I Lied When I Said I Didn't Love You
Dying For Dummies
Mike’s P.O.V
It’s a funny thing when you feel dead. For a moment, you feel invincible, like nothing and no one can ever touch you. You think you’ve lost the right to feel pain, joy, love, laughter- all of the things that made people feel alive in the first place. You are a ghost- you don’t have to be noticed, you can lurk in shadows without being acknowledged. This feels like power. It feels like you’ve grown a thick metal hide over your naked skin, of which words and blows bounce off harmlessly.
Then you realise what’s happening.
I was like that for about five minutes, staring into the mirror blankly, a malicious smile upon my twisted tear-streaked face. I was dead. I didn’t need anyone now. No one could hurt me. I didn’t have to feel pain. I didn’t have to be broken. I didn’t have to pretend to smile. The world had alienated me. I was on my own. No company to take care of. I had no part in this play any more.
But even then, a part of me was terrified. This wasn’t me. I didn’t take joy in death. I didn’t want to stop completely. I needed to cry. I needed to laugh. I needed to feel pain.
I needed to live.
I snapped out of that cold demeanour, my blue eyes wide with shock as I gazed soundlessly at my sordid reflection, pale lips quivering without forming needed screams.
I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die.
My own body wasn’t responding to my frantic thoughts, it seemed. I had lost control, a backseat driver in the car of a deranged psychopath. I watched in horror as my mouth twisted into a weird smirk, eyes rolling back into my head. The air was filled with maniacal laughter, squeezing past my twisting tongue. It wasn’t me laughing. It was something else- something more sinister, something beyond my imagination to try and compromise with my frail brain. Maybe I was possessed. It felt like it.
I got the sudden urge to try and rip the thing out, to reach down my throat and tear the monster out from my guts. But no- it knew what I was thinking- it had shifted to behind my face, the terrible cruel mirth shaking behind my eyes. I shook with it, my hands trembling as I fought to claw at the beast, desperate to get behind my very skin. My nails raked over my face with a frenzied feel, blood already starting to spot my nails with each scratch. It wasn’t working. I could still feel it there, even though underneath my nails was stained with dark red.
Burn it. Scald it. Make it twist out with pure fiery pain…
Suddenly I knew what I had to do to stop the teeth-wrenching mad laughter. It would hurt me too- but pain was a mere consequence for getting rid of the insanity. I’d gladly drill a hole in my fucked up skull to get rid it. I felt that desperate. My fingers scrabbled uselessly at the shower door, finally wrenching it open and flinging my quaking form among the soap-scum. I tried to steady myself against the side of the glass, reaching out to the cleansing taps. I felt my hand close around the hot tap, gritting my teeth as I braced myself for the immense burning cleanse. It would get rid of my demons. It had to. I couldn’t let it take me over.
Help me…
Help me…
Help me…
Billie….
The water hit me, freezing cold like bits of glacier. I gasped in shock, my chest ballooning in and out as the cold penetrated my clothing. It was working. The demon was fleeing! My mind was returning-
Burning. Acrid pain. Acidic. Dying.
Pain.
Screaming. Loud screaming, no air, too much heat.
Falling down. Curling up. Pain still persisting. Body aching.
Want to die. Need to stop. Going to…
Burst of noise. Banging, light, silhouette of a boy.
Oh no. Not the light- I wasn’t ready! Please no! Not now!
Early death sentence.
Closed eyes, slowing breathing. Pretending it’s not there. Pretending you’ll cheat death.
Hot water still rains. Then- strong arms, flinching at the burning. They grab me, lifting me out. I feel a body under me, someone’s breath in my ear as they collapse with sudden exhaustion.
“I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”
Billie?
No. An angel.
They just happen to have the same face…
It’s a funny thing when you feel dead. For a moment, you feel invincible, like nothing and no one can ever touch you. You think you’ve lost the right to feel pain, joy, love, laughter- all of the things that made people feel alive in the first place. You are a ghost- you don’t have to be noticed, you can lurk in shadows without being acknowledged. This feels like power. It feels like you’ve grown a thick metal hide over your naked skin, of which words and blows bounce off harmlessly.
Then you realise what’s happening.
I was like that for about five minutes, staring into the mirror blankly, a malicious smile upon my twisted tear-streaked face. I was dead. I didn’t need anyone now. No one could hurt me. I didn’t have to feel pain. I didn’t have to be broken. I didn’t have to pretend to smile. The world had alienated me. I was on my own. No company to take care of. I had no part in this play any more.
But even then, a part of me was terrified. This wasn’t me. I didn’t take joy in death. I didn’t want to stop completely. I needed to cry. I needed to laugh. I needed to feel pain.
I needed to live.
I snapped out of that cold demeanour, my blue eyes wide with shock as I gazed soundlessly at my sordid reflection, pale lips quivering without forming needed screams.
I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to die.
My own body wasn’t responding to my frantic thoughts, it seemed. I had lost control, a backseat driver in the car of a deranged psychopath. I watched in horror as my mouth twisted into a weird smirk, eyes rolling back into my head. The air was filled with maniacal laughter, squeezing past my twisting tongue. It wasn’t me laughing. It was something else- something more sinister, something beyond my imagination to try and compromise with my frail brain. Maybe I was possessed. It felt like it.
I got the sudden urge to try and rip the thing out, to reach down my throat and tear the monster out from my guts. But no- it knew what I was thinking- it had shifted to behind my face, the terrible cruel mirth shaking behind my eyes. I shook with it, my hands trembling as I fought to claw at the beast, desperate to get behind my very skin. My nails raked over my face with a frenzied feel, blood already starting to spot my nails with each scratch. It wasn’t working. I could still feel it there, even though underneath my nails was stained with dark red.
Burn it. Scald it. Make it twist out with pure fiery pain…
Suddenly I knew what I had to do to stop the teeth-wrenching mad laughter. It would hurt me too- but pain was a mere consequence for getting rid of the insanity. I’d gladly drill a hole in my fucked up skull to get rid it. I felt that desperate. My fingers scrabbled uselessly at the shower door, finally wrenching it open and flinging my quaking form among the soap-scum. I tried to steady myself against the side of the glass, reaching out to the cleansing taps. I felt my hand close around the hot tap, gritting my teeth as I braced myself for the immense burning cleanse. It would get rid of my demons. It had to. I couldn’t let it take me over.
Help me…
Help me…
Help me…
Billie….
The water hit me, freezing cold like bits of glacier. I gasped in shock, my chest ballooning in and out as the cold penetrated my clothing. It was working. The demon was fleeing! My mind was returning-
Burning. Acrid pain. Acidic. Dying.
Pain.
Screaming. Loud screaming, no air, too much heat.
Falling down. Curling up. Pain still persisting. Body aching.
Want to die. Need to stop. Going to…
Burst of noise. Banging, light, silhouette of a boy.
Oh no. Not the light- I wasn’t ready! Please no! Not now!
Early death sentence.
Closed eyes, slowing breathing. Pretending it’s not there. Pretending you’ll cheat death.
Hot water still rains. Then- strong arms, flinching at the burning. They grab me, lifting me out. I feel a body under me, someone’s breath in my ear as they collapse with sudden exhaustion.
“I’ve got you… I’ve got you…”
Billie?
No. An angel.
They just happen to have the same face…