Hey guys so my sis says I've been writing too much mushiness and I think she's right lol. So this is like my take on Psycho Derek or Ian"s, whichever you prefer, feelings. You know like my take on the mind of a crazy person. This is definitely angsty and dark, but I think you guys might like it if you give it a chance.
I dedicate this to my sis and everybody else who likes a lil angst. Enjoy and who knows if you guys like it and review I might just make one about Crazy Nannie Carrie! Now she just might be crazier than Psycho Derek
I own nothing accept the crazy thoughts in my head lol!
Anywho on with the story and by the way, the italics are Derek's thoughts, you know kind of like the voices in his head lol!
Anger that's what he was feeling. Anger, disappointment, confusion, loss, depression, they were all in his head screaming at him so loud that his body shook from the intensity of them. How could she do that, how could they do that. Brooke and Peyton how could they talk about about her, how could they make him relieve that nightmare. Flashbacks of that night kept coming into his head and not even the jaws of life itself could diminish the sin that plagued his body, the darkness that coiled its way through him, like a snake in the grass, ripping through his insides.
"Look out," Maggie screamed. Derek swerved, but he was too late. All he could here was the sound of glass crunching, and the screech of an ear piercing scream as his car scraped against the bridge. Darkness surrounded them. Dark as the pits of hell. Falling. Further. So much blood. Can't Save her. "Maggie please don't die, I love you please don't die! Blood. Oozing. Dark. Everything Dark. Madness. Silence. Deafening Silence. Cries. Piercing Cries. Hands. Hands rubbing hair. Blonde curly hair. Hands. Hands touching porcelain skin. Lips. Lips kissing blue lips. Lifeless. Lifeless blue lips. "I'm so sorry Maggie, I'm so sorry! I love you!
Psycho Derek: You love me.
Peyton: No, I don't. I hate you. Don't you get that? You are just a deranged pathetic psycho and I never ever wanna see you again. Okay?
Peyton she was just like his Maggie. The same beautiful golden locks, the same porcelain skin, she even smelt of the same vanilla and honey just like her. His mind flashed to Peyton then to Maggie, then to Peyton again then back to Maggie, until their faces blended together, and they were one person. He couldn't save Maggie but maybe he could save Peyton, save her from himself, from the demented monster that he had transformed into. He did not even know when it happened, maybe it had been when he was holding Maggie's lifeless mangled body in his hands, blood oozing from every fiber of her being. Or was it when he saw Peyton on her webcam. She invited him in. She made him attack her. She was a tease.
NO! YOU DID THIS! YOU DID THIS TO ME PEYTON! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT. YOU DID THIS TO ME. YOU DID THIS... TEASE!
"No," he screamed, grabbing his head with both hands squeezing as hard as he could, maybe it would help ease the throbbing, or maybe he would squeeze so hard, it would suck the very life right out of him, stop his heart from beating, and his hot breathe from spewing out of him like venom hurting everyone that came too close. "No this is your fault, not Peyton's! You did this, you are the monster, she did not deserve this, they did not deserve this." He was fighting a losing battle against himself the voices that told him he wasn't good enough, the ones that told him she didn't love him, the ones that said the accident was his fault, the ones that said he could never be forgiven, they were all running through his mind like a broken record, never-ending, and more poisonous than the last.
Peyton: I forgive you. Maggie forgives you. But Brooke and I will never see you again.
How could she forgive him, how could Maggie forgive him, even Maggie's own parents did not forgive him, they said It was his fault that he had caused it. His hand reaches into the pocket of his orange jumpsuit. He looked at the picture, holding it as gently as a mother would hold her newborn, and as lovingly. He brushed his fingers over the picture of Maggie's face, his fingers caressing every feature, every delicate feature, she was so beautiful, how could he have ever hurt her, how could he ever let her die. How could he have ever attacked her. How could he have drove her to feeling as insane as he did. Maggie. Peyton. Peyton. Maggie. He now knew the difference. He now knew they were not the same person, but that did not change anything. It did not change the fact that he was responsible for killing one, and, wanting so badly to believe that the other girl was the girl from his picture, trying to brutally harming the other one when she did not return his advances. Sick. Twisted. Obsessive. Monster, He could use all those words to describe himself. Hurt. Broken. Scared. He could use those words to describe the girls he had hurt, all the people he had hurt. He tenderly kissed the picture before placing it back in his pocket, trading it for something much larger, something more permanent than any picture. A rope. Strong. Sturdy. Powerful. All the things that he wasn't, all the things he would never be. Weak. Coward. Disgusting. Yeah that described him much better. He grabbed the rope tying it sturdily. Weak, he had been that when he couldn't save Maggie, and when he tried to hurt Peyton. Coward, he was a coward the night he let Maggie go, the night he was supposed to save her. Disgusting, he was that when he tried to hurt Peyton, when he tried to rape her, he was that when he watched the blood fall from Maggie's body but did nothing to stop it. But he would change it all now, or at least he would save everyone from having to endure more pain and suffering on his part. It was his turn to suffer, his turn to know what real pain felt like, flesh biting pain, the kind that he inflicted on Peyton when he attacked her, and the kind he inflicted on Maggie, when he let her die. He placed the chair in front of the rope praying that it would all be over soon. Praying that maybe now Peyton would not have to look over her shoulder thinking that he was there, or be afraid to go to sleep with the lights off because of all the horrible nightmares she suffered because of him. "Maybe when I'm gone you can finally have some peace." he whispered more so to calm the nerves and sweat that were radiating throughout his entire body. He climbed up in the chair and with shaky fingers he placed the rope firmly around his neck. He pulled out the picture of him and Maggie and held it in his hands, "Maybe now you can finally forgive me Peyton." And with that he jumped off the chair, taking the very breathe from his body, finally succeeding in silencing the monster that preyed on him. His corpse lifeless and lips as blue as Maggie's the night she died. The picture falls from his limp hands into the puddle of blood, the only sign left of the devil that drove him to this demise.