“NO! No no no no! You aren’t that! You don’t want to do that!” Travis found himself screaming at the wall as hands clasped and unclasped at the bottom edge. Panic filled him. How could you think that? Dying’s not an answer! If I could get hold of that miserable sonuvabitch I’d beat him into a bloody pulp! Travis clenched and unclenched his hands around the poles as he stood on the platform. His hands ached to have that smarmy asshole’s neck between them. He’d give it a…
Movement on the screen caught his attention. The girl had stood up, and moved to the bed. She threw herself forward, her face landing on the pale blue pillow. The view shifted black as she buried it in the pillow and began screaming. The rage resonated in Travis, burning the confusion and panic away. Girl’s a fighter. We got a chance to turn this around. It was odd to Travis that her getting mad would make him optimistic, but he accepted it as true. Anger is not a place where a person tries to kill themselves.
If she’s mad, then that slimy asshat can’t get her to cut herself up. Crud, but what about killing? That’s too easy to do mad. There’s gotta be a middle way. When the heck did I get so thoughtful? This ain’t me. I’m the walk up and throw punches kind of guy.
‘You WERE that kind of guy” the letters marched across the dark wall. ‘Now you’re dead. Your old life is not this existence.’
It was true. As much as Travis was caught up in all the tension and drama of this girl’s life, he kept hanging onto his own memories as they slowly lost the passion that they had engendered in him. The realization raised a flutter of anxiety. I don’t want to forget, I don’t want to lose all that Kimmy gave me.
‘Melodramatic much?’ The words displayed right to left. The mocking hues of pink and yellow drew a flash of anger and despair from somewhere deep inside him.
“I ain’t gonna forget, and I ain’t gonna quit feelin’ them, you piece o’ crap! They’s mine! You can’t take ’em from me! Tha’s MAH LIFE! It’s MINE!” Travis screamed at the wall, and he heard an answering scream of muffled rage from the girl as the hiccuping sobs grew back into a building anger. The other voice became clear as Travis quit his rant.
“That’s it. You can do something about them. The blade will make them stop hurting you. You should be mad. They’re trying to CONTROL you. No one controls you. You are your own boss, your own woman. Show them what it means to cross you. They’ll never do it again i you stick them with that blade.”
Oh crapola. Me getting mad got her mad and that slimeball took advantage. Travis watched as the top drawer of the low dresser was opened again, and the socks with the blade hidden in them was pulled from the back. “No one will give me shit like that again. No one’s gonna a lay a han’ on me if I don’t want ’em to.” The venom that she spat the words chilled Travis to the core. He could feel her hate, and resolve start to solidify. If he didn’t find a way to change it, there wouldn’t be a future.