Serenity

[DAKIHULK]

About two weeks ago the drugs stopped working. I knew it almost instantly when I heard it again. Nothing I could make out of course, but I knew it like no other and I knew it's voice.... just below the surface, a whisper on the wind in my mind. It wanted out... stretch and flex and live once again. So I've been sitting in this place shooting up and listening to it's voice grow louder. Leaving is out of the question without being medicated. Gods only know what could happen while I'm outside and then... it could find a way back. Sooner or later I have to go out for more food and smack. They may not keep it quiet but at least it was still muffling the voice.

*sigh* A flick of the lighter and the spoon starts baking the heroin. I'm out of fresh needles so I need to use an old one. Not like it matters, it won't let the drugs kill me. It won't even let me kill myself and god knows I have tried so many times.

The sun is trying to peak through the curtains. I keep them closed at all times so I can't see the world around me. No television in the place... not since the news reported that was talking about it and called it a brutal monster. It didn't like hearing that and almost broke free. Traded the television for more drugs the next day and started to repaint the room. Soft, warm colors of pink and blue with some stuffed animals I found in the dumpster outside the building. They were dirty but cute. Too damn cute. Now his home looked like Romper Room all to keep him calm. It was almost sickeningly cute that...

NO! It was warm and friendly and it kept him calm. Nothing wrong with that. It was all perfect. Just beautiful to the eyes and soothing for the soul. Happy place. A very happy place.

There was one needle in the bunch that didn't have too much residue in it so he used that one to inject himself. It didn't let him feel the high... it never did. But that muffled voice faded a bit more and the Vivaldi playing on the stereo drowned out the rest.

Have to stay in the happy place.

In the other room were clipping from the newspapers. A reminder of what it had done. Destruction, death, terror. Page after page with some photos of it. One in particular showed the little girl with the white dress stained pink... crushed under the car it had thrown. Eight years old. No name listed but she looked like a Mary. He had tried to kill himself when he saw that picture. The paper fell from his hands as he stepped into the morning traffic and was hit by a semi. There was darkness and hope that maybe this time it was over. Years of fighting it... fighting for the lives of complete strangers... he deserved the ever-lasting darkness. When the dark faded into light he fought it, demanding that the darkness stay with him.

Darkness would not have him. Even that eternal thing surrendered to the will of it. He awoke under a bridge wearing only rags, clutching the picture of the little girl in his hand.

That was 4 months ago. He had not picked up a paper since.

Home. The happy place where he could shoot up and stay calm.

No anger...

A run to the bathroom. Throwing up in the sink and washing it away. The last batch of heroin was poorly cut and it made me sick but it worked. No chance of it killing me and I wanted to delay going outside for as long as possible. My eyes teared when the dry heaves started. Cold water helped with the waves of heat in my face.

Red-eyed and tired I look into the mirror. That hideous green face stares back at me.

It's smiling.

[Ancient History]

Good concept, nice execution, but personally I'd have tried to make the voice a little edgier.