Puppets | Larry Stylinson

I need you to listen, I need you to answer. I'm just a puppet on a string. Please look for strings to set me free. If I can be free, then I can finally tell the truth. Please cut the strings and release me from their control. Please, I need you to listen, I need you to answer.

―—

I need someone to listen, I need someone to answer. It can be anyone, from a small child to an outrageous animal. Someone needs to give me answers. I don't care who, just someone who will help me.

I am controlled. I am judged. I am scared. That's all I ever am nowadays. I'm too scared to do anything that I just cower down and do what they tell me to do. It hasn't been the same since that faithful day. I used to never let them control me, but that day. That one day, the day where he told the whole world how he really felt. The faithful day where it sent me into a never ending pit of sadness and self pity.

I used to be able to do things. I used to be able to smile genuinely at people without feeling like I had to. There always used to be a time where everything was different. Different. I wish it was still that way, but now, I'm a puppet on a string, waiting to be set free from the master.

If I can be set free, then I can finally be myself; tell the truth. The whole truth at that. The more I want for someone to cut the strings, the more I internally scream out in pain. My whole world is crashing down, all because of the damn thing he said.

It was mutual; the feeling was mutual. He told me himself that the feelings were mutual, so why did he say that? Why did he do that? He put me in this damn pit of control. He didn't want this, he was just fucking around with me; messing up my mind real bad. He didn't want any of it, so what did I do? I fell into the control of them. It's like he's on their side.

I drag my hands across my waist feeling the stiff muscles flex underneath my fingertips. They have been over worked from the countless hours I spent at the gym. The only reason I ever go is so I feel in control of something. When I'm there, I choose what I want to do. It's the only thing I ever can take control of; the only time the invisible strings on my arms and legs vanish from my sight.

Sliding on my shirt, I feel the strings start to pull on my skin. Internally, I scream a blood curdling sob from the pain on my wrists. Slowly, I pull myself up to ease the pain and go to my destination. I try to regain my composure, but I no it's no use. After almost three years of this unbearable pain, I'm numb to the touch, and there's no sanity left in me.

That man who I used to have those special feelings for left me without my sanity. We made a deal before any of this happen; one little deal that he broke at an instant. The deal was that we make it through this together, and if one chooses to break free, then to make sure they leave the others sanity intact. It was a damn verbal contract that he made most of it up, but did he keep his word? No! He didn't keep his word because he claimed he was scared. Scared of them.

So what is left of me now? Nothing. Just pure nothingness. My soul has been taken, my sanity broken, and my skin has been numb to the touch for years. Now all I seek is for someone to listen and give me answers, yet no one has seem to even try to speak to me about the matter.

I had what people called “friends”. These friends were what kept me from going insane, but what happened to them? Those people I called friends a few years ago are now strangers. Not towards each other, but towards me. They claim that nothing has changed, but oh how it has. Everything has changed because of that damn day where he decided enough was enough, and was merely thinking about himself and not everyone else around him. That selfish bastard broke me into bits when he promised that it wouldn't come between us, oh, but how it did! It did!

Now, all I do is sit in an empty bed, wallowing in self pity and waiting for the puppet masters to pull on my strings. The strings that which cause me daily pain as they tug roughly on my skin, pulling me to do some lame stunt they planned out.

Yet, even with all the lifelessness taken out of me, I still have a glimmer of hope. A little piece of hope that will finally come, and listen to me and tell me the answers that I have been seeking for oh so long. Within that little glimmer of hope rises my strength a little each day. It's a simple two steps forward, one step back with my lifeless body. It's progress though. Progress that will get me my answers quicker than the day before.

I glance over at the alarm clock on the other side of the room that reads 10 o'clock A.M. This was usually the time that the strangers would be waking me up with text messages that I never reply to anymore. The strangers say that I've changed, when in fact my body is adapting to it's natural settings; just like any regular body does. Their bodies have never had to do anything like that simply because they have nothing to hide.

As I predicted, the strangers sent me text messages to remind me when I had to be at the studio. I scoff silently whilst glaring at the bright phone. The strangers haven't noticed that I left. I wasn't coming back; not now, not ever. My mind has bet me that they won't notice until three days have past, since I go at least two days without saying a word to them other than an okay as a message back.

Shaking my head and standing up, I take the glowing iPhone and throw it against the wall with all my might. By doing this, I feel the strings start to tear until one plucks off my left forearm. I scream in pain and fall back against the wall. My adrenaline fades out until I hear that familiar ringing sound in my ear. My head goes numb. My eyes start to blur. It's starting.

I can feel the puppet masters start to try to repair my broken string, but they can't. They're frantic. They're panicking because they're losing control. Another string plucks off on my right palm.. My sobs turn into a scream-cry. I slam my hands against my face trying to make my brain to stop feeling the pain. It's showing weakness.

I crawl my way towards the other side of the room. I can just feel the strings start to rip off my arms and leave their marks. My chest heaves up and down as I look down at my arms. They spill out a nice even flow of blood. It's not enough to kill me, not yet. The strings are tangled up around me since they were ripped out.

The final to two strings start to rip and I see that it's time for them to be gone. In my pocket, I reach for a pocket knife that I purchased for this reason only. I lean against the the dirty wall examining the strings that hand from my two wrists. They need to go. NOW.

I take the blade and dig it into the flesh. I bit my lip to keep it from letting out the screams that will only show weakness. Mutilating the flesh underneath the strings, I feel their control finally being released. I let out a small laugh and do the same to my other wrist. It's time for the control to be done once and for all.

I feel the final rip of the string. I feel my mind start to get confused, but after a few moments, it starts to take control of everything. I feel my head fall back against the horrid wall. I let out a few chuckles before I felt the darkness start to take over me. I hear the faint sirens of police get closer and closer. They're coming for me. I stare out that small window and hear pounding at my door. With the pounding of the door and the closing of my eyes, I feel a wave of calmness take over me.

They found me, but they're too late. Those strangers can't touch me anymore. Those puppet masters aren't in charge of me anymore. He isn't going to break me anymore. Someone didn't listen, but I figured it out myself. I finally got free from those damn strings. I needed someone to listen, I needed someone to answer. And here lies the answer.

“Harry! No!”