Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

“Hey Scott,” Arnie said in greeting.  “Is it alright if I sit here?”

Scott was sitting at a small table on the second level of the library.  He had picked this spot because it was near the periodicals and was normally secluded, but somehow luck just wasn’t going to be with him this afternoon.  Though he had his books spread out over the table, Arnie seemed content to fill in the piece of the pie he had left bare.

“I guess,” he answered with a sigh.

Arnold plopped down in the chair across from him and steepled his fingers, studying him.  Scott looked up from his book, slowly, when he felt the other’s eyes upon him.

“What?”

“Nothing!  You look different, is all.”

Arnie smiled and pushed his glasses higher up his nose.

“Why don’t you take a picture then?  Write a book or something, shit, but quit staring at me.  What’s your problem anyway?”

“I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.”

“And what makes you think that I want to talk to you, Arnold?  Does this look like the kind of place that someone goes to when they want to have a friendly little chat?  For that matter, when did we suddenly become friends?”

Arnold continued to remain unfazed by the obvious hints he left for him and he was losing his patience.  He had chosen this spot as a place where he could recharge his mental batteries.  This is where he came to study, to enjoy a new book and to prepare himself for the labors of having to deal with people during the second half of the day. What he didn’t want to do was spend it with someone who was beneath him, in the long line of bullied victims.

“Why do you care so much about how I’m feeling all the sudden?”

“People are talking, Scott, and I AM concerned.  I know what it’s like to not have any friends.  I’ve been doing this for years, but you…  You’ve gotten yourself into something that’s on an entirely different level.”

“I don’t really give a rat’s ass WHAT people are saying, Arnie, I never have.  So, you’re like the king turd when it comes to not having friends or something?  You may not have noticed, but I don’t exactly have any friends myself.”

Arnold looked at him with something that was a bit more like pity than he was comfortable with and he began to feel something clawing at him from the inside.  The ‘other’ was suckling on his his rage, growing stronger from the pure emotion that was pumping in his veins and he viciously ground his teeth together as he fought to keep ‘him’ at bay.

Arnie sighed, rather sadly, and lowered his hands to the table.

“We’re not too different, you and I…”

“…more so then you’ll ever know…”

“…just trying to offer you friendship, when everybody else only offers disdain.”

He had missed some of what Arnie said, when the ‘other’ spoke, but it didn’t make that much of a difference.  He was able to fill in what was missing.  A part of him wanted to accept the offer on the table, but at the same time, another part of him was reminded of what had happened in his kitchen.

Images of Tippy flashed through his thoughts; of him standing outside with a shovel, burying her beneath the Maple tree.  He was reminded of the night when he had fantasized about killing his sister, and, of how he had thought it was real.  His heart ached as he battled with memories of his most recent visit to Lucy’s house.

She had been so sweet at first.  She had payed for their first date, and afterwards, gone down on him in the car.  It was the first time he had ever been with a girl, in any capacity, and it had felt so good that he was instantly trapped in her web.  She continued to do things to, and for, him over the next several days.  Until…

”You’re going to learn something about me, Scott…”

With Lucy, he had found himself with a whole new set of problems.  Friendship?  He barely had enough to offer himself anymore, let alone to give to someone new.

“I don’t think so,” he finally admitted.

Arnie shrugged, a gesture which was innocent enough but strummed dangerously on his last nerve, and stood up to leave.

“If you won’t accept MY friendship, Scott, when all I am offering is someone you can talk to…”  He let the thought trail off and looked at him for a few minutes longer, as if waiting for him to suddenly change his mind.

“Just so you know,” he said as he was leaving, “the offer’s always on the table.”

“About fucking time,” the ‘other’ said as he leapt to the front of his consciousness, “I thought we were going to have to push him over the railing in order to shut him up!”

Scott succumbed to the will of the ‘other’, who had become considerably stronger over the last few weeks, and it would be hours before he would escape from his dark prison.

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

“Oh my God,” he screamed.  “What have I done?”

The kitchen had suddenly become filled with a cacophony of high pitched screams, so loud that his ears rang.  The sound emanated from just inches before him, at his feet, from the terrified dog now trapped between the bottom of the door and the floor.  Her hind legs had been broken in no less than two places.  When the door had sucked them out from under her, there had been several miniature explosions as the bones shattered.

The madman in his mind had retreated, for now, and he was left alone to share the terror that she was experiencing.  

“Ohgodohgodohgodpleasebequiet,” he machine gunned out.  The words flew over his lips, a futile prayer for the horrible action he had just committed.  There was going to be no answer from above, nor was there going to be one from within either.  He was alone and he was going to pay for what he had done.

“Shut up, goddamn you, I need to think,” he shouted.

The sound of his voice only spurred the poor creature on, however, as she began jerking her upper body into pantomime sit-ups.  He looked on in horror as blood began to pool out from the injury in her right leg, mixing with the original reason for her pawing at the door in the first place.  His nose burned from the smell, and his stomach lurched.

From somewhere outside, he could hear someone calling in the distance;

“Hello?”  and  “It sounds like someone’s killing her!” wafted into his range of hearing.  His heart jumped into his throat, a portal which had only moments ago threatened to become the emergency exit from his stomach, and he dropped to his knees before her.  Tippy snarled, nipping madly as he moved his hands closer, and was silenced when he closed them around her muzzle.  

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed as he clamped down tighter, restricting her airway, “there’s no other way!”

Her eyes began to bulge as she realized what he was doing, and her struggles increased as she fought against him.  Another stream of urine shot out from…

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden blow to the back of his head.

“I SAID,” Lucy said with emphasis, “PLEASE get me a drink from the KITCHEN!”  She paused, taking a deep breath and glaring at him beneath her furrowed brow.  “You’re going to learn something about me, Scott.  I don’t like to repeat myself.  And, if you want to keep getting ‘it’, then you are going to have to get the hang of things around here.”

Resigned, he jumped up and walked quickly to her kitchen.

It was going to be a long night.

Disclaimer

The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts and webseries!

———

He sat in a classroom that was essentially one quarter of a coliseum.  Where the professor lectured, the desks were just level with his chest, and the seating was spread out on risers until at the top, where Scott was currently lurking, the student was looking down over a dozen rows of other student’s heads.  The professor had no desk in this room.  He preferred to be on his feet as he taught, and he paced back and forth before a large chalkboard as he spoke, pausing to write something down  when he felt was important enough for the students to record.

Scott was hunched forward over his desk with his right hand covering the right side of his face and barely paying attention to what was going on below.  This was his elective course for the semester and he only showed enough interest to get a passing grade.

He was staring at the screen of his cell phone, more specifically the last text message that he had received.

Scott,

I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind this morning!  I’m going insane!  What I did in the car last night, it’s not something that I normally do.  Was it okay?  I really like you and I hope that you don’t mind that I’m sending you all these messages…  Would you like to come over sometime?  Maybe we can do more…if you want to?  Or we can just watch TV, or talk, or whatever?   Just let me know, okay?  

Love, Lucy

“…Mr. Vali?”

He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that the question had startled him, causing him to jump and knock his phone off the desk and to the floor.  The faces of his classmates were turned toward him, and at his reaction they began to snicker.

“That’s enough!  Mr. Vali, please see me after class.”

“Yes sir,” he murmured, embarrassed.

He picked up his phone and pressed the power button once, putting it into sleep mode before putting it away.

He made a small effort to pay attention during the rest of the period and even took a few notes before it was over, but he did so with a certain amount of dread hanging over him.  When the bell rang, the professor made his way up to where he sat, and stopped on the riser below his, placing his right foot up on the back of desk before him.

“Do you find my class to be to your liking Mr. Vali,” he asked seriously.

“Y-yes sir.”

“Because,” he continued, as if he hadn’t really needed the answer, “I get the impression that you are only using my classroom to fill an elective.  Now, if that’s the case, I think I can recommend you over to Philosophy, or Basket Weaving if that’s more to your suiting?”

“Tell this prick to go fuck himself.”

“I-I’m sorry sir.  I haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

“I asked you to stay after, Mr. Vali, because I wanted to get an impression from you.  I need to know that you are really interested in what I have to teach here, because if you aren’t, I have a dozen other students waiting in line to get in.”

“Oh. My. GOD!  Are you seriously going to sit here and take this shit?!”

“NO,” Scott yelled, startling the man in front of him.

“…well, I suppose if you are passionate enough about staying, I can give you another chance,” he began, hesistantly, “but the next time I see you playing with your phone instead of paying attention, I’ll have to expel you from my course.  Do we have an understanding Mr. Vali?”

“Yes sir,” he answered shakily.  His head had begun to pound as the ‘other’ became more and more aggravated.  The effect was as it was the other times that this happened; his heart rate began to increase, his vision tunneled down and his store of rage began to boil.  It wouldn’t be long before it reached the brim and began to spill over, and when that happened…

“Ohhh, YES!  That’s how I like IT.  Come on, you little pussy, let’s get ANGRY!”

He felt the presence of the ‘other’ bouncing around the walls of his consciousness, moshing into his psyche in its deranged madness, with only the purpose of passing it on to him.  He had to get out of here.  It had to be now.

“Excuse me, I-I have to go.  I’m going to be sick,” he sputtered.  It was a passable excuse.  As the battle waged on inside of him, his body suffered the effects visibly.  He had grown even paler than usual, which was something that really stood out for a ginger, and a light sweat had beaded on his forehead.

He swiped his things together and into his backpack while rising unsteadily to his feet. He didn’t bother to meet the professor’s (now) worried expression as he stumbled toward the exit, and when he opened the doors to leave, the other chased him with one final warning.

“Nine AM, Mr. Vali!  Don’t be late!”

He burst into the hallway with his hands over his mouth.  While he had only suggested being sick as an excuse to quickly leave, it had become a rapidly approaching reality. The ‘other’ was no longer screaming its madness into him.  When it had recognized the nauseous feelings welling up inside of Scott, it found another way to torment him.

Scott shoved his way through a crowd of people, focused on making it to the men’s room on time, as the ‘other’ yipped in pain; the last sounds Tippy had made before he’d had to put her down.