Page 93 of Crybaby

Time stands still…

I read over the words once, twice, three times, hoping that by some miracle, what I’m reading is wrong. But it’s not.

I’ve seen and experienced a lot in my lifetime. But this, this is unlike anything ever before. I just stare at the page, it trembling in my hands. Every emotion slams into me, and I suddenly can’t breathe.

There must be some mistake because if what I read is true…then I am going to burn the entire Beckett kingdom to the ground.

Anger fuels my every thought…my every breath, and I know I need to bounce before I do something stupid.

Pocketing everything I need, I put everything else back the way I found it and leave this house as quietly as I entered.

When I jump into my truck, I work on autopilot and drive, but I know I’m seconds away from losing it. The wipersswish…swish…swish—a hypnotic rhythm which, with every sound, feels like it’s flaying away at my flesh.

Life undresses me, and before long, all that’s left will be a meat suit with a deadened beating heart.

How can life be so fucking cruel? How can I be kicked in the guts, over and over again? Is this my karma for all the bad shit I’ve done? I suppose I deserve it. But no, not this.

This can’t be true because if it is…I don’t want to exist.

Turning off the headlights, I push the accelerator to the floor and let fate decide—live or die…die or live…it’s all the same because if this is living, then I will happily embrace death because how am I meant to face tomorrow, knowing what I do?

The landscapes blurs around me as I drive faster, and before long, I can’t see a thing, my vision distorted, and that’s because I do what I haven’t been able to do since I was a kid—I cry.

It feels foreign when those fat, heavy tears spill down my cheeks because nothing has affected me this way before. I often wondered if I was dead inside because nothing moved me, but it seems it takes the most fucked-up thing in the world to make me feel…something.

I really am fucked up in the head.

The truck careers into the night—destination? Who the fuck knows?

If I were to die right here, right now, I wonder who would mourn me. What would my headstone say?

Beloved son of June and…

Vomit rises, and I think I’m going to be sick.

But the sickness, the anger, it fuels this darkness inside me which swirls and dances to the voices in my head that are telling me to kill them…kill them all. But as I close my eyes and lift my hands off the steering wheel, I know the only person I want to kill…is myself.

I don’t want to exist in a world where my entire existence has been a lie. I don’t want to face another day knowing that he hated me as much as I hated him. But the difference is, he knew who I was, but I was never privy to the fact.

Everyone knew who I was…but me.

A scream tears from my throat, and blinding rage overtakes me. The tires pass over gravel as I know I’ve veered off the road. Now would be the time to take the wheel if I want to live. Dying would be easy…it’s the living part that hurts with every single breath I take.

This hard exterior was erected because I was sick of being hurt, that is until I met Darcie. She was able to penetrate my walls and that shows me I’m not dead inside. If I were to end it now, I would never see her ever again and that’s the tomorrow I know I don’t want to live.

Opening my eyes, I see I’m about five seconds away from slamming into a tree.

The choice is mine. For the first time in my life, I choose what I want my fate to be.

The choice is simple—I choose her.

Always.

Grabbing the wheel, I frantically turn it and tap the brakes, not to lock them up. The truck slows down before I brake, mere meters from a steep embankment.

With my heart in my throat, I open the door and fall from the truck and begin to pace the desolate road like a madman. With my hands interlaced atop my head, I tip my face into the heavens and scream at the stars.

“Why?” I bellow into the empty sky. “Motherfucker, why? How could you!”

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