Nevermore



The rain leaves patches of cold on my head, cold liquid running down the back of my neck, leaving me struggling not to flinch. He’s stood in front of me, the bastard, just standing and staring, as if I want anything to do with him. Not talking. I pass by. Moment’s gone. A sigh of relief escapes me as I turn the key in the lock to the apartment building. An odd mixture of hospital, piss, and swimming pool assaults my nostrils as I begin the long ascent to my room. Laughter. Music. Cheerful sods. Maybe I’ll go join them later on.
My room is cold and dark, the neon light is semi-blinding after the dark, dreary December streets of Oxford. It’s twelve- twenty-two. Been feeling tired for eternity, been trying to get some sleep for weeks. No comfort there. Usually I end up in a trance like state, thinking about her, thinking about him and how happy their lives must be. I shrug out of my overcoat and drop my sodden scarf on the floor. Nothing matters anymore…not after…them. I hate my life.  What’s the point?

“I’m sorry; I hope we can still be friends…”
“Yeah sure” My heart exits chest through mouth, rips itself in half and lies in shuddering pieces on the floor, in front of the bedroom door.
“Are you ok?”
I have no more reason to live “of course I am…friends?” My brain seems to be locking down. Aim: leave the room ASAP and die.
“Friends”
   There’s someone else isn’t there! I can see him: tall, handsome, dark, possibly long hair if that’s still in your criteria after me, beautiful and knowing yet gentle eyes, gentlemanly and chivalrous. “What you gonna do now?” Short. Businesslike. Cold. If there’s anyone I hate more than myself it’s you.
“Oh, you know, get on with life, study ‘n’ stuff…”
I knew it! There is someone else! Of course you’d never tell me though, no, not me.
“I suppose I’ll see you around then…call you or something”
“…yeah…” She looks awkward. Alarm bells. Quick departure.
I make a sound like something between a grunt and an ululation, she blinks confusedly and a blush grenade goes off in my face; without another word or sound I pick a way across the remains of my heart and…




Twelve-thirty. There’s an odd cracking noise, like ice when you pour warmer liquid over it, except it’s much louder, like glass cracking…the window? I peer outside and the wet cobblestones shine back at me, only a section of them reflecting the light from the single Victorian style lantern at the end of the street, the light drumming of the rain, the brief flashes of light from the headlights of cars on busier roads where life has not yet shut down and turned in for the night. Nothing.

The screen of my laptop flashes on, greeting me with the blast of a full blown orchestra; I have no idea how to change it. After a fit of beeping and the odd gurgling sound computers make I come face to face with her, grinning at me, a book resting on her lap, sat on my bed and leaning against the wall. Yes, look at me, you used to love me and you still do, don’t worry, I don’t love you, never really did to be honest, oh no don’t cry, we’re still friends, aren’t we? I spend the small hours watching her, ignoring the desktop icons scattered across her face.

That’s it. I’m gonna do it. 3 weeks and no contact; now I will commence with the re-communication process: operation get her back. Google flashes, which I ignore, and type in her ‘myspace’, address….waiting….waiting:

PAGE CANNOT BE DISPLAYED



OK. That didn’t work.

I give up. I’m not good enough for her anyway. She would have contacted me ages ago.
Finally realizing that I don’t actually have the guts to do this I log into a random chat room. Only weirdoes and randomers like me are found on these sites at this time of night. The computer says its quarter to one. My username is Pallas_2.

$Rav_En > Nevermore

Ah, he wishes to communicate, by tomorrow we’ll have forgotten each other completely, it’s the way of chat rooms.
Who is this guy? I like to kid myself into believing I’m talking to some exceptionally beautiful woman (not likely in this case) or a like, celebrity or something, who’s got bored of being famous and just wants to relax into normalness with normal people and stuff. It’s a random way of greeting a complete stranger, but let’s speculate. This is someone like Britney or whoever, who’s confiding her hatred of stardom to me, and I, the dutiful listener shall help her through it

Pallas_2 > lol, wots up?


I happily crunch on a pack of crisps. There’s a commotion outside my door and a heap of rags collapses into my room, crashing the door against the wall.
“No-no-ne-ver-no-more!” it giggles at a figure, brandishing a bottle of cheap vodka, who in a mock upper-class accent declares “Oh I do say, I must apologize good sir, very sorry old chap” and drags the pile out of my room. This tends to happen every few days. I turn back to the laptop.

$Rav_En> Nevermore

Seems quite an old word…‘nevermore’…I would expect it to be something more like ‘never again’ for it to be Britney voicing her regrets. The empty pack of crisps sails over my shoulder and lifelessly drifts to the floor. Tap tap tap. For bloody hell’s sake who the hell is this?  The street is clear. There is nothing at the door. Laughter is still ringing in the air, now sounding somewhat eerie and unsettling. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with the knowledge that this is the kind of thing that happens in one of those teen horror movies, and that I am about to be brutally murdered for being one of those curious assholes who always go off on their own, down dark tunnels to investigate the sound that is obviously the super intelligent, man eating monster-thing that has been following them for the past 15 minutes…or something of the like. I try to shake myself out of that creepy thought and firmly shut the door, and lock it… just to be safe. I can’t keep my eyes off the entrance to my room though, and the raven on the poster over the door watches me with intelligent, beady eyes, it’s almost as if he’s mocking me, he’s keeping something from me and relishing the fact that I’ll never know.
Determined to calm myself down and maybe get a little bit of sleep I make myself a cup of milk and honey and return to the laptop.

Pallas_2> Dont u get bored wiv dat word ??

The milk stands steaming next to my elbow on the desk. $Rav_En seems inactive.

Pallas_2> wot u actually on bout wen u say it?  Meh, you sound knowledgeable about these things …like how dyou like get ova grls?......... if ur a guy dat is, even if u a grl u cud b of sum help…still like her bt cba wiv getting bak wiv her coz she probs neva liked me n e way n dats unhealthy innit? Not dat I tink u kno n e thing bout it, is jst srt of a convo starter…..fancy a mope?

Heart to hearts with random strangers are usually the best, they’re not biased and they’re especially good on chat rooms because you don’t even have to look them in the eye and feel embarrassed that you have feelings.

$Rav_En>….nevermore


5 minutes and no reply. I’m slowly getting annoyed; this guy is irritating the hell out of me. I’ll give him one last chance. The milk has grown a skin that creases sickeningly when I blow it.

Pallas_2> Helooo?

$Rav_En> nevermore

Pallas_2> Wot do u want me 2 say, is this ur advice?

I hate this guy, I hate his font and the colour of the lettering, I hate his username. I hate him.

$Rav_En> never--

White hot rage.

SERVER NOT FOUND

I have punched the computer; stringy milk knocked over by my swinging elbow spreads and settles itself happily on the keyboard, my laptop gurgles and beeps a few times, then dies.

Something is welling up inside me, starting at my guts, slowly working its way up to my eyeballs, backward into my brain and towards the top, bubbling under my skull.

I’m lying on the floor, laughing, laughing, oh my god I have never laughed so much in my life, and look! Behold! There they are standing in the doorway; they’ve knocked down the door…my laughter increases in volume and pitch because now I know! Now I know! It’s her! Every single one of them is her, I know the truth, don’t look at me like that…oh you’re killing me, stop. They’re taking me away. Wearing black, black, black eyes, something is not quite right here. Aren’t they supposed to wear white, these mental people catchers? Tears stream down my face, whether from fear or laughter I don’t know anymore.
I’m still laughing.
I’ve sobered up.
Something’s wrong.
But still laughing.
The laughter takes on a strange note, a strain that echoes around me.
‘Nevermore.’ Is no longer a single word that annoys me, it surrounds me, eats at me, and enters my brain through my eyes, swishing around the gloopy mass, making itself a home.