Now

Funny, how when you tried to remember something pleasant, there’s nothing to be found, but while at the same time all those horrible memories stay with you to haunt you forever more.

He sat there, alone. Alone, but this time, he didn’t care. In fact, he didn’t think he cared about anything in that moment. For the first time in seven months he’d climbed the stairs to the attic. The place was dusty and dark and perfect. No one would find him here, cause no one would even get it in their minds to coming looking for him here. It was the last place he’d go to.

The attic locked all the memories of a life he’d once lived, a life that was so different from the one he had now, that he’d tried everything he could to lock them away, to forget about it. Why was it so hard to forget those memories, when it was so easy to forget everything else?

Thoughtlessly, he reached up to the filthy, worn baseball cap and pulled it from his head. His career was doomed, his marriage was doomed, his health was doomed, he was doomed. And it was all because of the stupid cap, really. Or because of the reason he needed the freaking thing. He stared hard at the hat for a couple of minutes, trying to burn holes through the ragged fabric with his accusing glare. When that didn’t work, he threw the object across the attic with a wild growl. Uselessly, it hit the wall and landed next to one of the records.

He could do better than that.

He stood up stiffly, not remembering how long he’d sat there exactly. It felt like days. Maybe it had been days. He didn’t know, and he cared even less. He felt the rage inside him overpowering as he grabbed the nearest heavy object he could find. He’d wanted to do this for a very long time, ever since they’d moved in here. Leighanne had stopped him, of course she had. He felt a sharp stab of hatred when he remembered he didn’t have to listen to her anymore. He didn’t have to listen to anybody anymore. Why should he? Nobody ever listened to him, that much was for certain.

With an outraged scream, he smashed the very first golden record he’d ever received with the silver candlestick in his hands. Both the candlestick and the record went flying across the dark floor and Brian felt a sense of satisfaction. He nodded contently at the mess he’d made, that resembled the mess in all parts of his life in some way, and went to retrieve the fallen candlestick from the floor. When he bowed down, he paused for a second, staring at the album picture of himself and his friends, so many years ago, grinning without a worry in the world.  The smiles were deformed now though, due to the crystallised glass where he’d hit the record with the shining candlestick. He smiled back, wickedly, and lifted the heavy candleholder again to wipe the smirks off of the young faces once and for all.

He was only just beginning…

Earlier

He’d heard what she said. He didn’t have a choice but to hear. All the while she’d been talking, he’d screamed at her in his mind. He’d silently begged her to stop saying the words, to take them all back while she still could. But she hadn’t.

“Because you are my wife…,” he continued talking, though he had no idea what he was saying at all, feeling his already unsteady voice giving way to panic now, “and… and… I… I trust you…”

She looked miserable. That was good, because it was exactly how he was feeling. Of course he knew it wasn’t a joke. Leighanne was terrible at telling jokes really. Besides, he’d had spent enough time in the joking department to know when someone was telling a joke or not. No, he was actually offering her a way out, didn’t she understand that? She didn’t take the offer though, she told the truth, which made it so much worse.

“It’s not a joke Brian, I’m so sorry.”

And there it went. Fifteen years of love, marriage, and happiness. Out of the window. Gone.

Now

Breathing hard, he finally stopped his fury and looked around. A terrible sense of numbness took over him as he stared at the million different pieces of his past, scattered across the entire attic floor, driving their sharp edges into the soles of his bare feet. Faintly, he felt the candleholder slip from his fingers, he heard it falling to the ground with a dull thud, but it sounded far away. A pathetic sting of self-pity hit him, when he slowly let himself slide to the floor. There wasn’t much left to break, so why did he still feel so broken himself?

 He’d thought it would help. He’d thought that destroying the happy past of his life, would make the god-awful present a little more bearable. All it did was leaving a bigger mess than he’d started with though. When did it all get so out of control? When did God decide all of a sudden that Brian should be punished?

What’s the last time you’ve prayed?

I don’t remember.

If he’d destroyed every record of himself he’d ever owned, then why, why did he still remember?

Earlier

There were a million things he’d like to know, but they all went through his head too fast to get a hold of.  When? Where? Why?

“H-how long?” he stammered, his voice just above a whisper.

“Brian, just…” she tried.

“How long!” he interrupted, this time making sure even the neighbours could hear.

She watched him, scared. He’d never screamed at her before, he realized. But there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there? Cause she’d never cheated on him before either, had she? Finally she looked down and he could tell she wanted nothing more than to get out of here.

“For about a year,” she muttered in a small voice.

He scoffed, unbelieving. Had he really been so blind for an entire year? “A whole year…” he mumbled, more to himself than to her. He should have known how to read the signs when someone was cheating, right?

“Why?” was the next question that  came to mind. He wondered vaguely why it was that he could only think in one or two word questions at this point.

“I don’t know, Brian. It was a mistake, a big mistake. It will never happen again, I promise!” she begged, and he wanted to believe her, so badly, he almost did. Almost.

“Don’t… don’t lie to me!” he hissed venomously and watched her shrink back. Was he really that intimidating?

“I’m not lying!” she promised desperately, her voice cracking, “I don’t love him, I’ve never have! I love you, only you!”

He wanted to believe her, really, and in some way, he did. But looking at her right now felt weird, wrong in so many ways. “Then why’d you do it?” he questioned harshly, “Why? Was he tall, dark, handsome and healthy?” he yelled, his voice raising at the last word. Surely that was the case, cause who wouldn’t want a healthy lover?

“No, it’s not what it’s about!” she seemed to have re-found her voice again, and finally looked up at him.

“Then why?” he needed to know, he needed to know why she had even gotten it in her head in the first place, “Why? You don’t have to clean up his vomit, is that it? You don’t have to watch him die? Is that why you left me? Is that why you replaced me? What were you thinking? My husband will never find out? He’ll be dead before that ever happens?” There was no stopping him now as he spewed the words to his wife with the disgust evident in his voice.

“Brian, please stop,” she begged. He didn’t have to listen to her.

“You thought I didn’t notice all those times you sneaked out? What? You were like, ‘oh Brian’s not in the best state of mind, he doesn’t need me now, let’s get going’? But did you ever thought about how it felt for me when you left? Cause you were wrong! I needed you more than ever in those moments. And you just left… you went to… him…” He felt himself overheating with anger when he thought about all those times he’d wondered where his wife had gone to, that she must have had a good reason to go, otherwise she’d never leave him alone like that, only to realize she’d gone to Larry Hitmen, king of losers, every single fucking time! “Look, I’m sorry I got sick, alright? I didn’t choose to.”

“Brian please, that’s not what it was like!”

“Then what!” he screamed, furious.

“It’s not your fault, baby, not at all. Don’t you ever think that,” she assured. Brian clenched his jaw, cringing at the word ‘baby’. “It was all my fault, I lost hope, I lost faith, but I’ve never told you about it. We didn’t talk anymore, Brian. I know I didn’t, but neither did you. We grew apart these last two years, all because of that terrible sickness, but I need you to know, that I’ve never, not once, lost my trust in you.”

There was a long and heavy silence and she kept looking at him with tears in her eyes. He knew she was sorry, he knew she’d never planned for this all to happen. He knew that, but it still didn’t make it right.

“But I have…” he muttered softly.

“What?”

“I have. I’ve lost trust… in you.”

Now

Now he was alone, but he didn’t care anymore. He’d run out of reasons to care. He watched numbly, with only a small spark of fascination how the blood from his sliced feet, formed sticky, warm pools between his toes and on the floor. Any emotions he may have felt were replaced with the all-consuming numbness that had taken over ever since he’d stopped smashing all the trophies he’d been proud of. He was standing in the middle of a glass-covered attic, but it felt like it was the only right place for him to be. The shattered pieces of the records resembled that of his soul, his mind. The pieces of a past that could not be, never again. And now it was final.

You could write a song about that.

That’s what his mother would say. He smiled wickedly, thinking about just how ironic it was that his mother had been the one to stimulate his musical career the most, ever since he’d sung his first solo in the Baptist Church of Lexington when he was six, while she was also the one that had given him the key to destroy everything he’d ever cared about now. He laughed softly, weirdly, and stared at the silver candleholder that lay a few feet away from his feet. It had been a gift from Jackie, to Leighanne, and just like every useless thing his mother presented them with, had this one also ended up in the attic. Besides, he hadn’t written a song in three years.

He heard a door slam, and it finally brought him somewhat out of the hazy fog that had formed in his head. The attic was a cold place to be in the winter because the central heating of the house only went as far as the second floor. He shivered slightly, feeling the headache finally reach a point beyond bearable and wondered frankly when the last time was that he’d taken any medications. He didn’t have long to think about it though, cause before he could even register it, the fog was back, bigger than it had been in a long time and he listlessly let himself crumble to the floor, not feeling the pieces of glass finding new ways into his skin. He was tired, so tired. He just wanted to sleep. Just sleep, for a long time, sleep.

Earlier.

“Brian… no…”

“I want you to leave,” he said emotionlessly.

“We need to talk about this,” she begged, grabbing his upper arms tightly, forcing his angry stare on her.

“There’s nothing more to talk about,” he explained monotonously, “why’d you tell me in the first place?” It wasn’t something he really wanted to know. There was nothing he really needed to know left now. He knew more than enough.

She seemed to struggle with telling the truth, or telling a fast lie. He didn’t care which she would choose. He didn’t care anymore. “Nick said I should.”

Wait. Nick?

“Nick?”

“Yeah, and he was right, I should have told you much sooner. I wanted to! I was just too scared…”

“Nick knew about this?”

“Well yeah, and AJ does too. They had me cornered on Baylee’s party. I had no choice but to tell them.”

Was he really the last to know? Who else knew about this? Harold had acted weird at points. And Baylee…

“Baylee…” he mumbled, astonished. She bowed her head, ashamed and it was just the one clue he needed. “Is that why’s he’s mad at you all the time? Is that why you two haven’t been getting along?” he questioned incredulously.

“Well,” she sighed and looked up, “he doesn’t know everything, but yeah, I guess he figured the main deal out. He’s very perceptive, you know…”

He couldn’t believe it, this wasn’t happening. “So basically, you’re saying that everyone, even our son knew what happened before I did?” This was just too crazy. He scoffed, shaking his head and sighed. “I want you to leave. Believe it or not, I really do this time.”

“Brian no, please! I love you, you know that!”

“Go! Leave! Get out!”

“No… you don’t mean that. You’re just angry! We can get through this, I know we can! We’ve always prided ourselves in being able to forgive each other no matter what!”

“Yes. Yes, we have. But I have never, never cheated on you. I can’t trust you anymore, I just can’t.”

“Please, just tell me what to do! There must be something to make this right! I’ll do anything, I swear. ”

“Leave. Go away,” he stated solemnly, successfully keeping all the emotion out of his voice, “Go to Larry for all I care. I don’t want to see you now.”