Personal Purgatory » Places

         Seconds dug their feet firmly into the drag, as time forced them to march in their lovely parade. The dancer stood as stiff as a statue, one of the many people time was tormenting with their sick game. How the fuck could this happen? Why did he get run over? Why not some worthless piece of shit? Why the Adios handsome soul that he was? Him. Whose laugh boomed like a wonderful, blinding firework? Whose eyes light with scintillation whenever he spotted her figure on the stage? These tortuous thoughts kept throwing jubilant memories at her, causing her doe-like eyes to glaze over with tears carrying the weight of consuming despair. She tried to hold by the tidal wave of water that would consume her.

'Why him?' Kept searing itself into her feeble mind. Destroy those memories with the image of her beloved lying on the disgustingly blank bed. Life seemingly being sucked out of his beautiful body through traitorous tubes, connecting to mechanical, plastic boxes. If only she could reverse it and get to tubes to fill him with life.

But she was a flimsy, pathetic human. With no supernatural power to save her love. Helplessness pored itself into a large compartment of her aching heart to keep the cold misery a bit of company. The muscle pounded furiously against the dancer’s now bruising rib cage. It felt as though her heart was going to explode from too much pressure. She would have preferred than to live a day without her love.

In the reality outside of her world of clotting pain, humans were buzzing around some trying to save others, some like her and some were trying to keep themselves from fall apart, while others were battling a viscous battle to breathe the sweet scent of life for at least one more day.

Numbly, the dancer forced her normally graceful legs to stagger towards a plastic chair worn from years of others sitting, waiting. Her typically nimble form slump against the chair, she was on the verge of spilling over onto the floor and simply screaming her voice raw. Her normally straight, raven hair, now hung limply around her trembling body making her look as though she had escaped from a highly guarded mental institute. In stark contrast, her creamy skin tone had taken the sickly shade of paste. She was really a sight to behold, still dressed in her elegantly woven costume. It probably would have given others a laugh seeing someone wearing a vivid red ballet costume, if it weren’t such dire consequences. The female’s feet were even clad in worn, scuffed up ballet shoes due to vigorous use over only a few months.

“Miss?” the cool, calculative voice dripped past the macabre branches of her despair into the center of her common sense. The dancer gazed up with haunted eyes at the pristine coated doctor, who seemed content in avoiding weighted stare. Once the male realized that he had captured a portion of her attention he continued on, “Anyways, I am sorry to inform you, but he has slipped into coma and the chances of him ever regaining consciousness are slim to none.”

What did he say?

Did he really say those horrendous words?

Blinking, the dancer let her eyes flit around the room. Confused. This setting wasn’t what it was just a few seconds ago. She wasn’t lying on a bed. Nor was she in a hospital room. What happened? She was sitting in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting room.

She blinked again. When did that towering, menacing-looking male enter her room? Was he always standing far too close to the rigid, rock-like bed? The dancer slowly inched away from the business suited man to the opposite edge of the bed. Blink. Holy shit. He was on the side she was scooting towards without any motion that caught her eyes.

A smirk curled around his thin, bloodless lips. The man had an angular face with razor sharp cheek bones that could slice through diamond and a strong jaw that must have taken down a few fists. The dancer was horrified when she glanced into his empty, desolate eye sockets. Black holes sucked all of her attention as she desperately searched for the male’s lost eyes.

Without eyes. Without soul.

She screamed. Or tried to at least. The male, with his inhuman speed, successfully stifled all noise from her by sufficiently smothering her with a thin pillow.

“It’s rude to scream at another’s deformities,” he hissed out like a snake being awoken from their nap in the sun. The dancer flinched at the sugary coated mockery that surrounded his words.

“Alrighty then,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Down to business.”

The dancer stared at him with guarded yet startled fear. The male took her silences as a motivation to continue on with his ‘business proposal’.

“I couldn’t help but notice the pain you are currently going through. And as any gentleman would; I would like to solve whatever is ailing your emotional state of mind. With a price of course. But, I can do just about anything for a lovely lady like you. With the right payment, I could wake up your sleeping prince,” he spoke in a light, soothing tone. The man’s mouth had painted on a sincere and caring smile that could never reach his eyes.

The constant flow of words from her mind to paper was interrupted by an odd tingling sensation along her spine. She shifted slightly, the hairs of the back of her neck pricked upward in alert. Melina tightened her grip on the pencil as she tried to ward off the feeling of being observed.

After that particular feeling subsided, she continued writing the blooming story. Scribbling away on the loose leaf of paper; Mel once again immersed in the realm of plot lines and characters.

Again, unseen eyes burned on the back of her head. The small sparks of irritation began to bounce into each other as she lost the connection to her writing. Glancing around the room, she noticed no one in her bland sanctuary. With a small sigh, she returned her gaze towards her paper. Now she had to find her lovely muse once again. It was a difficult search because the muse decided to hide among her memories. That sneaky bastard didn’t want to leave her mind.

Third time is the charm. But when she lost concentration this time, it was because of loud, echoing crashes not far from outside her door. Mel made a noise akin to an irritated growl as she stood up abruptly, dropping her pencil, and stomped out of her shelter. Once in the dingy living room, the wonderful sight of her beloved mother lying on the ground while clutching her stomach and a disgusting man looming over her graced her eyes. Now she knew where the noises came from.

Mel froze to the spot. Fury spread all over her body, travelling in her veins. It sparked and clashed with all of the more rational emotions. Devouring all of them until only anger was left to guide her actions. In a disjointed manner, she picked up an empty bottle and, with a sneer, broke it against the male’s thick skull.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t put in enough momentum behind the throw. “Fucking shit. Why the fuck does that bastard have such a thick skull?” she muttered to herself.

The male, with his disgustingly beady eyes, slowly, menacingly stalked over towards where she was standing. As a response she slowly backed away from the muddy brown haired man, inching closer and closer to the exit. He had a scary amount of muscles and was easily a full head taller than her.

“You fucking bitch!” the male so eloquently shouted in a nauseating tone of voice. She was screwed if he caught her. A scowl marred his already ugly as fuck face as the man suddenly lunged forward at her. Luckily, Mel was faster and in a flash, she was out of the tiny hell, known as her home.

You idiot! How could she have left her mom alone with that bastard?!? She was such a fucking coward, saving herself but not her mother! Now her mother was probably fucking dead. She slammed her leg against the concrete wall in the stairwell, which sent searing pain shooting all over her leg. “Fuck fuck fuck shit,” she cursed, in a very colorful manner as she comically hopped on one foot and attempted to nurse her leg.

Mel really was not having a good day.

As if that thought tugged on sister Fate’s attention, her hopping caused her to crash her skull against the brick wall of the stairwell. Echoing curses filled the chilly air, Mel sagged ungracefully against the cruel wall while rubbing the spots where pain was being emitted from. Throbbing, searing pain. Burned into her brain. Mel squeezed her eyes closed tightly shut while her fingers made an attempt to smother the pain. After a few moments the fire-like hurt subsided slightly. Snapping her eyes open. Her charcoal eyes tried to focus on the blank wall opposite of her, but it wouldn’t stop fucking swaying. Oh wait, that was her.

Heh, funny how she caused more pain for herself on accident than an outside force. In an almost hysterical mannerism she doubled over in giggles that seemed endless. In an outsider’s point of view, you would be in a supposedly empty stairwell, but with hysterical giggles bouncing off the walls.

After the giggles subsided, Mel closed her eyes and rested against the wall with a lazy expression relaxing her facial features. Unfortunately, the noise of someone opening the door rang through the stairwell. Bringing Mel out of her cozy mind and caused her to race down the stairs, two at a time until she was at the surface level.

Glancing upwards, her eyes caught the burly figure of the disgusting male. At least he wasn’t focused on beating the shit out of her mom.

But Mel desperately needed to lose the man. She forced her legs to sprint making herself out as a blurry of black and stark white out of the apartment building into the lovely streets of New York. She ran past two hobos sitting next to each other staring blankly, an old lady taking out the trash, and a gangster trying to impress a bimbo. Breathing in and out Mel stopped paying attention to the busy world around her and focused on moving one leg after another in a corridanted manner.

She had no idea where she was going, Mel just relied on her instincts to take her wherever. Time blended together holding no more meaning. Only the rush of air flowing in and out of her lungs and the burn in her legs registered in her mind. It wasn’t until she fell over a skinny mass of pale human was she pulled back into reality.

In a completely gracefully manner, Mel arranged herself so she was sitting next to the human she tripped over. Peering around, she realized she was in the druggy alley. Joys, she was probably sitting on dried semen. Shuddering involuntarily, she turned her gaze towards the cadaverous male. Although the male wasn’t wearing a shirt, which caused her pinky to twitch slightly, his inked chest had a hypnotic quality that would allow almost anyone stare at them in wonder for hours. He seemed like an odd creature. Probably so high in the sky that he sees unicorns puking rainbow flavored…not going to finish that thought.

Mel poked his arm while tilting her head. She looked at him similar to how children look at a fascinating object. “Hey, human…do you have cows stuffed in your head so that you can’t see the floating dust mites that are at battle?” she asked in a curious tone.