Rating: R (for sexual content and foul language)
They quietly enter the house, careful not to disturb the sleeping lovebirds down the hall. They sit on the couch in the drawing room cuddling each other with his hand brushing her hair to the side. As he leans forward to burry his face in the back of her neck, something catches his eye… an ominous sight. With her focus on him, he lowers the back of her blouse to reveal another bruise. “…Syd?” He lifts her off of his shoulder and quickly grabs her other arm and raises up her sleeve. Just like the revelation at the pub, a ghastly bruise encases her arm. “Allison?” he looks at her in despair. Her eyes locked in the opposite direction, struggling to not look at him. “… I’ve gotta go.” she mutters as she leaps off the couch, ready to bolt out the door. “No!” he shrieks standing in front of the door. She stares at the floor for a brief second and turns around to face the wall. “You ask me to call you during certain times of the day. You run off in a hurry yesterday without saying anything. The bruises all over your body.” his voice bellows in desperation. “What the hell is going on?”
Allison wraps her arms around herself, she was trapped. The tears well up in her eyes. She knew that there was no going back. She had to tell him. “Alright,” she shudders turning around to face Syd, keeping her eyes upon the floor. “… I don’t live alone.” She enfolds her hands, her palms glide together in nervous friction. “When I was vacationing here two years ago, I meet this man named John. After a long distance courtship I moved in with him.” She walks over to the couch and sits down, her hands still locked together in a death grip. Syd is still standing in front of the door. His belly aching with rejection, he grasps his stomach in hopes to quell the sick feeling. The tears from her eyes seep out upon her cheeks, “I never would have thought… that he could be so cruel.” She looks upon him, the sadness fills her eyes. She stands up and accosts him slowly, “Oh Syd,” her quivering hand reaches out to him. He writhes away from her grasp, “You used me,” a fuming tone bellows from his throat, “You bitch!” His head snaps like a twig, he places his hand to his mouth in disbelief of what he just said. A loud whimper escapes her mouth, she bolts out the door and disappears leaving a trail of sobs burning his ear drums.
Syd stands bare chest in front of the mirror in the bathroom down the hall. He gazes upon his reflection with ire in his eyes. His fingers grip the sides of the wash basin. The fury within himself seethes throughout his entire body like a cancer. He wanted to hurt himself. His eyes graze the razor blade sitting on the soap dish in the bathtub. Yes. He’ll slice his throat open. That is what he deserves for being such a cowardly bastard. He reaches forth a quaking hand towards the blades direction but like a mother catching her child doing something wrong, his hand freezes. He raises his hand to grasp the locks of hair held to his head, seething in self loathing. “You fucking coward,” he says aloud casting his attention to his mirrored reflection. “God damn you Roger Barrett…” His body shakes feverishly, his fists clenched in a death grip with his knuckles raking against the edges of the sink. “God damn you!” with an enraged screech his fist collides into the mirror, smashing a section of it. An agonizing shriek escapes his throat, the throbbing twinge shoots down his arm. He curls up in a corner between the wall and the bathtub, hunched in a fetal position. He winces from the excruciating pain coursing his hand , his knuckles leave a faint trail of blood down his arm. His other hand grasps his knuckles holding them against his face. Clenching his teeth the tears pour out of his eyes, a violent cry bellows out from his larynx. “I’m sorry Allison, he chokes in between sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
Allison opens the front door to her flat, shuffling quietly inside the darkness. Tears still streaming down her face. She didn’t care about what consequence she may face. All she could think about was Syd. The anguish stings her eyes at the thought that he hates her. He had every reason to hate her. She knew that lying about her relationship with John would cost her the connection she had with Syd. The beatings she endured at the hands of John were nothing compared to breaking the heart of the man she truly loved. She creeps past the drawing room, as she puts her foot on the first step a hideous growl erupts from down the hall, “Where the fuck have you been?” She turns around to face John, a bottle of whiskey clutched in his hands. She could smell the rancid liquor on his breath from the distance she was standing. His lips were curled in a monstrous shape. “Nowhere,” she mutters. “Don’t lie to me you bitch!” the slurred words flow from his intoxicated mouth, “You’ve been fooling around haven’t ya? You filthy whore!” She grips the banister, enraged she turns around. “Yeah,” the tone in her voice is mixed with resentment and trepidation, “I’ve been fooling around. You want to know why? Because I don’t love you anymore John. I’m done! So leave me alone and go back to bed!” He shakes his finger at her with a twisted grin, “You will seriously regret those words that came out of your mouth!” He lunges for her dropping his bottle which shatters to pieces on impact, “You fucking cunt! I’ll kill you!” She dashes up the stairs before he could reach her and barricades herself in one of the guest rooms. Listening to the beating on the door paired with the shrieks of a madman, she curls up on the bed trembling. “Oh Syd!” she cries out, “Help me!” With one swift kick, the door is left hanging on its hinge as Allison gazes upon the eyes of a monster.
Syd lifts himself off the tiled floor, his head still reeling from the aftermath of his wrath. After the blurry drowsiness subsides, he raises his hand up and opens the door. That dread he experienced the night before flourished within his stomach once again. Before him stood an ominous elongated corridor connected by numerous pathways. The halls foundations were washed in blackness, dimly lit lanterns hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth in portentous motion. He clasps his arms against his abdomen, shivering from the freezing winds that penetrated the air. The atmosphere was so icy, his breath solidified before his eyes. The distant sounds of wind chimes resonates within his ears. The door slams behind him as he walks out into his eerie surroundings. He looks from side to side, pondering over which direction to take in this baleful labyrinth. A horde of butterflies materialize before him. A white radiance cascade from their fluttering wings, beckoning him. He follows their trail through the twists and turns of the maze, mumbled whispers reverberate between the walls.
Standing before the final section of the web, his eyes light up with intense fright. A pool of blood plasters the freezing floorboards, trailing off down the hall. Syd tries to bolt onward but his bare feet were pinned to the ground. A stalwart force rests its hands behind his back and pushes him forward with tremendous velocity. The gibbering voices gradually increased in volume as he soars down the corridor. A door emerges from the shadowy mist at the end of the hall, flying open before Syd stumbles through it. Lying on the floor, he raises his torso up gazing upon an effeminate figure sitting on a bed at the edge of the room, its back to him. The figure shifts around to face him and pulls the black veil from its body. His eyes alive with fright, the robust panic strangles his throat, gasping for breath. Allison sits before him; her arms lacerated, her dress stained with fresh blood seeping from her wounds. “Help me Syd,” she weeps, tears flying from her orbits as she reaches out to him. He runs forward only to be knocked down by an invisible barrier that separates them.
Newspapers carried by ferocious winds fly across the room. Headlines screaming, “American Girl Slain by the Hands of a Promising Rock Star,” and “Rocker Syd Barrett Found Guilty of Murder.” He clasps his hands against his ears and shuts his eyes, desperately trying to block everything out. “This isn’t real,“ he cries out. “Wake up Syd! Wake up lad!” His pleas falls on deaf ears. He frantically claws the indiscernible wall, nearly ripping the edges of his nails off. Ghostly arms emerge from the wall behind Allison, their icy hands encased around her fragile body. “Syd!” she screams frenetically, her arms still stretched out to him in anguish. “No! Allison!” the frenzied shrieks escapes his throat, banging on the obstruction, “Let her go! God damn you!” His knees locked to the floor, his arms slide down the translucent foundation watching powerlessly as she is dragged through the wall.