Welcome To Our Site Fiend
Welcome to our site fiend! Glad to see you could join us. This is our "storybook" page. We must warn you that if you have a weak stomach that you may not want to read the following story, but other than that, enjoy. We hope to hear something good come from this, email us at runwithscissors@kornkids.com. So come back next week for an update on the story and until then, later days.
It’s not fair to me. It’s my tragedy. “It’s all their fault.” I leaned against my bed and looked ahead at the jet black walls that are covered with posters of heavy metal bands. I felt him breathing behind me. The smell of ozone and copper fills my nose. He is watching me.
“You can only hide behind these walls for so long, Alex,” his blood-deepened voice constantly haunts my thoughts. “Their screams…they try to drive you out. They don’t love you. You can’t win.”
“It’s not easy to win with you here breathing down my neck constantly,” I told him.
“Don’t be so damn ignorant! I’m just trying to help you, you know. There’s no need to yell.”
“Don’t you ever just shut up?!” He always claims he’s trying to help me, but I know for a fact that he’s just here to hurt. That’s all he’s ever done in the past, hurt.
Although I still have yet to see him, I can visualize him as a tall, muscular, dark figure. He always seems to be there when the times get hard for me. He tries to overtake my thoughts, convincing me to do things I don’t necessarily want to do. I call him Charlie. He reminds me of the man whose followers called him “Jesus”; his name was Charlie Manson. Sometimes the things he tells me seem just so right, but in my heart they just feel so wrong. Wrong like knowing there was something you could’ve done about something yet did nothing to correct it.
This feeling I’ve known for too long, this aura of dark disbelief. This chilled ice in my blood, the marked hate for conformity. It’s all relative to my life in this hell-hole. I’ve thought about things for a long time, crystallized through my own pain of puberty. I don’t question my reasoning for a minute for fear of realizing my insignificance.
That’s why Charlie comes. He helps me cope with my own morality.
“Let us in! It’s our room too!” I heard my foster sisters demanding to let them into our bedroom through the locked door.
“You do know that you don’t have to put up with this bull, right? Just leave and get out of this hell-hole. You can count on my being there for you.” I don’t think he ever shuts up.
“If I were to leave, where would I go?”
“Anywhere the darkness follows.”
It doesn’t really matter if I have a place to go as long as it’s not here. Charlie’s like one of those friends that you feel you can trust but you wouldn’t put your life in their hands. He tries to help me out but his motives aren’t necessarily for the greater good. Sometimes I think he means well, but it doesn’t always end up that way.
“We’re going to need money…..”
“When did your mom get paid again?”
“Yesterday. She keeps her money in her purse.”
“Well, there you go. There’s your ticket out of here.”
While gathering my belongings to pack up and leave, I thought about what all I would need to take with me. I walked over to my dingy closet whose hinges were rusted and falling off and grabbed all of the clothes that I could carry in my backpack and added a few necessities that would need. I calculated an approximate amount of money that I would need to be downtown. “Ah, I’ll just take it all. 1,500 should be enough to get me through the week anyhow, or at least until I can find some more money,” I thought to myself.
Walking down the street I could see the steam rising from the grungy manholes in the heated streets. The broken syringes shatter under my feet as I continue to move. I look up and stare at the bright stars and think of my foster mom’s eyes cold and unloving. The street lights glow with an almost eerie aura, moths flutter and burn around the iridescent bulbs. A tingling chill ran up my spine and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up; I can feel a deviant presence. Someone is watching. Their eyes crawl over my skin like a thousand spiders. Could it be Charlie? No. It’s not the same feeling…this feeling is different…entirely different…
“La, la, la, la…”
I heard someone singing, a child. Not just a child, a small girl.
“Hello, Alex. Do you remember me?”
Her voice haunted my thoughts.
“What? Who are you?”
“Oh Alex, I feel neglected. How could you not remember me?! We used to play together!”
I paused trying to think of the small children I played with when I was younger to see if it would trigger some memory of who could be talking to me.
“If we played together when we were younger, then why would you still be just a child?”
“Silly, we played with our dog, Buddy. Remember the last time we played with him?”
“What do you mean ‘our dog’?” I had no idea as to what she meant. The only time I had a dog was when I was five and that was before I went into foster care and at that time I was an only child.
“What do you mean you don’t remember our dog?! How could you forget?! You’re so stupid!!! You don’t remember our dog! You don’t remember me! What else did you forget?! Did you forget about the last time we played with Buddy?! Huh?! Did you?! Remember how we found the rat poison in the basement and how we innocently added it to his water bowl? Remember how loud you laughed as he yipped and cried as his stomach began to tie into a knot?! Remember how his eyes closed only to never open ever again?! NOW DO YOU REMEMBER, ALEX?!”
My eyes widened as she triggered into my memory. It’s Katie. She was there before Charlie was, but after Buddy died and they put me on medication, she left and never came back until now.
“What are you doing here Katie? How did you find me? I thought you were gone for good.”
“So many questions. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s about time you figured it out dummy. You’re the one who invited me here.”
“What are you talking about ‘invited you’?”
No, no this isn’t happening. There’s no way she could be here. She left me for good. When I was younger, she used to make me do things worse than Charlie. Her idea of fun was hanging the neighbor’s cat from the weeping willow in their back yard. Another good one would be the time she told me to put my cousin’s albino rabbit in the Cajun Wedding Soup at my aunt’s wedding.
The old warehouse. My biological parents used to come here when I was little, before I went into the foster home. When I was looking through the windows, I saw my reflection. I have always hated my sandy blonde hair. And my eyes…I hate them, the crystal-blue color…it’s too bright for me. Why can’t they be green or brown? My clothes look as if I stole them from an Iron Maiden fan and my shoes have too many holes in them to count. I hate myself, my life, my disassociation.
“Now that looks like a winner!” He’s back.
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s a great place to stay. It’s abandoned-“
“What do you mean ‘stay’? I’m not staying here,” I interrupted.
“It’s better than sleeping on the streets, right?”
“Yeah but-“
“Exactly my point. Besides, who would look for you here? Nobody.”
He had a point. I can’t sleep on the streets and since I’m a runaway at the moment, they’ll probably send a search party and when someone’s missing, they normally don’t check the warehouse. There were a few tables there that I could probably sleep on and there were some plastic sheets there from when they painted the walls. For something to eat, I could just probably go to the local restaurant and go to the truck stop that’s about a block away and use their showers. There’s still the small chance that I could get caught there.
I walked down the street to Cousin Cooter’s restaurant to get something to eat. When I walked in the door everyone stared at me as if I just robbed a bank. I slid in my seat and the waitress handed me the grease-covered menu that stunk like burgers. They didn’t really have much of a choice of what to eat so I just ordered a jumbo burger with a chocolate shake and steak fries. While sitting in the booth I noticed a tall, slender guy with dark red hair wearing a flannel shirt staring at me. I left the money and a small tip on the table and left the restaurant.
I stood basking in the rays of the florescent street lamps, watching my breath rise and fall in front of my face. I can’t help to feel I’ve seen him before but where. I see a face but it’s hazy, too hazy to make out. It doesn’t make sense. Have I come across an old friend or foe? Only one way to find out, I’m going back in. When I walked in almost as many people looked at me just like the first time I walked in. There he was! He is still there I can’t believe it, still there sitting, waiting, watching, scanning me. I must talk to him, it hurts every second I don’t. Finally I reached him and as I sat down he said “Hello, Alex.” As he spoke, my blood ran cold.
X_x More to come! x_X
0_o Shannon, Steech, Adam, and Matt o_0
Send E-Mail to: runwithscissors@kornkids.com
Copyright © 2003 Shannon, Steech, Matt, and Adam. All Rights Reserved