The Ghost of You

Dark. Everything was dark.
The room.
The colors.
The thoughts.
The memories.

Always the memories, over and over and over and over and over and-

Stop. Make them stop. Make them end their infinite cycle in my mind. I knew they wouldn't but I still could hope. Still could dream.

Wrong. I couldn't dream, not without reliving that day, over and over and over and-

No. I had to focus on now, on here. Here in this cramped apartment that I could now call my own, although I wasn't sure that I wanted to.

I never wanted to. I never wanted any of this.

But it was mine. Mine like the colored pencils spilling onto the desk that I'd shoved in the corner. Mine like the little orange bottles lined up behind the bathroom mirror. Mine like the blame that I could never separate myself from no matter how far I ran.

I laid on my new bed, springs pressed against my back through the thin mattress. I put my hand against my temples, my head throbbing. I'd already taken painkillers and then some, yet nothing could stifle the raging behind my skull.

I thought back to the man I'd met yesterday in the hallway. Boy, more like it. A college kid like I used to be. Like I should've been.
Frank. The sound of his name echoed in my mind. Echoing, echoing. Like a gunshot. I could hear it. I could always hear it.

I tried to redirect my thoughts back to Frank. His messy black hair, his baggy clothes. His voice. The first person I'd talked to in so long who wasn't waiting to meet me in hell. He'd seemed nice enough. And what had I done? I'd told him to fuck off. I'd ruined any chance at starting over, at having a normal life. But hadn't that been the point?

I couldn't go back. Couldn't repeat. Couldn't let things become the way they used to be.
But Frank...something about him was different. He wasn't like the others. He-

I couldn't let myself think like that. Didn't I remember why I'd had to come here in the first place? Why I'd had to leave everything behind?

Her. It was because of her. Always her. Her face filled the blank expanse of my mind. Pale skin, black hair, red lips. Eyes staring dully ahead of her, searching for something that they'd never see.

I let out my breath in a hiss, realizing that I'd been holding it. I rolled onto my side, pulling the scratchy blankets over my head. It was uncomfortably warm, but I couldn't bring myself to move. The stiff bed was becoming softer, the clinking hum of the air conditioner was becoming more soothing than bothersome.

I felt my eyelids slipping lower, darkness coming over me. How nice it would feel to just relax...
I jerked my eyes open, forcing myself to wake back up. If I let myself sleep, I'd just see more things that I really didn't want to. Faces. Laughter. Voices. Screams.
I shuddered.

I rolled out of bed, groaning and stumbling to my feet. I wandered out of the bedroom and into the only other area in the apartment, which served as a kitchen, living room, and virtually everything else. I found my shoes, which I'd kicked off in the corner. My hands shook as I knotted the laces, my tired eyes sliding in and out of focus.

Patting the pocket of my dirty jeans with my hand to make sure I had my wallet, I snatched up my keys from the counter and shouldered open the door. I shut it behind me, blinking my eyes a few times to clear the fog from my head.

I stole a glance at the door across the hall. Frank was probably in there. Probably hating me. Although, I thought to myself as I turned to go downstairs two steps at a time. It's probably better that way.

I envisioned Frank's face again, but it quickly morphed into hers, just like it always did. And suddenly, it wasn't an obnoxiously dressed 40-year-old getting her mail in the lobby. It wasn't a little girl holding her mother's hand. It was her.

I turned away, quickly running down the rest of the stairs toward the garage. I needed to get out of there. My heart was racing, my eyes widening because she was all I could see, no matter where I looked. No matter how tightly I closed my eyes, leaning against the stone wall of the garage.
I tried to control my breath, aware of my hand twitching by my side. Fuck, why did it have to be this way? Why did I have to be this way?

"Hey man, you okay?"

I slowly opened my eyes, images fading in the fluorescent lights. There was a man standing in front of me in a ratty grey hoody, long black hair hanging down to his shoulders. He held a cigarette between his fingers, staring at me with unfocused eyes.

"I'm fine," I breathed under my breath, clenching my fist around the keys in my hand and pushing away from the wall.

I spotted my car nearby, and as I pulled open the door I saw the guy lean back against the wall, most likely forgetting about me in his cloud of smoke.

The car smelled like spoiled milk, and I wrinkled my nose as I climbed inside. The smell alone made me nauseous, but the effect was multiplied by my exhaustion and headache. The only reason I was still standing was the pharmaceutical cocktail swirling around in my brain. I didn't know how much longer I could go on like this.

Switching the car into reverse, I pulled out of the space and then onto the street. Darkness hovered on the edges of my vision, and I shook my head slightly as if to clear it. Damn, did I need a pick-me-up. There had to be a bar around here somewhere...

My thoughts flashed to the last time I'd been drunk. I- I couldn't do that again. Not after what had happened.

Spotting a McDonald's a few blocks away, I drove toward it, hoping that nobody noticed that I was swerving. Picking a space in the mostly empty lot, I did a shitty parking job and climbed out of the car. Running a hand absentmindedly through my unwashed hair, I pushed open the door.

The immediate rush of noise sent my senses reeling, the smell of hot food making my stomach rumble. I couldn't quite remember the last time I'd eaten, these past few days had been a blur. I made my way to the back of the line, glancing around at the red and yellow tiles. I really just wanted to go home. Not just to the apartment, but to my real home.

But I knew I couldn't go back. Not now, not ever. The darkness here would have to be enough.

"Next!"

I approached the counter, calling out my order as I fished in my pocket for my wallet. "Uh, I'll take a burger, everything on it, and some coffee. Biggest size you got."

I pulled out the necessary bills from my wallet, slapping them on the counter.

"You've got to be kidding me," I heard someone mutter in front of me.

I looked up to see a familiar face glaring at me. Frank.

I raised my eyebrows as he begrudgingly punched in my order, pressing the buttons just a little too hard. He stiffly slid the money towards him, giving me my change. He placed the coins in my hand, and our eyes locked as my hand closed around the pieces of metal. His eyes narrowed after a moment, and then he looked away.

I slid over to the other side of the counter, where I was handed a bag and my coffee. Bringing the hot liquid to my lips, I gave Frank one last stare before exiting. He was already helping another customer.

The coffee was hot, and I could feel it burning my throat as I drove. After parking, I passed the same guy hanging out in the garage. He gave me a weird look, but didn't say anything.

I made my way upstairs, my steps becoming sluggish. I took another swig of coffee, but at this point I didn't think the caffeine was doing anything. I pushed open the apartment door, sliding off my shoes and sitting down at the small table. I devoured the burger, although I couldn't really taste it. Just a constant numbness.

I threw the crinkled bag toward the garbage can in the corner, which missed and landed on the ground. I sighed, blinking and seeing spots. I needed to sleep, I couldn't tolerate consciousness anymore.

I dragged myself up from the table toward the bedroom. I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to take off my jeans. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. At the darkness.
I finally allowed my eyes to slip closed, unable to stand this reality anymore.

A single thought flitted through my head before I slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
A name. I never spoke it. I never wrote it. I tried to never even think. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how fucking hard, it always came back. Just like all of this came back to her.
I saw her again, as I always did in my dreams. In my nightmares.

Helena.

Notes

ok um should I continue this or not? comments much appreciated