The Apathy Victim

The Apathy Victim

A Story by Akasha

Carefully constructed spider-web eyelashes batted innocently at me in the reflection of the mirror on the wall. Everlastingly deep blue eyes also looked back at me.
And I had the powerful urge to gouge out the eyes.
I didn�t care how beautiful they were, how distracting, and where the need came from� I didn�t know that, either.
Thankfully, I�d stopped acting on impulse a long time ago. I�d already reached my goal of apathy. For this, I was grateful; I was so tired of caring. Caring was overrated. I couldn�t say that I was happy now, but I wasn�t sad� that much, I knew.
I was a void, and that was the way I liked it.
Waking up was still the hardest thing to do. The dreams in which my world collapsed were always better than any reality that I could ever wake up to. The destruction of people, disembowelment, fascinated me so it played a constant role in my midnight journeys.
People meant nothing. They still do, don�t you think? They�re nice to observe, and that�s about it.
Yes, I�m a callous creature. My mind dwells in the dark. I feed off sunshine, only to convert it to truth. You�d never find truth in sunshine.

An alarm clock was going off in my room. I untangled myself from numerous blankets and stumbled through the dark to shut the damn thing off. After a second hit, I succeeded. My hand hurt. Oh well.
The day, as usual, would prove not to be grand until late afternoon as I was walking home. Watching people pass by was nothing new but he was. I�ve never believed in anything� and he was changing all the concrete apathy I�d solidified in myself. It wasn�t drastic change, but any means, but it was a hard enough blow to make me question my choice of character. Question, but not answer. There was still the stubborn knowledge that I need not be changed.
This did not change my curiosity for the new-found creature, though. My eyes openly drank in the beauty he emitted; I so longed to become intoxicated by and with him.
He was, simply put, perfect. His body was well constructed. I could tell he paid special attention to details, making his muscles no exception. The contraction and relaxation of the muscles mesmerized me. This detail was all over his body. Platinum blonde hair glistened in the setting sunshine. When his eyes met mine, though, I was surprised� milky white orbs with not other sign of color belonged to him. This made a brilliant contrast with his deeply tanned skin. His jaw was square and strong, the blanched eyes perfectly set under flawless eyebrows. His nose did not turn upward, but it was bent; it looked as if it had been broken and not properly set. Memorization of the physical passing of each other collided. I was miffed by my sudden attack of emotion. I thought I�d established enough apathy in myself so that I wouldn�t have to deal with, or understand, even, emotion� much less infatuation.

Days passed. Months passed. Five years passed.
Callous, insensitive, listless, detached� I tried.
Try as I might, though, the individual had sparked the reaction of change in me. I attempted with all the strength I knew I could give to not feel, to stay apathetic. My will wasn�t strong enough. I soon found myself completely immersed in infatuation. He was all I thought about, all there was for me to think about. I thought I was going crazy with the way this attraction had taken over me.
It had festered for years� and I had let it.
I wasn�t the same person. Indeed, I had changed. I began to see the world differently. True, it was the same place it had always been, just� different, brighter. I felt the need to live, the want, the urge. I had to get up in the morning.
Maybe our paths would cross again.

In my favor, they did. Unexpectedly, too. I did not anticipate such a meeting. I thought this was a good thing. Had I known�.

He looked� odd. I still can�t place it. Everything that I had once deemed perfect about him was completely shattered. Grotesque, even. I didn�t want to think that the feelings I�d sheltered all these years were shallow and he was only beautiful on the out side. I didn�t believe it. It couldn�t be true.
Jesus, I could believe my own lies.
Or were they lies? I don�t know.
Regardless, he had changed. Tan skin was pale. Platinum hair lost its sheen. The sculpted body forgot its edge. But when he looked at me, the world still made sense, there was still a reason not to annex him from my life.
I don�t know. I don�t know. I don�t know.
I was so confused, but the one thing that I knew was that I was in too deep then. No, I couldn�t forget anything. I wouldn�t.
He saved me from my internal quarrel when he glided over to me. I don�t think he bounced when he walked. Upon entering the space of me, he reached out for me. His touch was fire burning guilt into my shoulder, my pride. No, I�d keep him.
�You�ve changed,� an alien voice that couldn�t belong to me said.
�You have, too. Couldn�t you see it? Couldn�t you see how two strangers can change one another?�
�I used to not believe in change.� Alien voice.
�May I take credit for you believing?�
�Yes.� This time it was a whisper.
I was still scared. Dear God, I�m letting emotions into me. They�re going to cripple me.
�Don�t worry about this. Everlasting change, dear. It likes you. And you�ll learn to like it. You�ll never be apart.� How could he be so reassuring?
His hand was now in mine, holding me down when all I saw were spinning colors and bright lights.
And then� something hit me. No, not an epiphany. A blow. A blow to the back of the head with something snaking its way down my back and across my bosom. The free hand reached up and behind. Lord, a nail. Lord�. What?
But he was gone. I suppose he�d left when I�d discovered the object.
Why hadn�t he aided me?
It didn�t matter anyway. I felt my limp body slump over and collapse on the concrete below. The agony was bearable. The torture was not. The notes cascading and dancing and weeping in a beautiful symphony of death. Ever lasting death� another change.
I�m thankful, still.

© 2008 Akasha

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Added on May 16, 2008
Last Updated on May 27, 2008




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