Denial Pt. 32
Title: Denial: Part 32 Paranoia
Genre: Suspense, Drama
Prompt: 050 - Paranoia
Word Count: 1,435 +
Rating: R
Type: Series
Summary: A step back in time, a step into paranoia...
Warnings: course language, reuse of pictures from old chapter, photoshopping... okay so that shouldn't be a warning :P
-----------
It was silent in my small and bare apartment. I laid back upon the couch flipping through the television stations, not a one interesting me at all. Setting down the remote on the side of the couch next to me, I looked up at the clock.
“5 pm,” A hushed whisper came rolling from my lips.
The gig was tonight. Probably, what... 50 or 100 customers at this huge nightclub waiting to see Signal Sky's first major performance.
My feet landed on the hard wood floor as I attempted to stand up. Slowly I made my way to the kitchen, to the counter where a bottle of whiskey awaited. Leaning up against the hard surface, I quietly poured myself a shot and drank it at once.
“Psst... what a bunch of shit!”
The performance of the decade, and I wasn't going. Not that I could go, I hadn't a clue what this sudden anxiety that I felt had been. It had started just a year ago. I was a native to Northern city. Sure, I had some issues, stress, and all sorts of apprehensions as I grew up. But why did it have to start now?
I had been a roadie for Signal Sky for years before. As it was, unfortunately, they hadn't been given much of a chance to prove themselves as artists until recently. The music industry changed, men wore peacocked hairdo's with about a can and a half of hairspray, eyeliner, and tight leather striped with all sorts of interesting designs. Then it hit us, we needed to do that! We needed to dawn all the gear, with beautiful women at our sides...
Yes, and then, we received the calls one after another.
“Come play here.. come play here!!” I murmured.
Then soon it hit me, that anxious feeling. One that kept me in this damn city, in this damn pitiful apartment building. Removed from what once was my only escape, and replaced. What was this fear?
I poured myself another shot and took it down rapidly, taking a breath straight afterwards to feel the burn of the alcohol hit my throat.
I looked back up at the clock. Fifteen minutes had past by. The band should be getting ready any moment now.
Pouring myself another shot suddenly the phone rang loudly next to me.
“What?” I answered, sounding upset and weary.
“Michael,” Her voice sounded at the other end “Are you sure you can't go?”
I stared into my shot glass. Staring, wondering if I could see my future. Seeing the crowd of fans cheering us on as we walked up stage, I handing the microphone out and then leaving the stage to sit at a private table. My heart suddenly felt as if it would jump out of my chest.
“Yes!” I hollered out, “I'm sorry. I'm sure, I can't go.”
My hand trembled as I scrambled for the pack of cigarettes that lay in front of me. Pulling out a smoke and lighting it, allowing the smoke to overtake my lungs.
“Look, Michael. You need to see about going to a doctor, I'm sure they can figure out what's going on with you...”
“Hey it's just some thing I'm pretty sure will go away. I'm fine.” I interrupted.
“Well, I really hate for you to miss this show, babe. This is going to be our breakthrough.” She sounded very excited, I could only stare back into my glass.
“I hate to miss it,” The words rumbled through my drunken lips.
Soon there was silence on the other end. I swirled around the liquor in the shot glass, looking through the spirals and almost down to the bottom of the glass. I took a drag from the cigarette, purposely blowing the smoke down to the glass. Had I hit bottom?
“Okay, well, I need to go. We need to be at the club early to set up. If you change your mind, we're at the Razzies Nightclub downtown.” She said, the sound of her voice snapping me out of my daydream.
“Uh, sure. Okay.” I sputtered, “Oh and kick ass tonight!”
I hung up the phone, snuffed out the cigarette and shuffled back to the couch. Before laying back down, I took the last small swig of whiskey and clumsily dropped the glass to the floor. Crashing back down upon the couch, the remote control underneath my back, I reached around to grab for it then began changing through the endless channels once more.
Hours past by. It was strangely quiet around the room.
I peeked out of sleepy eyes to see the channel I was on now nothing but black and white noise. I sat up immediately and looked up at the clock. 1 a.m.!!
My head pounded, stomach ached. I rubbed at my eyes to catch another look at the clock, had I slept that long?
I dragged my tired body back up on it's feet and stumbled back to the counter. The whiskey bottle sat emptied.
“What the...” I murmured. Had I drank it all?
I stood for a moment before catching a whiff of the odor coming from the opened trashcan. Stuffed with pizza boxes and scrapped food, it was a miracle I hadn't vomited from the stench. I covered my nose and briskly gathered up the full bag of debris to take downstairs to the dump.
Dizzy and nauseated, I weaved my way down the stairs and out the door to be greeted by the cool night air. I stopped a moment and took a breath. One foot after another, I eased my way to the dumpster.
It was then that he approached me. This man with snow white hair and eyes completely pale in color. He ran up to me as if he was to rob me.
I dropped the bag of debris to the ground and turned around to face him.
“Who are you?” I choked out, my heart pound up to my throat.
He babbled something however I was drowned out by the sound of my own fear. The sound of my heart beat in my ears, the trembling through my legs and up my spine. I gasp for air in attempt to sooth my paranoia and thought to allow him the pleasure to trample up to my apartment and take anything that caught his eye.
Yet before I could speak again, he swung his body around and held me tightly from behind. His hand cinched just below my chin to tip my head back. My legs felt as if they would give out. My body shaking in his strong arms as he spoke again and yet, I still carried so much fear that I couldn't understand him.
“No, please no!” I whimpered.
“Tell me then, what is there in your life to live for?” I heard him mutter into my ear.
And the thought hit me. Was there anything left? I was ultimately consumed by this dread, each and every day it would rear it's ugly head... my anxieties, my worries, my stress. So much so that I began to drown out it's sorrow. A bottle of booze more than once a day at times.
And then there were my friends. The band members who threw out the fear as if it was just something all in my head. Something that could be cured at a flip of a switch, my switch... that one in my head that I just needed the courage to disable for good. They laughed when I said I couldn't be rid of the fear. They taunted me, discouraged me.
That's when my legs gave way and I crashed to my knees, taking the man with me. He still held on as tight as he could. His hand continued to tip my head back, almost placing me comfortably upon his shoulder.
“What have I done to deserve this?” I stuttered. If it truly was my time to die, I wanted to know exactly why now.
The man didn't answer. Instead I soon felt a sharp pain radiating from my neck and down my spine. I clinched my eyes shut and prepared for death. Like the grim reaper himself lowering his scythe down, ready to take my soul.
My trembling stopped and I took one final breath of the cool air. And just then, my weak body was dropped to the ground and I peeked out to see his feet moving fast out of the alley.