Chapter 3- Free Trial

The normal human being will regularly achieve 8 hours of sleep a night. They will lie down, close their eyes, and become lost in their minds until waking. They would stay asleep, and wake up rested, as per the normal human being.

Craig would do his very best to keep his eyes open through the night. Sometimes, his body would take control and put him under to steal a few hours; but other than that, Craig has been awake for years. Voices taunt him because of his deprivation, yet they weren't so bad compared the terrors that lurk in his subconscious, waiting for him always. Craig see things just as much during the day, he hallucinates often, and there was no way around it anymore.

His friends were the ones who nudged his illness on, but they were not the ones who let it rampage. They poured the gasoline and lit the match, and they watched. Him. Burn.

Craig for a total of two years was a doll-a puppet- of mixed medications and therapy sessions that felt more like rape than anything else. His entire life he was repelled by the thought of advocating his deepest thoughts, to simply the truth of how he was feeling that day. You could be sure these forced sessions designed to carve a path into his mind for all to see we're one of the last things Craig was eager to give in to.

He poured all of his energy into resisting.

Most nights Craig would stare up at his ceiling, wondering if they noticed how terrible he had gotten. He wonders if they really were that blind, or if they simply didn't care to advocate his misery.

Craig was dying, Craig is dead. He's been in agony for too long, and all he wants is for it to be over.

Oh, he was angry at them! He wanted his family to suffer more than anyone.

He felt real hate for them, real rage; and they felt the polar opposite towards him. Craig may dream of having their heads on a stake, but he was still their son, and no matter what he did they still loved him. This was the kink in their armor, he saw. Killing them would only give them half the suffering. So, he would kill what they loved most: their children.

Craig would bring them down by bringing down himself, and protecting his sister from their ignorance.

He was going to do it because he loved her, and he needed to protect her himself.

"What the hell do you want with me?" Token asks, breaking Craig's train of thought.

He sighs, "I really just want to have some fun," his shoulders shrug, "before we're dead."

"Dead?" Token glances over his shoulder at Craig. "What do you mean dead?"

Token is nothing more than a toy to him now.

Craig boasts a terribly fake smile, "What, are you playing stupid? I know you can see it in me; I know you, Token. Don't lie to me." Craig's smile drops. "Just please don't lie to me."

Whatever Token sees in Craig at that moment, it couldn't have been good. Token begins to shake as they walk, and Craig can hear him quietly whimpering, and crying.

"Oh… oh shit. You're not any better, are you?" Token wipes his eyes with his sleeve. He's taking deep breaths, swallowing hard trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I'm going to die, right? You're going to kill me."

Craig doesn't answer.

Once they arrive at his home, he shows Token to the basement, forcing him down the stairs.

Token is sobbing then. He falls into the old leather couch which was pushed against the wall, and holds himself in the fetal position over the arm rest.

"I'm not going to kill you Token." Craig says drowsily.

"YES!" He's hardly comprehensible through his tears and running nose. "YES YOU ARE."

He's hysterical; Craig doesn't have the time for this. He grabs two fistfuls of Token's sweater, and pulls him up so he can look at him dead on.

"I promise I won't kill you, Token." He smirks with such charisma Token could gag. "You're going to do it yourself."

He throws him back onto the couch, exhausted.

He stomps back up the stairs to the sound of Token's wails, and locks the basement door.

Is this what happens to the healthy human mind when confronted with death? A death it can't escape. Token was trapped down there like an animal, too frantic to think his way out. He was in no shape to get away due to the fear that must be consuming every little bit of his consciousness.

Maybe he's already given up.

6:00, Craig is seated alone at his dining room table, stalling.

His sister, Ruby, was right upstairs in her room busy being very much alive. She might be listening to her ipod, she might be in the middle of a texting conversation with her friend. Maybe she was watching television while doing her homework. Maybe she was sitting patiently on her bed, knowingly waiting for him.

Craig was starting to wonder if this was a good idea in the first place- if he wanted anyone in this world to live, it was Ruby. This whole evening was contributed to what he wanted, nothing mattered but him, and now he was at a cross roads.

Craig listens to the voices calling to him, and he's finally got a gun. Staring it down. It would only take a moment and everything would be over.

Oh, that gun's starting to look like a mighty nice path.

Craig eyes burn with unshed tears and his nose is closing up. His hands tug his sleeves down and curl around them. He drags his hands down his face without taking his eyes off the gun.

He stares for one moment more before he grips the gun and rests it against his temple like it belongs there.

He breaths deep, in and out. It would be quick, it would be painless, everything could be over in an instant.

He rocks himself back and forth in his chair, biting so hard on the inside of his cheek that it bleeds. Sobs shake him down to the bone, the only thought surging through him mind was: Ruby will never forgive me.

Oh, it would be too almost easy, but pulling the trigger right there without finishing what he's started gave him this sense of failure. His entire life he was a failure, he could see it in their eyes, and he absolutely would not go out as one.

He slams the gun back down on the table, but keeps it grasped firmly in his hand. He wipes the tears from his cheeks, snot from his nose, and works on catching his breath.

He has work to do.

Craig stands, heels off his shoes, and stumbles out of the kitchen to the foot of the staircase. He pulls himself up each stair at a time, holding the gun firmly in his hand.

"Ruby!" He calls. "Are you up there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Craig!"

He can feel the stinging in his eyes returning. Oh, I'm so sorry, Ruby.

He climbs the rest of the way up, and shoves the gun into the back of his waistband and hidden under his t-shirt. "Where are you?" Craig gently pushes her bedroom door open with his knuckles and peers in through the crack. "C-can I come in?"

Ruby is lounging in her window seat with an open copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire in her lap, mindlessly gazing at her muted television.

"Yeah, sure." She said, turning back to her book.

Craig steps in softly on the white carpet, taking his eyes off the ground to rest them on her. "How is it?" He had loaned her the copy last week.

She shrugs, "It's okay so far, but I don't really think that-" She looks up at him and freezes. "What's wrong?"

His eyes drop to the floor again, "S'nothing."

She dogears her page before she walks up to him, "It's gonna be okay, Craig." She wipes his wet cheeks with her thumbs, and gently smiles at him when he meets her eyes.

He lets out a sob, "No, it's not." Craig lets her pull him into her arms. "It's too much."
He wraps his arms tightly around her, breathing in the scent of her clothes and hair. She smells alive. Craig swears he could hear her heart her heart pumping, he could hear her lungs working, he could hear her blood running through her veins. She wreaked of the living.

"You're going to get better, I promise." She says.

He slowly pulls away from her, and draws in a deep breath. "Bullshit." He reaches behind him and grips the hilt of the gun, "We all die, Ruby," He pulls the gun out and and lets it hang next to him, "but some of us-people like me- keep living even after we're dead."

She stumbles backward but still trying to keep her head, "Craig please. Whatever you're doing don't-"

"Ruby just… just stop." Human natural was such a funny thing, couldn't she see she was done for, why keep on fighting? He wiped his cheeks again, "Please don't make this hard."

"Y-you don't have to do this, Craig!" She falls back onto her mattress, not taking her eyes off of the gun, "We can work this out, I promise!"

Craig clicks the safety off, and raises the gun toward her forehead.

"Oh god, please oh god, oh god." She rolls to the other side of the bed, "Craig don't don't! Put that DOWN!" She no longer smells of the living, she smells like piss.

"I'm sorry."

She screams with her last breath, "OH GOD SOMEBODY HE-"

Movies are the biggest liars Craig has encountered to the minute. Craig hasn't shot anyone before, naturally, but he didn't think the gun shot would be so loud. He was startled for a moment, disoriented. "Ruby?"

He stepped around to her side of the bed to find her laying limp on her white- now stained red- carpet.

He boldly picked her petite body up from the ground and rested it in the bed, pulling the comforter up to cover her mangled skull and face.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, holding her limp hand in his. There was no turning back then, she would die for a cause.

And he swears, she would not die alone.

oops did that take way too long or is that just me. i am so sorry omg.

But anyway, next chapter we get into the real fun and bloodshed.

I doubt I'll let it take as long as this did to write- I'm ready to be done with this story, y'know?

-Hama