Status: One-shot.
Hospital For Souls.
1/1
You run. Run without any direction, without knowing where you run to. You try to escape, try to escape the reality you never wanted to accept, the reality that haunts you. You run through the pouring rain, run through the darkest of nights while lightning bolts, illuminating Baltimore's dark streets every few minutes. The rain soaks your clothes, drips down your hair and runs all over your face, making you shiver. But instead of seeking shelter like any other, like any sane person would, you run. He promised he'd change, promised it'd be the last time he'd ever touched a bottle, the last time he'd ever touched you. But as you run through the rain you realize how hard it is to really change, how stupid you were for believing him in the first place. You run and run, not caring about the people who might see you and what they might think. All you care about is to run away as fast as possible, to run and to never return. And then you remember what your mom told you before she passed away.
"Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in, Alex." she told you. The moment those words left her mouth, you had known that she knew. She had known all along, but never uttered a single word about it. You had always thought she was oblivious, but she wasn't. She never was. She just chose to ignore what happened around her, not that you could blame her.
Your feet began to hurt from all the running. Perfect. you thought to yourself. Pain was something you learned to enjoy, something you craved. Because pain forced the numb inside you to leave and that's all you wanted. The pain he caused you set you free. The pain he made you feel would make you feel alive, but no matter how much he fucked you over, the moment the pain subsided, the thing you dreaded the most came back to torture you. The funny thing though, is that all you ever wanted, was all you already had. You already found something to take the numb away. As you sat there in your personal hell, you'd catch glimpses of heaven in every day. Heaven as you imagined it was full of emotions, full of raw feelings. Heaven didn't know such thing as feeling numb. You had found your glimpses of heaven in your friends - especially your best friend Jack - and the music you made. You found those glimpses in the love you felt and you realized that you just had to start again. That's why you ran. That's why you're still running. You had to start again, no matter how much you didn't want to, no matter how much you hated the thought of starting again. They would want you - and most likely force you - to start again, he would want you to start again.
The first time you slow down is to catch a glance at your surroundings once you reach a stop light. You stop and gaze around for a moment, realizing that you're only one block away from what you now declare your destination. The rain is getting heavier, lightning and thunder more frequent. You watch as the light turns green and take up running again only that this time, you don't feel lost. You aren't aimlessly wandering around, no. This time you're determined to reach your destination.
As you run you think back to the first few months after your mom had passed away, the first time he laid a hand on you. Your days were a constant death wish, a witch hunt for an exit. You tried to fight your demons, tried to fight him, but you were powerless. That's when your friends had decided to send you to rehab. That's when Jack had decided to send you to rehab. But rehab didn't do you any good, you didn't like it there one bit. You didn't like to sit in a silent circle with the fragile and the broken. Didn't like how everything had been kept unspoken.
"We are powerless." you told Jack one time he visited "We are powerless, because we all walk alone on an empty staircase. Idle in halls and nameless faces." The minute your next sentence had left your lips you knew that you were a part of them, you had finally understood that you were there for a reason "I am powerless."
You run past the local church, seeing all the faithful walk in, most likely attending the late night service and you scoff. You stop running, instead you choose to stand in front of the church and you remember how you've been there years ago with your mom before she had gotten sick.
You remember the priest's words as if it were yesterday. "Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. I can't fear death no longer, I've died a thousand times. A wasteful universe and we don't know our soul. Was emptiness inside our heads, but no one dares to dwell." You think back to how you never understood what the priest meant, how you'd looked up to your mother, silently asking her to explain, but she just shook her head, telling you that you'd understand it once you were older. And you did. You understand every line now although you wish you didn't. You wish that you'd still fear death, that you were mentally stable enough to know your soul. But you aren't and you know that.
For a moment you just stare into space, but then you hear the bells ring and you run. You continue to run through the night, every puddle that you step in splashes water on your jean-clad leg, but it goes unnoticed, because you're too engrossed in your memories. You remember how they had sent you home after two months, sent you back to him. You remember how they basically threw you to the flames, how they set your world ablaze and watched you burn.
You're here now, finally reached your destination. You stand on the front porch and desperately try to catch your breath. Once your breathing is back to normal and you feel fairly calm, you knock. And as you wait for someone to open the door, you go back to succumbing to your grief.
You remember how Jack would come and visit you almost every day and how you grew so much closer together. You think about that one time they actually let you leave the rehabilitation center for one afternoon. Jack took you out for a walk in the warm summer air and entertained you by telling stories about what you had missed in school and he got all excited when he told you that he had finally found a drummer to form a band with once you got out of that place. He even bought you ice cream and the two of you ate in silence until Jack decided to speak up, nervously fidgeting around, eyes casted downwards.
"Lex, how are we on a scale of one to ten?"
And even though his question had come out of the blue and completely out of context, you understood. You understood perfectly what he was reffering to and answered confidently with a nine. A nine that had Jack grinning like a fool and then, right there at the park, you had your first kiss. And as Jack pressed his soft, pink lips gingerly against yours, his thumb caressing your left cheek while his other hand linked your fingers, you realized that you had found something to take away the numb. You had found something that made you feel alive.
You remember how you talked to your therapist that night after Jack dropped you off at the rehabilitation center with a kiss and the promise to come back as soon as possible, how she made you stand in front of a huge full length mirror. You remember her asking "Could you tell me what you see?" and you answered "I see a boy that lost his mother and got beat up by his father." and you remember how she wanted to know how it made you feel and if you wanted to talk about it, but you had refused, telling her that you were stable enough to be sent home and that's exactly what had happened.
You thought things would be better now that he promised to stop drinking. Now that he swore to never lay a finger on you ever again, but you couldn't have been more wrong. The beatings got worse and you couldn't help yourself anymore. Every punch reminded you of how you hated feeling numb and how you once thought that every punch was the antidote to not feeling anything at all, but the punches started losing their effect. They stopped hurting, they didn't ease the numbness anymore, so you settled for other things.
"Tell me, have you ever taken a blade to your wrist? Or have you been skipping meals?" your therapist had asked you upon seeing the state you were in and you only nodded. "That's it, Alex. We're gonna try something new today." You nodded. "Now explain to me, how does it make you feel?"
You're shaken from your thoughts by a confused and sleeply looking Jack opening the door. "Alex?" he asks and you fall into him, clinging to him for dear life as you uncontrollably sob into his shoulder. "Lex, tell me what's wrong." he demands, voice concerned and barely above a whisper.
"Hold me close," you mumble "don't let me go." you beg over and over again. "They want to send me back in this hospital for souls."
"Even hell can get comfy once you've settled in, Alex." she told you. The moment those words left her mouth, you had known that she knew. She had known all along, but never uttered a single word about it. You had always thought she was oblivious, but she wasn't. She never was. She just chose to ignore what happened around her, not that you could blame her.
Your feet began to hurt from all the running. Perfect. you thought to yourself. Pain was something you learned to enjoy, something you craved. Because pain forced the numb inside you to leave and that's all you wanted. The pain he caused you set you free. The pain he made you feel would make you feel alive, but no matter how much he fucked you over, the moment the pain subsided, the thing you dreaded the most came back to torture you. The funny thing though, is that all you ever wanted, was all you already had. You already found something to take the numb away. As you sat there in your personal hell, you'd catch glimpses of heaven in every day. Heaven as you imagined it was full of emotions, full of raw feelings. Heaven didn't know such thing as feeling numb. You had found your glimpses of heaven in your friends - especially your best friend Jack - and the music you made. You found those glimpses in the love you felt and you realized that you just had to start again. That's why you ran. That's why you're still running. You had to start again, no matter how much you didn't want to, no matter how much you hated the thought of starting again. They would want you - and most likely force you - to start again, he would want you to start again.
The first time you slow down is to catch a glance at your surroundings once you reach a stop light. You stop and gaze around for a moment, realizing that you're only one block away from what you now declare your destination. The rain is getting heavier, lightning and thunder more frequent. You watch as the light turns green and take up running again only that this time, you don't feel lost. You aren't aimlessly wandering around, no. This time you're determined to reach your destination.
As you run you think back to the first few months after your mom had passed away, the first time he laid a hand on you. Your days were a constant death wish, a witch hunt for an exit. You tried to fight your demons, tried to fight him, but you were powerless. That's when your friends had decided to send you to rehab. That's when Jack had decided to send you to rehab. But rehab didn't do you any good, you didn't like it there one bit. You didn't like to sit in a silent circle with the fragile and the broken. Didn't like how everything had been kept unspoken.
"We are powerless." you told Jack one time he visited "We are powerless, because we all walk alone on an empty staircase. Idle in halls and nameless faces." The minute your next sentence had left your lips you knew that you were a part of them, you had finally understood that you were there for a reason "I am powerless."
You run past the local church, seeing all the faithful walk in, most likely attending the late night service and you scoff. You stop running, instead you choose to stand in front of the church and you remember how you've been there years ago with your mom before she had gotten sick.
You remember the priest's words as if it were yesterday. "Everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die. I can't fear death no longer, I've died a thousand times. A wasteful universe and we don't know our soul. Was emptiness inside our heads, but no one dares to dwell." You think back to how you never understood what the priest meant, how you'd looked up to your mother, silently asking her to explain, but she just shook her head, telling you that you'd understand it once you were older. And you did. You understand every line now although you wish you didn't. You wish that you'd still fear death, that you were mentally stable enough to know your soul. But you aren't and you know that.
For a moment you just stare into space, but then you hear the bells ring and you run. You continue to run through the night, every puddle that you step in splashes water on your jean-clad leg, but it goes unnoticed, because you're too engrossed in your memories. You remember how they had sent you home after two months, sent you back to him. You remember how they basically threw you to the flames, how they set your world ablaze and watched you burn.
You're here now, finally reached your destination. You stand on the front porch and desperately try to catch your breath. Once your breathing is back to normal and you feel fairly calm, you knock. And as you wait for someone to open the door, you go back to succumbing to your grief.
You remember how Jack would come and visit you almost every day and how you grew so much closer together. You think about that one time they actually let you leave the rehabilitation center for one afternoon. Jack took you out for a walk in the warm summer air and entertained you by telling stories about what you had missed in school and he got all excited when he told you that he had finally found a drummer to form a band with once you got out of that place. He even bought you ice cream and the two of you ate in silence until Jack decided to speak up, nervously fidgeting around, eyes casted downwards.
"Lex, how are we on a scale of one to ten?"
And even though his question had come out of the blue and completely out of context, you understood. You understood perfectly what he was reffering to and answered confidently with a nine. A nine that had Jack grinning like a fool and then, right there at the park, you had your first kiss. And as Jack pressed his soft, pink lips gingerly against yours, his thumb caressing your left cheek while his other hand linked your fingers, you realized that you had found something to take away the numb. You had found something that made you feel alive.
You remember how you talked to your therapist that night after Jack dropped you off at the rehabilitation center with a kiss and the promise to come back as soon as possible, how she made you stand in front of a huge full length mirror. You remember her asking "Could you tell me what you see?" and you answered "I see a boy that lost his mother and got beat up by his father." and you remember how she wanted to know how it made you feel and if you wanted to talk about it, but you had refused, telling her that you were stable enough to be sent home and that's exactly what had happened.
You thought things would be better now that he promised to stop drinking. Now that he swore to never lay a finger on you ever again, but you couldn't have been more wrong. The beatings got worse and you couldn't help yourself anymore. Every punch reminded you of how you hated feeling numb and how you once thought that every punch was the antidote to not feeling anything at all, but the punches started losing their effect. They stopped hurting, they didn't ease the numbness anymore, so you settled for other things.
"Tell me, have you ever taken a blade to your wrist? Or have you been skipping meals?" your therapist had asked you upon seeing the state you were in and you only nodded. "That's it, Alex. We're gonna try something new today." You nodded. "Now explain to me, how does it make you feel?"
You're shaken from your thoughts by a confused and sleeply looking Jack opening the door. "Alex?" he asks and you fall into him, clinging to him for dear life as you uncontrollably sob into his shoulder. "Lex, tell me what's wrong." he demands, voice concerned and barely above a whisper.
"Hold me close," you mumble "don't let me go." you beg over and over again. "They want to send me back in this hospital for souls."