Zed Blaze (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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muserevival2015-11-15 09:01 pm
zedblaze) wrote in muserevival2015-11-15 09:01 pm
Entry tags:
107.2. Quotes
"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler." - Friedrich Nietzsche
tw: reference to past suicidal thoughts
Zoran didn't know why, but his memories of the Fall colours in his memories of the lake seemed so much brighter than they were now. Those memories that he wanted to hold onto so tightly as the brief time in his past that was carefree and happy. There was no fear, no darkness, no misery, no pain, no loneliness. There was a beauty here, no doubt. Fall had always been Zoran's favourite time of year, but now there was a dullness to them. Or had they always been like this, and just seemed so much more bright and welcoming when his life wasn't shrouded in pain?
He never thought he would see the mirror-like surface of this lake ever again. The countless days he had spent here with Caleb when they were children and right into their teens seemed hazy now. They were pieced together like a patchwork quilt in his mind; bursts of special times here and there that he had needed to hold onto so he didn't plunge into the dark depths and do exactly what he had hoodwinked the world into believing he did. Towards the end there, months after Caleb had stopped talking to him, Zoran would come here and fantasise about taking his own life. Hang himself from a tree. Overdose and jump into the lake. Steal his father's knife and cut himself so he could sit at the end of the pier and have this as the last view he saw before he died.
They were only fantasies, though. They were the easy way out. Something in him kept wanting to fight and not give in. He kept trying to convince himself that it had to get better. He didn't know how, but it felt like it couldn't get any worse. Until it did. One night, it got worse than he had ever imagined it could. He had seen his father murder someone and his father saw him. Life got worse. It got a lot worse before it got better. Even back then, after the shock to his system, it was like he had to shut down before he could remind himself to get up and keep going.
That was what happened after the morgue yesterday. He had been on autopilot through the DNA test. He had been so detached that he signed his name as Zoran Duval, not Zed Blaze. Julie had to point out the error and he had to try to resign a new form. He forgot his signature that he had used over and over since he was removed from Savannah and relocated to New York with a new name, new appearance, new everything that wasn't him. But how the fuck did it come a full circle to this?
They got back to the hotel where he was staying in the room next to Euan and Julie. He hadn't said a word, and as soon as he got into his room, he collapsed onto the bed in his clothes, in his boots, and passed out into a deep sleep. When he woke up, it was nearing two am. Too late to call anyone. Too late to let Euan and Julie know he was... something that resembled okay that involved breathing and a beating heart, and that was about it. He left the hotel and just walked.
And he kept walking. He walked the Savannah Streets in those early hours of the morning feeling a sense of safety and freedom like he had never felt before. Maybe it was dangerous, but considering the stereotyping people with a lot of ink and who liked to express themselves with black clothing or alternative appearance, he would probably be assumed to be the rapist/murderer/drug addict and not be actively approached. His appearance now had never been an act of self-expression. It was all masks. It was the dark veil over everything inside that was fragile and vulnerable inside, and had been beaten to pulp, no longer able to fight alone.
It was cold, but his long leather coat shielded him from the chill. It would be just his luck to end up with pneumonia anyway. A voice that sounded like his mom and Karla both was niggling softly in the depths of his mind reminded him to stay warm and remember to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Just as it was nearing dawn, Zoran made it to the lake that was the backdrop to so many carefree childhood moments that he had cherished. Standing on the end of the peer, the sun began to rise and that familiar scene sprung up around him bathed in the morning light.
There was a fog looping around the trees, but the water was completely still. He sat cross-legged down on the end of the pier, right in front of the water. From the pocket of his coat, he pulled out his packet of cigarettes, the zippo lighter with the dragonfly engraved on it that the morgue clinician had given him along with a small bag of other personal items of his father's. The smokes fell into his lap and the well-worn leather wallet that had been passed to his father from his grandpa was sitting in the palms of his hands. Held beneath the wallet was a small book of clear inserts containing photographs... something Zoran had kept with him ever since he was removed from Savannah in the depths of the the night all those years ago.
A cigarette was plucked from the packet and put between his lips so he could light it up. Terrible habit, but a vice that had been a crutch for a long time now. Maybe one day he would quit. Today wasn't that day. He lit the smoke with his dad's lighter, but the nicotine seeping into his bloodstream didn't really calm the turmoil ebbing and flowing inside him. There had been no way to prepare for this. Why didn't they just check his father's wallet when they found the body? The one question he had asked when he baulked getting on the plane in New York to come here. Because the dead guy might have mugged his father and stolen his things. Fuck, was Zoran glad he never wanted to be a cop. he didn't know how they did it.
He flipped the wallet open with his thumb, only to find his own photograph staring back at him like a ghost. Not the person he was now. The one he had been back in his teens when his father was gripped with alcoholism and used to beat him when he was drunk and out of his mind. Blonde hair, blue eyes, smiling. Did he even smile like that now? He just didn't know what to do with the fact that his father had kept a photo of him in his wallet all this time. Was he told Zoran had committed suicide too? That part of the grand scheme Zoran never knew because he never asked. He had never been equipped to handle the answers.
Trying to fight the inevitable tears, Zoran looked up at the sky, blinking. But they still spilled over. He felt sick to his stomach. Was this guilt? He couldn't handle guilt. Taking the photo from the pouch in the wallet, Zoran found three more photos. One of Zoran with his sisters, one of him with his dad, and one of him with Caleb. There was 'Batman' written above his own head, and 'Robin' written above Caleb's in childish writing. It was the awkward blocky print he had mastered when he was about five but still stayed messy for a few years to come. It was non-existent now. He even had to learn to write different in the process of assuming a new identity.
Then, he turned to the tiny collection of his own photos. There weren't many. Six and a half because one had ripped but he didn't have the heart to throw it away. They were all of him and Caleb before things went terribly, terribly wrong. Four of them were taken here at the lake and were printed with an archaic inkjet printer. The colours weren't accurate and the print had faded over time. Still, he had retained them... the only things he had been able to keep from his past.
He ashed his cigarette into the lake and took out his cell phone. The tears were still tracking down his cheeks because he couldn't stop them. He didn't want to. The lake was deserted except for him. No one else was here, there was no breeze to rustle the leaves on the trees and ripple the water to encourage the soothing lapping against the bank it did. All those times he and Caleb would lie there at the edge of the lake watching the clouds in the sky listening to those sounds. Those last few times, before Caleb started to act like he didn't exist, they laid there and held hands away from prying eyes of anyone else who could judge them for it.
It was so early, but the time had no bearing here. Bringing up Caleb's number, he hit the call button. Four rings... five... six. No answer. A few moments passed and Zoran looked back over his shoulder at one of the wooden pillars holding up the pier. He got up and went over to it, leaning around it and half expecting it to be blank, thinking maybe they had been replaced and yet another memory erased.
They hadn't. There on the pillar, were the clear initials etched into the wood with a heart scratched around it as a frame...
ZD + CL
BFFS 4EVA
He snapped a photo of it with his phone and then sent it with a simple text message of 'Call me'. Not even a minute passed before the screen of his phone illuminated with Caleb's name. This was a crossroads, and Zoran had no idea which direction he was going to take.
- ZED BLAZE -
original character
Zoran didn't know why, but his memories of the Fall colours in his memories of the lake seemed so much brighter than they were now. Those memories that he wanted to hold onto so tightly as the brief time in his past that was carefree and happy. There was no fear, no darkness, no misery, no pain, no loneliness. There was a beauty here, no doubt. Fall had always been Zoran's favourite time of year, but now there was a dullness to them. Or had they always been like this, and just seemed so much more bright and welcoming when his life wasn't shrouded in pain?
He never thought he would see the mirror-like surface of this lake ever again. The countless days he had spent here with Caleb when they were children and right into their teens seemed hazy now. They were pieced together like a patchwork quilt in his mind; bursts of special times here and there that he had needed to hold onto so he didn't plunge into the dark depths and do exactly what he had hoodwinked the world into believing he did. Towards the end there, months after Caleb had stopped talking to him, Zoran would come here and fantasise about taking his own life. Hang himself from a tree. Overdose and jump into the lake. Steal his father's knife and cut himself so he could sit at the end of the pier and have this as the last view he saw before he died.
They were only fantasies, though. They were the easy way out. Something in him kept wanting to fight and not give in. He kept trying to convince himself that it had to get better. He didn't know how, but it felt like it couldn't get any worse. Until it did. One night, it got worse than he had ever imagined it could. He had seen his father murder someone and his father saw him. Life got worse. It got a lot worse before it got better. Even back then, after the shock to his system, it was like he had to shut down before he could remind himself to get up and keep going.
That was what happened after the morgue yesterday. He had been on autopilot through the DNA test. He had been so detached that he signed his name as Zoran Duval, not Zed Blaze. Julie had to point out the error and he had to try to resign a new form. He forgot his signature that he had used over and over since he was removed from Savannah and relocated to New York with a new name, new appearance, new everything that wasn't him. But how the fuck did it come a full circle to this?
They got back to the hotel where he was staying in the room next to Euan and Julie. He hadn't said a word, and as soon as he got into his room, he collapsed onto the bed in his clothes, in his boots, and passed out into a deep sleep. When he woke up, it was nearing two am. Too late to call anyone. Too late to let Euan and Julie know he was... something that resembled okay that involved breathing and a beating heart, and that was about it. He left the hotel and just walked.
And he kept walking. He walked the Savannah Streets in those early hours of the morning feeling a sense of safety and freedom like he had never felt before. Maybe it was dangerous, but considering the stereotyping people with a lot of ink and who liked to express themselves with black clothing or alternative appearance, he would probably be assumed to be the rapist/murderer/drug addict and not be actively approached. His appearance now had never been an act of self-expression. It was all masks. It was the dark veil over everything inside that was fragile and vulnerable inside, and had been beaten to pulp, no longer able to fight alone.
It was cold, but his long leather coat shielded him from the chill. It would be just his luck to end up with pneumonia anyway. A voice that sounded like his mom and Karla both was niggling softly in the depths of his mind reminded him to stay warm and remember to eat, but he wasn't hungry. Just as it was nearing dawn, Zoran made it to the lake that was the backdrop to so many carefree childhood moments that he had cherished. Standing on the end of the peer, the sun began to rise and that familiar scene sprung up around him bathed in the morning light.
There was a fog looping around the trees, but the water was completely still. He sat cross-legged down on the end of the pier, right in front of the water. From the pocket of his coat, he pulled out his packet of cigarettes, the zippo lighter with the dragonfly engraved on it that the morgue clinician had given him along with a small bag of other personal items of his father's. The smokes fell into his lap and the well-worn leather wallet that had been passed to his father from his grandpa was sitting in the palms of his hands. Held beneath the wallet was a small book of clear inserts containing photographs... something Zoran had kept with him ever since he was removed from Savannah in the depths of the the night all those years ago.
A cigarette was plucked from the packet and put between his lips so he could light it up. Terrible habit, but a vice that had been a crutch for a long time now. Maybe one day he would quit. Today wasn't that day. He lit the smoke with his dad's lighter, but the nicotine seeping into his bloodstream didn't really calm the turmoil ebbing and flowing inside him. There had been no way to prepare for this. Why didn't they just check his father's wallet when they found the body? The one question he had asked when he baulked getting on the plane in New York to come here. Because the dead guy might have mugged his father and stolen his things. Fuck, was Zoran glad he never wanted to be a cop. he didn't know how they did it.
He flipped the wallet open with his thumb, only to find his own photograph staring back at him like a ghost. Not the person he was now. The one he had been back in his teens when his father was gripped with alcoholism and used to beat him when he was drunk and out of his mind. Blonde hair, blue eyes, smiling. Did he even smile like that now? He just didn't know what to do with the fact that his father had kept a photo of him in his wallet all this time. Was he told Zoran had committed suicide too? That part of the grand scheme Zoran never knew because he never asked. He had never been equipped to handle the answers.
Trying to fight the inevitable tears, Zoran looked up at the sky, blinking. But they still spilled over. He felt sick to his stomach. Was this guilt? He couldn't handle guilt. Taking the photo from the pouch in the wallet, Zoran found three more photos. One of Zoran with his sisters, one of him with his dad, and one of him with Caleb. There was 'Batman' written above his own head, and 'Robin' written above Caleb's in childish writing. It was the awkward blocky print he had mastered when he was about five but still stayed messy for a few years to come. It was non-existent now. He even had to learn to write different in the process of assuming a new identity.
Then, he turned to the tiny collection of his own photos. There weren't many. Six and a half because one had ripped but he didn't have the heart to throw it away. They were all of him and Caleb before things went terribly, terribly wrong. Four of them were taken here at the lake and were printed with an archaic inkjet printer. The colours weren't accurate and the print had faded over time. Still, he had retained them... the only things he had been able to keep from his past.
He ashed his cigarette into the lake and took out his cell phone. The tears were still tracking down his cheeks because he couldn't stop them. He didn't want to. The lake was deserted except for him. No one else was here, there was no breeze to rustle the leaves on the trees and ripple the water to encourage the soothing lapping against the bank it did. All those times he and Caleb would lie there at the edge of the lake watching the clouds in the sky listening to those sounds. Those last few times, before Caleb started to act like he didn't exist, they laid there and held hands away from prying eyes of anyone else who could judge them for it.
It was so early, but the time had no bearing here. Bringing up Caleb's number, he hit the call button. Four rings... five... six. No answer. A few moments passed and Zoran looked back over his shoulder at one of the wooden pillars holding up the pier. He got up and went over to it, leaning around it and half expecting it to be blank, thinking maybe they had been replaced and yet another memory erased.
They hadn't. There on the pillar, were the clear initials etched into the wood with a heart scratched around it as a frame...
BFFS 4EVA
He snapped a photo of it with his phone and then sent it with a simple text message of 'Call me'. Not even a minute passed before the screen of his phone illuminated with Caleb's name. This was a crossroads, and Zoran had no idea which direction he was going to take.
original character