Bat Boy [boyxboy]

Discovering Terrin

April 24th, 2012, 12:58am, 666 Blackwood Close              

Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare…

The words were still running around and around my head as I fumbled through the medical supplies I had dragged weakly from the stingy apartment bedroom into the filthy bathroom. They were scattered on the floor around me, coated in the blood that pooled there. Pain ripped through me with every slight movement, only adding to the confusion, adding to the hurt. What did they mean? The words, the letters? It was a name, my name? Should I remember them? Did they mean something to me?

“Ah!” I cried loudly, tears burning my eyes as pain seared over the gouges marring my arm. The antiseptic bottle shook violently in my hand as I weakly tipped it again, barely able to watch as it mixed sickeningly with the crimson liquid on the floor. Searing pain wound its way over my skin, my vision slowly becoming disjointed as I faded in and out of light headedness.

I needed help.

“Fuck,” I forced myself to breathe, air hissing in and out of clenched teeth as my hands clutched tightly at my left arm. Why did I do this to myself? How could I just wake up here, on the brink of death, suicide none the less, and not remember how? Still clasping my arm desperately, I glanced up at the gruesome smears on the mirror, the bloody letters congealing slightly as they dried.

Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare.
Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare, Terrin Dare.
TERRIN DARE.

They screamed at me to remember but I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t possibly even attempt to recall a single memory about myself. Why? Why, why, why? Groaning I slumped back to the ground, waiting for something to happen, for the pain to fade, for me to wake up and realise that this was just some terrible, all too realistic nightmare. The truth that this was my stark reality was too much for me to take in. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be real. It just absolutely could not be. Weakly, I reached out, grasping the end of a bandage that had rolled onto a mould stained tile, rather than the red lake that now surrounded me. Unsteadily I began to wrap it around my left arm, messily, weakly, the white material becoming drenched within the seconds that drained past. Help, I needed help, and fast. The bleeding was refusing to stop, the horrific gauges still oozing crimson. My clear vision was fading quickly, the world doubling itself and warping the sounds around me. I could hear the sounds of cars on a highway nearby, which was a good start. Cars meant a city, a city meant buildings, buildings meant people and that generally meant that there would be some kind of medical help or phone service. Numbly I tied a rough knot, pulling the material until it dug firmly into my arm, wincing as the red blossomed over the bandage. It took all my strength to clutch the next strip of white, fumbling desperately with it as it wound pathetically over my arm. Finally I was able to tie it, breathing heavily and shutting my eyes as the world spun dangerously.

Get help. Get help. Get help.

***

It was about quarter past one when I collapsed onto a park bench, utterly drained of all energy. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t go any further. I’d tried and tried again but there was nothing left. I was too weak. My body trembling violently, I lifted the wet material of my sweater sleeves over the drenched bandages. They had done nothing to help, only decorated my wounds. My eyes almost fluttering closed; I glanced hazily around, desperate for some kind of sign, something to at least guide me. There was nothing except a massive fig tree, shadows cast by the half moon that hung in the inky sky. Pain ripped through me again as I stared at it and I hunched over my arms, rocking back and forth to ease the head splitting agony. It was only brief, settling to a barely tolerable ache. I was still coated in my own blood, still wearing the clothes that I had worn when I had awoken in the stingy bathroom. The past twenty minutes had passed in a complete blur, all I knew is that I had been heading in some direction, desperate to find something, someone who would know what to do. I knew that if I didn’t find help soon….

If I didn’t find help soon, I would die.

“Help,” I whispered weakly, tears cutting down my cheeks, carving gruesome trails in the blood I knew was stained there. “Please help… someone help.” There had to be someone, had to be someone. I didn’t deserve to die yet, even if for some unknown reason, this stranger had wanted to. I wasn’t him, I didn’t know him! All I knew is that I wanted to live, I needed to.

Yet no-one came.