Dorian was barely twenty-one years old, but to him it felt like he was carrying on his shoulders the weight of a century. University, once the symbol of his dreams and hopes, was now a prison of apathy which only increased his suffering and his will to annihilate himself. Every day was gray, a monotonous succession of lessons, failed exams and sleepless nights. Depression had wrapped around him like a dense fog, suffocating every minimal spark of joy.
His dormitory room was the mirror of his always tormented soul. Empty bottles and blister packs of pills were scattered across the floor as a testament to his desperate and futile attempts at finding solace. His friends, in his mind not capable of understanding his pain, he turned them all away. He spent his days in a perpetual daze, drowning his demons in those substances that promised him an illusory escape route.
Dorian’s academic life had become a draining routine of disillusionment. What used to be his place of hope and ambition had turned into a relentless grind of unending lectures and assignments. He sat in large lecture halls, his eyes fixed on the clock as time dragged on. The professors' voices were a distant murmur, their words blending into the sea of monotony. Each paper and test felt like another insurmountable obstacle, their deadlines mocked by his growing disinterest. His grades continuously slipping further, each failure adding weight to his growing sense of defeat.
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The bass-heavy music vibrated through the room, mixing with the laughter and chatter of students who seemed untouched by his inner turmoil. He didn’t like parties, but they provided a well-appreciated escape from his relentless despair. He maneuvered through the crowd, clutching a cup of rum and coke as if it were a lifeline. The alcohol offered a temporary numbness, a brief respite from the crushing void he felt. He ran into a dealer, a man who dealt in distractions, a well know acquaintance of him.
“Got anything?” Dorian slurred, his desperation barely concealed. The dealer’s eyes sparkled with a knowing look.
“Sure, I’ve got something for you” he said, pulling out a small baggie full of white powder.
“It’s your favorite.”
Dorian handed over a crumpled bill and placed the bag in the pocket of his jeans while taking a big sip of his drink. The effects of the alcohol settling over him like a comforting fog, dulling the edges of his anguish.
Later, in a quieter part of the party with his phone out, two white lines of powder on it, he saw the familiar red hairs of Lily. Her smile was bright but lacked warmth, the eyes mirroring his own emptiness. She approached him with a practiced, detached smile.
“Hey, Dorian” she whispered, her voice carrying a hollow promise.
“You look like you could use some company.”
“Yeah? Probably. Of what kind?” he asked, the alcohol making him more open to her proposition.
“Why don’t we go back to my place?” she suggested, her tone casual but insincere.
“We can have fun together, just for a bit.” The offer was as empty as her smile, but it was what he needed to escape his thoughts.
“Sure, wanna share these before going?” He asked, while pointing at his smartphone. She smiled, accepted the rolled up ten euro bill he was offering her and lowered her head towards a line. He did the other one, then put his smartphone back into his pocket.
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They left together, their glances continuously meeting during the silent walk to the dormitory. In the dim confines of her room, they shared themselves with each other and they took each other for themselves. The kisses drifting away from their lips. The thorn clothes not covering them anymore. The rough, aggressive act was a physical release, but sleeping embracing her is what eased his deep sense of isolation, at least for the night. Returning to his dorm the next morning, Dorian found himself engulfed in a deeper blackness, the temporary escape having left him feeling hollower than before.
His only light was the twinkle at the end of the razor blade. He almost never pressed enough to leave a permanent scar, but the thin translucent drawings on his arms continuously told the story of the last few weeks before disappearing and being replaced. On his right wrist, three jagged scars. One for each parent. One for his little sister. He killed them all. It was his fault. Therefore, he deserved to die. He knew it. But he wouldn’t have to wait anymore. Tomorrow was the anniversary of their death. Tomorrow was the day he was going to die.
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Lily had just celebrated her 21st birthday. Celebrated in her own way. Alone in her room. With some cheap vodka and lots of powdered magic.
She was now at the sink in her bathroom. On it laid a small metal box, inside it her present kit: glass pieces glimmering in the flickering light, a little bottle of Betadine and some sterile gauze. She was staring at it, trying to choose the jewel to gift herself for her birthday. She was finally set on a little piece of blue glass from a Skyy vodka bottle.
Clutching it in her hand, she looked at it with an almost reverend gaze. She pulled down her sweatpants and sat on the cold bathroom floor. With adept gestures, she performed her ritual. The sharp piece of glass leaving behind a blood red trail, followed by the Betadine-soaked gauze that turned the red to orange. Despite the cut burning like a hot rod pressed on her thigh, she wasn’t feeling any of it. Her thoughts where at that night four years ago: the lifeless stares of his then best friend parents, the agonizing screams of his little sister. They were forever etched in her memory. Her sin, something she will never forget.
She got up and started to get ready. She didn’t want to, but she promised her classmates that she would show up at a party, for once.
“It’s your birthday Lily! We need to celebrate it!” For what it was worth she had already celebrated. Alone, as it should be. As she deserved.
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The party was already raging when she arrived. She shyly entered through the front door, putting on her smile like a protective coat. While still at the entrance she froze, her gaze locked on him, his familiar face completely erasing all her thoughts.
“Hi Lily! You finally came!” Diverting her gaze from Dorian she turned to see her classmate, Giada, holding two full shot glasses.
“Here, drink this. Now we can really get this party started!” She told her extending the hand to offer her the shot. She accepted it, glad she could focus on something else, and downed it in one go.
“All right birthday girl! Let’s go find the others so we can have a proper celebration” Giada said turning around and starting to walk towards her group of friends. Lily started following, but quickly changed direction, purposefully getting lost in the sea of people. She needed to find him; she needed it.
Searching through the crowd she finally spotted him in a corner, his smartphone out, white powder on it. She made a beeline towards him.
“Hey, Dorian. You look like you could use some company”
“Yeah? Probably. Of what kind?” he asked, the alcohol making his speech slight blurred.
“Why don’t we go back to my place? We can have fun together, just for a bit.” She nervously suggested, hoping for an affirmative answer. She needed him.
“Sure, wanna share these before going?” He asked, pointing at his smartphone. Her smile was less artificial now, they had the same tastes after all. She accepted the rolled-up bill he offered her and lowered her head towards a line, reveling in the feeling. He did the other one, then put his smartphone back into his pocket and offered her his hand.
The walk to the dormitory was silent, their gazes doing all the talks. She missed that feeling, her nails digging in his back, the teeth biting him relentlessly, his hands gripping her tightly on her tights, on her breasts, or chocking her until only a tiny breath of hair remained in her lungs. Falling asleep embraced by him she fantasized about their past and what could have been their future.
A future stolen by her. The blame eating her alive day after day. It was almost five years, and she wouldn’t see the start of the sixth.