Tuesday, April 2, 2013

A Short Story: Silence Will Satisfy

I sat in amazement that night as I watched her pump what must have been about $400 worth of white into her system.  Mia had always been a bit eccentric about her drug use, but that particular evening it seemed as if she was racing towards her last breath.  With a frenzied look in her eyes seething with lust and desire and a malevolently devilish smile blazing across her face, she snorted up two monstrous lines in anticipation of Death's arrival.  I haven't an idea as to which of my many chemical imbalances caused me to aid in her attempt, nor which entity granted me the patience to sit idly by and allow the destruction of this woman that I had and loved...for so little time.  Yet, I continued onward, feeding her sacred poison on a cursed spoon.  It was as if we both knew that her accelerated life was reaching its inevitable conclusion.  I had somehow agreed to accept it, and she had decided to embrace it.  Death, to her, was to be a tranquil lover who promised the peace that eluded her in life, seducing her with eternal sleep.

I had known Mia for just a few dark, fuck-filled months.  She was the epitome of all things orgasmically evil and deliciously twisted in the world.  If the authors of the Bible has seen fit to label something as a sure-fire way to earn passage into the lowest bowels of Hell, one could rest assured that Mia indulged in it to the fullest.  She had an insatiable thirst for all the wretched joys of humanity.

When I first met Mia, she was dancing at a fetish club on the lower east side.  She was wearing a tight, little, patent leather skirt accompanied by knee-high black leather boots with electrical tape criss-crossed over her nipples - carnality at first sight.  Mia had this certain dementia about her that enticed me like no other woman had before; it drew me to her.  How such a ravishing woman could be so demonic in character and so scornful in passion had always weighed heavily on my heart.

The night we met, she came home with me.  She never left.  We fed off of each other.  Our perversions, our vices, our fantasies: they all intermeshed to create a beautifully horrible relationship that always straddled the fine line between marriage and murder.  Great mounds of white powder, exquisite portions of flesh, endless amounts of alcohol, eye-crossing orgasmic indecencies, and everyday mortal sins filled every moment I faced with Mia at my side.

I knew that Mia was, and always had been, extremely unhappy.  She was seemingly incapable of finding solace and peace in the grip of society's restraints.

Line after line, she inhaled with fury and determination, summoning the pace of death to quicken.  The end was rapidly approaching.  "Come with me," she said, grabbing my hand.  We went into the bedroom.  And despite our warped and frenzied minds, we made love - actual love - for the first time that night (night of all nights).  A single tear and an enchanting smile adorned her face as we both climaxed in a rolling shudder and rumble.  The minimal amount of light granted to us by the moon allowed me to see a hint of tenderness in her eyes that she had never before let shine in my world.  She kissed me, gently took my shoulders, rolled me off of her, and arose from the bed.  Naked, she stopped at the bedroom door.  She turned, taking one last glance at me as I sat up among the ravaged silk sheets.  Never once breaking eye contact, she made her way through the doorway and pushed the door gently until it met its frame.  I stayed there in bed for what seemed like an ever-expanding and never-ending stretch of time, alone with my thoughts.  Finally, I rose to my feet and slowly got dressed.  Dreading the silence that now commanded the apartment, I swung open the door and stepped out into the living room.

Mia's body lay motionless on the floor.  She had snuffed out the voices that resided within her that made life so unbearable.  All the anguish she had endured, all the pain she had suffered, was now over.  I, on the other hand, was now forced to deal with not only my own demons, but with those I had inherited from my tormented lover.  I sat down on the black leather couch next to the lifeless body of my companion, my Mia.  I set myself up two honorable lines - even by her standards.  I took them in deeply and lay back unto the couch with my eyes fixed on the opposing, naked wall.  I was numb...in every possible way, I was numb.  Much like an orchestra warming up, it was faint at first.  Indistinguishable sounds coalesced only to ring through crisp and clean.  My own voices had begun to speak to me.  Each with their own emphasis and tone, they sang of but one defining thing.  "You need silence."

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