V: Saint Peter’s Cross
Leaving the psychiatric clinic behind, V is trying to reclaim his life.
However, at the hand of his psychotic dreams and outbursts, his hypersexualized,
non-conformist and violent nature, he is slowly and painfully falling out with
his brother and friends, who don’t seem to understand him anymore. Feeling deserted
and betrayed, he confines himself in an old caravan with his heroin addict
boyfriend and bonds with two fellow inmates, whom he helped to escape. With his
dreams of his dead friend getting out of control as they mingle with reality, V
and his new friends begin a game of murder.
I’m scared of myself. Of my thoughts, my
madness. The pain I’ve tried to lock away, the memories. It’s there, waiting
for me. I try to ignore it, pretend it’s not there, pretend I am strong now,
but every night I pass the little door, my back perspires. Every time I pass
the room of darkness I look away. I can not bare listen to its sounds. The
music of madness. I look away, I run away, but I know that some day the door
will break. I can’t be running away for ever. The shadows will get me, they
will conquer this room, they will conquer every room in the world. They will
reach to the stars and they will devour me. The stars! Are there stars in the
sky tonight? I rush to see. There are some, only a few. I’m frightened of them.
The cold is still here, I am still here. The
wind is howling outside and I’m shivering. My hair is unwashed. My hands are
pale and full of scars. Have you noticed how wounds turn into a deep red when
it’s cold? The dim light on Randall’s face, makes him look unearthly. He seems
nearly dead. His eyelids heavily sealed, locking outside a world he does not
want to see. Shutting out this ugliness forever. His breathing sounds shallow.
I can feel he is in pain. I push my eyes with both hands. I’ve got no job.
Randall’s got no job, we can’t leave here. I light a cigarette. My headache is
getting worse. I feel like an empty shell, I feel dying inside, fading. There
is nothing left. Sometimes I wish I truly wasn’t human.
My heart is pumping loudly, it’s going wrong.
It’s all going wrong. I feel my head breaking in two and my body floods with
pain. Now that I feel, I wish I couldn’t. The pain is too strong to bear. It
feels like something is tearing my insides apart. The bitterness of hate is
raping my mouth. Now that I feel, I don’t know if that’s what I really wanted
anymore. Is V back? Or is it someone else? How am I supposed to tell? I feel
vicious, more vicious than I’ve ever felt before.
I spit on the ground, but the bitterness is
still in my mouth. The pain of hate is taking over. I can feel it. That’s not
V, V is dead. The old V is dead. This thing here is something else, something
much more twisted.
By Volk Kinetshniy
