a corruption of the mind [r.t.]

11

- May 4th, 1993

     He kicked a stone around, making his way down a familiar path. The perfect excuse for not coming went through his head, but he knew he couldn't keep something this big from her. He needed to explain what he saw, and what he did to try and take away the pain. How he went out to smoke with the stoners, and Beverly Marsh was there. How high he was at the time that anything reminded him of you, in this case Beverly's lips on a cigarette made him think of how your lips wrapped around the cigar he brought over once. He was also drunk, and with the pain in the back of his head all he wanted was some relief. Something to not turn into a memory of you, for once. But how could he when you were his life, his reason for existence. Some would call him crazy, obsessed, blinded by fake love, but it was true. He had nothing else but you, and if you were gone...

     He decided it would be best to bring some of your favorite snacks over, and some brownie mix to make you feel better. Even a bottle of [Favorite Drink] could help, even though he felt that it would end with a fight. He was prepared for that, and worst case scenario was that you got together with Eddie and left him in the dust. If that ever happened then he would actually kill himself. Yeah, he was only thinking about himself, but maybe it would be easier for them to be together if he was just out of the picture? That way you got your happiness, and he got his. Win-win situation, as you've said before, but definitely not in this context. He thought of mentioning this, if you gave him the chance. What you would do if he died suddenly. That would be interesting, add that to the list of Questions to Ask [Name] That You Would Actually Never Ask.

     Finally, after what felt like twenty minutes, he got to the familiar store where Cindy would greet him with a smile. Assure him that [Name] would forgive him, that what they had was special and that they better invite her to their wedding. He loved that lady, a true motherly figure. He wished that she actually was his mother, that she would wake him up in the mornings with a plate of pancakes and tell him to wear his hair a certain way. Something, at least. He opened the door, the sweetness of her perfume making his heart feel enwrapped by a warm hug. This is what home feels like, and he was glad he had something better than a Cindy in his life. He had a/an [Name]. That was better than any Cindy. When he looked over to the familiar plump woman at the counter, he was surprised to see her terrified. Her eyes were wide, and sweat was dripping from her forehead, hands gripping the counter until her finger turned purple. She seemed fearful, and that was the first red flag.

     "Miss Cindy? Are you okay? You look overwhelmed, did something happen," the moment she looked in his eyes, he knew it wasn't good. Not at all. It must be about [Name], she wouldn't look like this about anything else, "d-did something happen with..?"

     "Please Richie, go see [Name]. She's not okay, I've seen her get taken away by Henry Bowers a few times, but always thought it was okay. It wasn't. He would pull her by the arm, a-and touch her, then make her go around the corner," his breath hitched, insides squishing together, "She seemed out of it yesterday afternoon, and told me she was going somewhere without you, that it was going to be for herself. A road trip. Please Richie, I'm begging you! Don't let her do anything dumb, she's too young!!"

     "Come to the store after, give me the good news, that she was tired, o-or sick from going out with her hair wet all the time. Yeah, just tired and wanting many snacks and pills for her headache." Her tears stained the papers on the counter, and his only slid down his face, dripping onto his shoes. N-No, you couldn't have done anything like that. Cindy must just not understand what a high teen looks like, but it was clear as day to him that that was not the case, no, you never got high without him, and probably never would. You didn't know where to get it from, thankfully, so you were definitely not high. The alcohol in your house was long gone too, you both had drunk it all last movie night, and there was no chance of your mother returning yet. For all you two knew, she was at California doing business stuff and transfering money into your account. What else! What could you have done that might have not been what he thought it was?? All he knew was that he had to get to your house as soon as possible, and then he would see you cuddled next to the oversized bear he got you at the fair last year, watching a rerun on T.V. Please, it was all he wanted. Please.

     The blood in his veins rushed while he pushed himself to run faster. His converse were getting worn out, and he would probably need to get some more money for new ones, but that didn't matter now, what needed to happen was to see you alive. Alive and well, just like you should be. As long as you were alive, everything would be fine. He turned the corner on Jackson St. and went down to the last house at the end, seeing a light on inside. No noise. The the T.V. wasn't on, so you must be watching from your room. That was the only explanation. He fumbled as he looked for your spare around the front porch, fear etched in every part of his face, but once he spotted the one that had the cute, little bear face on the front, he felt relief. Okay, something was good. At least you hadn't locked yourself in there for no one to find. Good. As much as he wanted to be relieved, he knew it was only an excuse to worry less. Nothing would go away until he had his answer. So, he walked in, only to tie the strings of his fate tighter.

     Inside it smelled sweet, of chocolates and candies galore. There were stray wrappers on the ground from some chips, drinks. Pills. Lots of them. Even so, he stayed strong, and made his way into the kitchen where he heard the best news all day. Your radio, the soft tune of [Favorite Song] coming down the stairs to make his heart meet the beat of the rhythm. That's where you would be, reading a book with a cup of tea, sighing as your headache gets better. Then he would knock on your door and you would read to him, lull him to sleep with you soothing voice and the tales of Ponyboy and Johnny as they escaped the police and saved young children in The Outsiders. Running your hands through his hair, you would tell him every little detail in a way that had him entranced. After the book ended, he would be long gone, the touch of your hands making his insides tingle. Yeah, that was the life. The only life he would choose to live, nothing but the gentle whispers in his ears and the soft touch of your fingertips. All he asked for was that it were with you, only you. That you would stay with him, and he would grant you every single wish you could dream of. Just run off into the sunset with cherry blossoms giving you two sweet scents to think of, and small daisies he could pick to put in your soaring [Hair Color] hair.

     "[N-Name]? I wanted to come check on you as soon as possible, and also wanted to tell you something that happened-" As he opened the door, the sight before him was strange. You were laying in your bed, snuggling that bear, and at peace. Too peaceful. The radio was on, yet you were too busy sleeping to listen. What seemed the most strange was that you would have not been able to sleep at 4:00pm with all the sugar you had eaten. You would have thrown up, then called him to see if he could come over to make it feel better, cue his arrival at the store to buy some brownie mix and [Favorite Drink]. You never did take too many risks, so the fact that you ate this much must have been a special occasion. How he wished he just stayed in this moment instead of the next one.

     As he got closer, he saw how pale you got, and that something felt off about your breathing. It was like you were holding your breath, and you were getting purple, very purple. His hand reached to touch your cheek, but all he felt was cold. Freezing. Panic begun to rise in his stomach, making him move brashfully, and swat your arm off of the bear. Flop, just like the rag doll he had seen you get for your 8th birthday, still hanging from that tiny noose you two had made when the emo hadn't completely left your blood yet.  Now he saw that your eyes were opened, a white film covering the dead in them. Like the white blanket that covered your body when they took it away after he called 911. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that it would end like this. That he would cry this much. That your limp body would be resting in his arms like a baby.

     Life isn't fair though, and it takes away anything that might make you happy. Like a toddler, spoiled and wanting everything. Life was definitely like a toddler. If it would mature, then you might have still been there with him, but that's the problem. Life doesn't change, it stays and has stayed the same way ever since there were living organisms. It will never change, so it is cursed to stay a little toddler for the rest of eternity. Fucking sucks, but what can you do. He couldn't do anything to stop that crying toddler from taking you away, but there was one thing left that might help. He could make the toddler take him too.