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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1057748
How does one learn to live with pain?
“I hurt,” I told him. His reply was to continue standing in the corner, as he always did, with zen-like calm.

“There is but one answer,” he eventually said.

I stared at him, my eyes inviting his response, but like most of his statements it came following a pregnant pause.

“Shall I give it to you?”

“Yes,” I said, bringing voice to my already inquisitive eyes.

He brought his right hand from behind him and within its grasp lay his answer. The light in the room was minimal, but what light there was found a home upon the object’s shiny, metallic surface. He held the gun out to me. I stared blankly at it.

“Cock the hammer, pull the trigger and the pain will go away.”

I continued to stare.

“I’m afraid,” I said to him.

“Afraid of the answer or of the method? Because their exist many roads one may take to reach the destination that is your answer.”

His hand retreated behind his back and returned with a disparate object.

“A razor?”

“Yes,” he said, “Draw the blade, part the skin and the pain will go away.”

“It will hurt.”

“More than it hurts now?”

I had no answer.

“It’s okay,” he said as his hand once again disappeared behind his back. “As I said, although there is but one solution, there are many equations one might use to discover it.”

The returning hand was accompanied by a rattling sound. He held a pill bottle out for me to inspect, but with little illumination I was unable to make out the prescription. I had no doubt, though, that taken in a large enough dose it would most certainly transport me to a place where there existed nothing but darkness.

“Turn the cap, fill your stomach and the pain will go away.”

“I can’t. I’m afraid. Is there no other way to make the pain go away?”

He studied me. “There is another answer, but it’s effect is fleeting. The pain will return. But often it does lead to a more permanent solution.”

Even in the dark he was able to read the hunger in my eyes. I looked down at his hand and found that the pill bottle had been replaced. In the palm of his right hand sat a spoon and a small bag that contained his momentary answer. I took the objects into my own hands and felt the sleeve of my shirt slowly ascending my arm. He tied something around my naked appendage and placed a syringe upon my open hands.

“Burn the spoon, feed the vein and the pain will go away.”

And within minutes I had found my answer.


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