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11 October 2006 @ 04:20 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 144: Question 144  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 669


Have you ever rebelled? If you have, how did you do it?


I rebel all the time. I mean, of course I rebel. The very fact that I am not some manic depressive taking cups of pills each day in a metal person’s nursing home, is testament to the fact that I rebelled successfully, and continued being the survivor that I already was. There is a difference between the survivor of yesteryear, and the survivor of today, that I have become. The difference being, of course, that, after the past five years, I am, now, a better survivor than I was before.

Sometimes, I go to my secret room, my music room, and I sit down at my drums, and grip my drumsticks until my knuckles turn white. I put on a CD that my wife made for me, of her music, without my drums, so that I could play along to it, when she was gone, by which, she meant, away on a business trip, or out of town seeing family, maybe, even with the boys in tow. She gave it to me, one day, not because she was going away, but, just because I had a day off, and she didn’t, and she had to go to work. It was before we had the boys, and, we’d just had messy breakfast sex on the kitchen table. She got up, readjusted her clothing, and fished a flat, little, square package out of her bag, with a sultry, silky, smile, on her face. Handing it over to me, she kissed me on the lips, a farewell goodbye, and left me to wonder, left me, to my own devices. I unwrapped the delectable gift, from my delectable woman, and saw that it was a CD case, homemade, because it had a homemade cover, which was a picture of my wife, without any top, covering, on, that was quite clear. I put it on, and there was a short track of instructions from her, like what music books she had used, but, firstly, and foremostly, why she had given such a present to me, and, what I was to do with it. We had always shared a passion for dominance and submission.

That’s what I did on that particular day off. I slipped the CD into our player, pressed play, listened to her instructions, got ready, and began to pour my heart out with my hands. I missed her that much, even though she was within driving distance, and I was going to meet up with her, for, lunch. Drums, trumpet, saxophone, violin, piano, cello, anything she asked me to play, anything the voice, asked me to play, along to her own music, I played, to my heart’s content.

That’s what I still do now, I go to my music room, I rebel against my pain, and slip in that disk, fingering it, carefully, like a long lost love. I listen to it, I experience the feelings I first felt when listening to it, all over again, and I play, my grip sometimes tight, my knuckles sometimes turning white, but my soul, and my spirit, always, always, writhing, leaping up, and crying out with pure, lust filled, unbridled joy, because, her voice, is there, soothing me, accompanying me, taking care of me, and, altogether, loving me. I rebel against my pain, my darkness, my hurt, my sadness, and, I listen to her, experiencing the dual action of my heart, my soul, my mind and my body, ripping themselves out of place, to pieces, and then putting themselves back together again, each, afterwards, taking their rightful place in my being. Rebelling against the sadness, the blackness, it’s a great, bloody, great, empowering, lust filled feeling. I do it, because it keeps me alive, because it helps me survive my pain and my torment. As long as I’m alive, I’ll need to rebel, because it’s an instinct that is ground into my very nature. It sits there, waiting for me, and, when I choose to use it, I am truly, most purely, and truly, free.
 
 
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