|PAGES: «prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 next»||REPLY TO THIS THREAD QUICK REPLY START NEW THREAD|
Aug 26, 10 at 8:44pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
Log in to remove this advertisement
Neon Rainbow: thank you and yes, I have those headphones as well, they rock!
The next chapter will be up next week. The only thing I can tell you is you'll be very surprised because the cause of Alyx's schizophrenia is revealed.
|posts in thread|
Aug 27, 10 at 4:48pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
You're welcome (: And I know, they're the BEST. ^^
OOH YAY *awaits next chapter*
quote Name Undisclosed
|posts in thread|
|Im NOT insane||
Aug 30, 10 at 9:11pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
Oh. My. God. This is the best freaking story on the freaking planet!!!!!!
I love it, saw no grammatical errors, and I love it.
Thanks so much for the freaking awesome story. I can't wait for more.
Alyx is an awesome character, and I know it must be hard, trying to figure out how schizophrenic people act and everything, but you make it sound like your schizophrenic, yourself.(No offense) I love the story, and I can't say that enough.
Thx, Im NOT Insane
|posts in thread|
Sep 06, 10 at 10:22pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
^ I could kiss you!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <3
Okay guys, this chapter was 19 *bleep*ING pages on OpenOffice and is over 10,000 words. I'm going to split it into two so you don't have to read all of it in one go because it will take forever. This was Mikaela's idea. This is part one. I'll post part two later, after a day or so.
Also, why is it when I post this thread goes up like 200 views but I only get 1-3 comments? The video is at like 55 views, thanks guys, but why do i get 200 views and only so few comments? Not begging for comments, I am, just wondering XD
twenty-two ~ ...and now you know
Credit to Noasharvit from deviantart.
On Saturday morning, Collin calls my house and invites me to go to a hockey game. I tell him, “But Seattle doesn't have a hockey team!” and he explains his brother's university is playing a game at a rink in Seattle and he wants me to come, just for the sake of having fun. He thinks I need to get out more, have some lunch and hot chocolate, winter-y things. I ask Lynda if I can go. She says yes, but only if she can talk to Collin's mother first.
Our mothers have a little chat, and they later hang up. Lynda says they'll pick me up in half an hour, and I should get ready. I head up to my room, and change from my pajamas into a clean shirt, a clean sweatshirt with a hood, and dark jeans. Lynda makes me comb my hair, so I do that without looking in a mirror. Not like I'd really be able to see myself, anyways. Lynda suggests I put on some makeup, but I say I don't like wearing it and that is that.
I go into the kitchen and take a bottle of water from the fridge. Lynda hands me a ten dollar bill for lunch. She asks if I need anything else, and I say no. I sit on the couch in the living room, turn on the TV. It is only Lynda and me in the house today; Daddy and Robyn went out together somewhere. I flip the channels until I reach the news, even though I never really care what the reporters have to say.
“Murder in Seattle! Barack Obama proposes blah! Blah blah! Eighty-four year old woman struck and killed by car!”
The doorbell rings, which makes me jump. I answer the door and Collin grins at me. “Alyx!” he exclaims, hugging me. I pat him on the back. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah,” I answer. “Where's the rink?”
“It's in downtown Seattle, the game's at one, so we're going to leave now. My brother is probably there already, since he has to practice with his team. They're playing against a univeristy from Michigan, isn't that cool?”
“That sounds great,” I say. “Mom! I'm going to leave now.”
“All right, hold on!” Lynda goes into the closet, finds my hat and gives it to me. “Hello, Collin. I hope your brother's team wins.” she winks.
“Thanks, Mrs. Sawhill!” Collin says. “Alyx and I are going to have tons of fun, right?”
I nod. Lynda tells me to have a good time, and she waves at Mrs. Ross in the car. “Bye, Mom,” I say. “I'll see you later.”
“Have fun, Aly!”
Collin walks me to the car, and I get in the back seat behind Mrs. Ross. Collin sits beside me. The car is clean, a coffee cup resting in the cup holder near the stereo. “Hi, Mrs. Ross,” I say politely. “How are you?”
“I'm great, thanks, Alyx. Michael's university is playing against a team in Michigan today, so he's really excited about it.”
“Collin told me. What university does Michael go to?”
“Seattle Pacific,” Collin tells me. “They're playing against Detroit, right, Mom?”
Collin's mother nods and starts the car. I put on my seatbelt, as does Collin. We back out of my driveway, go down the street, and Collin's mouth pours open with words so I don't have to say anything. He tells me how excited he is, how excited Michael is, how excited everybody is. This isn't the play-offs just yet, they still have two more months. This game today is one of the rare home games Michael's team has, so we're pretty lucky to watch. His university's hockey team is almost always on the road.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Eventually we make it to the highway. The roads seem smooth, not bumpy. Maybe it's just the car, a Nissan. Daddy's truck always makes loud noises; there's lots of rumbling and bumps along the way to wherever we are headed. Or maybe it's just the road, I don't know. Collin changes the subject to baseball. He's told me almost everything I really need to know, so I look out the window, pretending to listen. Collin's mother Mhms and Yeps a few times, but Collin doesn't seem to notice that she isn't really listening, either.
After around thirty minutes of being on the highway and occasionally switching lanes, Mrs. Ross asks us if we want lunch early, since the next exit is some kind of restaurant. I say I'm not very hungry and I can wait, Collin agrees with me. Then, he continues talking. He asks his mom if it's possible to get tickets for the Mariners' first game this year in April, and she says she'll think about it. Collin excitedly asks me if I want to come with him to the game if he's able to go, and I say that I will think about it.
Baseball. I remember, in the sixth grade, our middle school had a girls/boy's softball team. Softball was like baseball, except the ball was bigger, harder, and there was a different method of pitching. My best friend forever, Autumn, thought softball was cool and forced me to try out for the team with her. I wasn't too sure what I was getting into, but Mom had always pushed me to try out for a sports team in my middle school career.
The day of softball tryouts was May 15th, a warm and sunny day. Try-outs were after school, 3:15, bring your gym clothes. After the last bell, Autumn met me at my locker, carrying her gym clothes in her hands. “You remember that we have softball try-outs, right, Aly?” she asked.
I nodded. “Have you even played softball before, Autumn?”
“No,” she admitted, “but my friend Fiona from Portland plays it, she says it's an incredible game. The city's softball team started in April, though, so it's too late for me to join one of the little league teams or something. I was thinking if I like softball here at school, I'll ask my parents if I can join a real team next year. If you like it, you should come with me!”
“I've never played before,” I said. “I don't think I'll even be good at this.”
“Oh, come on!” she rolled her eyes. “You're a fast runner. I bet you could hit good.”
“Thanks.” I took my gym clothes out of my locket—loose t-shirt, roll-up track pants. I was already wearing sneakers. “Don't you need cleats to play softball?”
“I think so,” Autumn said, shrugging. “Oh, well. I'm sure our school will let you wear sneakers on the field.”
I closed my locker and we headed for the gym, which wasn't too far away from my locker. Autumn's was at the other end of the school. There were a few other girls headed in the direction of the gym, giggling excitedly. A girl named Tori, who was known for being a bully to other sixers, was headed for the gym, too.
“If she makes the team, we'll win the championships,” Autumn whispered into my ear. “She's beast!”
“I know!” I agreed, whispering. “I hear she's a killer at volleyball. Remember when it was volleyball season and our gym class got to watch the game? We won, remember? All because of Tori.”
“That is so true!”
We entered the girls' change room. Tori was at the far end, near the bathroom stall, carelessly stripping out of her school shirt and into a wrinkled shirt. Autumn and I changed into our gym clothes. There were about ten other girls there, some gossiping with each other, some fixing their hair, some practicing their swings with invisible bats.
I wake up from my mini-nap to Collin shaking my shoulder. “Alyxalyxalyxwakeupwe'rehere!”
“Huh? Oh.” I blink, and look out the window. I see a sign indicating this is James Madison Hockey Rink, and there are dozens of other cars out here in the parking lot. Mrs. Ross says we should find seats now, because there will be even more people coming in the course of ten minutes. We get out of the car, Mrs. Ross locks it, and we walk to the entrance.
It isn't snowing out, but the air is cold and crisp. I've always liked winter, especially the cold air. It makes everything sound pretty and quiet. It makes me have a brief moment of peace. My sneakers crunch along the salt that is scattered along the cement, trying to melt the snow and ice in case people slip. Collin clutches Peter in his arms, still talking. I have to smile at him, because he looks so happy. I put my hand on his arm, which is covered by his jacket. “Shh,” I say.
“Oops. Was I talking too much? Sorry, Alyx. I'll let you talk now, if you want to.” Collin grins at me. I shake my head no. I don't really have anything to say, but I don't want Collin to lose his voice. His talking can distract me, calm me, or annoy me. I need him to save his voice for when I need calming down, in case I have a mental breakdown at this hockey game.
Now, that would be a sight for sore eyes.
We enter the rink, and Collin's mom pulls out a few bills. There is a hand written sign a few feet away, stating the university game's admission fee is two dollars per person. A guy in a wheelchair zooms past me. Mrs. Ross pays our admission and hands me a ticket. I thank her and take it. We pass through doors into the rink; there's a food stand nearby, a few benches, and a little podium with a guy behind it, collecting tickets and stamping people's hands.
Collin's mom leads the way to the ticket stand. I hand the guy my ticket and he stamps my hand; the stamp is a frog. We head inside the rink, which is warmer than the temperature outside. “Where shall we sit?” Mrs. Ross asks. Collin says he wants to sit on the upper level, so we climb up two sets of stairs. We make our way to the seats, and we sit in the bottom row, closest to the ice.
“What time does the game start?” I ask.
Collin looks at his watch. “Ten minutes!” I nod, and stare out at the ice. There are a bunch of guys in one stand, two guys in the back holding up a sign, cheering their university, Michigan State, on. There are a few girls wearing “Michigan” sweaters in the same stand. Families sit together, chattering excitedly about the game. I see faces of people I think I may have gone to school with back in Seattle, but I don't think much of it.
Mrs. Ross stands up and says she's going to get some popcorn for us. I offer to pay for it, since I have to be polite, but she insists I save my money for my lunch. She heads down the stairs. Collin starts talking excitedly about when he was a kid in Olympia, how he used to go skating almost every weekend with his parents and brother, how skating the first time was wobbly and he couldn't let go of the handrail, but after that day he even wanted to join a hockey team.
“When I was ten, I joined a hockey team, even though I liked baseball a lot,” he explains. “It was winter, so baseball season had ended in the fall. It was a hockey team for kids nine to ten, so it was perfect for me. I was placed as goalie because I still had trouble skating unless I was less than a foot away from the handrail.”
“I've never played hockey,” I say. “It looks too violent on TV. The only sport I've played on a team is softball.”
“Softball is pretty cool,” Collin says. “It's just like baseball, but with a bigger ball and a weird way of pitching, right?”
I nod. “Yeah, you pitch underhand, but it's not like bowling. You have to wind up your arm. I wasn't the pitcher because my pitches were all over the place. Too high, too low, five feet away from where I was aiming. I was usually the shortstop.”
“Is the softball shortstop the same as a baseball shortstop?” Collin asks.
“Basically,” I answer. “It felt cool to tag people out, since I was in the middle of second and third base.”
“I'd prefer to be the catcher,” Collin contributes. “I don't mind crouching for a long time. I have pretty good balance, if I do say so myself.”
“I'm to clumsy to be the catcher,” I admit. “On my middle school team, I was catcher for an inning and I couldn't balance myself on my knees. I kept tipping over. They promoted me to shortstop after that.” I smile at the memory.
Collin smiles back. “I played little league in middle school. We won the championships, we were featured in the newspaper. It was pretty cool. I was the catcher. Never dropped the ball once. I guess that's 'cause our pitcher was really good at pitching.”
“Cool,” I say.
“You know, Aly—”
“Collin. Don't call me Aly. I mean it.”
“Okay. You know, Alyx, you should have joined the volleyball team at school,” Collin tells me. “You're pretty good. I've seen you play.”
I shrug. “I just play it in gym class. I don't want to join a team.”
“Because it's too late, and I'm not really a sport person anymore.”
By then, Collin's mother has arrived, carrying a big bag of popcorn and a smaller one. She hands me the big bag. “You two can share it,” she says. Collin and I thank her, but I don't take any popcorn just yet. My heart pounds so loudly I can hear it; sharing popcorn with a boy at a hockey game? Is this a date? No, probably not, otherwise we would have gone to a movie.
A horn blares through the stadium, followed by an eruption of cheers. The section with all the Michigan supporters screams wildly, two girls wave pompoms in the air. The people supporting Seattle scream louder; I can tell who they are because of the Seattle Pacific sweaters and flags. Plus, there are more of us than Michigan. An announcer's voice booms through the stadium, instructing us to stand up and remove our hats for the national anthem, like this is a NHL game or something.
I stand up with Collin, who holds Peter in one arm and the popcorn in the other. I take the popcorn and stuff a handful in my mouth. A man walks across a rug over the ice, holds a microphone to his mouth and belts out our national anthem. The stadium isn't completely full, but when he finishes everybody cheers and claps. It's as loud as the cheering after the anthem from a pro hockey game.
We sit down again and I give the popcorn to Collin after grabbing another handful. The teams skate into the rink, which makes more cheers erupt. It's so loud in here that it's practically vibrating. I grab my face in my hands, bend over and scream as loud as I can to the floor. Nobody, not even Collin notices. I lift my head back up and sit like nothing has happened.
There are three referees—one in the middle of the rink, holding the puck, and two on both sides of the rink, both near the nets. The referee in the middle puts his hand up, the two plays around the little circle tap pucks, the puck drops, and a whistle blows. Collin screams so excitedly that I have to poke his shoulder to shut him up. I take some popcorn and watch the game. I think the team with the falcon in the front of the jersey is Seattle. Collin yells in my ear that his brother is number ten. I look for the 10 and I find it. The back of the jersey says ROSS, Collin's last name.
I decide to cheer on Seattle Pacific, so I whoop and holler with Collin and his mom. Ten minutes into the game, the Falcons score a goal, which makes the majority of the stadium go wild. The Michigan side of the stadium boos. The puck drops again, making the Michigan Spartans vicious with rage. One of the Spartans pushes a Falcon, so the ref blows a whistle and the Spartan is sent into the penalty box, shaking his head, probably cursing. This makes Seattle go wild with applause and cheers.
The puck drops again. The Falcons are the vicious team this time. We score another goal, right through the goalie's legs. I cheer along with Collin, jumping out of my seat. Collin is ballistic. “My brother scored that!” he scream in my ear. He even hugs me. We sit down again. The goal pisses the Spartans off so much that a fight soon breaks out. Two Falcons are sent to the penalty box, two Falcons jump over the railing onto the ice to replace them. The Falcons' coach is shaking his head in dismay. I point this out to Collin and we laugh.
The game goes by smoothly. The Spartans get a goal, which makes every non-Spartan scream with anger. “God damn it!” Collin's mom yells. “Boo!”
Eventually, the horn blares again, signaling the first period is over. The score is 2-1, in favor of the Falcons. People start leaving, probably heading for the food stand downstairs. Mrs. Ross turns to us. “Are you two hungry?” she asks. “It's lunch time, I suppose.”
“Sure,” I say. Collin nods, and we take our jackets and head downstairs. There are dozens, maybe even hundreds of people already leaving the rink. The food stand has a lineup of about twenty people.
“There are some places to eat nearby,” Mrs. Ross says. “Unless you two are willing to wait in a line like that.”
“I don't mind,” I say. “How long is the intermission?”
“Twenty minutes,” she replies.
“I don't mind going out, either,” Collin says. “Let's go to Wendy's.”
“Okay,” I agree, though I am not too sure whether that was appropriate or not. Mrs. Ross also says okay and we head out to the parking lot and into the car. I sit in the back with Collin, Mrs. Ross starts the car, and we drive. The radio is turned on, which makes me want to scream, but if I do that I'd screw up the whole day, which has been going good so far.
“Introducing...the...all new...Alyx-be-gone!” the man announces. My eyes widen. “Are you, yes, you, siting in your car, on the couch, sick and tired of miserable old Alyx Sawhill? The sixteen year old schizophreak who never stops complaining, who always tries to solve her problems by bawling about them to her imaginary friends? Yeah? Well, with the new Alyx-be-gone spray, Alyx Sawhill will be gone! That's right, gone! Just spray as much as you'd like whenever you see her, and she will disappear!”
I want to scream at the radio to SHUT THE F-CK UP! But Mrs. Ross and Collin will either look at me with worried faces, or laugh. Maybe both. I try to ignore the radio, but the man continues on with Alyx-be-gone.
“Stupid, useless, freak, crazy, what else can we say about her? Oh, thanks, Ted, now we've got a whole list right here. Ahem. Freakcrazybitchstupidwhoreslutonenightstand.”
Onenightstand? My eyes widen even more. “Mrs. Ross?” I say, my voice shaking.
“Could you please turn the radio off? I'm, um, I have a headache.”
“Sure, honey.” she clicks the radio off. I thank her and look at Collin. He is looking out the window, silent for once. I don't bother him. The short rest of the ride is awkward and quiet without the radio, but I don't want to hear that man's voice again. The car stops, and we are in the parking lot of Wendy's. W00t.
* * *
“That was a great game!” Collin exclaims as the crowd's cheering dies down. “Don't you think so, Alyx? My god, that was just amazing!”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think I'll start watching NHL more often now.” I've never even watched it before. “The last period was intense!”
“We have to hang around for a bit and find Michael,” Mrs. Ross says, grinning like crazy. “He played so well! The locker rooms are this way! Come on!” she leads the way down the stairs, and we follow. We head into the locker room area, and a sign that says FALCONS is taped to a door.
“Mom, are you sure we're allowed in?” Collin asks.
She thinks for a few seconds. “Maybe we can wait out here. I bet their coach will be talking to them for a few minutes.”
We stand against the wall. Three minutes later, the players, dressed in team sweatshirts and jeans but still sweaty, emerge out the door, cheering like drunk frat boys on a Saturday night. “Yeah!” one yells. “Woooooooo!”
I smile and the guys pass by. They are all cheering and yelling and fist pumping and making gorilla noises. Collin starts jumping up and down, getting into the spirit. “Michael!” he yells. “Mike!”
A guy turns around and heads back to us. “Hey, bro!” he says, rubbing his hand in Collin's hair. Michael is even taller than Collin, towering over me. I am a house, he is the Empire State building in New York. “Hey there, Mom and Alyx. Alyx, right?”
“Hi,” I say.
“Oh, honey, you did great out there! That was a great goal! What an epic game!” Mrs Ross hugs her first son, jumping up and down like a little kid. “Your team is just fantastic, Michael!”
Michael grins. “Thanks, Mom! It was an awesome game. We have another one next week in Ohio, an away game.”
“Oh, good luck,” Mrs. Ross squeals. “You really need to start letting me know what's going on in your life, Michael. You should visit home sometimes. Or call, at least!”
“Mom, I was home the whole Christmas break,” he says with a chuckle. “It's going to be a busy hockey season. I have classes, too, you know.”
Mrs. Ross sighs. “I know, honey. You can call home later, if you want. Or do you want to come home with us now?”
“I have to head back to school with the team,” he explains. “Have to let the school know about or win, right? There's going to be a party tonight, too. Don't want to miss that. Lots of shots!”
“Michael, you're twenty!” Mrs. Ross says, horrified.
“Just kidding, Mom! I won't drink. I'll see you guys later.” He picks up his duffel bag.
“You played well,” I say, since I don't want to be the outcast in the conversation. “That was an awesome shot. The goal you got, I mean.”
“Thanks, Alyx. See ya, bro.” Michael walks away, swagger in his step.
“Should we head home?” Mrs. Ross asks, looking at me and Collin. I shrug and Collin says okay. It's not like there is going to be a party here at the rink, anyways. There are too many angry Spartans. We walk out of the hallway and I see many Spartan supporters grumbling, some still booing and swearing like rap stars.
The guy I saw a couple hours ago, the one in the wheelchair, is hugging a Falcon who is bending down a bit to hug back. The wheelchair guy grins, waves at what is probably his brother or friend, and wheels off towards the doors. I hold the door open for him, and he thanks me, wheeling by. He stops, turns around in the chair and looks at me.
“Hey,” he says. “Is your name Alyx?”
Now that I see his face, I recognize him. There are a bunch of scars on his face, like it had been scratched by glass multiple times. My eyes widen. “Y-yeah,” I say. I know him. IknowhimIknowhimIwastherewhenithappened. “James?”
He nods. “I thought I recognized you. Do you still go to West Seattle High?”
I shake my head. “Uh, no, I-I moved. Do you still go there?”
“Yep. Well, I'll see you around, then, Alyx.” he gives me a nod and wheels off. My eyes are probably as wide as plates. I stay there in my spot, frozen in terror. The last thing I've ever really needed is a reminder of that night, and James has just reminded me of it. My mouth opens and I start hyperventilating.
The cold night. The party. My wet hair dripping down my back, my heart pounding. My schizophrenia beginning. The cars. One going too fast, the other going equally fast but in the wrong lane. The open windows, the screams of joy...until the two cars crashed and the drivers died.
“Oh my god!” I exclaim, my voice shaky like an earthquake. I start running towards the second set of doors, running to find Mrs. Ross's Nissan Murano. I see it somewhere, but I walk towards the building and slump against the wall. I try to cover my face, but my hands are shaking too much. They move to my temples, and I press my palms against my head. I let out a wail, wanting to cry but trying not to. The sound of two cars colliding echoes in my ears. The pop of the bumpers, then the crash of the hoods. A Honda Civic, a Toyota.
Tears warm my eyes but don't spill over. I shut them and my hands turn into fists. I try to breathe, but my lungs feel like they're getting smaller and smaller. Soon, the size of kidney beans. I can't breathe. Ican'tbreathesomeonepleasehelpme! I lean my head against the brick wall, snow flakes falling and dissolving into my pores. I open my eyes and stare up at the cloudy sky. I hear the sounds of guys piling into a coach bus, muttering, angryangry.
“Alyx? Are you all right, honey? What happened?” Too many questions at once, Mrs. Ross crouches down next to me, her eyes worried.
“It's nothing,” I mutter. “Nothing.”
“Mom! Mom, she's having a panic attack, get her some water!” Collin is running over to us. “You get the water, okay Mom? I'll stay here with her.” Mrs. Ross doesn't reply, but I guess she nods because she gets up and heads back into the rink.
Collin crouches next to me this time. He sits against the wall beside me. “Alyx,” he says. “What happened?”
“Did you see him? I ask, my voice still shaking violently. “The guy? In the...the wheelchair?”
“Yeah, I saw him,” Collin says. He faces me. “What about him?”
“You know why he's in a wheelchair, Collin?”
“He was in an accident, a car accident. He was almost killed. But instead, he just lost the use of his legs. I witnessed that very accident, you know. It was around a year and a half ago, before I came to this school.”
Mod Edit: Sep 06, 10 by harvest hunny
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 4:41am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
Oh. My. God.
I am so friggin' in love with this story, I've spent the last two hours reading it.
I can't believe this isn't a true story or your life story or something. It just hits home to me so massively (I have ADHD myself, so I can relate to it on some level). I can't stop reading this.
It's just so addictive.
So in love with this story. It's hard to believe this isn't a published book.
I love it.
So much. <3
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 6:30am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
We don't comment because we're speechless!
I love this story so much! It's the only thing I read on Neo.
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 10:18am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
Holy Shitake Mushrooms I LOVE YOU!! you are a brilliant writer and i love you for it. my mom was bipolar and a schizo so i am always worried if i'm gonna get it. But your ability to write something unknown with such intensity amazes me!! seriously, write more or i just might lose my head!!!!
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 6:08pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
I love this. It's AWESOMENESS ON TOAST. OH OH OH AND:
quote harvest hunnyTHAT'S MY BIRTHDAY. =D
quote Name Undisclosed
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 8:19pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
d'awwww you guys :3 <3
blackrose84: i've been thinking, just THINKING about publishing it...if i fixed it up a bit maybe. idk, i'm terrified of rejection so i probably won't do it...i'm really scared it'll be rejected but yeah, stories have been rejected a million times before getting published, like Anne of Green Gables and Twilight...I just don't know tbh...this has been getting a shitload of good reviews (You know guys, when I finish this I'm making a thank-you video to all of you because if I wrote it down it'd take too long XD)...I'm just thinking about publishing it. I don't know whether it would sell really good...
The_Fallen: lol thank you, i'd advise you to read more stuff though, not just from me but from everyone else in the forum, there are a few good reads around here (not that i read them...XD)
leotaylor92: shitake mushrooms XD thanks dude, i've always wrote about stuff that i don't have but would enjoy experiencing for a day. one of my wishes is to experience a serious schizophrenic hallucination. call me a weirdo but that would be AWESOME
Neon Rainbow: well happy birthday, then XD
okay so if you've just clicked the link, this is part two of chapter 22. scroll up if you haven't read the first part.
twenty-two ~ ...and now you know
It was a Saturday night, the eighteenth of September. Somebody was having a party, a back to school party. Tenth grade had just started. It was a cool night, not too hot, but just a little bit cold. Autumn, the person, was friends with the guy who announced he was having a party at lunch a few days before, invited me to go. It wasn't like an elementary or middle school party, the kind where you needed to go to the store and buy cute invitations with the date, time, address and phone number. It was a stereotypical high school party. Bring Your Own Bottle.
Autumn convinced me to con my parents into letting me go to the party. I promised multiple times I would stay with Autumn, I would only drink Sprite and not let an idiot spike my drink.
On the night of September 18th, we walked to Tyler Richmand's house. “Tyler Richmand?” I asked Autumn. “His party?”
She nodded. “Didn't you hear, Aly? Tyler's party. Well, technically, it's his senior brother's party, but yeah. They share the same house. We sophomores say it's Ty's party, the juniors and seniors say it's Damian's party.”
I was wearing a striped tank top, (black) and (white). My bottoms were new jeans I had bought in August, for school. They were stylishly frayed, bought from Guess?. Autumn was wearing a flannel top and ripped jeans from last year. Casual, but it still looked good on her. The night was growing cooler, but not cool enough to need a sweater. Tyler's house was a few blocks away from ours, but not too far of a walk.
“So, Miss Alyx, are you going to try some alcohol?” she asked in a flirtatious voice, grinning.
“I promised my parents I wouldn't drink, Autumn,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. “Suppose I drink and come home trashed?”
“Aren't they out tonight?” she asked. “If they're not, you could always come to my house, have a drunken sleepover with me. My brother will be at the party, too, I think. My parents are out tonight, probably won't be home till late.”
“Right,” I said. “Hey, is this his house?”
We were on the right block, I knew. I had liked Tyler Richmand since the sixth grade. After years of stalking him, I knew, thanks to Google Earth, Tyler's street and house number. I even visited it once, though no one was home. Tyler knew me; we had classes together in school, even sat beside me in eighth grade homeroom. But we never really talked, never really flirted.
The house was lit on the front porch, and a few kids sat on the steps, on the railing, in the front yard. Some were smoking, some were drinking glass bottles of Bud lights, Coronas, one girl had a giant bottle of wine in her hands. A guy on a skateboard whizzed by us, yelling something over his shoulder. It sounded a bit like, “Keg's in the kitchen!”
“The keg?” I asked Autumn. “Isn't it a bring your own bottle party?”
She shrugged. “I brought a couple of beers. Here, have one.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a Molson Canadian. It was still cold. She handed me a bottle opener. I opened up the bottle and took a gulp of the beer, suddenly rebelling against my parents' wishes.
“Ugh!” I said, grimacing. “This tastes like crap!”
“You'll like it after a bottle or two,” Autumn assured me, opened up her own bottle. We headed inside the house, and a guy wearing a school football jersey greeted us.
“Heeey, girls,” he said, slurring. “Keg'sssss innnnn the kitchhhhennn, innn caaaaase—ohh, yoooou alllllreadyyy gotttt beeeeers? Coooool.”
I laughed, and followed Autumn inside of the house. It was big, with lots of partygoers grinding against each other to house music. “Autumn!” a girl shouted, stumbling over to us. It was a girl from the newspaper gang in the ninth grade, Farrah. She hugged Autumn, then kissed her passionately on the lips. I raised my eyebrows. Farrah pulled away and kissed my lips, next. I kissed her back, getting into the mood.
“Thanks, babe,” Farrah slurred. “Keg's in the kit—oh, you have your own...hey, can I have it?”
“Sure,” I said. I handed Farrah my bottle, still three-quarters full.
“Thanks again, sweetie. I'll see you later?” she took the bottle and a long gulp, letting out an “Ah!” when she removed it from her lips. She stumbled away and greeted another girl with a kiss.
“Was that your first?” Autumn asked, laughing.
“Kiss? No, actually. Let's find the keg. I actually liked the Molson after the second sip.”
“I told you you'd like it eventually,” she said, smug. We headed into the kitchen, which was easy to find. There were five people in there, two guarding the three coolers, filled with ice, cans and bottles.
“Hey, Alyx and friend!” a guy greeted us. Mark, from the newspaper crew. “Autumn, oops. Didn't recognize you for a second. Here, free drinks.” He fished out a Corona from the ice, cracked it open and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a gulp. It was better than the Molson. Autumn finished her bottle and tossed it into a recycling bin. I heard the smash of glass.
“Oops. Hey, Mark, give me one.” A can of Bud Light was tossed to her, and she easily cracked it open.
“You know, girls, there's a pool in the back yard,” Mark said, pointing towards the wall with a Corona.
“Oh, really? Come on, Alyx, let's go swimming!” Autumn grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the kitchen, past the living room and into the back yard. There was a big deck, with a bunch of chairs, which were occupied with party goers. There was a barbecue on the grass, which was fiery and burgers were cooking. The stereo was set up outside, too.
The pool, which was under the ground, had about ten people in it, but it was quite a large pool. There was a diving board, which someone jumped off, flipping, and landing into the pool. I cheered. Autumn stripped out of her shirt, under shirt and jeans, revealing her bra and panties to the world. She handed me her can, ran off the deck and jumped into the pool.
“Come on, Alyx, let's swim!” she yelled after coming back up from the water.
“Maybe later,” I said. “I want to find Tyler.” I walked over to the edge of the pool, handed Autumn her beer can.
“If you want to find Tyler,” someone said from behind me, “he's in the house, probably in the den or something.” I turned around to see the shirt of an extremely tall guy, holding a red plastic cup.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Hey, wait,” the guy said. “I'm Damian, Ty's brother. Are you her friend?” he gestured towards Autumn, who was swimming towards the diving board.
“Yeah, that's Autumn, and I'm Alyx,” I answered.
“Alyx? Ty talks about an Alyx all the time,” Damian told me, before taking a gulp from his cup. “Says you're a hottie with a body. And he's right. What size are you, anyways?”
“Uh, a four?” I said.
Damian burst into laughter. “Not your clothes size, Alyx! Your bra size!”
“Oh!” I laughed too. Even though I had a very small amount of alcohol, the effects were rubbing off on me very quickly. “C thirty-six.”
“And just how old are you?” he winked.
“Fifteen,” I answered, taking a few gulps of my Corona.
He let out a wolf whistle. “Wow. Fifteen, and have a C cup! Never seen anything like that before.
When I was a sophomore, I knew a bunch of girls who were still an A!”
I laughed. “It's a whole new generation, Damian! Soon the puny middle-schoolers will have double Ds!” We laughed together for a full minute. “Hey, I could really use a lime wedge. You know, for my drink. Do you have any limes in your fridge?”
“I don't know, babe. Why don't you come with me and we'll check?”
He put an arm around my waist, and we walked towards the house. I looked over my shoulder to see Autumn waving her hands in the air at me. “Yes, Alyx!” she cheered. “You go, girl!” I grinned, but turned my head and walked with Damian into the kitchen. He went over to the fridge, looked in a drawer and pulled out a lime. He showed it to me, and I nodded. He grabbed a knife , a cutting board, and cut a wedge from the tangy fruit. He grabbed a plastic cup, stuck the lime on the edge, grabbed my drink and poured it into the cup. He handed me the cup, smiling.
“Thank you,” I said. I squeezed some lime juice into the beer, then took a sip. “Just the way I like it,” I lied.
“Great. Hey, I'm going to go over there now, with my friends. You want to come with?”
“Of course, Damian,” I said. I followed him into the den, where football players were crowded onto the couch, watching a game on the TV.
“Heyyy, man!” the guys greeted. “Oh, man, who's your friend?”
“This,” Damian said, “is Alyx. A sophomore.”
“Are you sure that's legal?” One of the guys asked, a red cup in one hand. The couch buddies all laughed.
“Lay it off, asshole, I'm seventeen, not eighteen till next year!” Damian handed me his cup and stomped up to the funny guy. I cracked a giggle.
“Dame, don't,” I said. “I thought it was kind of funny.”
Damian shook his head at the guys, then turned to me. “Really? Heh, that's fine. I get kind of violent when I'm drunk, and you seem amused by everything. I guess everybody's different when they're drunk, huh?”
I didn't really have an answer for that. I took another sip of my drink, Damian said goodbye to his friends, and we headed for the basement. There were a few people in there, two sitting on a couch, making out, the rest either playing or watching a video game. “Let's go in the laundry room,” Damian suggested.
“Okay,” I agreed. I was starting to get a bit tipsy, which meant to me any suggestion sounded fantastic. He opened the door, letting me enter first. “Thank you, good sir,” I said, curtsying. The laundry room had a concrete floor, a boiler, a washer and dryer, among other things. There was padding along the walls, indicating the builders of the house didn't bother finishing up this part because they wanted to move on to the next one. Or the Richmands didn't care about the laundry room because no one except family went in there, anyways.
I set my drink on a stand that was there for probably no reason. Damien set his cup beside mine. Without thinking, I moved to the padded wall, standing against it. “Kiss me,” I whispered.
He replied by pressing his lips against mine, his hands pressed into the pink padding above my shoulders. We kissed for what seemed like two hours, but was probably only two minutes because I needed to breathe. After I took a breath, I grabbed his shoulders and we mashed together some more. The laundry door opened once, then closed after a second and someone saying “Whoops!”
I started to unbutton his shirt. He gently put his hands on my shoulders. “Alyx.”
“Why?” I looked up at him, glaring.
“You're fifteen. You're too young to have sex. I'm-I'm saving myself for marriage, Alyx. I'm sorry.” he was slurring, stumbling over the words. He looked drunker than he had before, especially in the dim light. “Jesus wouldn't do it, now, would he? I'm sorry, Alyx, but I can't. I can't do it I can't do it I can't I can't I can't can't can't...”
“You're no fun!” I exclaimed. I frowned, and pushed him away from me. He collapsed against the wall, still whispering “Ican'tIcan'tIcan't.” Why he was suddenly so crazy, I didn't know. I grabbed my drink and headed out of the laundry room, leaving him there to wither. The people around the TV were still there, shouting Gogogo! I looked at the TV and saw the game was Mario Kart. Classy.
I headed back up the stairs, still wanting to look for Tyler. I finished my drink when I reached the top step, so I turned for the kitchen for another drink. A new bartender filled my cup with Bud Light, which was better-tasting than the Corona. I headed for the freezer, and found a large bucket of ice. I put a few cubes into my cup, and set it near the keg.
I walked into the dining room, and stood there for a few minutes, gulping down the rest of my drink. Farrah walked by me, saw me, then headed back to me. She handed me an opened, but still cold bottle of Bud Light. “Heeeeeere, baaaaabe,” she said, “taaaake itttt. I caaaaan't driiiink anymoooore, Iiiii thiiiink I'm gooooing tooo passsss....outtttt.” And with that, she flopped over, face-first on the couch.
Laughter escaped my throat. I had to lean against the wall to keep from falling over. I had no idea what was so funny, but I continued laughing for three straight minutes, the beer still in my hand. When I finally calmed down, I finished Farrah's beer, which was only half full, and placed the bottle by the couch. I was really starting to get drunk now, even more so by the minute. I stumbled outside to the deck, and Autumn was now sitting in a chair, drinking a Corona. She saw me and set the beer down.
“Alyx! Come here!” She waved me over, so I stumbled in her direction. I sat in front of the chair.
“Dude,” I said. “You'll never guess what just happened!”
“What?” Autumn flipped her wet hair over her shoulder, though drunkenly.
“Damian and I...we made out! Holy god, it was incredible! We did it in the laundry room and I loved it and it was amazing and we almost went to third base but he said no so I left him and he's having an emotional breakdown in the basement but Autumn it was incredible!”
“Really? You and Damian? Tyler's brother? Really?” She whistled. “Wow. Hey, Alyx, I have to ask you something.”
“You know how I love the Titanic movie, right?”
“You know how my favorite scene is the last one where Rose and jack are in the water on that piece of wood and they're floating and it was all 'don't let go don't let go oh my god!'? Let's re-enact it! Come on, take your clothes off and jump in the pool with me!”
She set down her drink and headed for the pool. She jumped in, shrieking. I laughed, took off my clothes except for my bra and underwear, and jumped into the pool. The water was surprisingly cold, but not cold like the Atlantic ocean would have been the night the Titanic crashed into the iceberg. I swam over to Autumn, who grabbed a large flutterboard and fluttered around me with it.
“Jack!” she exclaimed. “Oh, Jack! The water's so cold!”
“Just keep talking, Rose,” I answered, trying to make my voice deep. I grabbed the opposite end of the flutterboard. “You'll promise me you'll never let go, right, Rose?”
“I promise, Jack!” Autumn/Rose said, dramatically making her teeth chatter. “S-s-so c-cold!”
“Never let go!”
“Try and move your feet, you're on a flutterboard.”
“Oh, Alyx, screw this!” Autumn let go of the flutterboard and swam towards me, grabbed my shoulders, pulled me closer and pressed her lips against mine. My eyes widened, then I realized she really wanted this kiss, so I wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her back, even more passion than when I kissed Damian. I felt like a whore, seeing this was the third person I had kissed at one party, the most I'd ever kissed even in a year.
The kiss was juicy. It tasted like Bud Light and Corona and lime and tangyness and girl juice. She smelled like Britney Spears' new perfume, chlorine, girl, and barbeque smoke. It was long, passionate. I pulled her closer, our breasts touching. I finally pulled away after a minute, needing to breathe. She took a few breaths, then looked at me, grinning.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“I love you,” Autumn whispered into my ear. “I love you, Alyx. I think tonight was the night I realized that I'm...bisexual.”
“I always was,” I whispered back.
“Good.” She gave me another kiss, shorter this time. “Go find Tyler.”
“Why are you letting go, Rose?” I asked in my Jack voice.
“Because you died of hypothermia, Jack.”
I burst into laughter. “Okay. I'll go find Tyler. I'll see you later, then.” I hopped out of the pool, found a dry towel and dried myself off. My hair was tangled from the water, so after I put my clothes back on, I headed inside to try and find a bathroom, where combs were bound to be. I went upstairs, and a few people where sitting on the railing, the stairs and sliding down the railing with their butts. I saw an unwanted beer on the top step, still filled up all the way. Without thinking, I grabbed it and made my way to the nearest bathroom.
Thankfully, the bathroom was empty, so I made my way inside and locked the door. I looked around in a cupboard and found a big comb, which I ran through my hair a few times until it was untangled. I couldn't find a blow dryer, so I finished the beer, left the bottle on the top of the toilet, and exited the bathroom.
Tyler was standing outside of the door when I opened it. “Oh! Hi, Tyler,” I said, surprised. “I was looking for you.”
“Me, too, Alyx,” he said. He was holding a Busch Light. “Hey, want my beer? Dad's favorite.”
“Sure.” he handed me the beer and I took a long gulp. “Ugh! This tastes bad!” I shoved the bottle back to him. “I prefer the Bud Light and Coronas.”
“Heh, those are all right. Hey, Alyx, want to come see my room?” he winked at me, and I realized he was more drunk than I was.
“Sure, Tyler. Hey, can I wear your hat?”
“Of course, babe.” He took off his Seattle Mariners cap and plopped it on my head. It was a bit big, but I didn't mind. We headed to a room and there was a hand-written sign that said “Tyler's Room” on the door. Or, that's what I thought it said. We entered the room, and it was pretty much an average teenage boy's room, except cleaner. There were posters on the walls of bands and a football team, trophies on the dresser, a plain blue bed set, an acoustic guitar in the corner.
“Nice room,” I said. I sat down on the bed.
“Thanks, Alyx. Why don't we, you know, talk?” He sat down beside me, thought better of it, and moved to the other side of the bed, laying on his side. I mimicked his actions.
“Sure, Tyler. We could talk. But what could we talk about?” On any other day, I would have been stuttering and blushing and tripping and wanting to die, but along with everything else it gave me, being drunk gave me the power to talk to and kiss people, as if I were this confident every day of my life. Like I kissed girls and senior boys and possibly the guy I've had a crush on for four years.
“You know, everything,” he answered. “Like, why we never had the chance to go out together, on a date.”
So we did. We talked about everything possible. He told me what elementary school he had gone to, what football team he was obsessed with, what baseball team he liked at the moment, who he wanted to win the play-offs in October. He told me about his family, his brother and sister and parents. I never knew he had a sister.
I told him practically everything, too. My family, even my schizophrenic family members and how I was so worried I'd end up getting it because it's genetic (Ha!). We talked and talked and talked for about an hour. It was magical, really. For the first time, we talked. I couldn't stop thinking that the whole hour we were talking. Time flew by as we did.
Then, after I finished talking about my parents and how my dad was looking to set up his own law firm somewhere, Tyler kissed me. He kissed me for a long, long time. It wasn't hard, it was gentle and sweet. I didn't need to worry about taking a breath because he didn't grab my butt and his hand did not creep down my pants or past my underwear. He smelled like alcohol and boy and sweat and boy and cologne and smoke, probably because he was hanging out with smokers. I knew for a fact Tyler Richmand did not smoke.
We kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. There was a knock at the door, the door opened, then closed after someone said “Ohshit”. We stopped kissing after five minutes so we could breathe.
“That,” said Tyler, “should have happened a really long time ago.”
“I know,” I agreed.
Then, something happened. Something bad. He hopped off the bed, locked the door, and even in the dark I could see him taking off his pants. Unbuckled the belt, unbuttoned the button, unzipped the zipper, and pulled them off.
“Tyler, what are you doing?”
“Taking off my pants.”
“Because. Come on, Alyx, take off your clothes.”
“Because I said so. Come on, take off your clothes.”
“Then I'll do it for you.” Pantless and underwearless, Tyler walked over to the bed, pulled me off of it and took off my shirt. He looked at my boobs. “My, Alyx! What big breasts you have!”
“Tyler, stop it!” I tried to slap him away, but he was behind me now, unhooking my bra. The bra was strapless, so it fell right to the ground. He stepped in front of me and looked.
“Hot damn!” he let out a wolf whistle. I tried to head for the door. I unlocked it, opened it and stuck out my head.
“Somebody, help me!” I yelled into the hall. Someone looked my way, but they were smoking—yes, in the house!—and Tyler pulled me back into the room. “Tyler, stop it! What the hell are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he answered while he locked the door. He gently pushed me to the bed. He took his place on the other side. I tried to squirm away, but he was taking my pants and underwear off, leaving me naked.
“That's not fair!” I said. “I'm fully naked and you're...you still have your shirt on!”
“Oh, that's right. Sorry about that, Alyx.” he stopped touching my underwear and took off his shirt, tossing it across the room. He then continued to take off my underwear while I tried to punch his face, tried to make him stop. He kept doing what he was doing, then, he pushed my shoulders, making me lay on the bed, flat on my back. My eyes widened as he got on top of me and
I tried to scream, really, I tried. But he covered my mouth while his thing went into mine and in and out and in out in out and I screamed I really screamed and I cried and tried screaming Nonono! but he said You'll like it you'll like it shut up stop screaming I love you Alyx you're so sexy and hot and OH YEAH! YEAH!
I kept screaming No under his hand but I started sounding like a crazy monkey in a jungle and he thought he was being so great and funny. When I was kissing his brother I just wanted to take his shirt off and see if he had abs. I did not want sex I did not want sex I did not want this.
He finally finally finally stopped hurting me. I flipped over onto my stomach and buried my face in the pillow, screaming like crazy. He told me to shutthehellupAlyxjustshutup. He said youlikeditI'msureyoudidstopwhining. I lifted my head off the pillow and swore at him so much it should have been a rap. He was so calm, just put his clothes back on.
“You liked it,” he stated calmly. “Goodbye, Alyx.”
“No! Get back here, you motherf-cker! You...you raped me! It was against my will and it hurt and oh my god, I'm bleeding! You raped me you raped me I'm calling the cops!”
“You wouldn't dare call the cops, Alyx. Goodbye.” And then he walked out of the room, shut the door, and I was alone in the darkness. I lay there on my side, shivering. I was cold and naked and sticky and crying and bleeding from my privates or maybe not bleeding, he just left a part of him inside of me and
I buried my face in the pillow and bawled my eyes out. I was shaking all over. My only comfort was the pillow I had my arms around.
After what seemed like hours, I finally stopped. I could hear the bass of the music pumping from the backyard, but still making the house vibrate. I wondered if the neighbors were around. Maybe they couldn't hear it. Maybe they were all out for the Saturday night; that was likely. No, that couldn't be. This music could have been heard for miles. I hoped someone, anyone, would call the cops. Didn't they do that in movies if a house party got too loud?
Finally, I stood up. I slowly put my underwear, pants, bra and shirt back on. I found my shoes and slipped my feet into them. Slowly, I walked out of the room, slammed the door shut, and ran down the stairs. The party was breaking up, I could tell. There were less people in the kitchen. The ice was probably melting in the coolers, where the beer was kept. I stepped onto the deck and there were only two people in the pool. The barbeque was off, but smoke was still in the air. I did not see Autumn anywhere.
I needed her. I needed to hug her and hear her tell me everything was going to be okay. But I didn't know where she was. I headed back inside, starting to panic. This was a dangerous house party and I was hurt and alone and I didn't know where my best friend was. I looked around the main floor of the house, even went back to the basement. She was nowhere to be seen.
I headed back up the stairs, and out the front door. I stumbled down the porch stairs, ignoring people yelling at me to come back, come back, the fun isn't over yet. I simply kept walking. My hair was drying up, but I was still cold and I had no sweater. I had no one with me. I headed up the street, not really knowing where I was going. I saw a car zooming by, a rap song blaring through the open windows. Someone yelled Wooooo! out of the window, but I didn't turn my head. I just kept walking.
The stars were shining over my head, but they didn't make me feel any better. I was still drunk, but not drunk enough to not realize what had just happened to me. It was against my will. I was raped. I was screaming no and trying to kick him in the balls but he kept going and hurting me and making me cry. It was not casual sex. No. No. No.
A car zoomed by me once again, a quiet one. I heard another car coming up the road. I watched, this time. The car in the lane closest to me was a Honda Civic. The windows were open and someone was screaming excitedly from the back window. It was a red head, curly hair. My eyes widened. Autumn!
“Autumn!” I shouted, right as
The two cars crashed. They were both in the same lane now. First, the popping of the bumpers. Then a crash. A really loud crash. A scream erupted, it was her scream. My eyes widened even more, my hands flew to my mouth to hide the O it formed. I stood there, motionless. I heard more screams, a male scream. I heard “he's dead! Holy f-ck! Holy mother of Jesus! He's dead!” and “MY LEGS! MY LEGS!” and Autumn screaming, no words, just screaming.
I stumbled across the driveway of the house I was standing in front of. I knocked on the door a hundred times, my heart pounding like crazy. The door finally opened and I started screamtalking “Hi, sir, I'm so sorry for knocking on your door like this but I'm so sorry there's a car accident right behind me, look look look!” I turned away and pointed. The man's eyes widened in horror. The door across the street opened and a teenage guy shouted “I've got this!” and held out a phone. I turned to the man and apologized a million times.
“Don't worry, girl,” the man said, patting me on the shoulder. “It's all right, really, they're—oh my lord, is that blood?”
We rushed over to the scene. I heard someone bawling their eyes out. I checked out the other car, and there was an air bag covering the driver's face. He was not breathing. My eyes widened and filled up and I started bawling all over again. It was crazy of me, I know, because I didn't know the driver, but my best friend was in the other car and the teenager with the phone shouted the ambulance was coming...
* * *
“Both of the drivers died,” I finish. When I say the word died, I finally realize I've been bawling my eyes out this whole time. “I didn't know the teenage driver, but a lot of kids from school went to his funeral anyways. There were no arrests because the drivers were both dead. The front passenger was the guy in the wheelchair I told you about a few minutes ago. The other guy in the car just broke his arm, and Autumn only had a few bruises and scratches. The driver of the Toyota was alone and dead.”
“Oh my god,” Collin says as I bury my face in my knees, sobbing. “Alyx. I'm—I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.” He puts his arms around me, which makes me cry even harder. “You were raped? You never told me! Alyx!” his words are so soothing; they slightly calm me.
“Was I supposed to when we first met?” I explode. “Hi, my name is Alyx and I'm a victim of rape, nice to meet you!” I sniff and wipe my eyes with my sleeve. “You can't tell anybody, okay? You really can't tell anybody. Seriously.”
“You're going to have to tell somebody, Alyx. Didn't you ever think of pressing charges? Hey, your dad's a lawyer, right?”
“Nobody would ever believe me, Collin. I'm crazy and they would just think I'm making it up for attention. That's what happens when you're me. I sometimes tell the truth, but if I tell my parents or even my Psycho Therapist about this, I'll be bodyslammed into a hospital because they'd think I'm a pathological liar on top of being a schizophrenic. I can't tell anybody, and neither can you, okay?” I sniff once more and try to breathe.
Collin says nothing. He wraps his arms around me for half a minute, then says, “I'll never hurt you, Alyx. You know that, right?”
“Wait. I have a question.”
“Did you...did you get pregnant, Alyx? Because you didn't say he used a condom. Unless he did and you just left that out.”
“He didn't use a condom,” I say, my voice shaking again. “But the next morning, even though I was seriously hung over, I took one of my mom's Morning After pills, and three weeks later I got my period.”
“Oh,” Collin says. He looks down, probably embarrassed at the mention of girl stuff. “That's good, I guess...Have you even thought of pressing charges, Alyx? More than once? It would have been good for you.”
“There's no proof, Collin. I can't prove he raped me, because I took the morning after pill. The next week at school he didn't seem to remember anything at all, which was pretty stupid considering I still remember that night so clearly. He smiled at me in the halls, like he did before the party. Like he was totally unaware of what he did.”
“What an ass!”
“I know. But after that week, I was worried about if I were to get pregnant, and I was so angry at myself for letting him do that to me. There were probably weapons or sharp things in the room, but I didn't bother to find them. It was so stupid of me! So stupid, Alyx!” I start crying again. “It was like he left something inside of me, something that started all of this. I know a traumatic experience can't be the whole cause of what's wrong with me, it's genetic, too. But I was perfectly fine before he hurt me and after that, everything started happening.”
Collin gently hugs me, like I'm fragile and if he hugs me the way he normally does I'll break into a million pieces. He doesn't say anything; he doesn't need to.
|posts in thread|
Sep 07, 10 at 11:37pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
This story is amazing.
|posts in thread|
Sep 08, 10 at 3:33am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
AND I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW. =w=
Awesome chaptersssss. :D
Nothing to critique... [[meaning my dreams of being an editor are slowly diminishing because of your flawlessness. >:U]]
And yarsh, publishing would be super cool...and quite complicated...
Homestuck | Tumblr | deviantART | Okami
|posts in thread|
Sep 08, 10 at 5:26am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
>_< I'm so SAD now... I swear to God that tears came to eyes! I wish Tyler was real so I could mutilate him!
|posts in thread|
Sep 08, 10 at 8:27pm ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
quote Name Undisclosed
|posts in thread|
Sep 10, 10 at 1:12am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
So much has HAPPENED! Where was I?
What occured at that party was messed up. I am really hoping Tyler gets what he deserves, if he remembers or not.
Really, I hate guys like that. I am using the word HATE here and with full responibility. Actually I've been to a few of them parties like that and it's not hard to tell that shit happens. Sometimes I think people just use booze as a gate way into other peeps pants.
I'll have to admitt that I like to go houses like that and drink and stuff... not completely a saint
Buddy system punks!
Sorry for the outburst...
You're a really good writer. You got gotgotgot me all wound up.
I can't wait for the next chapter.
"You've got a mind like a DIAMOND!" ha, stole that from Cake. Its a music Artist.
|posts in thread|
|Im NOT insane||
Sep 11, 10 at 3:07am ^re: Schizophreak [COMPLETED!]
Oh. My. Freaking. God.
It was so hard to sit through that, I wanted to help Alyx so much. Just grab a knife and run it through his heart.
He's evil! I know it was the alcohol, but he should've known better.
I saw no grammatical or spelling errors, and I think the next chapter should get up soon. As in, in the next seven seconds.
Thank you SO FREAKING much, I love the story so much, as I said before.
I love you for everything. All your stories. Especialy this one. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!
|posts in thread|
|[All dates in (PST) time]||Threads List « Next Newest Next Oldest »|
|REPLY TO THIS THREAD QUICK REPLY START NEW THREAD||PAGES: «prev 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 next»|
Powered by neoforums v2.3.3c (Bolieve)
Copyright Neo Era Media, Inc. 1999-2015