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caecicreator-blog · 6 years

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Utopia

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! GUNS, VIOLENCE, STARVATION, ACID, GORE, CONTROL, MANIPULATION

I remember the old days. The old days where a person could walk out of their own home and see grass and beautiful clouds. Now, when said person walks out of their house, they need to be fully armed and cautious. Houses aren’t these big, beautiful masterpieces that are all different and amazing in their own unique ways. They’re all broken down and there are some that don’t even completely cover the heads over our shoulders.

How did the world come to be this way? War. Violence. Hatred. Racism. If I could go back in time and prevent it, I would. But unfortunately, this device that put me here in the year 5028 cannot return me to my original time. As soon as I landed here, it seemed as though everyone was against each other. It was all for one, or none for all. Every single day was a fight to the death, as if sharing would kill people now.

I walked outside of my house, my rifle slung over my shoulders. I looked around and saw nothing. Like in the old Western movies, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a tumbleweed come rolling down the abandoned, ramshackled streets. Cars didn’t exist anymore because everyone salvaged the vehicles that had been left. I wished I could find a way to bring the world back to its prior glory.

“Hello! Citizens of Utopia!” came the voice over the main intercom of this ramshackled city. Whoever decided to name this city Utopia had to have been a joke, “Today is October 31st, 5028! There will be rations handed out as is customary at the end of the month at the Theater of Shame. Only take what you need. Any more taken and you will be shot down. Thank you! And have a utopian day!” the voice sounded so chipper and happy.

But why wouldn’t it? That voice was in the top 1% of people in the world that had the little money and the little food left. They were in the top 1% of people who had actual houses and transportation. These people had no intentions of letting any of it go. The only thing in life that was free anymore were guns and very small amounts of food. And the food we did get was enough to feed a family from 2018 for a day. And we were supposed to ration it out to last us two weeks.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and began the long trek to the Theater of Shame. I glanced to my right to see my neighbor coming over to me, “You’d think, by now, they’d at least try to give us a little more,” he muttered. I sighed and shrugged my shoulders. It was useless to think that they’d ever give us more. As we walked, we passed dying people in the streets. Sometimes, if I felt merciful, I’d take my gun and shoot them in the head to put them out of their misery. Sometimes, I like to let them suffer. One less person to take my food.

As we arrived at the Theater of Shame, my neighbor and I stood in line, each of us with a gun slung on our backs, “I have an idea,” he whispered behind me. I glanced back at him and he continued, “Let’s start a riot. We can riot against the owners of Utopia. We can take it back.” I laughed. How foolish. Like we could ever get more than just the two of us to even attempt to rally against them. But he continued, “I’ve talked to a few of our neighbors, and they want to try.” Wait, so he’d already attempted to put it in motion? I hesitated and turned toward him.

“If they find out, we’re as good as dead.”

“Then they won’t. We’ll give it a code-name,” he ran a hand through his greasy blonde hair, “They don’t have to know. We have to gear up. We have to fight fire with fire.”

I pursed my lips and turned back around, trying not to give it too much thought. If it became obvious anyone had been thinking too much, it was suspicious and they’d be shot without a second thought. So I cleared my mind as I got closer to the beginning of the line. I took my rations, and left.

For the next several days, I kept thinking about what he had said. Fight fire with fire. Was it possible? I put together several things in my head, trying to think of ways that this could work. I came up with several ideas and decided to go find my neighbor. We came back to his house and I started to speak in low voices about the ideas I had. He seemed receptive, like he thought this would work.

We’d put together an army. We’d arm everyone. It would be at least 30 against five. This could work. This would work. Each day came and went, and with each day came more progress. By the time the first week passed, we had well over thirty people. We had sixty. And our ideas seemed to be working as planned.

A whole month had passed and our attempts to gather and figure things out were going smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that we were afraid at any moment that someone would find us before we had the chance to even begin our riot. At the front of the entire frontier were my neighbor and myself. We were proud of all the work we put into this. We had turned a city of killers and hatred into companions and people who would work as a team to survive. To win.

Then came the day. The day we were going to go straight down to the capital, over the ramshackled streets and through the broken trees. We would make a stand. We would make our names known. We would throw ourselves into the fire with fire, and hope against all that is still good in this world, that we would survive.

I had hope. So did everyone else. We would make it out of this. For the better. As our group of, now, seventy people marched, we gained confidence. As we got to the building, I took out the megaphone and began to speak, “COME OUT, MAYOR OF UTOPIA. COME OUT OF HIDING AND SHOW US YOUR TRUE COWARDICE.”

After a few moments, the front doors opened and out came a big, fat smiling man. He had clean black hair, a clean suit on, and shiny leather shoes. He laughed, a big hearty chortle, “Ah, the cavalry has arrived. Did you really think I didn’t see what you were doing?” he asked with a grin that could only be constituted as malicious across his face, “I’m not dumb. I let you all live for my own reasons. It’s like the old game from, ah, three thousand years ago… Sims, was it? I kept you all alive for my own entertainment. And now, well,” he turned, raised his hands and walked back inside.

And it was like the world was ending. Down came a rain of green acid. I could hear the screams. I could smell the rancid odor as it fell down around us. I felt the first drop hit me and I wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I would not lose this fight. I went up to the gates and shook them as hard as I could. More acid fell on me. But I wouldn’t let it get the best of me, not even as it began to peel my skin from my muscles.

“GET OUT HERE, YOU BASTARD!” I yelled through the pain, “FIGHT US LIKE A REAL MAN!” and that’s when smoke bombs were thrown out and everyone started to cough and they were all falling to the ground. It was a giant cloud of green smoke. People were dying and all I could think about was getting my revenge on this man, this man who created a dystopian land and called it Utopia. This man who thought it funny to treat us like lab rats for his own amusement.

Through the pain, through the agony, through the despair, I pulled my rifle out from behind me and shot the lock on the gate. I somehow managed to push through it and went to the door. I banged on it as hard as I can, even though I could see the skin melting off my hands. The door wouldn’t open, but I didn’t care. I shot the lock until the door was able to open.

I kicked it open and I felt myself gasping for air. I had a mission. I wasn’t going to give up. I didn’t care how much pain I was in, how much my body just wanted to collapse, how much I wanted the pain to stop. There was no giving up in this scenario. I kept walking until I found him. I found him in the back of the capital, in a control room, “Our lives may be over…” I gasped for breath, “But… so… is… yours,” I raised my gun and aimed it right at his head and, with the very last strength I had, I shot him in the head.

As he fell to the ground, so too did I. I heard screaming and people rushing around to help the dead man across from me. But I didn’t care. I succeeded. Maybe… Even if I wasn’t alive anymore, maybe the world could get better… Maybe Utopia could really become… a utopia.

#writing #short story #shortstory #author #writer #tw dystopia #tw #triggerwarning #tw acid #tw controlling #tw manipulation #tw poverty #tw guns

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caecicreator-blog · 6 years

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Thank you, Riley

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!! Cancer, death

After experiencing the passing of your beloved partner, you discover there are things you need to go through. Pictures from your wedding, from your anniversaries, everything. You had been with them for twenty years. And it felt like you had been stabbed in the heart when you heard the news. As you pull the first box toward you, this sense of hesitation washes over you. It hasn’t been very long since they passed.

But you know. You know this is something you need to do. You take a deep breath and open the box. Inside is a note. Furrowing your brow, you pick it up to see what it says.

‘If you have found this note and this box, I am probably gone. I’m sure it has broken your heart to have lost me in this way. But just know, that through everything, you have been my shining light. But here, I will explain how I passed and why it was probably sudden.

I just received a report from a biopsy and it came back positive for cancer. I know you must be upset that I never told you about it. But that’s because my entire family has had cancer of this same kind while I was growing up. Instead of undergoing chemo, I decided that I didn’t want to be miserable. I wanted to spend my remaining years with the person I loved most. And that person is you.

Again, I’m sorry I never told you. But I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to break your heart. I wanted you to remember me as the loving person I’ve been over the last several years instead of this miserable old sack, losing hair and hating my life. While I am writing this note, I am not sure how long I am going to live. The doctors say maybe a year, maybe longer if I’m lucky. But with you by my side, I’m sure every single second will be worth the pain and agony of the cancer spreading.

In this box, I will place every single home video I’ve taken since I’ve gotten diagnosed. I will place every single note I give you. I will place every single picture I’ve taken of your amazing face. To remind you that I will always love you, even when I’m gone.

Remember, I love you. Forever and always. Riley.’

As you read over the note in your hands, tears start to fall from your eyes, wetting the paper in your hands. After three years, according to the date on the note, they’d never told you that they had cancer. They hid it from you because they wanted to watch you be happy for the rest of their life. You feel a little mad, knowing that they could’ve had longer if they had undergone chemo. But you also understand. Chemo can drain a person. And they didn’t want that.

After staring at the curvature of their handwriting, you set it down and pick up the first item in the box. It’s a home movie, with a date written on it. The day after the note had been written. You hesitate but stand up. You walk over to the TV in the room and put it in the player. You sit down and wait for it to play.

‘Hey! Come here!’ Riley motions for you on the screen to come toward them, ‘I have something to show you!’ and you cautiously move over to them, a smile on your lips. They’ve done some stupid stuff to you before so you can’t help but be weary. As you get close, they splash you with water and start laughing hysterically.

Watching this, you find yourself laughing, but you cannot believe that this was the day after they’d found out they had cancer. Laughing, smiling, still joking with you, as if they didn’t just find out they were about to die. How could anyone find out they were going to die and still be laughing and smiling about what they have?

As you finish that video, you stand and go back over to the box. You set the video aside and pick up another one. The date on it is a few days later. Curiously, you put it into the player and sit back, waiting for it to play.

You are asleep in the bed and you see Riley sneak into the room with a can of whipped cream in their hands. They tip toe across the room over to you and shake up the can, hoping that you won’t wake up from the sound. They then open it and spray a little design on your face, making you look like George Washington. They then cap it, grin over at the camera with a wink before sprinting out of the room. Not too much longer, you wake up and the look on your face is pure confusion. You move your hands up to your face and quickly remove them only to see white stuff on it. You jolt up and scream ‘RILEEEEYYYYYY!’ at the top of your lungs.

Again, you laugh. You remember this. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this to you. They’d done things like this to you in your sleep all the time, like drawing a lewd picture of something on your forehead before you woke up on a weekend. Remembering this, it makes you want to cry. They’ll never do that again. You feel more tears fall down your cheeks. You wonder if you’ll ever find someone like them again.

As the tape finishes, you stand and put that one away. You go through each tape and laugh, cry, and sniffle through all of them. The more you watch, you more you begin to realize that they were the best person you ever even knew. And it made you wonder how many times they had issues that you never knew about because they wanted to make sure you were happy.

Hours passed and you had gotten through almost everything in the box. At the very bottom, you find one last home video dated the day before they died. It hurt to think of that. But you picked it up and you put it in. Sitting back, you pull your knees up to your chest. You’re afraid that they’re going to look sickly and scared. But they don’t. Instead, they’re smiling and whispering.

‘Hey. I know you won’t see this until I’m gone. But I just wanted to tell you that I love you, more than anything in the world,’ they paused and coughed, gently rubbing their throat, ‘My time is coming to an end. I can feel it. I’m not going to be around much longer. I lived longer than the doctors thought I would. And it’s because of you. You kept me smiling, you kept me happy, longer than I could’ve ever imagined. And if today is my last day on earth, I’m okay with that. Because I lived twenty years of my life with the most amazing person I could’ve ever asked for,’ they paused again to cough, but this time, a little blood got onto their hand. They wiped it off on a tissue in their lap, ‘You’re asleep right now. In the other room. And I’m about to go in there and cuddle you and give you the best night’s sleep I can muster. I don’t know when I’ll be gone. It could be tomorrow for all I know. I may not wake up. But honestly, that’s okay. Because knowing that I’ve had you is okay with me. In fact, it’s more than okay. You are my reason for living. Except my body…’ they trailed off and had a coughing fit into their arm. They took a deep, raspy breath, ‘My body doesn’t want me here anymore. I’ve tried to stay happy and upbeat. And there have been some days when it physically hurts for me to smile at you every day. But I still do it. Because you are the love of my life. But just in case, just in case this is the last video I ever make, I wanted you to know…’ they started to cough again, but this time it was for longer and their skin was getting paler and paler. They took a deep breath, ‘I love you, forever and always. Infinity is a long time, but we’ll both get there together, even if it’s only… in spirit…’ their whispering voice got softer. They moved forward and blew a kiss into the camera before the video stopped.

Meanwhile, you are sitting there, bawling your eyes out. You never knew. They never even showed you how they felt. You had always been the one that couldn’t hide your problems because you felt as though you couldn’t handle them on your own. But now, knowing what they went through for three years, you feel like you can do it. You stand up and take the video back to the box and start packing it back up.

This whole box was a lesson. A lesson to smile. A lesson to remember that life is too short to think that every single little problem could be the end of the world. The love of your life genuinely did have a problem that would be the end of their life and they still managed to smile everyday, laugh every day, and give you a kiss every morning and every night.

As you pull a new strip of tape over the box and label it ‘Riley’s Last Words,’ you smile and take the box, putting it back on the shelf. If Riley taught you anything at all, it was to smile even when the world seems bleak. You look up at the box with a smile on your face and you whisper to yourself, though no one can hear, “Thank you, Riley.”

#short story #shortstory #author #writer #writing #tw cancer #tw death #sad ending #appreciate life #love

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caecicreator-blog · 6 years

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Bloodthirsty

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! BLOOD, VAMPIRISM, HOMICIDAL THOUGHTS, DARK CONTENT

The world is spinning. I can hear a drumbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. For some bizarre reason, I feel my mouth watering with each beat of this drum. And then I hear a second. Thumpthumpthumpthump. I begin to look around. Where is this sound coming from? I don’t see anyone playing a drum. I then look closely at each person surrounding the area I am currently in. And that’s when I notice. Their necks are vibrating.

But why? Why are their necks vibrating? To the same tune of the drum beat I can hear? Then I see one in particular. I don’t know why, but their neck seems more appetizing than the rest. Wait, appetizing? Confusion runs through my brain as my mouth continues to water. Before I know it, I am moving toward this person, fully intent on taking whatever it is that is vibrating in their neck.

It is then that I feel a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of this reverie. I snap my head back to see a severely amused face staring at me. Her neck is not vibrating. But why? She pulls me around to face her, “Remember what I said. I will teach you.” Teach me? Teach me what? She can easily read the confusion on my face and I watch as she chuckles, “You don’t remember what happened, do you?” I shake my head and she nods, “Last night…”

“What’s got you down?” the bartender asked me as I sat down at the bar. I looked up at him and honestly pondered if it was that obvious. I shook my head as I plopped down on the seat, “Come on, somewhat free therapist. What’s gotcha down? And what’s your poison?” he asked as he held up a couple different bottles of hard liquor.

I sighed, “My fiancee just broke up with me. And I feel like my world is falling apart. I need to find a reason to live…” I then glanced at the two bottles he was holding, “A rum and coke.”

The bartender nodded and poured me a glass. He then placed it in front of me and leaned against the bar, “If she broke up with you, she’s not worth it. I know I just met you. But you’re a hell of a man, I’m sure. You’ll find someone who makes you feel like the world is worth it. You just gotta dive back in.”

“Easier said than done,” I muttered into my drink as I took my first chug of it. But I knew he was right. I just had to dive back in. I glanced around the bar and saw a blonde woman sitting in the corner of the room. By herself. Not even a drink in her hand. I looked at the bartender, “Just dive in, right?” I downed the drink and slammed the glass down before getting up, filled with liquid courage.

I made my way through the various patrons of the bar and sat down next to this beautiful blonde, “You looked lonely, may I accompany you?” she just smiled at me.

“Oh,” I reply, somewhat sheepishly. Of all the people I could’ve talked to last night, of course this was the outcome. I glance down at my feet, shuffling them, “I didn’t know what you meant…” I sigh.

“I think you did,” she gives me a toothy grin, where I can see the obvious elongated canines, “I told you last night that I could give you eternal life. That I could help you see the world in a way that no one else does. You expect me to believe you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into?”

I quickly shake my head, “I thought you were just going to have sex with me and that’d be the end of it!” I begin to panic. My thoughts are running rampant through my head. I take a deep breath, “So what then? Is that what the pain was?”

She gives me a big smile, “Yes. I drank your blood and fed you mine. This is why you hear that solid beat of a drum. It’s the hearts. It’s the hearts of the humans around you. Every single one. You want them. You want to hurt them. And I’m sure, in the back of your mind, as I tell you that, you’re thinking of one in particular you’d like to hurt.”

Hurt Claire? I can hurt Claire. I can harm her for everything she’s done to me. Why does that sound so exciting? And the very idea of her blood on my tongue makes chills run down my spine. As if I can feel the coppery taste of the crimson liquid flow down my throat. I look at the woman standing in front of me and I nod.

I walk with determination, knowing exactly where I’m headed. And I stop. I stop in front of her house. I haven’t been there in days. She doesn’t know I’m coming. She’s probably asleep. I could sneak in and she will die before she even knows I’m there. I walk toward the front door, leaning forward to listen through the door.

I’m right. She is sleeping. Upstairs, nestled in her covers, her heartbeat steady. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Her breathing steady. Like a soft wind through the clouds on a chilly night. I look down at the door and I reach for the doorknob. I jiggle it a little only to realize that Claire is not smart. She really never was. The door opened and I can’t help but smile.

I close it behind me as quietly as I can and my nose leads me up the stairs. I can smell the blood coursing through her veins. And it is then that I can hear a second… smaller drum. Claire doesn’t have a child. She doesn’t have a heart murmur. With curiosity, I make my way into her bedroom and it is then that I realize why I can hear a softer, second heartbeat.

Claire is pregnant. That is why she broke up with me. It is at this moment that I realize that she left me because she wanted what she thinks is best for the child she is carrying. She doesn’t think I am fit to be a father. But is she wrong? As I watch her sleep, my brain is waging a war on itself. I want to kill her, to show her that she messed with the wrong man. But I want to let her live, to raise this child, to raise my child, thinking I don’t even know.

I watch as she turns on her side in her sleep and my mind has been made. I turn and open the door, but it creaks. My eyes become wide as I hear her say my name. I slowly turn toward her and she tilts her head, “What are you doing here?”

“I… I missed you.”

“I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore. So you decide that means you can come break into my house? What is wrong with you?” but I can see the tears begin to well up in her eyes. She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t want that.

Another war begins to wage in my head. I turn away from her and take a deep breath, “It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” because she is right. I wouldn’t be a fit father. And now, now that all I can crave is blood and death, I can’t care for a child. I would kill Claire or I’d kill the child. I purse my lips and begin to walk out, “I will not bother you again. Best of luck with your pregnancy. If you need help, you know where to find me,” I do not look back to see if she is shocked or scared.

As I exit the house, I close the door behind me and look up in the night sky. When that woman first turned me into what I am, this bloodthirsty creature, I thought my life would become exciting. And now, now all I want to do is die. Irony.

#shortstory #short story #writer #writing #tw blood #tw vampirism #tw homicidal thoughts #tw dark content #author #story #blood #vampirism

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caecicreator-blog · 6 years

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I Could Still Hear the Laughter

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! DEATH, BULLYING, MENTAL ABUSE, BLOOD, DEEP WOUNDS, SEXUAL HARASSMENT, PTSD!!!!!

Alone. Staring around, I found myself unsure of what exactly to expect. I pushed my hands down onto the ground, hoisting myself up from the wet ground. I had woken up on the cold, hard concrete, only to discover that there was nothing but the silence around me. My eyes darted around, trying to find some semblance of sanity near me. I took a step forward and a sharp pain came shooting through my leg, coming from the ball of my foot.

As I looked down, I saw blood. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. But there was no one, nothing. I had been abandoned. I glanced to my right to see just road, dark with fog rolling in from the horizon. As I looked over to my left, more road. All I could see was the trace of light coming down from the streetlights. And all I could do was wonder how I’d ended up here. How did this happen? Where did everyone go?

I then stared straight in front of me, wondering which way I should go. Where could I go? My foot was bleeding, the soft, but dark, crimson liquid pooling on the ground below my stationary foot. In front of me, there was just moist grass. If I went into the grass, it wouldn’t hurt as much to walk on my injured foot, but at the same time, the mud would seep into the wound and quite possibly infect it. That would be a lot of pain.

But then I found myself wondering… Why would that matter? No one cared about me anymore. I turned my head to look behind me. There was a bench. A lone bench. Nothing around it except some trees and more grass. I had no idea where I even was. I hobbled over to the bench as carefully as I could and took a seat. I propped my foot up on my other knee and decided to look at the wound. I watched as the blood came oozing out of the gash. I tried to get a better look, but the blood was obscuring my view.

I started to feel lightheaded, and figured I had to do something to at least curb the bleeding. I looked down at my torn shirt and decided that it had to do. I tore off a piece of the little amount of cloth left and winced as I gingerly wrapped it around my foot. As I pulled it across the wound, I yelped. Something stabbed into my foot as I did that. What could it be? As I pulled the cloth back, I moved my hand down to my foot and bit down on my lip as I tried to feel for the source of the stabbing.

Through the pain, I felt a shard of glass sticking out of my foot. And it was then that the memories began to come back…

Laughter filled the room. I was surrounded by the men in my life, all laughing at me. Pointing. I felt my head spinning. They were laughing at me because I decided to help the shy kid. I decided to befriend the shy kid. At least, I thought I was helping. But instead, I became the laughing stock. This was college. I didn’t think this kind of thing happened in college.

I pushed past one of the men in the circle that was encasing me, hoping that I could escape. I felt one of them grab at my shirt, trying to yank me back. In my desperation and tears, I pulled against his superior weight. I could still hear the laughter…

It was then that I felt more hands pulling at the thin fabric of my shirt. I kept trying to pull away, the hot tears streaming down my face. I could still hear the laughter…

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” the words echoed through my ears and into my brain. I wanted to get away. They were still goading me. They were still grabbing at my shirt. I could still hear the laughter…

I did my best to yank the glass out of my foot, nearly biting through my lip in the process. The blood flowed more freely and I could feel myself getting dizzy. I then used this time to try and wrap the wound as tightly as I could, without cutting off circulation. I just needed to breathe. So I tried. With each pull of the fabric around the gash, I took a deep breath and then let it out. Breathing. That’s what kept us alive.

“Did you really think anyone liked you?” the ‘alpha’ male of the group antagonized me. The tears then became acid as anger boiled inside of me. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I finally broke free, hearing my shirt rip as I gained my freedom. I could still hear the laughter…

As I ran, my shoe got caught and I fell face first down into the ground, scraping up my face. The pain was awful, but I couldn’t stop. I looked back and saw the men following me. I quickly got up, not caring that I only had one shoe on. I had to run. I could still hear the laughter…

My feet started to hurt, but the adrenaline kept me going. I wasn’t going to let them hurt me, not anymore. I started to run into the woods, feeling sticks and branches ripping at my skin and my shirt, tearing it apart, creating small cuts across my arms and legs. And even so. I could still hear the laughter…

The pain started coming back. The pain in my face, the pain in my head, the pain in my body. I wanted to die. Why was I still alive? What was the point of it all? I had no idea where I was. Had I really run this far? Just to get away from those awful men?

I saw a light so I kept running toward it, not caring that the men were still following me. I had to get away. I glanced behind me to see if I’d lost them. I couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean anything. I could still hear the laughter…

I turned forward again and kept running. I then felt a sharp pain as I stepped on something. I screeched in pain but I kept running, not caring as my other slip-on fell off in the process. The pain shot up my leg with each step. But I could still hear the laughter…

I got to the lights that I saw through the woods and hoped I’d find shelter, maybe even someone who could save me. But there was no one. Not a single soul on the road. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream. I then heard something and turned, in hopes it was someone to help me. It was a car. I started waving my arms frantically, praying the car would stop. It didn’t. It hit me and I bounced off the windshield and fell to the ground. As I passed out, I could still hear the laughter…

What was the point of being alive? The people I loved, the people I thought loved me, were gone. I had been abandoned. I then released the bloody cloth I’d wrapped my foot in and looked down at the once-again oozing blood. And decided. I decided there was no point in living anymore. Why would I want to live life if I was alone? I lay back on the bench and let the blood pour out of my injury.

As I did, my vision got blurry. And as I faded into nothingness, I could still hear the laughter.

#short story #shortstory #writer #writing #laughter #tw death #tw mental abuse #tw sexual harassment #tw blood #tw ptsd #tw deep wound #trigger #challenge #tw bullying

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caecicreator-blog · 6 years

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‘I’m done’ he says. ‘We’re through’ he says. ‘I don’t want you anymore’ he says. ‘You’re worthless to me’ he says. Too many times. I’ve been through too much with him. And I always take him back. He always bitterly tells me that we’re through. And then two months later, he’s crying and he wants me back. I love him too much to say no. But does he know that his time is running out? Because it is. I won’t be here forever.

I woke up this morning and I knew. He’d been bitter for the past few days. I saw it coming. I saw his words coming. ‘We’re done. We’re through. You’re worthless to me.’ Why do I keep letting him walk all over me? Every time, he does it. And every time, I let him. But if he breaks up with me, it’s the last time. This is the last time. I don’t want to tell him that. Because then he’ll just be miserable until he breaks up with me. I’d rather him realize on his own that he actually needs me.

I’d rather not have to go through all of this over again. We have good times in the beginning, then we fight a few times, and then we make up and are happy for a good two months before he grows bitter. He locks everything up inside. He never tells me what’s wrong. He never tells me what I’m doing that bugs him. So, I ask him, how do you expect me to change.

‘I don’t’ he says. Then why break my heart every time, I ask. ‘It’s easier’ he says. Maybe on him. But not on me. Maybe he still loves me. But I fell out of love years ago. I fell out of love after the third time this happened. So why do I let him walk all over me? I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure I belong in a mental institution. I could check myself in, declaring that I’m pretty sure I either have multiple personalities or I’m schizophrenic. Or I may even just be unable to feel anymore.

Our fights are empty on my side. I argue, but I don’t care. I don’t feel any anger. I see that he does. And he fights. He fights until he’s blue in the face. My expression never changes. I let him fight. I let him win. I let him make up with me. I let him fuck me. And all for what? I’m not bitter, I’m not happy, I’m not depressed, I’m not angry. I am nothing.

And he did this to me. I want to feel something. I want to be happy. I want to be angry. But I can’t. I sit and I watch funny movies. I can’t crack a smile. I don’t understand why it’s funny. Or maybe I do and I just don’t find it worth my time to smile or to laugh.

I watch someone at the top of a building about to jump. My biggest concern is: What if they land on my car? I don’t care that they are going to die. In fact, I wish I was up there with them, about to do it myself. It’s not like anyone would stop me. Maybe he would. If he cared enough.

Sometimes I wonder if I should tell him he broke me. But I don’t think it would do much good. I think he’d just laugh and tell me I was being over dramatic. Maybe I should visit a shrink. The shrink would ask ‘How does that make you feel?’ and I would respond ‘It doesn’t.’ Would he give me crazy people pills that do nothing? Would he diagnose me legally insane? I’m not entirely sure.

I might be a sociopath. I really don’t care if anyone lives or dies. I often pass by people in the street and think of ways they could die by my hands. I am uncaring. This is his fault. It started with him. It started with anger after the fourth time. I wondered how I could kill him. But I never went through with it. The anger dissipated, but my thoughts of homicide never did.

If I murdered someone, could I get off on the charge of being legally insane, I wonder? I probably could. Then I’d be put in a mental facility… where I belong. And he might visit me. Then again, probably not. He’d probably want nothing to do with me. I’d be just one less thing he has to think about. I wonder what he truly thinks of me. I wonder if I’m just a phase in his life that he decides when he wants to use me or not.

I sit on the couch as I wait for him to come home. I know he’ll be drunk. It’s hit this part of the relationship. I know he’ll get angry at me for some reason. That’s the only part that changes. The reason he breaks up with me. I wonder what it’ll be this time. Will it be that I don’t comfort him when he’s sad? Will it be that the fucking isn’t good enough? Will it be that I can’t bring myself to cry with him? I’m not entirely sure.

But he walks in, as expected, and he sits down next to me. I smell the alcohol on his breath and I wonder what he mixed the vodka with. Was it diet coke? Or was it redbull? He seems more awake, so I’m going to go with the latter. He looks at me and I’m staring straight ahead. And he says something he’s never said to me before.

‘I’m sorry’ he says. My mind starts working. I am trying to come up with a response. But all that escapes my lips is ‘No you aren’t.’ And he seems appalled. But I really don’t care. He uses his hand to turn my face to his and his eyes look angry, ‘Yes I am’ he says. If I still felt, I’m sure I would have found this funny. But I don’t feel. So my face remains the same.

‘You’re not’ I say. ‘If you were sorry, this wouldn’t be the 38th time we’ve done this’ I say. He looks upset by my words. But I don’t care. I get up from the couch and turn to him. ‘If you break up with me again, this is it’ I say. ‘This is the last time’ I say. ‘You’ve broken me’ I say. ‘I feel nothing anymore and that’s your fault. So if you leave’ I say ‘It’s the end. So choose wisely. If you will be miserable with me, don’t make an excuse. Just leave. I don’t need you anymore. But if you think you’ll be more miserable without me, then it’s your job to put me back together’ I say.

He stares at me before he stands. He laughs and shakes his head ‘You’re not broken’ he says. I wonder if he is so selfish that he doesn’t see past his own thick eyes of misconception. I wonder if he realizes how fucked up my brain has become. I crack a smile, the first one in years as I step toward him. ‘No maybe I’m not. But you will be’ the smile doesn’t leave my face.

I walk into the kitchen and grab a knife. I come back to him and smile ‘I’ve gone insane because of you. I have no feelings, I am uncaring. And this is because of you’ I say. My voice is monotone. He looks scared. Good. ‘You wear your heart on your sleeve’ I say ‘So maybe I should carve one into your arm so everyone knows it’ I pause ‘Or maybe I should carve out your heart so that everyone can see how dry and shriveled up it is. I can’t decide which one I’d rather do’ I move closer to him.

He backs up ‘Woah, okay, put down the knife, Keely’ he says. He never uses my name. This is a first. And he only uses it in an attempt to calm me down. This won’t work. ‘Okay, I’ll fix you. I’ll make you feel again. I’ll stay with you. I’ll let out my feelings.’

‘Will you be happy?’ I say ‘Because if you won’t, I can carve a smile into your face so you will never not look happy ever again’ and he looks terrified. I know this is sick. I know I’m sick.

‘If I tell you what’s wrong, will you be happy again?’ he says.

‘I don’t know’ I say.

‘Maybe I can teach you how to feel again’ he says ‘I love you’ he says.

And maybe that’s all I needed to hear. I push him so he falls down onto the floor. I straddle his hips, the knife still in my hand ‘If you could teach me how to feel, you’d have to change the way you are. And the only thing that can do that’ I say ‘is a life threatening experience’ I say as I put my hand over his mouth. I see the fear in his eyes as I move the knife to his chest. I rip off his shirt and drag the knife down the center of his torso. He screams into my hand and I grin.

The crimson liquid spilling out of his chest is beautiful. I don’t care that he’s screaming. I don’t care that he’s in pain. The color and the liquid itself are beautiful. I cut him a little more just to see more of the gorgeous color fall down his pale skin. It’s a mahogany of sorts that turns to a soft ruby color as it falls onto his white shirt. I make a pattern of slices in his skin before I set the knife down, smiling at my masterpiece.

I finally pull my hand away and look at him, a sick smile on my lips ‘Have you learned your lesson?’ I say ‘I belong in a mental facility’ I say ‘You should take me to one before I kill you’ I say, moving my blood covered hand into his brown hair, gripping it and holding his head back. I lean over to kiss his neck. He winces but I smile.

‘Okay’ he says ‘I’ll take you. Just let me go’ he says. I pout and slide off of him ‘You’re no fun’ I say. I get up and sit on the couch, swaying back and forth on it. I look over at him with a smile ‘Come sit with me’ I say. He hesitates. I can see the fear in his face. He doesn’t want to disobey me, I can see that. He is afraid I’ll kill him if he disobeys me. So he sits. I lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth. ‘Thank you’ I say.

After he packs my bag and we are in the car, he drives. He doesn’t tell me where we’re going, but I already know. When we get there, I look up at the big brick building and the same sick smile covers my lips. I look at him and then get out of the car. He comes over to me with my bag and takes my hand. He squeezes it and I’m pretty sure he’s scared to death right now.

But he says he wants to fix me. I feel something for the first time in years. I am happy. And not because he wants to fix me. But because he promises that he’ll be here for me. No matter what… and I’m not going to let him leave. Ever.

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