Wicked wind will blow
Stu doesn't understand. He never understands what Murdoc really means or why he does the things he does. After shutting down the computer, Murdoc throws open the door next to the entertainment center and screams. The door opens out onto nothing. Below it is the roof of the first floor and nothing but parking lot and trees stretch on from there.
There's no one to hear him but others in the building. He screams, swears, and howls against the cold night air. He brings out his meds and hurls them across the parking lot, watching the bottle break apart on the lot below because it obviously doesn't make him better. It doesn't stop the stupid shit he does. It's a lie.
Before long, he's hoarse and tired and shaking. He walks onto the roof outside and closes the door behind him. He climbs up on top of his own apartment. Somewhere no one will come to look for him. He sits there and smokes. He sits there and hates himself and Stu and the world until he feels sick. He lays down and tries to sleep til the sun comes up.
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At school, there was no sign of Stu. There was no one to apologize to. No one to yell at. All day all Murdoc could think of was leaving. He felt like killing something or throwing up all day. He couldn't focus. He was more angry than he'd been in a long while now. That could have been the lack of medication, but Muds doesn't think so.
When he got home, Muds found the livejournal post Stu left for him.
Now he's out on the roof again. The door swings in the breeze and ash blows in onto the living room carpet now and then. Outside, Muds tears pages from his journal, lights them with his lighter and lets them burn down to his fingers and blow away. He doesn't need songs or drawings or words or memories. It's all pointless. He can have a lover or a slave. He doesn't deserve either.
There's no one to hear him but others in the building. He screams, swears, and howls against the cold night air. He brings out his meds and hurls them across the parking lot, watching the bottle break apart on the lot below because it obviously doesn't make him better. It doesn't stop the stupid shit he does. It's a lie.
Before long, he's hoarse and tired and shaking. He walks onto the roof outside and closes the door behind him. He climbs up on top of his own apartment. Somewhere no one will come to look for him. He sits there and smokes. He sits there and hates himself and Stu and the world until he feels sick. He lays down and tries to sleep til the sun comes up.
-----------------------------------------------------
At school, there was no sign of Stu. There was no one to apologize to. No one to yell at. All day all Murdoc could think of was leaving. He felt like killing something or throwing up all day. He couldn't focus. He was more angry than he'd been in a long while now. That could have been the lack of medication, but Muds doesn't think so.
When he got home, Muds found the livejournal post Stu left for him.
Now he's out on the roof again. The door swings in the breeze and ash blows in onto the living room carpet now and then. Outside, Muds tears pages from his journal, lights them with his lighter and lets them burn down to his fingers and blow away. He doesn't need songs or drawings or words or memories. It's all pointless. He can have a lover or a slave. He doesn't deserve either.