Post by Seth Dillinger on Sept 5, 2011 16:30:25 GMT -5
It was just another dump of a motel. Roaches scurried away when the lights flickered on, and the smell of chemicals filled the entire complex. It certainly wasn't pretty, but Seth wasn't there for pretty. He was there for himself. On the uncomfortable hotel bed, he laid on his back staring at the ceiling, strung out of his mind. It had started innocently enough, just trying a little bit of heroin… but now, he was trying anything he could get his hands on… meth, heroin, speed, coke… he loved coke. At that very moment, he rolled over and cranked up the volume on the shitty bedside alarm clock-radio, blaring the local hip-hop station as loud as possible. A Tribe Called Quest began pumping through the static, putting Seth's mind at ease. He began subtly nodding his head along with the beat before reaching into the drawer by his bed and pulling out a baggie of cocaine. He needed a little "pick-me-up".
Moments later, the coke was neatly cut up into two neat little bumps. Seth used his nearly maxed-out credit card to line them up just right, then pulled a fiver out of his wallet and rolled it to proper snorting specifications. With only a slight moment's hesitation, Seth snorted the first bump into his right nostril. His head flew back as he winced loudly (but not louder than the music from the radio), holding a finger again his nostril as he sniffed it all down. As soon as he was stabilized, he blew down the other bump into his left nostril. "Whooooooooooo," Seth exclaimed. He felt the cocaine hit him and he stood up, bounding over to the chair in the corner of the room to grab his pack of cigarettes. He lit one up as A Tribe Called Quest still blared on in the background:
A voice from the darkness called out to Seth. "What's the point of all this, bro?"
Seth looked up to see Matt's ghost standing there, once again. It had become such a regular occurrence that he thought nothing of it anymore. "The fuck you keep bothering me for?"
Matt smirked and said, "Eh, I'm bored… heaven's not as awesome as the billboards make it out to be."
"Funny." Seth took a drag off his cigarette and let smoke pour out of his lungs as he scoffed in response.
Matt crossed the room and sat down on the bed across from him. "Well, while I'm here, you got anything you want to talk about, man?"
Seth shook his head.
"Nothin' at all, huh? Weird. You'd think that all this irrational, douchebag-like, dangerous behavior would have a root cause or something."
Seth just continued to stare off in the distance. Commercials on the radio station advertised a hip-hop music festival and a local rims and paintjob place. "You're not even here," he said.
"Oh, but I am!" Matt stood from the bed and took a few steps toward Matt. "I'm just as real as you'll let me be, Seth… so if there's something you wanna say, why don't you say it?" He smirked again and leaned in close. "But first… you might wanna get that," he whispered, motioning towards the door.
Seconds later, there was a loud pounding on the door. Seth snapped his head over to the door, startled, then turned back to the bed area, where Matt once was. He was gone. Panic began to set in as Seth slowly pulled back the dingy curtains to see if it was the cops. Luckily, it wasn't the cops -- just some punk-looking guy covered in tattoos and piercings. Seth put his cigarette out in the ash tray and walked over to the door, cracking it open but leaving the chain latched. "Yeah?"
"Yo, you mind turnin' that fuckin' music down?"
"Fuck off," Seth snorted and began to shut the door.
The guy stuck his boot in the door to block it, leaning in a bit closer. "It's four in the goddamn morning, bitch. Some of your neighbors are tryin' to get some fuckin' sleep. Turn that shit down or you'll regret it." Then he pulled his foot away and Seth slammed the door.
Seth stared into nothingness for a second before walking over to the radio. He pondered for a moment before violently ripping the radio from the socket and hurtling it against the wall. It broke into several chunks as it scattered on the floor, leaving a hole in the sheetrock. Seth began to breathe heavily, calming his nerves. He slowly sat down on the bed, staring at the hole in the wall, experiencing silence for the first time in awhile. He concentrated on his breathing… in… out… in… out… which only got exponentially more frantic the longer he sat there. Finally, he stood up, ripped the chain from the latch, and threw open the door to the outside walkway. He walked next-door and pulled back, running at the door and kicking it as hard as possible. The door to the room flew open, the chain-latch flying across the room in the process. The punk from earlier stood in the sink area, spinning around and staring wide-eyed at Seth.
"Rise and shine, fucker!" Seth yelled as he charged the guy, spearing him into the counter. The guy's back hit the counter as Seth pulled back and went for a hook to the jaw. The guy dodged it, then kneed Seth in the gut. Seth keeled over as the guy swept his legs, knocking Seth to the ground. Seth hit the floor and the guy began laying kick after kick into him with his boots. The whole time, Seth was just smiling. This was zen for him… no silence, no need for idle distractions… just rough and tumble fighting. Finally, the guy stopped and stared down at Seth. Seth looked back up at him and grinned through bloody teeth, before spitting blood at him. As the guy wiped his face in disgust, Seth kipped up off the ground and immediately jumped in the air, connecting with the guy's sternum with a huge dropkick. The guy tumbled back into the bathroom. After Seth was back on his feet, he began to walk away, satisfied with the damage caused. The punk came tearing after him, screaming. Seth instinctively leapt up to the bed and launched backwards in the air, connecting with a textbook corkscrew. The guy flew backwards into the sink, slamming his head against the countertop before getting knocked unconscious.
Seth surveyed the damage in the room before smiling to himself and stumbling back over to his room, face and shirt covered in blood. He laid there, staring at the ceiling with a smile on his face. The cops would probably get called soon, which meant he had to bolt. But for the moment, he was at peace -- the thrill of fighting against another man, putting everything on the line… it actually soothed him, as sick as it was. Seth rolled off of the bed, clutching his ribs - they were in pain, but it was a good kind of pain. He grabbed his suitcase and threw it up on the bed, beginning to pack all of his stuff back up for what had to be the thirtieth time in the past several months. As he unzipped his bag to load stuff end, he noticed the tag attached to the handle. It was a CPW tag. Seth ripped the tag from the bag and stared at it for a moment, smiling, before crumpling it up and shoving it in his pocket.
For the first time since leaving Philadelphia, he had an actual destination.
Moments later, the coke was neatly cut up into two neat little bumps. Seth used his nearly maxed-out credit card to line them up just right, then pulled a fiver out of his wallet and rolled it to proper snorting specifications. With only a slight moment's hesitation, Seth snorted the first bump into his right nostril. His head flew back as he winced loudly (but not louder than the music from the radio), holding a finger again his nostril as he sniffed it all down. As soon as he was stabilized, he blew down the other bump into his left nostril. "Whooooooooooo," Seth exclaimed. He felt the cocaine hit him and he stood up, bounding over to the chair in the corner of the room to grab his pack of cigarettes. He lit one up as A Tribe Called Quest still blared on in the background:
…How far must I go to gain respect?
Well, it's kind of simple, just remain your own,
or you'll be crazy sad and alone…
Well, it's kind of simple, just remain your own,
or you'll be crazy sad and alone…
A voice from the darkness called out to Seth. "What's the point of all this, bro?"
Seth looked up to see Matt's ghost standing there, once again. It had become such a regular occurrence that he thought nothing of it anymore. "The fuck you keep bothering me for?"
Matt smirked and said, "Eh, I'm bored… heaven's not as awesome as the billboards make it out to be."
"Funny." Seth took a drag off his cigarette and let smoke pour out of his lungs as he scoffed in response.
Matt crossed the room and sat down on the bed across from him. "Well, while I'm here, you got anything you want to talk about, man?"
Seth shook his head.
"Nothin' at all, huh? Weird. You'd think that all this irrational, douchebag-like, dangerous behavior would have a root cause or something."
Seth just continued to stare off in the distance. Commercials on the radio station advertised a hip-hop music festival and a local rims and paintjob place. "You're not even here," he said.
"Oh, but I am!" Matt stood from the bed and took a few steps toward Matt. "I'm just as real as you'll let me be, Seth… so if there's something you wanna say, why don't you say it?" He smirked again and leaned in close. "But first… you might wanna get that," he whispered, motioning towards the door.
Seconds later, there was a loud pounding on the door. Seth snapped his head over to the door, startled, then turned back to the bed area, where Matt once was. He was gone. Panic began to set in as Seth slowly pulled back the dingy curtains to see if it was the cops. Luckily, it wasn't the cops -- just some punk-looking guy covered in tattoos and piercings. Seth put his cigarette out in the ash tray and walked over to the door, cracking it open but leaving the chain latched. "Yeah?"
"Yo, you mind turnin' that fuckin' music down?"
"Fuck off," Seth snorted and began to shut the door.
The guy stuck his boot in the door to block it, leaning in a bit closer. "It's four in the goddamn morning, bitch. Some of your neighbors are tryin' to get some fuckin' sleep. Turn that shit down or you'll regret it." Then he pulled his foot away and Seth slammed the door.
Seth stared into nothingness for a second before walking over to the radio. He pondered for a moment before violently ripping the radio from the socket and hurtling it against the wall. It broke into several chunks as it scattered on the floor, leaving a hole in the sheetrock. Seth began to breathe heavily, calming his nerves. He slowly sat down on the bed, staring at the hole in the wall, experiencing silence for the first time in awhile. He concentrated on his breathing… in… out… in… out… which only got exponentially more frantic the longer he sat there. Finally, he stood up, ripped the chain from the latch, and threw open the door to the outside walkway. He walked next-door and pulled back, running at the door and kicking it as hard as possible. The door to the room flew open, the chain-latch flying across the room in the process. The punk from earlier stood in the sink area, spinning around and staring wide-eyed at Seth.
"Rise and shine, fucker!" Seth yelled as he charged the guy, spearing him into the counter. The guy's back hit the counter as Seth pulled back and went for a hook to the jaw. The guy dodged it, then kneed Seth in the gut. Seth keeled over as the guy swept his legs, knocking Seth to the ground. Seth hit the floor and the guy began laying kick after kick into him with his boots. The whole time, Seth was just smiling. This was zen for him… no silence, no need for idle distractions… just rough and tumble fighting. Finally, the guy stopped and stared down at Seth. Seth looked back up at him and grinned through bloody teeth, before spitting blood at him. As the guy wiped his face in disgust, Seth kipped up off the ground and immediately jumped in the air, connecting with the guy's sternum with a huge dropkick. The guy tumbled back into the bathroom. After Seth was back on his feet, he began to walk away, satisfied with the damage caused. The punk came tearing after him, screaming. Seth instinctively leapt up to the bed and launched backwards in the air, connecting with a textbook corkscrew. The guy flew backwards into the sink, slamming his head against the countertop before getting knocked unconscious.
Seth surveyed the damage in the room before smiling to himself and stumbling back over to his room, face and shirt covered in blood. He laid there, staring at the ceiling with a smile on his face. The cops would probably get called soon, which meant he had to bolt. But for the moment, he was at peace -- the thrill of fighting against another man, putting everything on the line… it actually soothed him, as sick as it was. Seth rolled off of the bed, clutching his ribs - they were in pain, but it was a good kind of pain. He grabbed his suitcase and threw it up on the bed, beginning to pack all of his stuff back up for what had to be the thirtieth time in the past several months. As he unzipped his bag to load stuff end, he noticed the tag attached to the handle. It was a CPW tag. Seth ripped the tag from the bag and stared at it for a moment, smiling, before crumpling it up and shoving it in his pocket.
For the first time since leaving Philadelphia, he had an actual destination.