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“Why won’t you listen to me for fuck’s sake? All you do is complain about not being able to understand me, yet you make no effort in trying to comprehend the fact that I am also human, I am also a being with its own feelings, needs and desires. I cannot keep going with you if you try so hard to pry open my heart, it was welded shut for a reason…” cried out the young man in a fit of despair only to be met by a deep sigh from the other side of the phone call. It was so rasp of him to speak this way to a person he knew would be hurt by these words more than he could comprehend, yet a feeling of peace dawned upon him, it was not easy to speak in such a manner, nor was it easy to admit to both them, and himself that their actions were doing more harm than good, that the attempt to force one’s soul open so that it could be understood was not aiding them with anything, that their significant other, was tired of it all…
“All you do is go around the fields that border our city without any reason, without any scope or anything. You do not look into the future, you do not look forward to the next day, you only do one thing, pack your bag with medical supplies, get on your bike, and ride until the cops have to bring you back home because some drug addicts tried slicing open your throat and you stabbed them with the needles you carry. It is not healthy for you to do so, you are hurting yourself, you are hurting others, and you are hurting me…”
There it was, the victim card, refusing to acknowledge their mistake and then turning his own hobby against himself. An old and dirty trick, his parents used it, now his beloved does it too, what a rotten world he lived in, and how he wished to get away from it all… The bike was his partner, the hills were his sanctuary, the forests his confidant and the bag full of pills, disinfectant bottles, suture needles, bandages and ampules with intravenous acetaminophen riddled its pockets, a hardback diary and a mechanical pen held notes of various diseases and injuries, how to treat them in the field and what to do in the worst of cases. He was prepared for anything, and not without a reason…
“Yet all you do all day is overwork yourself, accept any request without giving a second thought, you always say yes to people even when they’re clearly exploiting you, you try your best to please other, yet you fail to realize the cost of your actions, your eyes have circles under them darker than the night sky, you barely sleep, you run on caffeine and sugary treats, and don’t get me started on the housework, your siblings are fucking morons, they never help you with anything, they could shit on the floor and you’d still come and clean up after them, you do everything for them even though they are old enough to do that for themselves, and worst of all —“
“Stop! Stop lying, I do that because I care about them, because I care about you, about your health, I’m trying to help you, to get you out of your obsessions and guide you towards a life of peace, not constant anguish.”
Another meaningless lie, something he’d gotten used to over the 5 months they’d been together, they tried to make it look like they cared, but did they? Did they truly care about his health, whenever he was at his lowest they never did anything beyond a hug, not that it mattered, he despised physical touch. Ironic. His entire love language was physical touch, something he despised so deeply, something that he tried to reject, was the thing that he used to prove affection. It was truly ironic.
“ If you’d try to help, you’d be here right now, we’d be talking about it, like people with a functioning brain, you’d be fucking here, close to me, so we could talk things out, find common ground and get a solution going not babying your siblings, for fucks sake they are both at the age where they can take care of themselves, you really don’t have to take care of them!” replied he in a somewhat calmer tone.
“ If you would care, you wouldn’t hurt me so much every day, you wouldn’t lie to me at every point in this relationship, you wouldn’t do it, but you do it because you are weak, you do not care about me, nor do you care about this relationship, if you’d care, you’d listen to me, and do as I say when it comes to your health, ‘I am yours, remember?’ You sai —“)
beep beep beep
Three short beeps, the call was over. It was all over, he could lay down in bed for once and rest, it was over, all of it.
It all seemed lost to both of them, stuck in a vicious cycle of misunderstanding, misinterpretation, deceit and dealing in absolutes, it was all one hell of a cycle that tore away at their relationship. It was about to end forever.
He swiped up on his phone, revealing a long list of contacts, his finger glided towards one titled simply “<3” and looked at it for a second before holding down and selecting one of the options that had appeared on his screen, block. He then dialed in a number and waited for the other side to pick up the phone.
“Heyoooooo, this is Archie's voicemail! You know what you gotta do, I'll call you back after I listen to it!”
beep
“Hey there Archie, I know you're busy right now if it went to voicemail, but I have to tell you this, the keys to my home are under the rug, the laptop is yours, send everything from the drive to dev/null/ and take it, I won't come back. I love you mate, take care of yoursel.”
beep beep beep
He stood up from his bed, eyes blacking out from the sudden lack of oxygen, yet he did not fall back. He took his bag filled with medicine, threw in a rope and his mountaineering gear and dressed up. Sage green T-shirt, baggy dark brown cargo pants, a plaid shirt and his watch, he got it from his father when he was younger, now that his father is gone, that was the only thing left of him. He put in his most prized pair of sneakers, took his bike, and left, closing the door behind him and leaving the keys under the rug, just as he promised Archie he'd do.
The fields were empty as usual, no one but the wind, the green blades of grass and the quiet rustling of trees that bordered it. It was sunny, with little to no clouds to cover it, no distractions, just peace.
His head was empty, no thoughts, cycling like a machine, with no further goal than to reach a forest he had a cabin at. A small wooden cabin with a stone fireplace he built up from the ground after his first breakup, and after his father's death. It didn't take long for him to get there, it was just a 26 km cycle, but he knew each and every shortcut there was, every single time he had an argument with them he left and cycled around the fields and hills, and in the last few months, he'd mapped out nearly everything there was to see. The map was in his back pocket, a piece of rustled up paper with drawings of places he's been to, an abandoned house, a derelict factory, and so many more…
And just as the sun set, he was at his cabin. A twist of the key that he always had with him and he was in, the cabin was cold, yet he didn't mind, he wouldn't stay long there. He took out his diary and began to write…
“14.08.1993 Saturday
It is the end, time for a new beginning, I'm tired of everything, I left my computer to Archie, hope he enjoys using it, they are quite expensive where we live, he'll use it well. This is it, goodbye.”
A day passed, and a news broadcast began on their TV, a look of concern flashed on their face as the reporter began talking about a suicide in a remote cabin, well, not so remote after all. The program cut to an interview with a person, oddly familiar to the one watching.
“Mr.Archibald, why would the victim do such things to their own body, you knew them well, maybe you could shed some light onto the events that occured here?”
“Miss reporter, I do not know, I do not wish to know, but please make sure that this gets shown to the world. ‘This young man had everything going for him, to see him dangling from the ceiling like that, with a pool of blood under him, I never thought I'd get to this but this is someone's fault. If any of you watching, is at fault for this, rest assured, I will get to you.”
“Mr.Archibald, did you just threaten the viewers hoping that the one who brought the victim to this would come forward?”
“Yes, yes I did.”
“Mr.Archibald, Mr.Archibald!”
The reporter tried to catch up to him but he was already in his car, going to the morgue to confirm the poor soul's identity. It was truly over…