Travis Kazmarek takes a step towards recovery. (~3k words)
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Self-Harm: Description of self-harm.
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Canon Hub » Chaos On The Monolith Hub » The Light After The Dark
Clack.
A dull noise rang through the almost silent apartment as the bottle of pills fell from the kitchen counter. Their owner, one Travis Kazmarek, didn't bother to look at them as they leaned back in their chair, barely holding it all in. The overcast grey English sky blocked even more light from entering the home than its drawn curtains already did. Travis took a deep breath in.
And he was back, in those dreaded halls. The greymatter of his friends covering his torn armour. That which was supposed to protect him falling away like a house of cards. He ran and ran, but the halls kept going. The abnormal struck his spine as he fell to the rotten, molded floor. It breathed, a thousand different voices. The abnormal was not real, and yet it was a thousand conflicts ahead. He cried. Ugly, instinctual, violent.
And he was back, in those dusty barracks. He turned to his side, his friend ████ Kent stared back.
"You good?" He asked. Travis looked away.
"Can't believe Noxol got a promotion before you." They both forced a chuckle.
"Well, he is older. I suppose he is more experienced."
"I suppose so…" Silence lingered, watching and waiting.
"TRAVIS!"
"I've never heard of where they're sending us next."
"DON'T LEA—"
"I guess we'll find out."
And he was back, in this damned house. He yelped. There was no reason. He slapped himself once. Keep it together. Again. You are a soldier. Again. You chose this.
And he was back, in that bunker. The abnormal chuckled without a mouth. They were dead, he should be too. The abnormal let him run, it was full. The abnormal was around every corner. There was no escape. No-one would rescue him.
And he was back, in the chamber. Γ-1 Leo shook his hand, congratulated him on a battle well won. Both men covered in scars, both men wrapped in bandages. Travis splattered with the blood of those he tried to save, Leo with the blood of the people scum (they had to be scum) he'd slain.
And he was back, in this damned house. His hands grasp the counter, the knife only a small distance away. He couldn't keep his eyes open for much longer. Three blinks. The knife was in his hand. Silence entered the room, admiring the scene.
And he was back, in that office. Still in the stained armour, new tears starting to flow out. The doctor in front of him sighed.
"Why are you lying to me, Travis?"
"But… my frie—!" His shrill voice was forced to silence by the back of the doctor's hand.
"Weren't real. You're experiencing a bout of psychosis is all. You are just a security guard, not a task force operative. Never were and never will be after this."
He chuckled, it was all he could manage.
And he was back, in the scarlet corridor. The abnormal stood on his legs. There is nothing he could do now. They It rose its blade.
And the dams broke.
The slices came quick.
He dreaded having to clean up his blood in the morning.
Langstrum Family Offices, Floor 3
<START LOG>
Travis Kazmarek sits on the edge of the chase lounge as Dr. Langstrum enters the room, carrying a black clipboard.
Dr. Langstrum: Hello, Travis.
Travis Kazmarek: Hey.
Dr. Langstrum smiles and sits on an eclectically decorated chair, with a large label on its back reading "COMPLETELY WATERPROOF!" In one swift motion she removes a pen from her cardigan pocket, clicks it once and writes a short note on her clipboard.
Dr. Langstrum: Its been a while since our last session, hasn't it?
Travis Kazmarek: Yep.
Dr. Langstrum: Well, let's get started. Have you hurt yourself in the past week?
A second of silence passes.
Travis Kazmarek: No.
Dr. Langstrum: Have you had any thoughts of hurting yourself since our last session?
Travis' shoulders tense up.
Travis Kazmarek: No.
Dr. Langstrum: Have you been taking the medication I prescribed?
Eight seconds pass.
Travis Kazmarek: Yes.
Dr. Langstrum: Why are you lying to me, Travis?
Travis Kazmarek: I'm no—
Dr. Langstrum: I won't judge you for whatever you say. This is my job. I'm here to help, but I can only do so if you if you want to be helped.
Travis Kazmarek: I… Fine! You want to know so bad?!
Travis pulls off his shirt to reveal bandages covering his entire lower chest with irregular red patches.
Travis Kazmarek: I have, I did and I haven't. Happy now?
Dr. Langstrum does not respond. After a minute, Travis falls back on the lounge and places a hand over his face.
Travis Kazmarek: Sorry.
Dr. Langstrum: Don't be, letting that out is good. May I ask why you've been avoiding our sessions?
A moment of silence passes.
Dr. Langstrum: You don't have to answer if you don't—
Travis Kazmarek: No, it's fine. Just…
Travis sighs as he leans up, picks up his shirt, pulls it back on and falls back onto the lounge again.
Travis Kazmarek: I don't know. I… I'm sorry. I… no… I'm sorry.
Dr. Langstrum: Do you have anyone else you could talk to?
Travis Kazmarek: I guess there's… Dr. Craggs. I escaped an Insurgency raid with fer once, we've been… I guess the word is friends, ever since. Went to fer new art gallery yesterday.
Dr. Langstrum places her clipboard to the side and leans forward.
Dr. Langstrum: Do you talk to fer?
Travis Kazmarek: …
Dr. Langstrum: Why not?
Travis Kazmarek: It's not that kind of friendship.
Dr. Langstrum: I'm sure they'd gladly help you if you asked.
Travis Kazmarek: …She's busy.
A moment of silence passes over the room. Travis sighs.
Travis Kazmarek: How do you cope with it all?
Dr. Langstrum: Hm?
Travis Kazmarek: From what I've read, you've been through shit almost as bad as me.
Dr. Langstrum: I talk to people.
Travis Kazmarek: Bullshit.
Dr. Langstrum: Ha, I guess that isn't the only thing… do you know how old I am?
Travis shrugs.
Travis Kazmarek: No?
Dr. Langstrum: I recently celebrated my 87th birthday. And in 2056, I will have turned a century old. To the perspective of my people, I have barely come of age. If my biological parents were still alive, they'd have admonished me for the path I have taken, say I have much more to learn. But to the perspective of a human like you, I am old, on the declining end of my life. I believe neither is quite true.
Dr. Langstrum leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling.
Dr. Langstrum: As an immortal being, I have lived many lives. A child of royalty, a rogue brash teenager, a mailwoman and more. I'd say there is a perspective that can only be earned from a life such well travelled. I still have hundreds of paths to walk and lives yet to live. And after figuring out what kind of existence I want to live… there's a certain contentment I feel. I believe you could benefit from such a thing. On a smaller scale, of course.
Dr. Langstrum leans forward and removes a small handdrawn map from her pocket and passes it to Travis.
Dr. Langstrum: When you leave, how about you head down to the reception and take whatever pamphlet you find interesting.
Travis Kazmarek: This drawing is terrible, the lines aren't even straight.
Dr. Langstrum: I'm not much of an artist, no.
Dr. Langstrum chuckles as Travis stares at the map for a full minute.
Travis Kazmarek: Thank you… I-I'll Venmo you the payment later.
Travis quickly exits the room before Dr. Langstrum can respond. Dr. Langstrum sits in silence for several minutes before the blue landline attached to the right wall begins to ring. Dr. Langstrum sighs.
Dr. Langstrum: Oh fuck, it's the United Seas again…
<END LOG>
Travis glanced up at the cathedral and down at the front cover of the pamphlet he had taken from the Langstrum Family Offices' reception.
He didn't expect the image to be accurate, since the pamphlet was at the bottom of the stack amongst a bunch of obvious scams and meaningless drivel. In fact, the cover did not mention the large obelisk jutting out of the right side of the roof. It almost blocked the sun with its grandeur and shone a dim orange due to the many floating seven pointed stars around it. He continued this mental examination of the building for several minutes as multiple alien figures walked past him and into the building.
A car pulled up nearby the building's right side, and out from it stepped Pearl. He pulled his hood up so that she wouldn't recognise him and observed her. She wore almost the exact same outfit as she had during their session, but now the cardigan was adorned with several badges and what appeared to be paint smears. Instead of whatever dress she was wearing during the session, she wore tight black jeans. Her bag displayed a large sticker which looked like the stars surrounding the obelisk above. She entered having not seen Travis watching her.
He sighed. Of course my therapist is some religious nutcase, he thought. He let it linger for a moment before groaning at himself. No that's not fair… shut up. He tapped his right foot impatiently. I don't have any other choice now…
The interior of the cathedral was what he expected, with pews lined up towards what was presumably once an altar, but was now a tall statue of a vaguely masculine figure holding a spear. He sat in the pew closest to the entrance, making sure to keep his presence unnoticed as the buglike figure standing at the statue's feet, who he assumed was some kind of priest, cleared her throat.
"I'm happy to see you all in good health after last week's… incident." The whole congregation chuckled as they stared at Pearl, sitting in the front row, who shrugged in response. The woman cleared her throat again. "It is important that before we give our offerings today, that we remember what we are doing this for."
The priest turned to face the statue.
"We shed our blood in the name of our protectors, the Holy Seven, so that they may protect the hytoth from the beings which seek its destruction. Even as their influence has decreased and their comrades have fallen, Rakmou-leusan remains."
The priest gestured at the statue in front of her.
"To this day we let out blood for his name, so that he can continue protecting this hytoth from destruction. Our fallen brethren too, shall fight by his side in this long thought battle. We live to serve and serve in death. We struggle in this life to help Rakmou-leusan and will struggle by his side in the next. Let us give a short prayer before we begin."
A second figure, similar in appearance to the priest passed A4 sheets of paper to the rest of the congregation. Travis refused.
"One fold, think about something you feel bad about from the past week. Two folds, let that feeling linger for just a moment. Three folds, consider what you could've done differently. Four folds, realise the time has past. Five folds, you still breathe and see and hear and taste and feel. Six folds, think about the community you are sharing this prayer with. Seven folds, think about the holy fourth and what he does to protect us every day. Eight folds, think about the world we inhabit. Nine folds, be thankful for them all in this moment. Ten folds, take a breath and we can commence."
It was like magic, an entire congregation of origami daggers crafted almost in unison. The priest nodded, and the congregation stood, gathering around the statue in a semi-circle as the priest placed a bowl at its feet. They all smiled and chittered amongst themselves as a man sat in front of it and raised his creation into the air.
An almost uplifting feeling shot through him in that moment, one that rattled his brain. He stared at his hands and back up at the statue. What is this? …It's a trick. A common tactic, it has to be. But… no. It can't… no. No. No. If they… what was… NO! I… need. To. Get. Out. Keep it all together
An hour must have passed, Travis has lost track a while ago. He sat in the fetal postion within the bushes on the cathedral's left side. He breaths came in shaky and of inconsistent depth. Stay composed, stay composed, stay compo—
"Are you okay?" A voice shot out from his side, he jolted deeper into the bushes, staring up at the direction from where the voice came. He locked eyes with what appeared to be something halfway between a goat and a man. Travis growled.
"I'm fine."
"…It's okay, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. What's your name?" The figure sat next to Travis while maintaining a full three feet of distance.
"Kazmarek." Travis returned to his previous position, forcing his eyes shut.
"Zirkaik. I'm assuming you're new to all this?" The figure gestured back at the building behind them. Trais couldn't respond. "I'll take that as a yes… I just want you to know, if you ever feel like coming back, none of us will judge you at all. You certainly aren't the first to have done something like it. We're here for…" The figure seemed to hesitate for a moment before taking a deep breath. "I can see I'm not helping, I'll be quiet now."
Travis did not open his eyes, his hands switching down to holding each elbow. None of it was going away. A few small tears broke through and flowed down his face.
"Why… are you… here?" He forced out, opening one eye to glare at the figure. In return, the figure appeared to ponder for a moment as they stared up at the sky.
"You seemed like you needed someone. I can go if you want me to."
Travis groaned as he opened his other eye, leaned back and forced the singular word out.
"Please!" It came out as more of a shout than he wanted. The figure jumped slightly and stared into Travis' face, which was now twisted with rage.
"Alright…" The figure flashed a concerned expression as he stood and slowly walked back to the congregation. Travis returned to his position once more as the emotions began to messily burst out.
The light flickered as he stumbled past, quickly fumbling his keys into the lock and entering his flat. His bag flew across the hallway as he slammed the door shut. A few rushed steps later and he was in the only place people couldn't reach him.
His bedroom.
It was the only room in the flat that looked lived in. Probably because it was. He moved to the fridge he'd installed and removed a box of 8 sausage rolls, tossing them onto the bed (which seemed to be more blanket than matress.) He hesitated before his body slumped onto it.
His mind was as scattered as it usually were, going a million thoughts per minute. But there was a haze forming on the mental panopticon, or perhaps, clarity. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't push the memory of that congregation aside. The panopticon paused for a mere moment, summoning a memory of a time now past.
The Agent rubbed the back of his head as the Doctor stared at him.
"The hell was that for?!" He exclaimed as the Doctor clasped her hands together, causing small balls of light to appear around her.
"That attack would have been fatal for you. I decided to use their own attack against them and trap us within a temporary stone prison. By doing this, I have seperated the assailants into two groups, making them easier for Site Security to catch."
"…I…" The Agent's breath became shaky as his hands covered his face. "…I can't do this."
"What do you mean?"
"Nothing, I'm fine."
"You are quite clearly not what many would call fine."
"I'm fine!"
"…Okay. You don't need to say anything. Just breathe, they will get us out when its over."
"I…"
"Shush, no need to talk if you don't want to." The Doctor placed her hands in fer lap and stared at the roof of their rocky dome prison. The silence lingered for several minutes. The Agent took a deep breath and sighed.
"I'm sorry for shouting."
"It is only natural. Do you feel better?"
"I guess."
"Fabulous." The Doctor stood and tapped the roof of their prison. Within seconds, it crumbled away into miniscule pebbles, filling the dark with flourescent light. The Agent gasped and jumped to his feet.
"You could have done that this entire time?!"
"After the first few seconds, yes."
"Why the fuck didn't you?" The Agent growled. The Doctor titled fer head to the side.
"You looked like you needed a moment."
And the noisy static of thoughts returned, seemingly quieter than before, if only by a small margin. The memory must've have only passed for a second, but the shallow walls of the panopticon echoed with its words. Between the fires and the blood he was forced to spill, a single moment of respite.
He stared at the ceiling, a blank expression etched into his face. His eyes trailed a familiar course from the ceiling to the pill bottle on his nightstand. He forced himself to sit upright as he grasped it in his right hand. He thought back to the last time he'd taken them. The panopticon wouldn't respond to the command.
The pill went down fast, before his mind could scream in defiance.
He didn't expect instant gratification, and it didn't come.
