Read Online The Keepers by 1PUNK1 - Free Book Online

regret that mistake. But
with the power and influence that the president had, none of the
reputable labels had even considered setting up a meeting with him.
They had all told more or less the same story; that they would call
him back, that their agents were currently in meetings or busy. They had even
given him false hopes by telling of his unique style and such
things- but he had never went any further than speaking to
secretaries. And now he wanted to speak to his secretary. To try and keep her
from leaving him. But the phone just kept on ringing.
    F**k. F**k.
F**k. I am Rikki. I do not get ignored , h e said in his mind.
    The week had been horrible. The
drugs and alcohol made him think too much and bitter, and the
prostitutes, now that he, for the first time in a long time, had to
beg, left something incomplete in him. The ejaculations and the
screaming and laughing women usually sent euphoria and made him
feel alpha but now, after the realisation that he was not
all-needed, after they occurred, depression sunk in.
    Fine, I don’t need them.
    “ I said I
don’t need them!” he said aloud to
himself.
    “ You
don’t ? ” The Voice asked in his head.
    Yes I
don’t.
    Do some lines and you’ll feel
better. You are better. You are Rikki.
    He took out a
packet from his pocket and ‘did the lines’, rolled a bank note and
inhaled them through his nose. The cocaine kicked in and The
Voice became more audible. And less
friendly.
    “ Rikki, Rikki
Rikki. The ’I am’ guy. A god ,” The Voice taunted. The Voice , now with Rikki
high on cocaine, sounded sarcastic, cynical and overall sinister.
Rikki wondered if he realised these things now because he was high-
whether when sober, this maliciousness of The Voice went undetected by him.
    His heart-rate
thumped harder and harder, his face started sweating and he felt
like something was moving underneath his skin and what with the
heart-beat going on, feeling like a hammer on his temples and
occipital bone – yes the heart beating felt like a hammer – The Voice took advantage of his panic.
    “ Rikki!” The Voice shouted, startling
Rikki out of his mind, having him screaming in agony and fear, his
hands automatically reaching his cheeks and forehead and scratching
furiously. He collapsed onto the kitchen still scratching and
screaming.
    “ The whore of
mammon. That is what you are Rikki, a whore. A slut with an open
wet cunt, whore.”
    “ I am not a
whore!” He shouted loud. “I am not a whore!” he
repeated.
    The Voice ignored him. “ Thou cannot worship
two gods. And thou had a choice and thou chose and thou now
self-destructs. You will die Rikki,” It
said matter-of-factly.
    “ I will not
die! I will not die! I will not die !” he went on incessantly and
feverishly, shouting and scratching at the floor. He was lying
between the kitchen wall where the phone hung and the kitchen
table. The blinds were closed and only the light escaping where the
blinds could not stop it came into the
kitchen giving a dark and gloomy look what with the kitchen painted
brown and most of it wooden. He went on scratching the ceramic
floor and the tips of his fingers started to bleed, and on his face
were scratches and the skin was peeled off from where he had
scratched making his face multi-coloured in yellow, brown and red.
He looked horrible.
    “ You look
horrible. Rikki. Yes you do. You are pathetic. You are scornful,
you are no god. You sold your soul. Did you not. Did you not say “I
will do anything for money” did you not Rikki?” The Voice laugh ed it’s sinister
laugh. “And now, will you die? For
money?”
    The questions reverberated
through his mind. Time seemed to slow and then speed up again. He
felt his heart thumping, then he did not feel it and felt it again.
He started to notice the coldness of the floor, the brown hue of
the kitchen and the blood stains on the floor.
    I
promise , h e said pathetically as
the effects started easing, regaining some control of