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dark surrender |
| Written by jason murray | |
| Saturday, 21 June 2008 | |
The pulsing lights reflect off the glass table blinding her from her own reflection. Each beat of the music is a reprievement from the glaring eyes of the girl staring back at her. The bass pounds deep in her squeezing the air from her lungs, taking even the most routine tasks out of her control. Her body still tingling the sweat rolls down her neck and into the silver low cut top she had worn knowing what it would do to the guys and maybe some of the women. Aware she can no longer feel her toes she struggles to wiggle them unaware of the hands moving across her body, the fingers that linger on her back, the hands combing through her sweat drenched hair massaging her head. The song changes and the glaring angry look of her reflection snaps her back to the moment, to the situation she had waited longingly for all week. Her eyes burn, they challenge her, begging her to push it. **** them, and **** there judgment. Between the flashes of light the tight clenched lips loosen as a cocky smirk takes form. The cold hard eyes begin to sparkle thinking about how they will tell her to slow down and be careful. The smirk changes into a smile, her cheeks hurting from strain as she thinks about what they will all say as she stumbles across the floor to the dirty bathroom barely able to hold herself up. Her finger nail taps the glass, the tiny clicks drowning out the words of her friends, louder and louder until she can only feel the vibrations of the music but no longer hears it. **** you too, she thinks as she smiles back at herself, then it burns. The already seared edges of her nose stings, opening her ears back up to the music. It explodes ripping through her, racing and burning deeper inside her, harder and hotter it pushes working its way into the smallest cracks of her body. It fights to take her, like a war she hopes to lose, to surrender control, become a prisoner, no longer having to fight. All the tension in her body releases as she slides back into the overstuffed cushions of the couch, her head falls back, her eyes close, total surrender as it surges through her body. Her thoughts jump widely, racing, in and out of her head. For a moment she just enjoys the music seeing each note slowed down as it enters her, beat by beat she thinks, a new beat a new thought. Wild excitement, anger, hate, rebellion, love, lust, fear, and then another, a new thought, a new feeling. Each thought fights to take over, take control, and make her surrender. What was that feeling, what was that thought? A panic over takes her, faster and faster her heart beats, sweat pouring, the music holding the air in. Pain is now gripping her chest crushing her desperate for new air. Something new, that's what she wants, new air, new feelings, just new. Then the hot stale air brushes past her lips and new cold air rushes into her lungs, relief as the pain subsides. Hot then cold as the air moves in and out, her hands shaking, her face tingling, her mind buzzing. Then, there it was, like a gunshot ringing out in the crowded after hours club. It bounces off the mirrored walls, racing between the wired bodies, and displayed in the lights. Its moves toward her faster and faster propelled by the air pushed out of the wall of speakers. It hits her, "Janie are you ok, you need some water?" She springs forward her teething grinding together, jaw clenched. The look of concern on the face of her friends brings back the cocky smirk, she laughs as her perfect ass begins to move in her seat, tossing her hair from side to side as her arms lock and twist in front of her. "I'm good" she says "I just needed some air." Her friend she had known forever slides across the couch and pulls her close, "janie dance with me." The two friends grind and push against each other, pulling at each others clothes, teasing, laughing, and lusting. The foreplay soon broken up by the insecure, jealous voice of a boyfriend asking in a tone more reserved for a demand that janie walk with him. The cocky smirk rips into her face as she knows what's coming; she stumbles with her heels as she steps over her friends to walk away from the soft familiar seating she daydreams about. His stupid, insecure arm wraps around her waist pulling her tight as she looks into his face and smiles waiting for it. She can barely hear his voice over the music as he leans into her ear. Familiar with the looks of being scolded she knows what he wants. Control your self, don't embarrass me, be careful, slow down, take it slow, pace yourself, don't push it........ She throws her head back pretending she can't hear his words or understand his message, shaking her head as she throws up her hands as if she doesn't know. She can feel the eyes of her friends on her, some jealous, some still angry, some lusting. His breath tickles her ear, but the words are what make her laugh. She kisses him on the cheek and pushes him away picking up a bottle of water as she begins to make her way across the crowded room. Pushing and squeezing her body between people, her sweat mixing with that of strangers. Her smile now says "haaa" as some let her pass while others make her strain to get by. Her breast presses into the back of young good looking guy, but he doesn't seem to notice. She continues to work her way across, a smile here and there to the people she recognizes, some she likes, some she hates, some that have known her but they all get the same smile. A hand touches her perfect ass, no business being there, no right to touch her, not worthy of her but yet she doesn't seem to notice. She had been moving at a constant pace, as if being pulled, or forced away from the group. As the hard metal door came within reach of her hand she slowed just for a second, her head turned, eye contact. Long slow lingering eye contact, the kind that creates an instant connection. Confused and disoriented by the battle inside she loses it, forgetting it, not even sure it had really happened. She disappears behind the door, what happens in there? Maybe a friend holds the stall door closed for her, not really having to use the restroom, but in need of a moment. Maybe cold water on her face, straighten her clothes, fix her hair, but why? Nothing should change about her, not her hair, her smell, her thoughts, and to fix her clothes would only further mask who she is. Who is she? Her friend still sits there, who is janie? What is it about your friend? So many questions but her life long friend doesn't look like she would have the answers. Why did she just let her friend walk away, does she know what it was that made her smile, what words made he said to maker her laugh? Does her friend know? Each second ticks off slower than the previous, sirens and whistles blast in the air as the dj works feverishly to keep the tired, worn bodies moving. The hot summer air thickens, building, pressing, and making it harder and harder for time to pass. Finally the door opens, still with a smirk, a cocky look on her face. Her fingers clenched in her palm holding tightly. The round hard pill presses into her, imprinting its shape, texture, even its makeup into her. No hesitation, no thoughts of control, of composure, or her limits. Her limits don't concern her, just like the bass of the music she knows its there but cant see it, like her blurry vision straining to make out the objects back at her familiar couch her its not clear. She's desperate to push her limits like the people holding her back, keeping her from the warm comfortable couch to support her to hold her up. Her legs move slowly, shaky and weak they no longer want to hold her up, but her hands move fast. Her finger presses into her mouth, past her lips dry from dehydration, but still full with passion. Chewing slowly the bitter taste of control crumbling in her mouth, a wince in her eyes as she swallows but the taste lingers. She could wash it away; the bottle of water is in her hand. A single sip and the taste is gone, the bitterness, the hard reminisce, the jagged pieces all washed away. She looks down at the bottle of water, its not even hers knowing she never has to pay for a drink. But it's her eyes she sees in the bottle looking back, it's her smirk, her lips, her attitude. A small movement and its all gone, but she doesn't move the bottle. Her mind is blank, no thoughts, no emotions but her tongue moving. It presses the broken pieces of the pill into her cheeks, grinding it into her, forcing it into her. The tip of her tongue digging at the hard pieces logged into the groves of her teeth, frantically crushing up the pieces to be pressed into her. Not satisfied with the way her body is meant to absorb the pill, she keeps pushing, pressing, grinding, till the pieces are gone, and only a slight bitter taste remains. Her arm relaxes back to her side, the bottle of water now cold against her leg. Her head spins no longer with thoughts or feelings it just spins. A rush takes her, starting with her face moving down to her once numb toes. She has to sit soon, the couch looks so far away but she needs it now. She pushes faster and faster through the people, no longer polite she needs to get by now she can't wait. Her ankle rolls as her heels slow her progress down, water spills down her clothes. They cling to her, wet and cold, no space between her skin and her clothes now, no room to move. Everything slows her down, her wet clothes, her sexy heels, the music, the people around her, it all keeps her from where she needs to be. Trapped between 2 people not able to get by, her eyes roll back, and it gets dark, the music sounds muffled. Her feet vibrate beneath her but where is she. Is it memories or dreams she sees? Her face is blank and expressionless as she sees herself, or how she wished to see herself. So passionate, so engulfed in the tasks at hand she speaks to the strangers around her as if they can see it to. They all become part of her memories, her dreams, her ideas. Waves of emotions rush through her, taking her in and out of darkness, to far off places, to places she had been hundreds of times, to places she wished existed outside her. A hand reaches between 2 people grabs her bare shoulder and pulls her through the crowd. Why? Why would he do that, doesn't he know her? Look at her, can he not see it? Does he think he is helping? Shaken out of her hazed mental state and back to reality she smiles, and answers yes. She is ok, more than ok. This time she listens to the warnings, the concern, the stern voice but smiles on the inside. "Ok" she replies to the pleas to slow down. Nods her head when they say take it easy, but tones them out hoping to go back to where she was. She sinks back into the couch, it wraps around her, holds her tight, even comforts her as it keeps her exposed body warm. Her eyes are now glazed over, pupils dilated, empty no longer capable of the eye contact she held only minutes ago. Just 2 black circles covering what are probably deep brown or maybe green eyes. They seem to open up inviting someone to look inside and see why it is she smirks, she smiles, she laughs. They hold you, pull you, start to bring you inside, you want to look away but now it's an addiction. Like the first needle that sticks your vein, it's a rush still taking you but yet you already crave another dose. A whisper brings me back down, "that's Janie, Megan's friend." Do I know megan? My head nods but I don't know why.I look down and see my hands shaking, a veins throbs under a stamp glowing in the black light. Now smeared from sweat I can't make it out, maybe a word, or words? My fingers rub and scratches at it spreading the ink to my hands, my shirt, and my arms.The glowing word rubs against my jeans when I hear the whisper again, "she ******* hot huh".Who is this talking about her? Then I hear another whisper "hell ya", but that was my voice. Why would I say that, I don't think she is ******* hot? Those words might describe the girl behind me at the bar begging to be seen. But I see her and those are not the words, she is more like the words in smeared ink now covering me. I strain to focus, the letters on my hand starting to become clear when a tug on my shirt and a familiar voice startles me. Quickly racing to the door as the lights come on and the crowd rushes out a small door in the back of the room. Hands push into my back but the crowd in front of me doesn't move, I look down trying to make out the words but it no longer glows. Like her, the ink still covers my clothes and body but I can no longer see it but yet it consumes my thoughts. It must be close to dawn because as I make my way out, no sun but the dark mask of night seems to be fading. I hear the keys rattle in my hand as the two metal objects struggle to line up, 2 keys come into focus crashing together like a bell in church tower. Each strike a remembrance, but the bell tolls for death itself, mourning for each time is has been cheated. A blast of cold air in the face as the engine starts, the cool leather of the steering wheel in my hands, and the high pitch rings that start deep within the ear. The ringing always seems to get louder just as you need to think, just as you need the distractions to go away. The street lights flash by the windows like a pulse, faster and faster, just as the lights bounced off the table earlier. You need it, you try to block it out but the addiction is all consuming finally you look away from the road. Deep breaths, satisfaction as you see the same black circles staring back at you in the rear view mirror. What do they say, what are they pulling you to, what is the word. This time there is no interruption, no whisper, no tug, and you become lost in it. You follow them further and further down knowing you may not come back, finally the blackness surrounds you its everywhere, you surrender to it......... Copyright 2008 jason murray |
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