Don’t nobody tell me that god don’t have a sense of humor, ‘cause now that I want to live well everybody around me is dying.
What was the point?
Back to square one, that’s where he’d landed on his ass. Swimming in the deep end with broken limbs, barely able to keep his head above water without it filling his lungs. It felt pointless sometimes, like he should just let his body sink beneath the current and carry him under, maybe then he’d feel lighter. Right now, though, life was a burden, and it terrified him. To no ends. He was worried, in the beginning, that he’d been using Anna as some sort of magnet, gravitating him to this source of light that helped him breathe. Now, with that source gone, he felt angry again.
Nothing seemed worth loving.
Which meant he’d be spending a lot of time alone again, maybe drowning himself in dark liquor and staring at the ceiling. Going mad with f***ing loneliness, it seemed inevitable anymore. Just get the f*** out, do something, breathe in fresh air, Arnold. You’re driving me crazy. Liz’s words echoed through his head. Out of everyone, she was the most worried about him doing something stupid, which was why she drilled into him the only way she knew; tough love. That was a lot how Arnold handled things, which was why he never had necessarily been mad at Liz for it. She probably understood trauma a hell of a lot more than he ever could.
She let it surfaced. Wasn’t afraid of being exposed like he was.
The places I took you, they seem so f***ing empty.
He’d followed the 10 year-old's advice and made his way out of the resort, feet carrying him nowhere in particular except under the same gloomy California sky everyone was experiencing. It seemed dangerously, blinding staggering through the city, barely staying on the sidewalk, still half drunk from last night’s endeavor. If only the entirety of Valkery wasn’t keeping him on suicide watch, he’d feel a little less tense, but he knew what they all thought when they looked at him.
Is he drunk again? He’s gonna drink himself to death. He should really see a therapist. He’s clearly not okay. He needs mental help.
It was almost like he could hear their thoughts, harsh whispers in his brain, judging him. Remind him that he was a sad, miserable f***ing mess. You should just kill yourself. Telling him things that weren’t true, but still the harsh truth. Just get it over with. Telling him that something was wrong and that he didn’t even realize it. No one would be sad. Telling him he needed f***ing help before ended up dead on his floor, wrist opened up with a razor blade. Just do it! F***ing kill yourself! Screaming inside of his f***ing head and gripping him, pulling him away from reality. F***ING DO IT YOU COWARD! Tugging him under this metaphoric wave of misery.YOU WON’T F***ING DO IT. Choking him. YOU’RE A COWARD. YOU WON’T. Strangling him.
Further and further away from reality.
“You lost or something, pig boy?” The unknown voice brought him back to reality, only to find that he’d managed to stumble in between a couple scruffy looking buildings down the hill from where all of the shops sat peacefully. Before him, standing with their backs against the damp walls were two of the bunny men, masks pushed up from their faces, each holding a cigarette. He didn’t know how to answer at first, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he attempted to process what was happening. He’d never seen them without their masks on, but then again he’d never thought that they wore them 24/7. That could be exhausting.
“No,” He grunted, deciding that today was the worst day to get into it with any of these f***ers, “I was just heading home.” There was a snicker behind him as he turned around, the sound of scuffling before something hit the back of his head hard. THWACK! He stumbled, just a little, hand instinctively moving to his head where he’d been hit. Bringing his fingers around, he noted that they were covered in a bit of blood, his body immediately searching the ground for what had been used to hit him. A rock. A big one too. One of those f***ers had thrown a f***ing rock at him.
He couldn’t let that slide. Besides, he had a lot of pent up aggression he needed to get out anyways.
“But you know what?” He said, cigarette removed from his shirt pocket and brought to his lips. He lit the end, ember burning orange as he did, smoke billowing from his lips as he released it. “I guess I could stay for a few.” The two bunnies chuckled, some sort of goofy sound escaping their throats, but Arnold wasn’t amused. Not in the least, and it showed as he casually joined them. “Hey, guys, you seem like fun people.” He said, right hand resting inside of his pocket, fingers grasping the cold handle of his recently crafted knife. The two men looked between each other, but nodded. “Oh cool,” Arnold said, turning to the man closest to him, “I was wondering if you could tell me if this was a cool magic trick.”
He was too quick.
His hand gripped the back of the closet’s bunny’s neck, blade removed from his pocket before he lunged it into his left eye. He made sure to push it deep, the man’s screams filling the alley as he flailed. “I made the knife… disappear! See?” Arnold said, twisting the blade, blue eyes averted to the bunny’s friend, who was fumbling in his pocket for his gun. Before he could pull it out, Arnold shoved his screaming friend into him, ripping his weapon free, sending them both flying to the floor.
“Here, let me get that for you.” He said, towering over the one who hadn’t had a knife lodged into his brain. He leaned down, finding the strap that held his gun in place, grabbing it quicker than the other had managed to before delivering several rounds into his chest. Just like his friend, the bunny fell limp, but curse the f***ers for not using silencers. Rolling his neck, he tossed the man’s gun to his chest, taking another puff of his cigarette before ducking out of the alley. If he stayed too long, he was certain someone would have come running after hearing the gunshots.
It made him feel better though, getting out of those aggressions.
Covered in blood now, he headed back up the sidewalk toward the resort. It had been a bad idea to come outside after all, and he couldn’t wait to shove that in Liz’s face.
I'll be the bad guy now, though I ain't too proud.