Absent Soul Part I

Bright rays of sun were hitting his face. He yawned and stretched his body while struggling to get up. His head turned to observe the room with his eyes still half closed. A room full of smoke, ashes and empty whiskey bottles. The alarm clock drowned out the birds chirping outside as it was still ringing.

"I have to unplug this clock. I'm running out of time anyway". He said, while doing exactly that. Every day a different struggle. He could not get out of his house anymore. He didn't have the strength. A million strangers passing by, looking, staring, judging without knowing. He believed that we write our own stories yet his story was drawing closer to the end day by day. The notion of right and wrong was clouded inside his mind. Everything was relative. No universal good or evil. A nameless existence.His previous state of mind- a relic of the past. Tired of everything that he once called important.  Tired of waiting for someone to save him, wake him up from his slumber. The giving up card was just too attractive to pass.

"When is it gonna end'? He whispered to himself.

"Soon". A voice whispered back.

"And if it ends, where do I begin"?

Silence fell in the room.

He looked at the massive wall mounted mirror with a terrified stare but all he could see was his face.

He opened the drawer next to the bed and pulled out  a small bottle of whiskey. After standing up and pouring a drink he just stood there. Petrified with the bottle in his hands, staring at the mirror. Trying desperately to find an explanation. He knew-deep inside him that he couldn't. He could stare at the cracked mirror as long as he wanted and still he would not be able to find an answer for his question. A problem unresolved for years. He took a sip from the bottle and with a sudden move he threw it on the mirror, shattering it in a million pieces. He looked down and all he could see was a distorted reflection.

"Maybe this is who I really am". He stated while laughing.

He walked on the shattered pieces, cutting his feet yet not flinching a second. He went down the stairs and into the water. An ocean filled of photographs. Memories of carefree days and happy adventures. A reminder that it was too late to fix his mistakes. Too late to escape his own mind. He stopped and stared the photographs on the floor for a minute. Some of them were black and white while others had colors. All of them had a certain girl. A girl who always smiled while holding him in her arms, like she was afraid of something. His face on the other hand was always inexpressive. Some photographs in the other side of the room had him half smiling yet his face was serious.

''Oh, how I despise you. You will always be a monster. Always". He said with an angry tone in his voice. His fist was closed shut and bleeding from the force he was applying. The blood was dripping all over the photographs taking the place of the old and dry blood stains.

"You took her from me and I will never forgive you for that-you know"? He stated sadly as he walked in the kitchen for his cup of coffee.

But there was no answer

The sound of the kettle was hurting his ears. Waking everyday hungover was taking a toll both on his mind and body. A big ashtray was sitting on the coffee table, full of ash and overflowing with cigarettes. He lit another one and started puffing it without caring about the ashtray. The rooms of the house were as messy as his black hair. The kettle screeched and the sound was making him crazy. He picked it up as fast as he could and poured the hot water in the cup. The coffee was still hot so he could puff another cigarette. He leaned back on the torn sofa and watched the smoke going up as he exhaled with frustration and anger. He could see the smoke forming different shapes. Lining up to create different memories from when he used to smoke on a flower garden. A garden that had everything but sadness.

Jake:[Frustrated] I wish my story had a happy ending but this is not holywood. This is not the movies. Somebody once told me that love exists when ''the spark'' ends and not when it begins. To love someone unconditionally with all your heart. When that person is difficult to love. This is the stage when love starts. Hah, what a fucking joke. I wish this was true. I wish I could find out but I never had the chance. I never had the chance because you took her from me. Why you did that? I ask you again.

He lifted his head and stared at the snow white colored wall.

No one answered once again.

He reached for his coffee and took a big sip. Suddenly a fade music could be heard in the background. The music of a small box. "I haven't heard this cursed lullaby for a while now". He said curiously. He stared at the box with eyes full of regrets mixed with anger. He stood up and picked up a small canister of lighter fluid. He walked to the box and poured half the bottle on it and threw the cigarette he was smoking in the small opening of the box, lighting it on fire before stepping on it as hard as he could. The sound of the lullaby became weak and faded away in a matter of seconds.

"Bloody box". He said, grinding his teeth together and walked away from the ashes.