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pillz
- 2018-09-29 08:01 (UTC) - Expandphotophobic
2019-11-14 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
strikesthrough
2020-03-22 09:27 pm (UTC)(link)
Like ass, Cardale.
[That is the answer to how he feels.
There's a low beeping sound, an digital mirror of his heart-rate--beep, beep, beep--the sterile scent of the hospital, scratchy medical sheets on the bed. He hurts all over. The kind of pain left in the body after a failed OD attempt, all-present and persistent. His head is killing him.
His throat is raw and sore, making the words he chokes out hoarse and harsh. Eli, sat dutiful and vigilant at his bedside, winces.
It's Victor, but a younger incarnation of him, early twenties, college-aged. It's a memory piled into a memory. Memoryception, as it were. Victor remembers what they tried to do--give themselves powers through near-death experiences. He and Eli were pre-med students and top of their classes, they should know plenty to make it work. It was supposed to be Eli's senior project in theory, Victor pressed them to make it practice.
I'll go first, Victor had said. His method of death was half a bottle of Jack and a full bottle of pain killers. It hadn't worked, Eli had folded, brought Victor back too soon, called 911. Anyone else would be grateful their best friend tried to save their life. Victor was just displeased by hold Eli didn't hold the line.
But even after Victor snapped at him, spitefully called him by his family name which Victor knew Eli hated, the dark-haired young man was leaning closer, his body alive with energy and vigor as he spoke.]
I've been thinking. Next time, I think--
[A woman, Ms. Pierce, came in. A psychologist. Victor's least favourite type of person. He communicated silently with Eli, confirming they'd pick this up and that he'd keep his mouth shut about their experiments without speaking a word, and then proceeded to try and negotiate his way out of the medical center with a series of lies and truths
He hadn't tried to kill himself (only partly true)
He partied too hard (a complete lie)
Lockland University was a high stress environment and he wanted a break (the truth)
He wrangled seventy-two hours under observation down to forty in exchange for a signed copy of one of his parents' psychology books. Ms. Pierce seemed pleased, like a fool. He was supposed to see the university counselor a minimum of three times. He had no intention of doing that.
What he did intend, was trying once again, with Eli, to become ExtraOrdinaries.]
[The concrete surroundings and the steady breeze against the plastic sheets is quite the canvas for Victor to work upon, his palette decidedly red. It always had been.
This was one of Victor's favourite memories, something he wanted to frame in his mind and return to over and over again--Eli on his knees, pulling lumps of lead out of his flesh and gasping, still forcing out his delusions through the pain. Victor both admired that determination and hated how naive it made Eli. This helped though, watching the pain flash along Eli's nerves and light up his face.]
How nostalgic of you [Victor was saying, the bottom of his shoe against the knife-laden table to send the blades scattering across the already bloodied concrete.]
You can't kill me, Victor [Eli rasped, an intake of breath sliced short by Victor slamming a blade in between the other man's ribs and turned up the pain. Eli's screams were spine-chilling and to be heard over the noise, Victor has to shout, his mouth an upward curved razor of a smile.]
I know. But you'll have to indulge me. I've waited so long to try.
[And Victor went to work. Gruesome, bloody work. And loving every second of it, every slice and scream.
There was red slicked everywhere, the majority Eli's, but some Victor's. It was a dance with each of them ending up clutching blades and Eli nearly tumbling on his own expelled fluids on the ground as the two exchanged goads and hissed words. Then there was razor wire, a chair, Victor's speed no match for Eli's, and the wire slicing into Victor's wrists as the sirens ring in the distance. Victor was losing, dying. He slid to the floor, Eli coming to join him with Victor's blade in hand.]
Some hero... [Victor heaved out. Eli brought the blade of the knife between Victor's ribs.]
Good-bye, Victor. [Eli's words are spoken like a prayer, and he pressed down.
Victor's pale eyes widened, then drained empty, a smile lingering on his lips. Victor died and the memory faded.]
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