Athena

…Athena, can you believe it? It's morning, and I'm still alive.

Was the last thing on his mind.

He looked in the mirror. He saw he had grown meaner, lost his demeanour. You ain't dangerest than me. A spark crossed his mind, in all fairness. He wasn't a hard boy; he was lying to himself. Nothing seemed different, expect his psyche. His determination hit the roof. He turned on some music. It was a 'certified bomb', and he felt like a bomber.

Will I make it? Will I make it? Will I make it? The pathologic fear of failure crossed his mind. It didn't stop. The distorted guitars ripping the air apart nor the drums that pounded faster than my heart would help him get this weight off his chest.

He obsessed with the single thought, and long before he noticed, it was night. It meant he had to go to sleep.

I'm Sorry, Athena.

It's morning, and I'm still alive.

You used to be the first thing on his mind, but oh, how time passes, Athena.

Today he found the courage; he went outside and sat in his garden. The sun burned his eyes, and with them, all his painful memories went to waste.

Huh, When was the last time I been to the outside world? Can you answer me, Athena? It was rhetorical. Obviously, Athena couldn't answer, not yet. It's been over half a year since the last time he was outside. He remembered the last time he saw Athena; it was the last time he spoke to a human being, or any alive being for that matter, any but himself.

I can't do it, not yet. Are you still waiting for my arrival, Athena? Are you still thinking of me? Do you see me when you close your eyes like I see you? I'm not ready, Athena. He went back inside; He stalled by taking a shower; he felt he had to be clean before going on ahead. A rare sensation for the time arose; he felt hungry. There was nothing to eat in the fridge; it was empty for a long time. He even went on and unplugged it 3 days ago. He didn't think he'd need it again. As usual, he was wrong and ordered online for the last time, he promised himself. The last supper was adequate at best; he had ordered a cheeseburger and a large soda. What an uninspired final dinner. He thought as he munched down the carbohydrates while sipping on some more. He no longer cared what he injected inside him. As he ate, he turned on the T.V., he always does that; it keeps him braindead and happy, usually. He avoids anything too challenging or self-reflecting. He enjoyed watching documentaries about animals. Their rules seemed less complicated. You survive on your instinct, and it wouldn't ever allow you to second guess it or even get tired of being its marionette. He fell asleep watching a documentary about penguins, and for once, Athena wasn't at all in his thoughts.

He woke up sweaty in the middle of the night; he forced himself to carry his legs to the bed and try to sleep again. This time he wasn't as lucky.

I'm not ready to come to you, Athena. Not yet. I'm sorry, Athena. I'm too afraid of it. He twisted and turned. Athena wouldn't allow him to rest; he always believed in "No rest for the wicked." He just never expected to find himself in this position.

Days passed, some better than others. The days turned into weeks and the weeks into months.

After several months passed and many last suppers, arrived a special date, it was the anniversary of his promise to Athena, "In-life and In-death, I'll always find you.", long before, while he still had a lust for life, he had ordered a special bottle of Japanese whiskey to celebrate with Athena, their bonding. Alas, poor Jorik, he'd have to drink it alone.

Where's the box? It must have been somewhere here. I can't find it. He tossed everything around the house looking for it, from the moment he waked he started looking for it, it was early evening when he found it. He carefully ripped open the package and got out a bobble wrapped fancy looking bottle; it was decorated with crystals and some Japanese writing. He opened it and bottoms up.

The next thing he remembers is puking his guts out. He regained consciousness, and the liquid courage was present in his blood, which soon he'd see flow. Like a crimson band made of velvet, his blood escaped the deep upstream cuts. His hands together with his body submerged in warm water, a feeling as being in his mother's tomb started overpowering him, a warm, cuddly feeling. As he passed on, the water had become one with the blood, and there he laid dressed and dead.

Athena, I'm coming. I kept my promise.

Were his last thoughts as he walked toward the light; in there, Athena waited for him.

"My love, I'll always wait for you, no matter how long it takes." Whispered Athena in his ear.

I'm sorry…

By Otto Grey

From: Austria

Twitter: wastedotto