DARKNESS

              Nikki gripped the ice cold door handle with his bare hands and slid the key card into the lock. He pushed the door open and entered a dark hotel room. Flipping the lights on, he kicked his shoes off and tossed his old canvas gas mask bag on the chair. He took a drink from the bottle of whiskey in his hand. With a gloomy expression, he stripped off his clothing, leaving a trail of fabric as he walked to the bathroom to start a bath.

               Drinking heavily, as the tub filled, he returned to his bag on the chair. He pulled open the heavy metal snaps and rooted around until he found a plastic bag full of different kinds of pills. He held it up, inspecting its contents with an emotionless face. The bag contained several large white bars, small, oval shaped pills, round yellow pills, big red pills, and green star shaped pills, among others, all mixed together along with various paraphernalia including an empty ink pen, a lighter, a pill cutter and a cardboard packet of razorblades.

               He stared at the razorblades for a moment as if they were some curious item from a long forgotten dream, familiar but not quite recognizable. He used his bony, white fingers and long black nails to select a blade from the pack. He grabbed a few random pills from the bag and swallowed them, chasing them with a long drink from his whiskey bottle.

               Starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, he slowly moved to the bathroom. He set the emptying whiskey bottle and razor blade on the edge of the tub and unsteadily dipped into the hot bath. He sighed heavily. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, taking in the growing blurriness in his mind. An almost pained expression flashed across his face. He took another drink from the bottle. The hot liquor burned his throat. He opened his eyes and turned his wrist upward. Newer scars on top of old, raised scars adorned his forearm and bicep. He ran his fingertips lightly over the dark lines across his milky white skin.

               He took another long drink from the bottle and as he set it down, his eye fell upon the razor blade. He picked it up delicately, casting a fond, almost loving gaze at the sleek metal edge. “Run down the street, not across it… Then they can’t save you…” he thought to himself, tracing an invisible line down the length of his forearm. “Use the hottest water so you can’t feel the pain…” 

               Fighting the dizzying effects of the drugs and alcohol and the growing nausea in his stomach, he shut his eyes with a distressed expression. He plunged his hands deep into the steaming bathwater, and began to press the edge of the razor blade into his wrist. The familiar burn of the sharp steel slicing through his skin brought an almost nostalgic pain. Blood began to seep into the water, becoming quickly discolored. Nikki steadied his trembling hand. He made a move to push harder, sink the blade deeper into his soft flesh, when Dahlia’s despairing voice triggered in his memory.

               “How could you do that? Suicide is the coward’s way out! There is nothing, nothing so agonizing that you can’t survive it. If you die, all that pain and suffering is going to stay with you forever. That’s it. There is never a chance for it to get better. You will hurt for eternity, but if you can live for just one more second, just hold on for one more moment, those seconds will become minutes. The minutes will become hours, the hours turn to days and before you know it, you are surviving…”

               Nikki clenched his teeth as tears began to fall freely. He cried out angrily, flinging the razor blade clattering across the room. The nearly empty whiskey bottle crashed to the floor and shattered, glistening shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. Blinking through tears, he looked at the deep gash he had carved into his wrist. The laceration was about three inches long. Dark red blood seeped down his arm and dripped into the bathwater. Torn by emotion, he screamed. “Fuck!” He punched the hard wall of the bath with all of his strength. Pain wracked his hand.

               He angrily climbed out of the bath, blood and water running down his arm and dripping from his fingers. He grabbed a small washcloth and clamped it tightly around his wrist, struggling to one handedly dress himself. Pressing his injured wrist tightly against his body, he left the hotel, slamming the door behind him.
             The night was dark and chilly. Light snowflakes had begun to fall. Nikki did his best to walk briskly, despite his intoxication. His long black hair clung damply to his clothing and face, with drops of water still trailing off the ends. He wore no coat or gloves, despite the frigid temperature.
              Fighting dizziness, Nikki thought to himself. "I’ve got to get to a hospital. I need drugs, and probably stitches. Shit, I’m already on drugs. They'd probably lock me up for sure. I’ve got to get to someone who can help me… Casey… He’ll at least be able to deck me for being so fucking stupid…”