Chapter Text
I am Jack’s fatal insomnia.
Near fatal insomnia.
Coffee didn’t have the same appeal that it used to. I hadn’t realized how dependent I had become on the substance since this whole ordeal began. With Marla, and then with Tyler.
My latest substitute for coffee had become staying up with Tyler and his antics. It wasn’t like I had a choice if Marla was around anyways. I don’t know why he insisted upon sleeping with her still, he knew she was crazy. And he knows that I can’t stand her. But what does it matter, Tyler is crazy. Marla brought out something in me that was the opposite of what Tyler did. There obviously wasn’t much between them. Marla was bored of trying to kill herself, and Tyler probably just wanted to get his dick wet. At least I hope.
Marla was over again last night, and was finally leaving around the same time the birds woke up. I was already awake. She hadn’t screamed as loud as usual last night, but it didn’t matter, I stayed awake anyways. This morning I bothered to creep downstairs for coffee. Stalking down the stairs and stepping lightly across the creaky floorboards. For some reason I’m almost scared of coming across Tyler.For the same reason that I can’t explain, my heart beats out of my chest around him. It’s as if my body knows something about him that I don’t. Like those who pick up on psychopaths and serial killers before everyone else does.
I am Jack’s unstable tachycardia.
As I turned the corner into the kitchen, my heart calmed itself. Of course, I was met by Marla. She gave me that look she always does. The look that all depressed drug addicts seem to have painted across their faces. The disposition that screamed “My mother didn’t love me, and now I’m sad”.
“Still not sleeping?” she asked, pretending like she gives a fuck. Of course I wasn’t, not now, not with all this. Not since she ruined my groups, not since she ruined my- Tyler, she ruined my life with Tyler. She was a damn tourist, a stupid tourist, going wherever she pleased with no respect for locals or their way of life. My way of life.
“No.” I chided her, because she should know better, she does know better. Tyler was better off without her, I was better off without her. If I had a tumor, I'd name it Marla.
“Bummer. Maybe you’ll work it out now.” She took a long drag from a cigarette, probably one she bummed off Tyler. He probably lit it for her as well. That pissed me off too. The idea that Tyler would give her anything, not just a good fuck, pissed me off.
“What are you talking about?” I might as well have begged her to know. Was she running away to Guatemala? Was sleeping with Tyler no longer good enough suicide prevention? Maybe the doctors finally found a medication that would cure her depression and insatiable yearning for people that are just as shitty as her.
“I’m bored again, I think I’ll find a new group. This place is starting to feel like a psychiatrist’s office. So maybe I’ll check in every once in a while when the pills don’t work that well.”
Oh my God.
“He’s all yours, Psycho Boy.” My nickname. Tyler’s nickname for me. Somehow she had found out about it. Why did it feel so wrong to hear someone else use it?
I am Jack’s defensive nature.
I cornered her.
“The fuck are you implying Marla?” Her sunken eyes passed over me, sizing me up like prey. Another long drag off a cigarette. Followed by a sly smile that would probably unnerve some of the biggest guys in the club. I hated the way Marla wasn’t scared of anything. Her constant disregard for life oozed out of her like cold sewage from a leaky pipe. You could smell it from a mile away too.
“I’ll let you figure that out” She slid past me like nothing had happened. Like a stranger in a grocery store. I feel like in some other life Marla and I could’ve gotten along. Maybe if she hadn’t thrown off my balance. I’m sure she felt just as lost as I do. She just coped in a way that collided with my entire being.