Disclaimer: Don't own RENT. Nothing to do with it.
Summary: Short one-short of Roger after April's suicide.
Recurring Dreams Redefined
I sigh.
If I should die before I wake…I can't quite remember the rest. I don't recall ever saying a prayer in my life. But at the current moment, my last hit of heroin was almost two days ago. My girlfriend was just taken away in an ambulance and Mark is scrubbing blood off of the bathtub.
If I should die before I wake. I hope my character stays behind. I hope she finally understands.
Because I fucking don't. April held her life in her hands as if it were an inconvenience. She died, by her own hand, for necessity. Because death was inevitable? Death is inevitable anyway, and any day a fate equal to AIDS could get you. A fate worse than AIDS could just out itself right the fuck on top of you and then where will you be? Fucking dead, April.
If I should die before I wake.
I've been living to die all of my life. I've spent my life focusing on the different ways to shock myself back to reality. So I say my juvenile little prayer that I am making up as I go along. What else is there, really?
I'm empty. And empty is unbecoming. Nothing anymore, since April has decided that her escape was more important and more valuable and more worthwhile than being fucking honest.
Mark knocks on the doorframe and I stare at him for a few minutes before deciding that I could get off with a few more hours of ignoring him. His hands are stained red and suddenly I feel sick to my stomach. I want to throw up but the very idea of emptying my stomach of acid and blood, its only residents, makes me sick enough to remain where I am. I've always hated throwing up. The sick feeling doesn't leave for days afterwards. I'm left scrubbing my gums sore and brushing my teeth to get rid of the taste.
I think I'd rather die before I wake. If I ever fall asleep.
I think of the blood on Mark's hands and my stomach drops inside of me and I lean over the side of the bed and throw up.
If I should die before I wake…I could only be so fucking lucky.
Notes: A 6am effort after an all-nighter. It's not what I was trying to write, but the more I hated it the more I was fond of it, so I posted it.