The Downward Spiral of Adam Keir | Chapter 9

It was Sunday evening when he finished the video. In it, Sanity never actually fought Trauma head-on. Rather, the large man would hover in the next car. Peering in, she would sometimes see herself rocking at his feet. One set of frames had Trauma sitting on the floor, cross-legged, the entire car flooded with pansies and honey flowers. He intended for this to suggest that her trauma was caused by someone she cared for, someone she loved, but he would allow the viewers to interpret it however they pleased.
            Sanity then got off of the train and made her way out of the subway. Madness followed her at a distance, and the closer to home she got, the closer he hovered. Soon, she was sprinting down dark, twisting, claustrophobic streets. Madness pursued at a steady pace, seeing no need to run�"confident that he was going to catch her either way.
            When she finally reached her home, it ablaze, and she stared at it in awe and horror. Standing in front of it, with a can of gasoline, was Trauma, and he turned to look at her. But then she blinked, and the fire was out. The house was in shambles�"her foundations of trust obliterated, windows boarded up to not let anyone get a look inside of her. Madness lingered nearby, leaning against a lamppost and lighting a cigar.
            Sanity rushed into her home and slammed the door, locking it. On a shelf near the door was a tiny vase with a pansy in it. Disgusted, she grabbed the pansy out of the vase and crushed it in her palm. As she held her hands up to her chest and cried, Madness approached and laid his hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face him, wanting�"needing�"comfort . . . but he wasn’t there. She looked at her palm, at the crushed flower. But there was no flower; it was only her pin, which she’d removed from her chest. There was a mirror nearby, and she gazed into it. When the viewer finally got to see her reflection, it was not her own. It was Madness, smiling in malice and pressing his hand up to the glass. She dropped the pansy pin to the floor.
            Adam thought that the video was boring and non-conclusive, so he wasn’t looking forward to uploading it.
            Sure, most of my other works are “boring” and “non-conclusive”, but . . . I don’t know. This video tries to have a story, but fails. It’s meaningless. Right?
            He worried that it wouldn’t be well-received by his small fan base.
            It’s too long, and it builds itself up for an awesome ending. What if they expect something different? She looks in the mirror and sees that she’s already lost herself to Madness, and she drops the pin, letting go of the last thing connecting her to her trauma�"she gets lost in the bliss of insanity. It does have a meaning, but it’s a dull ending, isn’t it? If I do anything more, though, it wouldn’t be like me at all.
            It was going to have to do. After all, it was impressive that he’d managed to finish it so fast. So, he started the uploading process. As the video uploaded, he hit a snag that he hadn’t even considered yet: he didn’t have a title for the video. Titles had never been his thing.
            He decided upon the vague title of “Nobody wants to hear you cry”, extracted from a longer quote by Andrea Gibson. As the first part of the description, he put this quote, by Danielle Bernock: “Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated, the silent screams continue internally, heard only by the one held captive. When someone enters the pain and hears the screams, healing can begin.”
            Then, he posted it, linked to it on his various social media channels, and waited. Waited for what?
            Backlash? Approval? I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore.
            But he thought about that.
            That’s not true. I’m waiting for Evangeline to see it, aren’t I? I don’t care if Jesse doesn’t watch it. I don’t care if Larisa doesn’t understand it. I don’t care if no one watches or understands it. But as long as Evangeline watches it and understands it . . . That’s the only victory I’m going for with this video. That small victory will have made the video worth it.
            For an hour, he distracted himself with reading, and didn’t even bother to check on how the video was doing. Then, Larisa came into his office to give him a bowl with some escargots in it. For a moment, he found himself confused.
            “I figure we might as well eat these now, right?” she asked.
            “Why are you back so early?”
            “Early? It’s 10:30 at night. I’ve been home for an hour.”
            “Oh.” Adam took the bowl and set it on his lap. Then, he resumed reading. There was a beat of silence. Without removing his eyes from the page, he said in a disinterested voice, “Video’s done.”
            “Is it? I’ll have to watch it.”
            “It’s long,” Adam, still sounding bored, warned as he turned the page. “If you’re tired, you should wait and watch it at work tomorrow.”
            “I’ll watch it now,” offered Larisa. “You linked to it on Facebook, right?”
            “Mm-hmm.”
            “All right.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead, and as she did her hair fell over his page, which he found a bit frustrating. But then she moved and said, “Love you,” as she headed for the door.
            “La you too,” he replied under his breath. She didn’t notice, and left blissfully unaware that his inability to lie was causing him to no longer be able to say that he loved her.
            But I do love her, he told himself, so she shouldn’t worry. I just don’t think that she deserves to hear me say it right now.
            He then lost track of time, absorbed in the book that he was reading. As he read, he ate the escargots; he didn’t like them too much, but he ate them anyway, since he wasn’t one to waste food. He didn’t move until he heard his cellphone’s ringtone. From off of his desk, he picked up the phone and looked at its screen. It was Jesse calling, and with a sigh, he answered.
            “Hey, Jess.”
            “Now you don’t have an excuse, you prick!” Jesse shouted in an eager voice.
            “What?”
            “I’m on my way to your house right now.”
            Adam sat upright in his chair. “Why?”
            “I’m going to beat the s**t out of you for avoiding me for so long!” A pause. “No, wait, that’s not right. I’m going to drag you to O’Rourke’s with me whether you like it or not. Then I’m going to beat the s**t out of you!”
            He realized that Jesse was talking about a little bar on the corner of South Western Ave. and 111^th St.; a bar that they’d used to frequent. He’d never been sure why they’d stopped going there�"did they not have the time anymore? Adam closed his book and then slicked his hair back with his now-free hand.
            “You want to go there now? It’s almost elev�"oh, geez. Almost midnight, actually.” Then, Adam frowned. “Wait, are you driving?”
            “Well, if you want to get plastered for once, sure.”
            “No, I mean right now.”
            “Maaaybe.”
            “Jesse,” scolded Adam.
            “What? I can multitask. Don’t worry about it.”
            Adam pinched his brows between his fingers and exhaled. “You still think that death is an abstract possibility? That there’s no chance in hell that you could get into an accident?”
            “Oh, come on, Adam. Don’t be such a nervous Nellie,” mocked Jesse. “What if I hung up right now, mid-sentence? Would you worry about me?”
            Adam shook his head in exasperation. He checked on the video, and saw that it had a few likes and comments already, but also two dislikes. At least
one of those comments is bound to be negative. “You wouldn’t dare.”
            “I would, and you know it.”
            “No, you wouldn’t,” Adam warned, though not without a playful lilt to his voice. “Because you know that if you did, I wouldn’t answer the door.”
            “Larisa might,” Jesse grumbled, defeated, and then laughed. “Anyway, I should be there in twenty minutes, so prepare yourself.”
            “For what, a hangover?”
            “For life.” Jesse stressed with dramatic force. Then, he hung up without another word.
            Adam pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment. “What an idiot,” he remarked to himself.
            Oh, Jess, what would I do without your nonsensical comments and secondhand embarrassment? I love to hate you.
            Using the phone call as his mental preparation, Adam proceeded to check the comments that he’d received so far. There was one from Jesse that read “Great work as usual, you weirdo!” He smiled at it. Jesse’s comments always ended with some sort of light-hearted insult.
            Under Jesse’s, he found it: Evangeline’s comment. “OMG!! She looks like me!! TYSM! I love this, and I love you! Amazing job!! ~ Eve”.
            She’s signing her comments with “Eve” now . . . Adam squirmed in discomfort. That’s . . . a little bit creepy.
            Most of the comments were positive, but as he’d predicted, there was one that was long and critical. He skimmed over it with curiosity and consideration.
            “The animation looks rushed” was one of their observations. They continued, “You seem to be trying to tell a story without actually giving us a story. What gives? If this is what you plan to do with the rest of your videos, then stop now.”
            Of course, it hurt to read a comment like that. He knew that it would never stop hurting, because of the vulnerability that came with broadcasting his work to the whole world. But he took the comment in stride anyway. He still believed that negative criticism was the most honest, and was the best that he could get in order to improve. It went without saying that Nobody wants to hear you cry had its flaws. He would try to improve upon it with his next video.
            He was about to move on when, to his dismay, he noticed that Evangeline had replied to the negative criticism.
            Oh, no.
            It took a lot of willpower to not avoid the reply. But rather than ignore it as he so desperately wanted to, he decided that he needed to read it.
            Maybe it’s a thoughtfully-written response, like “I see your point, but I like this about his video.”
            He only needed the see the first sentence (written in all-caps) to find out that his hope was misguided. Both embarrassed and disappointed, he buried his head in his palm and groaned.
            “Oh, no.”
            I need to talk to her.
            Without any further hesitance, he deleted Evangeline’s reply. Then, immediately, he went to Twitter. He already had two direct messages from Evangeline waiting for him. Before reading them, he noticed that she’d changed her account name was well; it was now “Eve Thompson” instead of “Evangeline Thompson”. He dismissed it, though, as he thought it was to be expected.
            “You made the main character of your video look like me?!” she gushed in her first message to him. “I screamed when I saw it! I’m so honored that I don’t even have any words! I knew you loved me back! ~ Eve”.
            Then, her next message, five minutes later: “I’m so angry at that rude person who insulted your video!! What’s the matter with them??”
            He was a little over two hours late, so rather than scold her outright, he first asked, “Are you still angry? �" Adam”.
            A few seconds passed before she replied, with a grumpy emoji, “Yes. ~ Eve”.
            To remain on her good side, Adam decided to play along with her nickname. “Eve, you don’t have to get angry in my defense. What that person said was negative, yes, but it was still constructive. Constructive criticism of any sort should be embraced. Not everyone is going to like everything that I post, after all. Having negative input helps me figure out how to make my work better for those who don’t currently like it. �" Adam”.
            “But that can’t be possible,” argued Evangeline. “Everyone should like your videos! Everyone should like you�"how could they not? Are they crazy?? I love you so much, Adam. I can’t bear to see these people hating on you for no reason! ~ Eve”.
            “Relax. If I wanted comments like that dealt with, I’d deal with them myself. There’s no need to add fuel to the fire and start a huge flame war, all right? �" Adam”.
            “I guess . . . ~ Eve”.
            As an afterthought, Adam added, “Also, please don’t report them. They’re not doing anything worth reporting. �" Adam”.
            “But they’re being so rude to you! ~ Eve”.
            “Which doesn’t go against the guidelines. Their criticism is still constructive, even if it does come across as rude. I need it to improve.” As some sort of compensation, Adam added an emoji before his signature; just a simple smiley face. “�" Adam”. After sending the message, he considered it, then regretted it.
            I’m too old for emojis.
            There was a long pause before Evangeline’s next reply, which was “I understand. Sorry for my outburst; I’m a little embarrassed about it now . . . ~ Eve”.
            “All’s forgiven as long as you’ll avoid instigating fights like that in the future. �" Adam”.
            “I will! Thank you for giving me a second chance! I really loved the video, BTW. You made me look so beautiful!! ~ Eve”.
            Adam was about to respond when Larisa entered. He looked at her.
            “So, Jesse’s at the door,” she droned. Her curiosity as to why was unspoken, but implied nonetheless.
            “He wants to take me out for drinks at O’Rourke’s Office.”
            “Ah.” She seemed tired, and she waved her hand dismissively. “You’d better go, then, before he barges in and makes himself at home.”
            “You left him unsupervised. He’s probably done that already.”
            “Touché.”
            Adam stood up and placed his phone into his back pocket. “Are you going to sleep?”
            “I think so . . .”
            In a good mood only due to his short talk with Evangeline, Adam approached Larisa, held her hips, and pecked her on the cheek. “I won’t be out too long, but don’t wait for me. Get some sleep.”
            She smiled and nodded. Then, she kissed him on the lips, and he managed to return the gesture. When she pulled away, she said, “Be safe. I love you.”
            “I will. Love you, too.”
            “Goodnight.”
            “’Night.”
            Larisa wandered out of Adam’s office, leaving the door open in her wake. With a content huff, he watched her go, then turned and looked up at the wall behind his computer monitor. Pinned there was the flattened drawing that Evangeline had done of him. He gazed at it until he heard Jesse honking outside. After making sure that his phone was indeed in his back pocket, he turned off the monitor, then the office’s light, before rushing downstairs to join Jesse before he woke up the neighbors.