Chapter One

Donald Darko seemed to be a boy who was one of complete mystery. And like many things in the Tangent Universe, he was a sacrifice for those he loved and cared for, but that didn't help much. The place he was in now was way freakier than anything he had endured while he was living… Was he dead?

He certainly hoped so. And if he wasn't, he wasn't sure what the fuck was going on.

It was as though everyone was the same, but distorted, their demon selves showing through and through; everything seeming to be heralded by the invisible hell's fire, the god of them all, Grandma Death: controller of all vortexes and wormholes that were laced through this new suburbia.

And Donnie had been walking for what seemed like an eternity until he came upon a dilapidated sign that read: 'Suburbia: Deus Ex Machina.'

"That's original," Donnie thought aloud, his words as always, dripping with sarcasm, or as some would call it, wit.

There was one thing he had been dreading since he had arrived in this twisted place, and that was Frank. Surely he would be vengeful in this… Universe… And suddenly out of nowhere, he was falling. But he didn't scream, maybe he was falling back to life beneath the rubble, free to see Gretchen and his family as he pleased. Maybe then he could convince his parents to take him off his medication, which seemed to be the catalyst of all of this chaos.

When he landed, he was in darkness, and as he expected, he was beneath the rubble. He felt something, probably one of those precious shingles his dad bitched about that one day in the car; impaling him.

Donnie…? Frank's voice actually sounded somewhat concerned, and he could hear him digging through the rubble to get to him.

"Frank?" He choked, feeling blood beginning to come up from his throat and oozing out onto his lips.

But once the hands of help broke through the rubble, Donnie saw that it wasn't Frank at all, but his sister Samantha.

"Sam?" He asked breathlessly, but before he could answer, he was back in his therapist's office her clapping having jolted him into consciousness.

"I'm not dead?" He asked blatantly, feeling rather disoriented. "I'm not going to fall again, am I?"

"No," Dr. Thurman replied in that gentle therapist sort of way, concern etched onto her features that were already slightly wrinkled with the inevitable onset of age. "But I must admit, when you weren't replying for the first few times, I was getting worried."

"What did I say?" He was more curious now, his alarm subsiding.

Suddenly a grin spread across Dr. Thurman's face that just seemed completely out of character.

"Now there, Donnie, is a story."

Donnie blinked, his blue eyes going from politely curious to completely puzzled.

"Don't you therapists have a rule that you can't be so shady?"

"I suppose so," She began carefully. "But then again, I supposed dreams are rather elusive, aren't they?"

"You know, this shit is getting to be really annoying," He snapped. "Get to the fucking point already," He said this as though he had someplace to be… To be honest, he wished he did, but for now he supposed he was kind of stuck here.

"Now, now, no need to be angry." She said casually, "I'm sure you're going to be rather amused."

But before Donnie could reply, he was falling again, and he hoped however far he fell, that the shards of answers would be lying at his feet to meet him once he landed.