Here it is! The first chapter. I worked for a long time to try and make it perfect, so that's why it took me a bit. This story might not have as frequent updates, as I'm trying to edit my work more and make everything meld together better. So yeah, enjoy! :3
They say that, when a head gets cut off, you can still see for ten seconds before you die.
What I saw in those ten seconds was more than I'd ever see in my entire life. It all moved so fast, so lightning-quick that I almost forgot to smile.
I saw sanity.
It was all around me, sticky and red and overwhelming. I loved sanity. I wanted to bathe in it and feel it wrap around me, but I didn't get the chance.
I only had ten seconds, after all.
But I had brought this upon myself. I had told him to do it. To just kill me already. I was a coward. I couldn't deal with it anymore. His torture and the way he treated me. Treated everyone. It was too much.
I couldn't smile for much longer. I remembered it all in those ten seconds. Before the beginning. Before that boy came along. What it had been like, before the madness. Before Wanderland.
I had been young and naive back then. My tea parties were small, and the porcelain was still in pristine condition. I took great care of my teacups. They were my everything.
I had my tea parties alone, but I was not mad. The other guests were merely my imagination, something that every sane child had. It was safe to say that I had more of one than other children my age. It was probably because I grew up mostly alone. My father had died after I was born, and my mother barely talked to me. I had to learn to fend for myself. I was lonely most of the time, until I finally made a friend that wasn't made up.
It was a crisp autumn day, and the wind was blowing in every direction, to my dismay. I liked to have calm, mild days for my tea parties. But I was determined to take the challenge and set everything up, despite the weather. In my fuss to get everything set up correctly, I didn't notice the insect flitting around, landing on the rim of one of the teacups. As I reached to fix said item, I noticed the delicate thing. It was a midnight-black shade, with flecks of electric blue splattered on the wings. I had never seen such an animal before. It seemed to know I was there, moving frantically in the air for a moment before landing on my forearm. I watched it closely, observing it with interest. Every slow bat of the wings arose new questions within me. What this creature was, how it got here...
My thoughts were interrupted by my head hitting the ground. Luckily, leaves coated the earth, so it cushioned my fall. After a moment of scrambling to get up, I looked to see what had knocked me down. Standing there was a boy about my age, with messy brown hair and green eyes. His olive-tanned skin was dirty, and so were his clothes. I had always been sort of a neat freak. My clothes were always clean and my shirts were always perfectly pressed. So when I saw this boy, my first thought was not how he got here, but how he could live with all that dirt.
"How did you get so filthy?" I asked quietly, approaching him but not laying a hand on him. I didn't want to ruin my hands-I'd be touching porcelain, after all.
"I don't know. Eet just...'appens." The boy replied. I was surprised to hear his voice. It was unlike any other I've ever heard. He sounded like he came from someplace else, someplace foreign. I was even more intrigued by him now.
"Were you the thing that landed on me just now?" I asked, looking at him, still evaluating his flaws. He had some scars on his face, the largest one being on his cheek. I opened my mouth to say something, but decided against it.
He nodded. "Oui. Je m'appelle Christophe. Et vous?"
I understood none of what he was saying, so I cringed and spoke quietly.
"I don't know what you're saying." I said, embarassed.
He nodded, surprisingly understandingly, like he knew that I wouldn't get what he was saying.
"I'm ze one 'ho landed on your arm. My name ees Christophe. 'Ho are you?"
"I'm Damien." I said simply, looking away. I hadn't really talked to a boy my age for a long time, let alone a tough-looking one that could turn into an insect.
"Damien. Nice name." Christophe mused, absentmindedly looking at the teacups I had set up. "What are zose?"
"It's my tea party!" I said happily, growing more excited to speak now that the subject had moved to something I knew so much about. "Do you want some?"
"Tea? Of course." He grinned, sitting in one of the chairs and straightening himself out. I was surprised that he would actually agree. Christophe didn't really look like a very...proper boy. He looked messy and indifferent at first glance. But he liked tea.
I giggled and poured him some of my Earl Grey, pushing a tray of milk, honey, and sugar towards him. He put a generous amount of honey in, and a bit of milk.
I always liked my tea sweet. Super sweet. So I put my usual in-a mixture of honey and sugar. He watched me with interest and fascination, raising an eyebrow at my choice of condiments. I tried to ignore him, but his steady gaze was already making me squirm a little.
I grew used to it, as he would appear often after that, every time I thought the weather permitted enough to have a tea party. He would somehow know, and would flutter up to me in butterfly form, which never ceased to amaze me. Our differences seemed to bring us even closer together, the mutual fascination soon making us inseparable. Sometimes, when my mother wouldn't come home, he would curl up next to me in the piles of brush, and hold me until I fell asleep. When I woke the next day, he would be gone, my now cold body left with nothing but rotting leaves to warm me up. It made me sink a little inside every time he did that, but I knew Christophe must have had better things to attend to, things that were more important than helping some stupid kid like me sleep.
He stayed by me for months. Years. Sure enough, Christophe was still holding me and soothing me to sleep at age fourteen. People would probably consider that a romantic gesture, but we kept it strictly platonic. It was an unspoken rule-Christophe would lie next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close to his warm body, but do nothing more. When I was younger, I'd fall asleep instantly, but as my life went on, I found it harder and harder to drift off. I thought it might have been because of my realization that what Christophe was doing would be considered sensual, but I knew in my gut that that wasn't the reason. It was something else. I felt a growing want-a growing need-for someone to deliver the same as Christophe was doing, but with an added kick, an added source of excitement.
What I was feeling was boredom.
I felt horribly guilty about it, but I didn't want to tell him. I still wanted him around. He had become my only friend, and the only one who bothered to sit through a teenager's tea party. I still had my imaginary friends to fill the other seats, which seemed to trouble Christophe a bit, but he learned not to comment on it, as I would get very defensive of my "partygoers." I guess you could say that in my head I had the delusion that one of the figments of my imagination would someday come into existence and spice up my boring life. I waited and waited for that to happen, subconsciously knowing that it wouldn't.
One day in late spring, though, everything changed.
I was devastated that day. It had been the first time in eight years-we were sixteen now-since Christophe hadn't come to my tea party. At first, I was patient. He might have been running late. But then, after a few hours of waiting, I felt tears sting my cheeks and the reality of it pop into my head-he wasn't going to come back. My head hit the small porcelain plate and I felt it crack beneath me. I groaned and lifted my head, the plate now having a few flecks of blood from my now dripping nose. I leaned back in the chair that I had long grown out of, then hit the ground with a thud. Could this day possibly get any worse?
"Damn, kid. Aren't you a little old for this stuff?" an obviously adolescent male voice came from a few feet away. I scrambled up, brushing the dirt off my previously clean shirt and panicking. What if he thought I didn't take care of my clothes? That would be so embarrassing. But, when I looked up at the guy's face, he didn't seem like the type to judge someone merely by dress.
The boy was wearing a long black cape that covered his broad shoulders. He was short in height, me beating him by several inches. His reddish-brown hair was slicked back so his pudgy face was on full display. His eyebrows were thin, and his skin had a waxy yellow quality, that made me more and more uncomfortable with every moment I looked at him. The whole aura that came off of him seemed pompous and arrogant. I was thoroughly disgusted by him already, but also intrigued and enticed by the promises I knew he held. This boy might be my one chance for some excitement.
He moved a bit closer and held a chubby hand out to help me up. I flinched.
"Are you going to get up, or are you going to lie there on your ass like an idiot?" his mouth twisted into a half-smile. Flustered, I stood and faced him. He seemed a bit surprised by my height, but otherwise, the smug look on his face didn't fade.
"Who are you?" though I had to tilt my head down slightly to look at him, my voice was its usual tone-shy and quiet.
"My name is Eric." he said, speaking as if he was the center of the universe. Right now, to me, he was. He had a captivating air to him. Though it was revolting, it pulled me in. He then raised his eyebrows, signaling that I may now speak.
"I'm Damien." I said. "Why are you here, anyway?"
The boy shrugged coolly. "Ran away from home. Thought I'd might look around."
I sighed. My partygoers wanted their tea. They weren't appreciating the holdup, I could tell. I had to do something about this.
"Well, look, Eric, um...I'm kind of in the middle of something..." I said, trailing off. "You're welcome to stay for tea, if you want!" I added quickly, jolting a little as he glared at me.
Eric raised an eyebrow. "You actually have tea?" he asked that as if he were expecting me not to. I was a bit baffled. Who had a tea party without tea?
A little while later, I was pouring him a third cup of the substance I was mildly addicted to. I had learned that Eric had left home because he didn't want to be "bossed around" and because he was a "bad-ass." It was almost like I was staring at my polar opposite. We had absolutely nothing in common. I felt like I was talking to Christophe-except Eric was more ruthless and cold. I felt no connection to him, like I did with my insect friend. But Eric looked like he held so many secrets, and I was dying for him to tell me more. I felt special when he told me things, since he seemed to act like I wasn't worthy of his presence. Yet he kept hanging around me, which made me feel like he somehow enjoyed my company.
Time went on, and one day without Christophe turned into two, three, four. Soon I lost count. But Eric seemed to fill the void. He came over every day, even if the weather wasn't good enough for a tea party. He wouldn't help me to sleep like Christophe did, but I was willing to give up resting for a new friend.
"Dami, pass the sugar, please." he said, snapping his fingers to get my attention. Eric had given me a new nickname in the time we had spent together. At first, I was thrilled with the idea of it, but as time passed, I felt like Eric was using it too much, like he was forgetting my real name. The overly sweet tone of his voice didn't calm the tight knot that made its way into my stomach whenever I was around him.
I knew something about Eric wasn't right.
I let myself be his puppet anyway.
I tried my best with this chapter, you guys! Please tell me how I did :D
Also, don't worry. There's a crap-load of gore that's gonna happen soon, so that's gonna be fun to write, and hopefully fun to read!
Another quick note. I'm not sure how long this story is going to be. Definitely not as long as the first one, but it won't just be a two-shot, either. I hope I can pace it well enough for you guys to enjoy it. Alright, I'll leave it at that. Love you all! 3