Rise of a Heroine: Resurgence

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Not So Long Ago (Prologue 2) - Thomas

WARNING: Please be aware this chapter deals with difficult issues like a graphic suicide attempt, verbal abuse, and mental health. Thank you. Read at your own risk. If ever you need to talk, I'm right here, okay? I'll listen. You may proceed.


THOMAS

Blood covered every inch of the white tiled floor. My blood. My breathing is heavy and loud. I swallow with great difficulty in order to suppress the nausea but it only accentuates it. Everything is whirling around me like I’m on a carousel. I release my grip on the scissors. They fall onto the tiles, clinking. I swayed and my eyes threaten to close. My heart is pounding against my chest, accelerating the blood flow; I feel the dark red liquid dripping off my fingers. I sigh and without any warning I collapse to the floor. My face hurts but never as much as how I feel. I’m lost, without any way to turn to. I’m stuck in a labyrinth with no way out but one. I’m tired of the hallucinations, of the never-ending circle of violence and hatred and of the anger that never leaves me. I never wanted to be a criminal; it’s just all I could do to survive. I’ve had enough of surviving. Perhaps I’ll have some luck, even if small in another life... If there’s another life.

I guess my last crime is to take my own life... Hmf, how brilliant.

″WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO AGAIN, YOU IDIOT?!″

Oh no. Not her. I blink once. My members are turning numb. Fatigue is taking over me. I blink again, more slowly this time. My breathing is ragged and my sight is darkening. I wish it to be over. Now! It’s straining me; my wrists are hurting and so is my heart. I can feel everything slowing down. Everything but the steady, gushing flow of blood.

Nothing else is important but my death: May I rise again like a phoenix!

I hear the door creak open and my mother’s deep scream seems so far away now.

″The fuck, Thomas? You’re a little SHIT. Look at the mess you made! Tommy? TOMMY?!″

Ugh. Not that motherfucking stupid nickname again; if only she could choke on it; or better, if she stopped yelling altogether.

I can’t even speak. My mouth, even my tongue, feels heavy. A very small groan escapes my throat, then all I see is black.

Where’s the light tunnel?

* * *

I’m sure I look stunning as I flutter my eyelids open.

Shit, I’m awake!

Panic surges in me and I grimace, pushing myself upward on my hands. However, they hurt so bad I can’t even lift my body for a centimeter before I fall back on the firm and not comfortable bed. So, it failed.

I failed.

Now that’s an even worse humiliation than my miserable life.

I swallow, hoping to stifle my desire to cry. I exhale loudly and blink repeatedly. The harsh and agressive light of the room isn’t the one I was yearning for. It’s a hospital room, right?

Damn.

Shame and disappointment inundate me, throwing their coldness and oppressive feeling over my head to the center of my stomach. I let out a soul deep groan. I try and face reality by taking in my surroundings. Yep, definitely a hospital. I then look down at my hands-they’re bandaged quite tightly and I’ve got an IV tube on my right forearm. They’re lucky I can’t use my hands or that fucking tube would be out of me in a second... But what can I do? Just sit and wait. And plan what debauchery I can do to try and appease my roaring rage. It’s never satisfied of what I offer it. Perhaps this time around, I should sacrifice myself, go one with the darkness. I’m probably never giving in completely... No matter how much I punch, threaten or shout, it’s never enough. But this fury is destroying me piece by piece from the inside, poisoning my thoughts and tainting my soul forever. Can I even be saved?

I used to dream about a hero saving me just like in the few comics I have.

But it’s clear none’s coming for this trash I am.

Maybe only by becoming the villain will I be saved. I hoped it wouldn’t come to this and a silly, child-like part of me still wishes for someone to come in a mask and cape... Shut up! No one’s coming! NO ONE! EVER!

You failed at killing yourself off? Pathetic and saddening, really.

Ah yeah, you. The charming Voice that haunts me day in day out and all around. I cluck my tongue and roll my eyes.

″You’re awake?″

″Nah...″ I groan. ″Just nearly dead.’’

My fat, lazy mother narrows her eyes at me. You’d think she cares about what I tried to do... but I know best, like Mother Gothel in Tangled, which my lil’ angel of a sister loves to watch.

″Shut your yappin’! Tommy, you know you gonna pay me back for the mess you made, right?″

Just cut her flabby throat. Be done with her.

No...

A scaredy cat. That’s what you are. A scaredy cat and a shame.

I’m all but a scaredy cat, fucker!

I’m growling lowly in my throat and my mother flips the finger at me.

″I can’t even pay my meds! YOU don’t want me to have them!″ I shout at her.

″Tsk-tsk,″ she says, wiggling her finger like she can patronize me. I’m a criminal, bitch, you’re just a nuisance. ″You don’t deserve them, Tommy. That idiot Voice of yours is all in your empty brain.″

″Not my fault! I was raised poorly.″

Tell her, smack her face hard, break her teeth and gut her!

She considers me with a haughty expression, like I’m worst than some cockroach. ″A criminal, a psych ward boy and an insane one at that. You should have cut deeper, Thomas.″

I don’t know why but my heart somersaults at these words. I thought I was used to her atrociousness. Looks like I was wrong about this too...

″At least I don’t keep all the money for myself,″ I retort coldly. It’s true. My sis and I barely eat because our mother prefers treating herself to whatever she wants.

Whenever I steal money (and it’s often), I try and buy food for my sis. She needs it more than me. I’m wasted, but she’s growing up.

I promise you. You belong in the dark... Torture, rape, kill. Make them pay.

Fuckers.

″Thought you might like this while you’re here...″ she says calmly. She reaches into her bag hung on the plastic chair and takes out my spider-man comics. ″Wait, they’re not all right... Just... Yes, like this.″

Riiiiiiiiiiip.

It’s one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard. My eyes widen as I watch my beloved comics being torn in two. I feel as though I was levitating above the void and it was ready to swallow me in a moment.

The bitch stands up and carefully puts them on my knees. ″There you go. I’ll go and tell the shrink you need to stay here for a new evaluation.″

On this, she storms out of my room. I just stare at my comics, my heart torn just like them... I see spider-man swinging on a a building, which is cut in two as well as his web. He’s destroyed.

Indeed, it’s true. There’s no hero coming for me.

Ever.

So I let darkness embrace me.

It took you long, didn’t it... Thomas?

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