Viviane Fae-Moss
Silver Bullet
Content warnings for implied self-harm, implied death, and for language.
Please breathe.
It’s far too quiet out. Please. The rattle of your breath would certainly draw something here. I can’t stand the quiet. You know I never could. That’s why I’m always playing some type of music to try and chase it away.
You won’t say anything, then. How do I answer the lack of a question? It seems a simple task, but I’m trying, desperately, to break the silence. Nothing is moving. Nothing is moving.
Maybe I just can’t hear. Maybe there isn’t anything wrong, and I’m scared of nothing. That’s usually the case.
Prove me right. Please, prove me right.
Anything would be better than this.
…No, this is a dream. It has to be. I’ll just wake up. I’ll see you, you will hold me. I will cry to you and you will hold me because that’s what you always do and maybe that’s why we’re here, but you’re not here, are you?
Hold me now?
…No, of course not.
You’re not that kind of person right now.
This isn’t that kind of dream.
Maybe that’s why I miss you. I miss the way the sunbeams would catch in your hair that made it look like it was made of chocolate, I miss your effervescent smile, I miss dancing with you.
I should ask you to dance again. I know it means a lot to you.
I miss you in a million ways, but you’re right beside me right now. I’ll wake up to you and you’ll be right beside me and we’ll laugh and I’ll make you coffee cake moistened with two shots of espresso just the way you like it.
Or pancakes.
Is it Sunday?
I must really be mixed up, to not remember the day of the week—god, if you were here, you’d laugh at me.
That’s interesting, actually.
Is there a God in my head?
If there is, doesn’t that make us all God, just a little bit?
Is that sacrilege?
…Why not answer?
Why not breathe?
Why not blink your eyes, once for yes, twice for no.
No, of course not, that would be a kind of noise. That would draw something from the darkness. We can’t draw anything here.
Please, speak. Tell me all the ways I’ve messed up, how I’ve ruined the both of us, how sweet and soft and beautiful I am, how we’re both ruined but in our ruination we can stand with each other and how every time our lips meet we’re fixed just a little bit. Tell me that I’m sad, that you’re sad, that everything is broken.
Monsters be damned, I love you.
Let whatever demons there hear me and kill me for it, I love you so fucking much that I don’t care what happens. Let me be torn to shreds, let this pointless fucking nightmare be over. I don’t need a dream to tell me how afraid I am of this.
Please fucking answer me!
I’m scared, I’m so scared, and you’re not talking, and the silence is everywhere and there’s nobody else and you’re the person I always go to for solace so let me lean on your shoulder and let my body fall apart but I need you to answer, to breathe, to scream your fucking fury, to punch and claw and struggle against me and see just how strong my will to love you still is, but above all else I need you here.
Please.
There’s nobody else here.
I hate being alone. You know I hate being alone. That’s why I always go to you. But you’re here, and I’m still alone.
You can talk to me, you have to talk to me, I’ll take anything you can throw. Anger or pain or lust or sorrow or even emptiness.
I’ll try to make it better?
Or, at least, to understand.
I think I’m good at that?
You always told me I was, and you are my only frame of reference, so I trust you. At least, I want to trust you.
I always want to trust you, when you say that you love me, when you dance with me, when you list out the parts of me that make you smile, when you laugh because I said something silly or foolish. I want to trust you when you tell me that I’m worth something, when you tell me that you’ll still love me when I’m bleeding because I had to look pretty for something. When I’m heaving on the floor, covered in sweat, breathing too hard to speak or think any thought other than ‘I’m sorry.’ I want to trust you now.
Because you’re here, and I’m here.
Because we’re together, and we were always so invincible together, weren’t we? Because you play guitar and sing for me so well– you taught me how to play “Blue Magic” so that we could sing it together. How’d you say it? ‘It makes such a lonely duet.’ We share such a beautiful harmony, don’t we?
You above, me below, just singing.
Remember?
Please, sing with me?
Can’t you do that?
Don’t you remember me?
Can’t you breathe?
Can’t you break the silence?
Please, do anything. Do anything at all.
…Why aren’t I waking up?
It’s not usually this long.
Where am I?
…Right, I’m at your place. I walked here last night. Or maybe early this morning? It was dark out, that’s all I remember. Dark and quiet, kind of like it is now, like the world was being smothered by a weighted blanket.
I walked here because something you said scared me, bad, and I wanted to check in on you. I wanted to tell you it was all going to be okay and help you bandage your wounds, if I had to. I wanted to let you take the inside tonight, fall asleep in my arms, warm and safe and held tight. I wanted to see you in the morning and make you breakfast.
And I got here, and you were already asleep, and I joined you in bed, right? I held you tight and you were okay and I’m having a nightmare now, and I’ll wake up and you’ll be there beside me, hurt but glowing like you always are.
But I don’t have nightmares when I sleep with you.
…Please breathe.
If you breathe you break the silence and the monsters will come and they can fix you, they can drive away the darkness and everything will be okay so just breathe or speak or scream at me or leave me or blink or ask me a stupid question or do anything.
…Please?