Black Pariah _chapter one_

BLACK PARIAH

Chapter One

The drizzling rain that came just after nightfall made the dirty streets and tall, looming buildings of the city shine. It was a false glisten, however, a mask to hide the filth and scum it really was. The street was relatively quiet, as everyone had already escaped to their homes from the daily grind. The only sounds one could hear were the occasional wail of a distant siren and the staccato blares of game shows coming from unseen televisions.

A tall dark figure hunched against the drizzling rain, his wet hair straggling over his face. He huddled a small brown paper bag to his chest, as he made his way towards the dark green door that sat between a deserted clothing store and empty, brightly lit Laundromat. His hacking smoker's cough bounced loudly off the buildings, and he heaved a heavy sigh as he fumbled with his key. After a short struggle with the cheap lock and damp wood, he opened the door and disappeared inside.

Gerard leaned wearily against the door once inside. He impatiently shoved bone white fingers through his hair, freeing the rain-soaked rat tails stuck to his face. He snorted bitterly at the remembrance of the long gone days when he wore his hair long for 'fashion' or 'art' instead of the present lazy indifference and lack of funds. He shoved his back against the door, to ensure the rain swollen wood stayed in the rickety frame, trudged up the uneven worn stone staircase, winced as the too bright solitary light bulb blinded him for a second.

He threw himself down into the hard, worn out mud green couch (making sure to avoid the rip where the stuffing oozed from around a broken rusted spring) He freed the plastic bottle of dark brown anaesthesia from the soggy paper, crumples it into a wad and drops it down the side to join the ever growing mess of half eaten takeouts ,ripped brown paper and overflowing stale ashtrays between the couch and the naked window reflecting the squalor that surrounded him .

He pulled deeply on the bottle's contents, causing the plastic sides to collapse, punctuating the heavy silence with a pop. He rested his head against the back of the uncomfortable sofa and waited,  waited for the all too familiar misery to sweep him away like a dear old friend. How did it come down to this? He thought as his mind fell away from lucidity.

Ahh! But that's really the crux of it all, isn't it? It was such a simple question with far too many painful answers. Painful enough for him to, yet again, drift off into the heartbreaking ebb and flow of old memories and half-forgotten sensations. He welcomed them as they tore open the gaping wound again, a penance he paid...repeatedly. Their faces began to bleed across his mind.

Lindsay.

His vivacious wife was so sparkly and full of opinion, enthusiasm and life when he first met her. He remembered the way her hands always moved as she emphasized her point in whatever random discussion had caught her attention at the time. He did love her, perhaps not as fully as he should have. He always held some part of his selfish self back, never spilling his soul with confidence and wild abandon as she did with him - time and again.

She didn't notice it at first, but, eventually, his darkness ate away at her bright light, grinding her down just as surely as the awful, spiteful e-mails and poisonous forum comments from his fans did. He tried to stop her from reading them. He begged her to ignore it all. He repeatedly declared that it was her that he had married. It was her body warming his bed. It was her warm smile he missed on cold bus bunks in the middle of whatever God forsaken country he and the guys were touring that week.

She never did listen, he smiled and half noticed the bottle, nearly empty, but he doesn't care. Not really. He drifts back to where he wants to be. No, his beautiful linds never did listen, it was part of why he loved her - she could match his fiery temper, and quick passion with her own, never a misstep or hesitation. He should have been quicker to notice when she started withdrawing in on herself ,the curves of her comforting embrace ,hardening to sharp planes and awkward angles ,her eyes growing dull and her face gaunt.

"post natal depression" the doctor had said, yeah right, that sounded like such a benign thing  , not the all consuming darkness and cycles of self loathing that threw her down into the abyss , it brought back all her old high school ghosts of self doubt ,low esteem ,anorexia and negative thinking, even as she tried to hide ,it was always there, always looming over her ,like the spectre at the feast.

And did he help? Hell no! He snorted, turning to lie down on the horrible couch, his head fitting to the threadbare spot of the arm worn shiny from the grease in his hair mixing with the ever present oppressive rain, countless nights of the same motion rubbing the scratchy fabric thin. No, he didn't help his Lindsay at all, he should have spent more time at home, not been so wrapped up in so many different projects, while refusing to allow her time to pursue her own, 'forgotten' to pay the internet bill more often, cut off her access to all that hate that harmed her so badly, stayed home more, anything to halt that spiralling descent down to his level .All her sunshine gone, her spark well and truly extinguished.


And Frank. Oh God.