Fake Love: Intoxicated

“A story which happened and ended within a second, As if a runner was trying to break his own record. If you think about our story called ‘Love’. You better know that it is not. It’s only you yourself who dares to call our story like that.” – Dasha Murphy How can you called this "Love" when another is suffering? The following story is inspired by true story about 5 years ago. Trigger Warning:  Toxic relationship: Controlling behaviour, Harassment, Disturbing Content Warning: Anxiety Attack, Blood, Sexual Assault, Suicide FAKE LOVE; INTOXICATED Rainy season 2XXX. Somewhere in the Southern part of Bangkok. In the middle of the night, when the quiet dominates all areas along with the fellow darkness. There’s a man, who is wearing all-black clothes, walking alone with a backpack. He walks as quietly as possible because all creatures are sleeping and he doesn't want to disturb their sweet dreams. His deep blue eyes search for a house of a rich family which is not big like a mansion or small like a cottage. He has to walk about 2 kilometers to reach that house. A cautious thief opens a front door slowly and steadily as soon as he reaches the destination. Fortunately, two guard dogs are sleeping. The ocean eyes glowing to everything in front of him : a spacious living room filled with two velvet sofas, large black television on the wall, up-to-date speakers and kids zone. Next to the living room is a modern kitchen with fashionable facilities and a dining room. ‘I wish I could afford myself a house like this to live with a girl I loved.’ He thinks while strolling around the house. ‘No security camera?!’ He jumps with excitement then randomly chooses a room to steal something. He quietly picks the lock of one of four bedrooms. When he opens the door, he sees a tidy bedroom which is decorated in minimal style and a huge bookshelf. The owner of the bedroom leaves the curtain open to let the moonlight inside. The owner is a girl and she is sleeping on a soft white bed. He roams his eyes on her. Brightness of moonlight allows him to see her easier — Brunette medium hair covers almost the entirety of her moisture face, natural kissable lips and those pale arms are holding a blanket. She put her glasses next to the pillows. Besides her poetic beauty, she has many cuts on her arms but it doesn’t matter at all because he will take her down later. Before he starts the job of thief. Something got his attention from the reading zone of the room. A post-it on a thick book. The thief checks that she is in her deep sleep before reading what’s in there. “A story which happened and ended within a second, As if a runner was trying to break his own record. If you think about our story called ‘Love’. You better know that it is not. It’s only you yourself who dares to call our story like that.” – Dasha Murphy “Nice handwriting, huh? ” The thief smiles at the girl. He really doesn't understand who she is talking about but she expressed her anger and disgust well. A book that he is holding is a diary which he expects to unveil something. “I hope you don’t mind if I wanna check this out, Dasha.” He asks for permission while the girl is sleeping on the bed. He shrugs like a jerk then opens the first page of the diary. 14 February Valentine’s Day — A day that I never give any damn, how many roses or heart-shaped stickers will I get. I’m not hate today. It’s just Friday when I have full-time study. Boring subjects with boring teachers. The evening comes with the red-purple sky, the sun hides itself behind the curtain of clouds so it’s time to say goodbye. All of a sudden, while I was searching for my railway card, my phone rang. I got a message from a stranger. ‘Let’s make a collaboration! Please accept my request.’ According to the post that I was asking for issues to write a picaresque novel. I accepted his request because it must be cool to have someone to collaborate with. That post conveys him to know me in the intangible social media where anyone can be anything. We got to know each other through messages in the chat room. From that night to one o’clock in the morning. All I know about you; Your name is Film because your parents like film cameras. You are younger than me by 4 years who recently got heartbroken. You are good at Economics and other academic subjects. You wanted to be a brilliant scholar. You are never afraid to express your feelings. Otherwise, I am a shrewish bitch and a part-time writer. And that’s what you like about me because you think I’m confident in that way. I like your intelligence. But… I don’t know. It’s too fast to make any decisions. 15 February Saturday morning is always boring and meaningless. Even though it's the first day of weekends and relaxation : No rush, no task and no rules. Alarm clock started to ring at 8.30 because I don’t wanna wake up early on weekdays. You sent me some messages when I’m living in my dreams. 7.30 F : Are you awake? 8.40 Dasha : I’m awake. F : Rise and shine, sleepyhead. LOL I reply to you while smiling on the phone, it seems no difference to a mad man who recklessly leaves messy hair, lies in the bed, wears pajamas; huge oversized shirts and shorts. You spontaneously replied to me as if you were waiting for me. How romantic you are. I haven't had this kind of feeling for two years. I can’t even remember the date I broke my ex’s heart but he doesn’t matter to me anymore. Also my breakfast. I don’t even feel hunger and there’s noise of chaos outside from irritable cousins and bickering grandparents. I don’t wanna get involved with them. I’m tired already. The noise makes me mentally exhausted. I don’t want to get out of this comfort zone so I continue texting with you. 9.20 F : I’m going out now. Dasha : Ok F : Do you have breakfast? Dasha : Not yet. I’m not hungry. F : Don’t forget to eat well. Dasha : Don’t even want to get out of the room. F : You will, when I ask you out for a date. Ha! I sniggered at once then rolled my eyes. It’s irrelevant shit! This kid is showing off! Did anyone tell you how overconfident you are? Last night, while we were phoned together, you boasted about your intelligence without any awkwardness. You have a lot of achievements in your portfolio for an interview in a couple weeks. You are a cautious man with a plan and an activist, that’s why you can join more activities than ordinary students. As you are a planner. You planned about “our date” already. You will take a ride from off skirt to Bangkok in May. To spend time together while taking some pictures in a big city or going to the cinema — a rendezvous where the darkness becomes another secret place. Fuck that! It’s time to get up and take care of myself already. My stomach growled since I woke up because owner of the body was busy taking care on stupid chats more than her own self. I’m late for breakfast so I made fried rice for brunch. AT THAT TIME, You keep texting me even though you’re going out. Otherwise, I keep answering you while eating brunch anyway. You asked me to give you your nickname in the chat room. I don’t know why but I gave you anyway. “Crazy kid” You love it when I call you like that. I hurt myself in many ways, don’t wanna tell you about the details. It’s too pathetic! But starving myself to death to keep answering your text is the stupidest way. Something is more stupid than that. I didn’t tell you how I feel exactly. 16 February Dear diary, Last night I spent too much time answering your cliché questions about relationships stuff and fell asleep with the phone in my hand. What an unhealthy night. I can’t even remember what time I sleep. Fuck whatever. I woke up earlier today because I plan to do my homework and write some stories. Golden rule of being a writer is to stop using social media while writing because messages and other notifications will be a source of distraction. I never want to blame anyone who disturbs my working time but you are also one of them. The worst case is you are the most distracting one. In the morning F : Hey, what are you doing? F : Do you have breakfast already? In the evening F : What are you doing? At night Dasha : Doing homework. F : Ok. Do your best. Five minutes later, I got new messages from you. You keep reporting me stuff that I never want to know from anybody : what are you doing, where are you and I miss you already. Why would I wanna know those things? I don’t fucking care of those shit! I ignored all of your messages to finish my homework. Until I got a message that stimulated me to answer it. F : Can I call you at 9PM? Dasha : Of course. When I finish my homework, I’ll text you. Ok? F : Ok. Do your best. I still got messages from you after that! “I’ll text you.” It’s not clear enough or what? I clenched my hands to hide my anger and keep doing homework to finish it before Monday. I calm myself down with music. I would dance alone in my room if it could release all of my feelings without speaking. You called me at 9PM. I accepted your call. “Hey” you said “What are you doing? ” “I’m doing my homework. You know what. I don’t know how I can do my best on my homework when you text me every five minutes? ” I said what I said. I feel my heartbeat is beating fast because I finally released my anger that I have kept for hours. You become quiet for a while. “I’m sorry.” You said and I could tell you are really sorry about that. “Have you finished your homework? ” You asked more questions. Well, You are not sorry, just lonely. “Almost done but we can talk.” “Ok.” I finished my homework afterward, then turned off the light and went to bed. You keep telling me about how much you miss me and I'm so grateful to hear that. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m ready to get into a relationship with anyone, even my high school crush. I don’t want to give you any hope because I don’t have it for myself either. Guilty is the feeling which has haunted me since I broke up with my ex. And I'm guilty of hurting you with my anger even though you deserved it. “How can I love you when I can’t love myself? ” “That’s ok if you don’t love yourself. I’m here to love you.” You comforted me sadly, but you are not me. How can you understand my feelings at this moment? “I will be by your side. If I'm with you, I will hold you right away.” You hung up the phone and left me in the silence alone. Later, You said many things to comfort me and calm me down but it went worse than expected. I lied to you when you reassured me that I'm ok or not. Thinking about starting a new relationship triggered my episode. The ocean in my eyes is about to soak on my cheek. Louder than bombs, I cried. I try to hold back my tears but I can’t breathe as if I was choking by your questions. I pretend to be ok to make you stop asking and saying those love talk. I rather say what people want to hear than say what’s in my mind because no one will listen to it. I cry in my sleep, tonight will be past when the sunlight of tomorrow greets on the other side. 17 February It’s over. It will be over tonight! You have ears only to complete your body but not to listen to anyone. You keep asking and telling me what to do in the morning ; to answer your ‘Good Morning!’ text, to report to you what am I doing, whatsoever. I’m done trying to make you understand what I want because you are not listening. In the afternoon, I finally said what’s in my mind. My friends witnessed and shared my anger and depression. They saw tears in my eyes while phoning with you. “I’m really mad when you behave like this.” “You’re mad at me?! Let me speak my mind.” I inhaled once then spoke frankly. “I’m mad when you ask me to do what you want and I don’t have any chance to speak for myself. I don’t want you to call or text me like we’re dating.” “What do you want me to call then? ” “I don’t want you to call me anything. You are you. I am me. That’s all. I hope you know the place where we are standing. So don’t tell me that I love you because I won’t love you back.” “Ok. I got it. I understand you now. So, please tell me what I should do.” You insisted on maintaining our relationships but it’s worthless since my word was only the wind blows which affect nothing. “If you still want to talk with me, you have to give me some space.” “Ok” On the other hand, you broke the agreement in the evening. You're still texting me every five minutes and trying to be overprotective by asking me those questions. Your cherish became an obsession. I don’t want to scold you anymore because you will say that you understand, otherwise, you'll understand nothing. You just force people to do what you want. If you want to be my boyfriend, so act like who wants one. This is harassment not love. You can’t even call it ‘crush’. You behaved no different to the selfish dictator who planned to build and govern a new country. To fulfill your desire, you should have someone who agrees with you and obeys your command that you are a vigilante. If I were your citizen, I would stab myself with a knife until the soul left my body before you gave me any command. I got one message before I blocked you from every contact channel. “This is what you want, huh? ” It was cold as iceberg and chills ran up my back. I was afraid of the consequences after this. I blocked and reported you in case of harassment. I wish I will forget everything about you but I can hear your voice from the deepest consciousness of mine in my sleep. I wish I regret nothing but I shouldn’t have accepted your request in the first place. 18 February Dear diary, I’m about to die. I don’t know how to live my life normally. I was afraid every time, when I got into the railways or walked in the shopping mall and saw someone who looked like him — A tall tanned-skin man with black hair and wearing rounded black glasses. I became paranoid because of his appointed date to come to Bangkok in May. I know, it’s the next three months but your ‘This is what you want, huh? ’ scares me. I could tell something will happen in May but I don’t know what it is. “No one can hurt you.” Psychiatrist comforted me in the consultation room. She offered me a cup of tea. The scent of hot chamomile “I understand you are afraid of him but he is just a boy. Do you think a boy can hurt you? ” “Maybe it doesn't hurt.” “If he can hurt you, What will he get if he hurts you? ” She asked what I never thought about it until she asked. “I don’t know.” I sipped the tea once then spoke my mind. “I don’t know what he can do. I also don't know how to live normally. I know this is February but see him almost everywhere I go ; university, railway platform, pathway and shopping mall. I hate his goodnight but I could hear his voice before I went to sleep.” “Look at me, Dasha.” Psychiatrist grabbed my hand. “You’re worrying about unpredictable future. You’re hurting yourself. Get yourself together.” She locked her eyes on me so that I will not focused on anything else. “Breathe with me, okay? ” She asked, I nodded my head. When she breathed in, I breathed in. When she breathed out, I breathed out. She gave me a hug afterward. I don’t know about Psychiatrist’s policy but I really need someone to hug. In the meantime, I have lost myself already. Film closed the diary even though he didn't read to the end of it. He smirks at the girl. His ocean eyes sparkle more than ever. He didn’t plan to steal anything from Murphy's house. Dasha is the one he's been looking for a long time. Tonight, the truth comes out that she was a liar. None of those messages in the chatroom is true. She manipulated him to love then dumped him, like his ex. During three months of waiting, Film counted days and nights to see her. She destroyed his life so he will destroy her, too. He uncovers the blanket. Dasha, who is sleeping, suddenly wakes up in shock. This is their first encounter with them. Dasha puts on her glasses to look at the intruder clearer. A tall tanned-skin man is in front of her, looking at her slim body under a seductive white nightgown. He attacks his lips on hers before she asks anything. Her lips which spilled lie are being punished by a thirsty intruder. Poor girl is trying to resist but helpless. Left hand of Film holds her weak arms while taking her panties off. He breathed on her neck when plucked his lips out then kissed her again. The taste of lies is delectable. That’s why he likes to taste it. “I’ll ruin you.” He growled in anger. “You’ve ruined me already, Film.” She whispered softly while holding her arms around Film’s neck. He sniggered and rolled his eyes. He doesn’t care at all. Film unbuckled the belt then took his pants off. He inserts his hard member inside her womanhood. She lets him destroy her virginity as much as he wants because her voice is meaningless, anyway. Film grunts every time he pulls his member in and out of her body. His big hand grabs her breasts while shamelessly taking advantage of her. “I love you, Dasha,” He said as he reached his satisfaction. “Keep it to yourself, asshole.” She scolded with expressionlessness. Film opens his eyes. In front of him is an emptiness, there’s no one on the bed. Where’s Dasha? He thought. “If you think about our story called ‘Love.’ You better know that it is not. It’s only you yourself who dares to call our story like that.” Dasha said as she appeared in the corner of the room. She wears her nightgown but red as blood soaking from her arms. Her pale face stares at him with sadness and anger. “f**k!” Film exclaimed and jumped to the bedroom’s door. “D… Dasha.” “Don’t fucking called me. It’s disgusting! You murderer!” She cried and screamed as she ran into him with a sharp blade. Film closes his eyes and bursts out crying in fear. He is scared of the ghost of Dasha. He slowly opens his eyes when there's a voice of scream anymore. But “YOU. KILLED. ME.” Her voice resonated in his head. The lights are turned on, and her bedroom’s door is opened by a housewife. Film, who naked his lower body, is panicked as he gets caught in the red hand that he has a sharp blade in his hand and there’s a dead body of Dasha on the bed. He dropped the blade, wore his pants in a rush then ran off the house. This is not real. He reminded himself but her voice was still haunting.