Oh, Catastrophe

“You have 3 new messages.”
“Angelo, babe, remember your appointment with Prescott at 3 and then dinner with my mom at 9. I’ll call you back in a bit, love you, bye.”
“Ang, buddy, it’s Chris again. The guy were wondering if you wanted to come to one of our shows this week. You know, we can catch up on some things.. I’m sure some of the fans would be excited to see you! Call me back when you can.”
“This call is for Angelo Parente reminding you that you have an appointment with doctor Prescott-”
He stopped the stream of messages and wiped the memory from the machine.
“You have no new messages.”

He stared at the blinking zero. It seemed to match the pace in which his heart was beating. He woke up with a jerk at around 3am and saw no want to go back to bed and slip into the dream world again. His bloody dream world. Bags hung below his eyes and no amount of coffee could wake him from the trance he was in.
He got a glass from the cabinet and turned on the tap,

Blood runs thicker than water.

“But water quenches the thirst.”

It’s not water you’re thirsty for.

He ignored it, the voice, and took a big gulp from the glass. It tasted like poison. He dumped the rest, dragging himself into the shower and preparing to shave his 5 o’clock shadow.

One flick of the wrist can give you what you’re looking for.

He kept shaving, focusing on the task at hand.

I wonder what it’s like to watch yourself bleed? Don’t you?

He tapped the razor at the edge of the sink, rinsing it off then returning his gaze to the rest of his face.

Your vein’s twitching... I think you want to know.

He examined the clean shave, running his fingers over the area until he was sure there was no stubble left. He cleaned the razor and put it away. Trying so hard.

Oh Angelo... You’re trembling in fear. What is it you’re afraid of, my friend?

“Don’t call me that.” He began to undress.

Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little blood? Afraid of death? But isn’t that what you want? To be dead? I know what you want Angelo.. and I can help you if you let me in.

“No. That’s what you want.”

But I AM you, Angelo. I’m everything you hate to admit. Do you think your fans would respect you as much if they knew you took a life? And would do it again! Oh what excitement!

"You only talk for yourself."

Me? What good do I have to gain by making you realize what you truly want in this pathetic life of yours, look at you! A fallen musician who's name no one can remember. Who was it you played for again? Oh, right, that doesn't really matter. Oh, I know! What if they knew you longed to see yourself bleed? Feel the life melt away from your veins as your heart slowly.. stops.. beating. We can do it Angelo. Together. We can end this misery together.

“The only misery is you!” His voice bounced off the tiles of the bathroom, his eyes unwavering to the angry reflection in the mirror.

That’s it Angelo, let the anger consume you! Let it swallow you until your blood boils! Let it swell until your vision glows red and your hands tremble with real strength! Maybe then you’ll be brave enough. You were never brave enough.

He flinched, steaming hot water pounding on his back, reality returning to him. He focused on the steady beating; it drowned out the voice and his pain. Sometimes he wondered how right the voice was..
His hand poked out to grab the bottle of medication, of promised sanity, balancing on the towel rack. He shuffled a few into his mouth and swallowed dryly, tilting his head back and letting the water burn his face and throat.

Kelly. He focused on the thought of Kelly and her career. It was so exciting and he was so proud of her. But she worried so much about him, dedicated so much time to him; he felt like he was just getting in the way.

Holding them back. Always holding the ones you love back because you’re such a sad sad excuse for a human being. Always needing your hand held, never could take care of yourself. Imagine all that could be achieved once you're dead.

He shivered feeling the voice crawl from the base of his spine to the back of his neck. He wanted to throw up.

“Kelly...” He exhaled, closing his eyes and imagining her brilliant smile... Her lovely family and the dinner they’d be having. He imagined what it’d be like to bring her home after the long day, lay in bed with her and kiss her. He wanted his hands to roam again like they once did a long time ago... He wanted to explore her and memories of how she felt.. How she tasted. He longed for the intimacy again.. He longed to wrap his arms around to.. To squeeze and to.. to watch it dimming.. To-
“Stop!”

Hahaha! What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to see? Wanted to know what it felt like again... Maybe more intimate?

A flash of a horrible vision teared through his mind sending him swaying.

“No! Never! Never again!” His nails scraped against the skin of his arms as he fought to stay conscious... The darkness getting closer and tunneling his vision.

It cooed to him, Oh... Little Angelo... Poor poor Angelo. Don't worry.. I'll keep you safe.

Each work echoed and the darkness engulfed him.

~~

“Angelo? ANGELO!”

He gasped so sharply a pain panged in his chest. Everything seemed so vibrant in color and for a moment he panicked, scrambling to his feet and looking about like a caged lion, “Where am I? Oh my god! Where the FUCK am I?!”
“Angelo! Angelo calm down! It’s me, Dr. Prescott!”

The voice seemed so far away he couldn’t grasp it and stared at the old man in front of him with wide eyes.

“Angelo...” Prescott said smoothly, “Focus... That’s it... Breathe... Remember who you are... Remember Kelly and remember me... Dr. Prescott.”
Angelo swayed, falling back on the couch and panting, tears brimming in his eyes, “What’s happening to me?” His head lolled back and forth... There were blue pills scattered across the coffee table and suddenly he had a flash of memory.

Barging into Prescott’s office, startling the old man.
“Oh Angelo? You’re early.”
He’d slam his prescriptions down on the table, popping open the bottle, “They’re NOT WORKING.” He’d sneer through bare teeth, “Give me something STRONGER.”
Prescott was taken aback and stared at Angelo who’s eyes didn’t focus on him, “Angelo look at me.”
He didn’t move, simply stayed in his lent over position.

Angelo could remember nothing more.

“What happened?” He croaked, searching the doctor’s old eyes for answers.
He sat in his usual chair and sighed, brushing his hangs across his ugly grey sweater he seemed to always wear; “I suppose it was another episode. I was able to time it for the majority of you being here.”
“But, WHAT happened?”
He looked at him for a long time before putting on his glasses and picking up Ang’s charts, “You barged in at around 11AM and demanded stronger medication then you zoned out.. Sat back on that couch right there and stared ahead for hours. Wouldn’t respond to me until now.”
“What do you mean hours?”
The doctor would roll up his sleeve and check his watch, “It’s about 10:30pm.”
His eyes widened, “Shit! Kelly-”
“I called her within the 4th hour. She’s well aware of where you are.”
He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream and he wished he had a new brain, a new life, he wish Chris never got kidnapped... In fact, he wished he never met Chris at all.

“Angelo, you’re bleeding.” Prescott stood from his seat, adjusting his glasses to take a closer look.
He looked down at himself to see what the man was talking about. He was indeed bleeding.. Right through his shirt. Why haven’t they noticed this before? How long has he been bleeding?
He pulled up the sleeve, sloppy cuts adorning his arm. Some thin, some thick, many just surface wounds, few deep.
His heart was beating rapidly in his ears.. When did he have time to do this? He had tensed so hard it caused the wounds to open again, which would explain the bleeding.

I told you I would take care of you my dear Friend...Wonderful isn’t it? Watching yourself bleed. Go ahead, smile Angelo.. I wouldn’t blame you. Don't you feel better? Don't you feel lighter? Now imagine what the real thing would be like?

He fought the muscles tugging up the corners of his mouth. He fought the urge to get up and run. He fought the feeling of joy and the urge to laugh.
He desperately looked up at the doctor, as if he could make it all go away, “You have to help me... I-I don’t wanna be like this! This is not me! I’m not doing this!” He tried so hard to convince Prescott. Convince him that this was something else that something was taking over his thoughts.
“Now you listen to me Angelo, I’m doing everything I can. I will review your charts and I will find the best possible medication to control your Schizophrenia. I think this goes way beyond the Schizophrenic mind and I want you to consider letting me treat you for Psychosis.”
He shivered at the terms, “What’s that?”
“Psychosis? Well, it’s a loss of reality. The differences between what is real and what it not. Much like Schizophrenia, it causes you to hear and see things that aren’t there.”
He stared at the coffee table in front of him.. The little blue tablets seeming to call his name with promises of a better day.
“Am I going insane?” He whispered.
Prescott leaned forward, “My dear boy, this is your own inner battle. A fight to cope with yourself and all you’ve been through. A fight between bitter feelings and the need to move on. You’re simply growing... Don’t let these terms scare you.”

But they did. They chilled him to the point and made him want to rip his hair out, bury himself alive so he wouldn’t have to face the reality of it. But what good would that do? The voice would still be there... Speaking to him, slowly chipping away at the strings that connected Sanity to Reality. It’ll replace the real world with dark thoughts and make him something he’s not.

Just let me in Angelo. Let me in and I’ll show you everything you’re meant to be.