Pitch Black

Pitch Dark

{Sexual content. Physical violence, gore, or abuse}

Revenge is a must.

First, you were never to take matters into your heart. You were never supposed to look and save that memory. You didn't have to look, to begin with. What did you hope to find? Love? Be serious for a second. You didn’t think you’ll find love in her. And if you did, what a surprise!

You were supposed to be stronger than that. It doesn't matter that she had cute eyes. All you had to do was stare at anything. Wall, carpet, wall clock; you had options! It also matters not that she had the face you love; slim and everything. It’s understandable, okay? But you didn’t have to. You could’ve looked away. Things wouldn’t be this bad; piercing.

Second; there’s no name for you yet. For believing that something fruitful would’ve grown from that: There’s no name yet. What were you thinking? Just to map your thinking process: step by step; you know, to get perspective and context because what happened was unimaginable. There are no words to describe what that was; fast life huh! Living on the edge. What a fool!

Now you’re standing at the edge of the cliff, staring into the darker waters plunging into the rock; and don’t pretend you love the sound of the breeze mixing everything. It’s not Christmas yet, and though feels cold already; winter is about to come. It’s staring; and if I can whisper it to you, you’re yet to drown under the frozen lake. I doubt if those ears are clear. There must be something blocking meaning and hearing. You couldn’t be that dumb to believe you’d love each other. Yes; that’s the name. Dumb. You are dumb.

Because the third truth is you weren’t supposed to do that. It was a pact, and you know this. People like her are walking red flags, you don’t stare at them twice. Simple instructions, but look at you now. In the deepest of holes – Mariana trench or something because that’s the deepest hole that suits you; just for a day, as your lungs fill with water, suffocating in your own watered breath. Choking slowly as your brain shuts down six minutes later. That’s what should be done to you and don’t you think for a second there’ll be a second thought!

Do you remember the deadlines? Do you even recall making plans? You know, such things are what feature in wonders of the world because your actions showed nothing between your eyes. An empty skull per se. What the FUCK! Apologies for choosing vulgar but you have to understand. You have to feel how deep this is; so, what the fuck!

The deadline was what? Six months ago? And you don’t even feel the pressure to wake up and take control of the sinking ship. Or do you believe in a captain going down with their beloved ship? That road is nothing but painful. In fact, to describe it for you; you’ll no longer realize who you are anymore. Because you’ll start breaking pieces of yourself and patching the wrong spare parts; in the name of healing yourself, and when you’ve seen who you’ve become, another six months will follow as you try to find yourself in the landfill. And that’s if you have chosen to turn into a new leaf, but then if it’s the other way: Repeat is what describes your life cycle from then on; until someone holy chooses to drag you out of the fire, where your skin boiled under the heat, serving you the aroma of your burning skin; and the choices you did make all along. That’s where you’ll be, and who knows how many segments of six months you’ll have consumed by then? The more, the more painful it will be.

Do you even understand what is said? The waves you’re making on your face are sickening. You pretend like nothing is making sense. Don’t look surprised. This is ‘Douleur auto-infligée’; in French, but if you want it localized; Imagine this, you feel energetic and full of life one morning. And then, you realize you haven’t been out for a long time such that you had begun asking if you are okay in your head. So, you decide to take a hike in the mountains. Risky places like the trail passing through the two cliffs; joined by a bridge that looks like extensions of a crawling plant; but in the summer when it’s brown and dried. And that’s where you want to go because why not? The view down below is so adorable that you are willing to risk your life to zoom in for a hundred feet of free fall. HD clarity.

Have you got it yet? Let me explain. The bridge isn’t a bridge anymore. This is because the last time you saw it, there was a sign saying ‘NO THROUGH WAY’ but since a bunch of fools like you were taking pictures along the burning bridge, you want to see if the flames were high enough to feature in your selfie. It’s a hot photo, isn’t it? And That’s pretty much like it, and once there, you zoom in as you fall. SELF. INFLICTED. PAIN. That’s the translation. Who says sorry to such a person?

As you look at bones saying high to you, white flesh brighter than blood stares back, oozing blood from an artery somewhere on your thigh trying to match the force of a fountain: it’s at this instance that you realize you’re are exhaling blood; a wheeze is crying out to you making you wonder if your lung is punctured. Trouble breathing? There’s another scene; none of your bleeding legs feel painful. In fact, you can’t feel your legs – paralyzed or whatever; stroked?

All because she had everything you wanted to see in a woman. Perfect dentition and everything – smooth skin? Petite. What else? Oh, she was a conversationist. She knew how to talk and make simple jokes that gladdened your poor heart. Because you don’t come around people like her as often, do you? And she was faithful too. What a charm!

What happened is; she drew you in her journal. Understood every little thing about you. All your faces and impressions. Even those you didn’t realize you flashed at her when you laughed, feeling the moment. It’s a fast world, isn’t it? You meet; have simple conversations, and a few more weeks of conversations, and after a month of nothing happening but simple talk, you guys are compatible. Love indeed because infatuation doesn’t take that long, does it? Oh, and she cooked. Super combo.

Where did it end? And you once asked the question yourself, ‘To what possible end? Where are we going?’ but the fast world didn’t allow you to slow down and think straight you’ll say. Everything checked out – kill me quick, right?

See, there’s a reason they call it fast life. No one takes the time to filter through the overwhelming emotions of wanting something so bad that you become a fool for your emotions. Sorry, dumb. You become numb to the pinches on your skin, making you feel the cold heart of the perpetrator. You always think it’s something that happens. Of course, it does, otherwise, people wouldn’t be talking about it. You wouldn’t know there is something called heartbreak.

Now what? Go back? Spend another set of six months doing whatever you’ll be doing with her. I know you like it. That’s where the remaining memory comes from. Her beneath you, her hands holding your biceps as you place one of your hands on her neck. Beautiful, right? She wasn’t choking but it felt thrilling to you both. Her pole-dancing moans evoked the dirt in you. Never to be forgotten; especially when you hugged her while her legs grabbed your waist. What a view! Deep is the new normal.

Well, the twinkle in her eyes rested at the back of your mind like a billboard along a lonely highway. You had to look; stare into her breathtaking beautiful eyes that made you feel younger – like her baby face. Thinking you’ll forget the mood-music and kissing; laughter and conversations about the old days when you guys were happiest in your younger selves; sex was joyful after all. Why not reminisce about the good old days right after sex? For new memories; something to sting when one of you went after the throat, and do it for real this time: choke the other.

It's suffocating that you knew all this would happen but why not? Now, look at you. Is that regret? Huh! A laughable thought.

You can’t regret it right now: you haven’t jumped off the cliff yet. That’s where the real pain is. That’s where deadlines meet you in the eleventh hour, prompting you to activate survival mode. But it will be too late. What will you be running away from? A version of you that you chose to betray when things got warm; perhaps warmer such that you felt the heat melting your loving heart, turning it into a ball of soup; blood, and boiling cardiac muscles as your heart transformed to ash. Unrecognizable. Not even a burn with degrees. Completely forgotten. Burnt alive.

So, here’s the plan. Let’s get serious now. You know there’s nothing that will out of that. And no relationship that starts with sex materializes into anything blossoming. There’s a path to be taken. A process to be followed that starts with a connection. One not seasoned with ‘when will she give it to me? I’ve waited long enough.’ That’s a mistake. A big one, but you know that already. What you didn’t anticipate is the enemy being better than you. She had a good time and knew how to forget everything. If she didn’t, she could be holding you right now. The way you love, head on her chest as her fingers dig into your scalp gently; sexually. You wouldn’t be dying of cold as you are right now. Your chest is vibrating like a chainsaw that doesn’t feel like starting – because it’s going to slice bones and not wood. Well, her chainsaw saw where to cut, and it cut you in half.

So, here’s the plan. Revenge of the fallen.

This is your mission; if you choose to accept. You love Tom’s courage, right? So here it is; she has to pay for everything. She cannot be laughing. You’re the last one in the line, and your laugh should be the loudest. Louder than the trumpets of end times or whatever. You need to scream while laughing as you throw yourself on the ground, bathing in joy. That’s the kind of laughter the last guys have, and you need to be the last.

Seriously, she cannot go scot-free, can she? Not after making you go through all that hurt. The advantage you still have is she won’t know. You asked for space, and you were granted a blank cheque. She’s not a fool, she also knows that you’re finger-licking good. She can’t find anyone who did her as you did; at least not that fast. It’ll take time, and that’s what you’re stealing from her.

If she could find anyone, she wouldn’t have been with you for two years, fucking no other. Every day, if she wasn’t at your place; you were at hers. There wasn’t anyone. You just got played, but the keyword is ‘play’ here. The game is still in play, and this time, you know exactly what to do to make it rain pain. You know where it’ll hurt the most. You’ve experienced the depth of the trench, and the plan is multiplying that suffocation tenfold. Dig deeper this time, give her that look. Stare at her like she matters the most in this world. Make that moan sound melodic, like angels singing with praise as you show her what sex is.

Of course, she’ll be down to a few times of sweating on your bed; sessions of changing the sheets each day. In fact, make sure to use the white one she stained. Don’t be dumb to stain another sheet. That’s hers, on the bed, the bed of flaming roses; she’ll burn alive until her skin turns black, teeth gorged out like the fossils they dug in northern Kenya. Make her feel like she’s the first human, the first woman to experience a sexual connection. No woman can forget good sex. It’s a universal rule.

Don't hold back this time. Give it to her like you owe her love; more than the way she imagines. I know you held back because of this anticipated scenario, but don't this time. Do it all. Do more of it. Lick, suck, fuck: blow her away. On the chest and wherever she’d like. You’re a fool, and in the laws of power, the fool is always the smartest. No one sees him coming.

And you’re smart. Do it for a while longer. Enough to turn the joy back on. Let her crash for a month. Go stay at hers for four because you’re not stupid. You can’t be feeding a victim. She has to grow thin of her consciousness. Make sure she understands she’s the girl of your dreams. The only one you want. Be a fool for her; and when you start noticing she’s believing your lies, get out!!

Women are all the same! They are more emotional, and can never back away from a fight of pitying broken hearts. She knows you’re broken and if you turn to her for piecing together, you’ll be her Frankenstein. She knows she’s getting older let alone less attractive by the day. The biological clock ticks faster in her than in you, and when she starts panicking, talking about the future, and appearing to be visionary, she’ll not see anyone but you. You’ll still be handsome, mannered, and well-off. Most importantly, in her eyes, you’re the fool who can do anything for her. Women are in love with power. Power over foolish men like you, and you’ll be there to crack the mirrored image. It’s always about the last laugh. Patience pays.

And your laugh will be the loudest. That’s what revenge looks like. That’s how it’s strategized. The fallen shall rise again, and you’ll have given her a taste of her own medicine. She’ll never forget that especially if you play the game for a full six months after she believes you’re going to start a family with her.

Careful planning will end with milestones of the several six-month segments. And you’ll go into several sets of trying to find yourself rightly after. That is if there’s humanity in you., or the holy one has come for you.

Revenge, revenge, revenge.

Don’t be dumb. At least you remember her for the right reasons. She was a conversationist, beautiful, honest, and the most fun person you know. Don’t spoil that memory because you are thirsty for blood. You’ll get a cup, and you’ll choke as you lose sight of who you are.

For the record, that’s how heartbreaks are supposed to feel, and the advantage is you now know what to look for in a woman: a heart full of blood. Not burning but considerate with how she opens up to you.

Revenge is a dark path. A very dark path, and you won’t do it.

Promise me!