Marty shot up in bed, heart racing, covered in sweat, yelling out as always. It was never a particular nightmare. It was the hell of being there once again, trapped in that hellacious desert away from everything and everyone he truly gave a damn about. It was a deluge of memories, never one thing in particular.
Briana knew better than to grab Marty when he awoke like this. She tried to speak to him in the darkness of their bedroom.
“Baby, you’re home, Baby!”
Marty did not respond. He only struggled to compose himself, catching his breath. Briana knew her husband was far from the man that had left so many years ago. The depression and whatever horrors he had endured had changed him forever. She still loved but a shell of the man she had fully intended to spend the rest of her life with.
Marty laid back, his heartbeat slowing, silent, the blanket sticking to his sweaty body. He reached for his cigarettes and phone, but he still could not believe it: 1,000 subscribers. It would seem trivial to most, but to Marty, it was his light, along with Briana. From where he had come from, being the introverted shell-shocked nutcase, everyone seemed to either pity or avoid out of ignorance.
It was beautiful, and the woods had become his true therapy. Now, his solace in life was slowly becoming financially beneficial, albeit very little, but still, it seemed to bring people happiness. Even those dickhead trolls who enjoyed leaving asshole comments were finding some perverse happiness, even if it was at his expense.
“Baby.”
Briana said as she sat up slowly, touching his arm. Marty almost threw his phone, and he was transfixed and lost yet again.
“Shit! I'm sorry, baby. I know I scared you. I need to sleep on the couch more often. At least then, you could get a full night's sleep.”
“Baby, you can't help it, I understand, and it's becoming less and less of an occurrence. I don't want you sleeping on the damn couch. You belong in bed with me.”
Marty kissed Briana. She was far more than he deserved, but she had always been since they first met in high school. It was just an instant connection. With her short blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes, she had Marty's heart from day one, although he never fully understood why he knew better than to question anything in life.
Some things just worked, like his time spent in the woods. Something about being away from everyone made him at peace, as maybe it was just the insignificance of being amongst nature. He was but a speck, invisible to all, and that was how he always preferred it, dug in and out of view, just as a sniper was supposed to be.
Marty didn't go back to sleep that night. He lay there holding Briana, her head upon his chest. The curtains pulled back as the old bay window viewed the darkness outside slowly faded. The morning's sunrise slowly embraced the room, and Marty viewed it silently like some odd sort of living statue.
The alarm finally went off, and Briana slowly stirred.
“Baby, did you even get any sleep?”
“No sugar, but you know me, and honestly, I was excited to get out there to celebrate. Well, you know what I mean.”
“I think you love those woods more than you love me, Mister Weirdo Stealth Influencer,” Briana said, laughing.
“Well, honey, it's cheaper than therapy, and now, finally, it's paying off, so at least I'm not just some weirdo secretly camping in the woods anymore.”
“No, you're a paid weirdo in the woods who other weirdos enjoy watching for some ungodly reason. I wish I had that luxury. Hey, maybe I should start an OnlyFans and cash in on this niche of shut-in nutcases that clearly would enjoy watching paint dry. Hey, imagine if I went with you and flashed my tits, you would gain at least a thousand more followers.”
“I mean, I think mine are way more perky. You know you are getting a bit long in the tooth, sweetheart.”
“Fuck you, you dick!” Briana laughed as she got out of bed to start her day.
Marty started packing his gear, checking he had enough batteries for all the bullshit that went along with these little excursions. He checked all his social media accounts to see the good and bad comments before announcing he was going live today to celebrate reaching a thousand subscribers.
As Marty dressed and double-checked his gear, Chris messaged him.
“Hey, nutcase, congrats, Brother! I know those numbers mean a lot to you, man. I left you a little present on your doorstep, dude.”
Marty checked outside, and as always, a six-pack of Heniken was there, with one missing.
Chris, like Briana, whom he had known since high school, was almost frozen in maturity, but he always made Marty laugh.
He quickly put the six-pack, minus one, in the fridge as Briana shot him a look.
“God, it's so weird how that weirdo slips up here in the middle of the night, and it doesn't even freak you out.”
“You know how Chris is, honey. Besides, if it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have pulled my head out of my ass and discovered this new line of revenue; at least it's better than me sitting in the recliner staring off into space, baby.”
Briana walked across the kitchen, pausing to put his coffee before him.
“As long as you’re here with me is all I truly care about, baby. I love you.“ Briana said as they embraced. For once, Marty felt a tinge of guilt for his wife, whom he knew he neglected as he had been lost for so long within his head.
“Briana, I'm sorry for everything.”
“Honey, please don't start this. You're perfect to me. How many times do we have to go over this?”
“I just know you need something more than...”
“Marty, stop it, please. Honestly, be happy today, and come back to me tomorrow. Please stop thinking I need someone else. I married you; I want you. Please. Goddammit!”
Marty and Briana both went silent as he knew he had pushed too much. Marty just overthought everything, and his insecurities bled through at all times. He knew when it was best just to shut the hell up, so he did that. Briana took off for work, and Marty took off for the woods. His camp had already been set. Nobody would know, and truly, what did it matter? It was all about how you edited the whole thing.
As he made his mad dash across the field into the woods, he hoped nobody from the road on 615 Knotts Island would notice the loon heading off into the woods. Then again, living on a five-mile island, when did people not see everything that went on?
It didn't matter. Marty was making this video as a thank you to these strangers who, for some reason, accepted him and occasionally tipped him enough to buy better camping supplies and occasionally a few beers. He was a friend to those much like himself who felt lost.
As Marty sat there, concealed and invisible once again. Chris sent him a message.
“Dude, where are you heading this time? Somewhere in Currituck or further into Virginia? You staying out all night man?”
“Well, I could tell you, brother, but then I'd have to kill you, haha. Besides, it wouldn't be stealth if I gave away my location, knucklehead.” Marty sent his reply through Messenger, then put his phone down as he set the camera on its tiny tripod and began filming.
“Hey folks, this is your buddy, Marty Harrison. I just wanted to make this video to thank you for spending time with me and for the love you've shown me these past few years.
Honestly, my mental health led me to this path of just escaping life, and yet, somehow, through these vids. It‘s helped me grow, so thank you for all your support, and to those that troll me, hell, thank you as well.
It truly means everything to me. You've helped my channel grow, and to those who have bought me a beer, cheers to our livers and many other adventures. If you're new here, please like and subscribe. Remember, we are not friends; we are family, so let's keep it growing.”
With that statement, Marty sat in his portable camping chair and cracked one of the beers Chris had bought him. It was like all first beers, bitter and tasted a bit like shit.
But Marty drank for the effect, never the taste.
The reality of these stupid videos people watched but never got to see set in as he sat there, his mind racing as he was left to wait for the evening.
Tape a few segments in between; it was about as dumb as the videos. But, he was getting paid, and it sure as shit beat watching TV or working down at the Dollar General stocking supplies and talking to himself as the locals made a wide berth around him.
Life, at times, was a burden to Marty. Always pretending everything was okay when his mind was a total shit storm of chaos, fighting the urge to start randomly screaming and heading off into the woods as his neighbors' continual noise drove him insane.
Looking at a woman he loved yet knew he could not be that man she once knew and still very much desired.
The one that friends felt embarrassed for, but instead of admitting that, they simply avoided him at all costs. Sometimes he thought to himself it would have been better had he died in that foreign shithole country with his true brothers, so he thought to himself.
Maybe they were indeed the lucky ones.
Marty finished yet another beer, reached into his bag, pulled out the Glock, and put it on his lap. It felt good, and maybe that made him insane that a device made for killing brought him such peace.
Maybe he viewed it as an ever-useful tool, but it was for a different mission. As the tears slowly rolled down this very broken man's face, he put the gun away into his waistband. He got up to move into the position he had set; he slowly became the machine he was trained to be.
As he lay down, looking through Rugar's scope, his breathing slowed as he viewed the scene.
Briana hadn't been home long. No sooner was Chris at the door, and she happily embraced him as he lifted her up.
Gleeful like two teens, alone at last, lost in the passion’s promise.
“Fuck, baby, I have been thinking about your sexy ass all week. Let’s get inside before somebody sees us.” Chris said as they both hurried inside, making their way to the bedroom. He stood with his back to that huge bay window as Briana unbuttoned his shirt.
“Fuck, I've needed this so bad, honey. You sure Marty's not coming back this evening?”
“He's off making his stupid videos, baby; all he gives a shit about is being in the woods these days.”
Briana was too in the rapture of desire to concern herself with her husband’s issues, as no matter how wrong it was, we all have needs. Where Marty's were being lost drunk in the woods, hers were of the need for contact with the flesh, feeling anything beyond the emptiness she shared in this tomb with her barely there on his best days husband.
As Chris pulled back, looking into Brianna's eyes
“Honey, I just...”
Briana heard the shot first as Chris's head damn near exploded, sending bone fragments along with brain matter into Brianna's shocked face as her husband's best friend collapsed onto the floor.
Brianna stood there in shock, unable to move as she screamed out Marty's name as the second shot echoed to silence her forever.
As Marty, like a machine, watched his wife fall, it never affected him within the moment. The only difference to Marty was that nobody was beside him to assist with the shot, and nobody was to radio in. And there was no reward or even malice within his action. At this moment, he was a machine as he lay on his back, staring at the ever-approaching sunset cast sky.
Marty left, never to return the same, and in his absence, the world at home kept moving without him. He always knew it. His instincts had always kept him alive, even in the moments he prayed for death.
Briana had been that light at times, but that same flame attracted many others. Whereas light can bring hope, it can also be death's promise to a moth.
Marty lay there for what felt like an eternity, listening to the wail of sirens. The noise finally made the pain set in, and he began to laugh hysterically like the madman he indeed was.
He heard his phone's notifications going off at an even more insane pace as he heard the police slowly approach the tree line as he placed the pistol underneath his chin.
After one last intrusive noise, Marty would experience the greatest silence he would ever experience alone in the woods, as he had been alone most of his life.
In a world filled with strangers, some underneath the guise of lovers and friends.
The flame was extinguished, and the lights were now very much out on this twisted soul who was never home.
Mission accomplished.
The End.
John Patrick Robbins, is a Southern Gothic writer his work has been published by Horror Sleaze Trash, Schlock Magazine, Disturb The Universe, Punk Noir Magazine,Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Fixator Press, Piker Press and here at The Dope Fiend Daily.
His work is often dark and always unfiltered.
His newest book is Lost Within The Garden Of Heathens and is currently available through Amazon.
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