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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this.
Betas: Flowers and thank yous go to Hannelore_K & Ketene

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part I. The Day The Whole World Went Away
Chapter 5.

They were talking about it, daily. And I could hear them, from my corner, where I would sit motionless, staring at some invisible image, as if I were unplugged from this world. They were planning it with so much passion. But they were talking using this coded language, because, everyone knows, isn’t it?, in this world ceilings and walls can hear, they have ears. Somehow, though, it reached through to me, to that corner where I was sitting like a broken machine.

“I’ll be wearing a Mohawk,” they heard my deep pitched voice.

And they all jumped to their feet. Olli burst into laughter, his usual reaction. For a young one like him everything seems amusing.

But Christoph, as always, was taking me very serious, so he asked: “Why, Till?”

“Cause I don’t want to look like one of this Beast’s slaves, all look the same, all dress the same, doing the same things, thinking the same thoughts, stanching of the same fear,” I said without looking at them.

“Is he back with us?” Flake asked.

“If he gets a Mohawk, I’ll get one too,” stated Olli.

Of course he would say that. He was already wearing that goatee just because it didn’t fit the standard looks required by the morals of the regime. The Beast’s regime.

*
The buzzing of the shaving machine stops. Richard brushes away the hair off my skull, and his touch pulls me out from this suite of images, bringing me back to reality.

I reach out and get another cig. Richard puts the machine on the table, as I light my cig.

“Listen, Till,” he starts on that indifferent tone of his. “I know that you hate to see yourself that helpless, and that Christoph might get too protective some times, but it is due to him that you progressed that much. I don’t think any of us would have had that much patience as he had with you. I don’t say that you should praise him, he is happy with what he gets now from you, anyway. But you shouldn’t tell him off like you did this morning.”

I move my right leg; it got numb from standing like that, on that wooden stool.

From the rest of the house I pick voices, conversations, and laughs, that radio…

“Whose house is this?” I ask.

“Flake’s,” replies Richard.

I lift my hand and touch the shaved half of my skull. It feels funny. Then I freeze as if thunderstruck: “Sometimes I envy you,” said to me Richard, one day. “Ironically, you are the most privileged; you don’t realize this shit we’re in, you’re the most taken care of, and, on top of all, you get to get laid regularly.”

Who was I telling all those fairy-tales to? I find myself wondering. I think that some were my inventions, inspired by the old masters. I used to write them down.

“I might be the one who has found where they’ve sent you, and brought you here, but he is the only one who really took care of you. If it weren’t for him, probably I would have lost any hope and sent you back to the funny farm. So, please, humor me and don’t be an ass with him,” Richard continues behind me; then, the buzzing of the shaving machine follows his words.

His hand pushes my head gently on the side as he adds: “Even if you won’t remember any of this tomorrow. If there will be any tomorrow…”

But I don’t react. It is as if the moment he turned on the shaving machine, he turned on that machine that makes all these images spin in front of my eyes.

These walls with scorched paint turned brownish from dirt and time, these walls were the guardians of our little world. They would have been there, some standing because there wasn't enough room and not enough chairs either. Olli would always sit on the thick with dirt, brown thing that we called a carpet. Richard would be always sitting on a chair, drinking cheep booze and smoking his cig. I would always sit somewhere apart of them, motionless, staring at the walls as if I were watching some image show displayed there.

It was always when we ate. They would have put all the money they had and went to buy food and then they were eating the stuff straight from its paper wrapping or tin can. They wouldn't bother to even slice the bread, each would break a piece of it using his fingers. It was like we were camping and having all those camping talks. It was always then when they were planning it.

They were talking around me, with me – I was like a vegetable. But I guess I wasn’t lost for good; there must have been like a recording device in my head, and now it started to play, showing me all those images. The images of me sitting at the border of consciousness and unconsciousness and Christoph around me telling me how I disappeared and Richard went after me. Richard searched for me everywhere, and he didn’t give up even when he was told that they finally took me and they probably will never let me out; they will either kill me or send me to prison for many years.

Richard knew very well how it was like with them, he was the first one of the two of us to deal with them. But when they released him, he knew at least what planet he was living on. On the other hand, I was doing things regarded as worse and more dangerous to the Beast’s regime, my voice being heard louder – my thoughts and my protests getting to reach so many. So, Christoph was making this supposition, they thought enough was enough; I went too far, got too much attention upon me, it was time to be silenced. And, I was silenced. Richard found me in some hospital, in this state like a vegetable, not speaking, not reacting, and not even moving.

But, Christoph was going on with his story as I was staring at a turned off TV, Richard was never the man to give up; he took me and brought me here, in this apartment which Flake was already sharing with the rest of the guys.

The official version – I was a victim of a hit and run accident on the road near the village I was living in. That’s how I hit my head and got my knee smashed. And the one who caused the accident, fearing that he might get caught, dragged my body into the bushes near the road, and I laid there for a while. That’s how they were explaining the fact that I was missing for days. But Richard has been there; he got through the same thing to know better, to go beyond their lies. And Christoph knew it too, because, at one point they took him too.

“But they got nothing, but suspicions,” Christoph was adding too, but not going further with the explanations.

Ceilings can hear, and the walls can listen. He couldn’t talk about certain things, thus incriminating himself.

“Why didn’t they make it as an attempted robbery, that would have been a believable explanation and would have covered more and better.”

Christoph was talking again in his half-code, half normal language. Did he know that all of that will be “recorded” in my mind, or was he talking just to make some sound, to hide from himself that he was stuck with someone whose brain was in the same state of a mashed potatoes?

“They said she took the children and ran away from me, and I was upset so I got drunk and that’s why I had the accident on that country lane.”

“Are you talking to yourself, again?” Richard rather states than asks.

I just mumble incoherently, too angry to answer. But I guess it is equal to him, whether I answer or not.

“Ok, let’s see you, pretty boy,” Richard says and comes in front of me.

He puts his fingers under my chin and lifts my head.

“Yup, it’s even. Now, let’s give you a nice Mohawk,” he adds and gets his creams and sprays ready.

I look straight into his blue eyes, as he is in front of me, standing with his knees a bit bent to have his face at my face’s level. I just realized. And that thought made me shiver in horror.

“What is it, Till?” He asks. “Are you still having second thoughts?”

“Are people going to die today?” I ask him.

He takes the cig from the ashtray and drags a smoke from it.

“Probably,” he replies on that lacking of any inflection tone of his.

“Us, too?”

“We might, as well,” he answers on the same distracted tone, as he is more focused upon arranging my hair. “Flake, for sure will.”

“What?”

I back my head and push Richard with my hand.

Richard sighs.

“Till, these things have been discussed and decided long ago,” he says and reaches out to start arranging my hair again, but I push his hands away.

“He already accepted it,” Richard replies. ”He is more than happy to do it. Someone has to; we have to reach far in order to make ourselves heard. And once we got their attention upon us, they won’t dare to do us any harm. Especially when the whole world will be watching us. That’s what you said.”

“Did I say that one of us has to die?”

“You said that you’d give your life for…”

“Is everything ok?”

Christoph enters the room.

I bow my head and Richard starts arranging my hair again.

“Olli is bringing the limo,” Christoph announces.

I don’t see him, I only hear him walking around the room, while Richard is doing his job. None of us says a word. But I know. I am beginning to know it all.

At the beginning I wasn’t talking at all. I was inert like any other object. I needed someone to watch me over 24 hours of 24 hours. At first it was Richard, who didn’t want to bother other people to watch me for him. What makes a man to devote himself like that to someone?

But, little by little, the others started helping him with this, because, naturally, he wasn’t able to be there, near me, non-stop. And, while some did a good job and others a not so good job, Christoph seemed to be the best at it. He didn’t mind to get to spend more and more time to take care of me, although it wasn’t an easy task at all.

There were the seizures and the fits. Fever, crying, yelling; fighting those demons that were haunting my demented brain. Christoph used to joke that it was like watching a newborn, except this newborn didn’t seem to want to grow. Interesting comparison, since he is the only one who never had children.

But his efforts paid off; I started to get responsive, I started to grab a few minutes of reality and live in it, more and more often, until it became a daily thing.

“Ok, here he is. I made him beautiful for you,” Richard says and steps away, to allow Christoph to take a look.

“He already was,” Christoph replies and stops in front of me.

He smiles, warm and affectionate, leans over me, and plants a dry kiss above my eyebrow.

“Ok, ok, guys, I didn’t come here for you to make my guts turn upside down,” Richard mumbles.

“You’re jealous,” Christoph smirks and looks at me.

He must sense something, because he asks: “What’s wrong?”

I don’t answer.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 4
- 5
- 6
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)