icy fingers and she fought back, swinging at any part of him that she could reach.

“Mercy! Stop it this instant! Do not make me teach you another lesson about disrespecting me. I don’t like doing that to you. Stop it right now!”

When she didn’t desist in her attack, The Faithless roughly grabbed her arms and pinned them at her sides, shoving her backward. She landed hard on her back with a grunt, breathing heavily. Well, at least her airways had opened up. Mercy’s blue orbs met his steel grey ones. They were shining with a suppressed fury, one that was soon to be unleashed on her. She could feel the thickness in the air, knew that it meant that another beating was just around the corner.

Bits of groceries littered the floor where he had dropped them in his attempt to get at her. Heads of lettuce, tomatoes, and all sorts of other things were rolling beneath the table, coming to a rest against the bottom of the counter. He was crouched a bit away from her, his muscles in his arms bulging in the faint light coming in from the window. Mercy moved to cover herself, scooting away from him as she brought one arm across her bare breasts.

And then, he swung.

He backhanded her so hard across her cheek that she flew a few feet back with a cry. Instinctively, her other hand went up to the cheek that was now stinging. The Faithless followed her still in his low crouch, his teeth bared in his anger. Before she knew it, she was backhanded on the other cheek. Her head whipped around. It felt like maybe her neck was being snapped in two, that maybe some teeth had been knocked out. The familiar metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and she coughed, spitting some out on the dirty floors.

“What did I tell you about disrespecting me!? What did I tell you!?”

Mercy whimpered and pushed herself back, coming to a rest against the bed. She curled up in a ball and held her face in her hands, tears pouring down her cheeks. She just wanted Frankie. She wanted Bob, and Gerard, and all the others. Why weren’t they saving her? They were supposed to be there for her. Why weren’t they?

“Answer me when I’m speaking to you, whore!”

Wham!

Another blow knocked her reeling onto her stomach. “You told me not to do it! You told me to never disrespect you! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” she yelled, her body shaking as she tried to shield herself.

He grabbed her hair and yanked her around onto her back. With his other hand, he grabbed her jaw. It hurt, and she clenched her eyes shut against the blinding pain. “Look at me!” he yelled.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, letting another whimper out. He snarled and lifted her up. She stumbled to her feet, crying out. He threw her onto the bed and quickly shed his clothes. Mercy didn’t even try and fight him this time. She was already bloody, bruised, and hurting. What was the point? She wasn’t going to be saved. No one was coming for her. This was the end.

Mercy literally gave up.

***********

Her body flew off the bed, her eyes wide. Mercy’s hands skimmed down her body, making sure that she was still wearing the night clothes that she had put on before collapsing from exhaustion the night before. Next to her, Mikey sat up as well, instantly reaching out for her. She had insisted on sleeping in the same room as everyone else, not having the guts to sleep by herself yet. She hated having to resort to that, to admit defeat, but she was so terrified. She knew that he was dead, that he wasn’t going to come back and get her, but that didn’t change the fact that he haunted her dreams, making her think otherwise in her slumber.

“Mercy? Are you okay?” Mikey asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched away from him, nodding her head. “Yeah. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” she told him softly.

Snores emitted from the bed next to them, where Bob slept soundly, half of his face hidden by a pillow. On the other side was Ray, mumbling in his sleep as he hugged tightly to his pillow. The red lights on the alarm clock read out 3:48 am. She rubbed at her eyes, letting out a small sigh as she hunched over, placing her hands into her lap.

Shit, she just wanted the dreams to go away. She had been plagued by them after her first run in with The Faithless, and she had been so relieved when they had faded. And now, they were back. They were going to haunt her existence once more. It just wasn’t fucking right. Mercy knew she wasn’t perfect, that she had a ton of faults and wasn’t the nicest person ever, but what the hell did she do to ever deserve this? What did they do to deserve this?

“Mercy. You don’t have to pretend. It’s just me. It’s me, Mikey. Come on. Talk to me, love,” came Mikey’s soft voice from the darkness next to her.

She clenched her eyes shut, along with her fists. She wanted to talk to him. Fuck, did she ever. But she wasn’t ready yet. She just couldn’t. She didn’t want his embraces, didn’t want the sympathy that shone in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Mercy wanted Frank.

“I don’t want to talk. Please, Mikey. Just…drop it for tonight. Please?” she pleaded, choking on the lump that was starting to grow in her throat.

He was silent for a few minutes. “Alright. Get some sleep, okay? We get to go see Frank tomorrow,” he reminded her before laying down, turning his back towards her.

Mercy nodded and laid down as well, keeping her eyes trained onto the ceiling. Her hands were folded at her chest, still shaking from the after effects of the dream. She let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes, and for the second time that night, she fell into a restless slumber.