Oh, Catastrophe

It was like he was holding his breath. The gasp of air he took in came so fast that he got light headed and his chest tensed. His hands flew off of her and he threw himself to the floor, scrambling to a corner of the room where he trembled.

Kelly coughed, gasping for air and holding her own neck which would begin to bruise. She hadn’t a clue what happened... They were laying so quietly and so peacefully that she almost drifted off to sleep while Angelo continued to stare blankly at the area in front of him. She questioned him when he shifted in bed, his muscles flexing and it looked like he was clamping his jaw tightly. She could only speak his name once before he was suddenly on top of her, she screamed but he covered her mouth and began to choke her with one hand. His grip getting tighter the more she struggled until both of his hands were wrapped tightly around her neck. He stared her in the eyes the whole time.. But she could not recognize him. She refused to accept that this was Angelo’s doing and inside his eyes she saw nothing but dull darkness. Was she going to die there?

She kicked and she begged as best as she could and just as her vision began to tunnel, her lungs begging for oxygen, it was over. She put a hand over her heart and calmed herself down before looking for Ang who sat in his corner. He shook like a leaf and had his head between his knees. He muttered things to himself and it was clear he was crying.

“Angelo, look at me.” She commanded more than trying to encourage him.
He shook his head, let out an audible whimper, and rocked himself. He didn’t want to look at her. To look at her would be to realize what he had done and how bad the situation might have turned out if the Voice hadn’t released him when it did. In fact, it did it on purpose... It wanted to show him the light fading from the eyes of a loved one. It wanted him to feel something about it but he felt nothing but horror... and the Voice? It was enraged.

I knew you couldn’t fucking do it. Look at you sitting in the fucking corner crying like a pathetic child. You could never do anything right! Never opt to anything! Why do you even try anymore? You have NOTHING! You’re NOTHING, you hear me?! They’ll be glad when you're gone! Make a toast when they see you hanging in the fucking closet for all they care. They’ll laugh when you slit your wrists and empty yourself! Remember the man you shot Angelo? You killed him. Cold-blooded. You didn’t even have to but guess what? You WANTED to. You weren’t helping Christopher... It was all you. And you’re just too much of a pussy to fucking admit it! Admit it Angelo! Admit how good it felt! But you won’t because we all know whatever you say won’t matter. No one cares about you. You’re nothing but a faded memory to all your “fans.” Replaceable. Forgettable. You’ve helped no one, contributed Nothing. All that’s missing is your grand exit.

He could see himself sitting in the chair in a room and blasting a hole through his skull, splattering his brains against a wall.
He could see himself like a rag doll in his closet.
Or laying in a tub filled with red.

“Angelo!”
Her tone made him raise his head slowly.
“You’re bleeding.” She was more sympathetic now.
He resembled a scared child. But he felt the warm liquid right under his nose. His trembling hand reached up and touched the stream before he looked down at his sticky red fingers.
He chuckled quickly examining his fingers and how the air began to make the blood crust. He resembled a fascinated child finding something new amongst mud piles. The sight actually sent shivers down Kelly’s spine.

Suffer.

Angelo let out a small wheeze that made her jump, “Are you ok?” She asked timidly, not wanting to set him off.

It seemed like he forgot she was even there. His head snapped up, pupils dilating, focusing on her. He tilted his head one way then another, as if trying to determine who (or even what) she was. But as quick as the look was plastered upon his face, it was wiped right off. He remained with a scared and unsure look, her very being confused him.

“Kelly’s her name, she, what? Stranger? Maybe. I don’t know.” He grabbed his hair, “No. I don’t want to. Kelly. Kelly, Kelly, Kelly!” He was like a child throwing a fit, as if he lost all concept of his true age; “I wanna go home Mom.” he’d sniffle, looking up blankly with tear stained cheeks.
“Angelo? Babe?” Kelly inched closer to him, utterly confused by his behavior.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god. He’s dead.” He pressed himself up against the wall, “No, no, no. I didn’t do that- Yes I did. I need to help him? He’s bleeding... Oh god I think I killed him.” He covered his mouth to muffle his sob.

“Baby, there’s no one else in the room. Please calm down, I’ll get Dr. Prescott on the line-”
The look he gave her stopped her dead in her tracks, chilling her to the bone and making her tense. It was crazed, yet innocent. Ancient but young.
And then it was him, her world and only love. She jumped to him, lunging to embrace him and cradle his head in her arms. He sobbed, reaching for her and holding her hands against him, constantly searching for some kind of safety within her. As if she could pull him from his own mind and barricade him from the terrors demolishing his thoughts like knives stabbing through his skull.
“I don’t, I don’t- ARG!” His sob was cut short, his back arching in an unbearable pain that caused Kelly to cry out for him. He squirmed against the floor, fingers curling and reaching as if to scratch something that wasn’t even there.
“Get it out! Get it out! GET IT OUT!” He shrieked, crawling across the floor, past her, past the bed, reaching up for the bottle of pills, a needle, something.

“Angelo! Hold on, I’m gonna go get help!” She went for the door but froze, seeing the movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned around quickly, as if at any minute the image before her would’ve disappeared.

Angelo was standing straight, head looking down to the floor, hair covering his face. His breathing was normal and he flipped his hair back, eyes closed, breathing concentrated. He then sighs, turning his head left and right, cracking the stiff joints.
“Angelo-”

“I think you should leave.”