Into The Strait of Insanity
Discliamer - Ch 1.
Notes - So, here we go. The next chapter. I know this fic won't be tooooo long. I'll say 3 chapters minimum, 5 max. I actually don't even know if I'll get past this chapter actually, it all depends on how it works out and falls through in my head. grinAnyway, read and enjoy and...please! Review

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Into The Strait of Insanity - Ch 2
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I told you I would let you in on "that night" that I nearly lost it, so here we are. Sitting in our little shitty, not even allowed to be considered a half-circle for story time, right? Well, I hope you don't mind slight drama because, well, I was on the verge of dying. People are allowed to be dramatic in their last hours, right? Or, at least what you might think are your last hours. Anyway, let's see, where should I start? I guess the beginning, but where was the beginning of this? You don't mean the literal beginning of my drug addiction, right? Good. Cause you would be quite disappointed. Well, let's give this a shot, shall we?

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It was dark out. Night. Late. Most people would be asleep at this hour. It had to be at least three in the morning. That didn't matter to him. He didn't know what the word "sleep" meant, anyway. Hardly ever did, except for the few times when he was sober. He was in the same place he had been for the last three hours. Sitting in the middle of the floor knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs, left hand loosely grasping his right wrist just above his ankles, head resting on his knees. The only thing about this scenario that was different than every other night were the tears streaming down his face. He didn't remember why they were there, when they had started, or how he had gotten to this position. All he knew was that he was there, and had been for a really long time.

The tears. Wait. They hadn't come of their own accord. There was a reason. What was it? There had to be a real reason for them. He isn't the type to just...cry in an act of randomness. There HAS to be a reason! What was it?! He couldn't remember, and it, along with the huge dose of drugs from earlier that had yet to wear off, was seriously messing him up. As slowly as possible, he stood up shakily and made his way over to the bed. He sat on the edge of it and leaned over on his knees. He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. What had made him so upset. WHAT WAS IT?! He was gripping the sides of his head now. It was slowly starting to drive him into insanity. Something so small, so minute, driving him absolutely nuts.

At some point, he had actually gotten to th position of laying in the bed. He didn't remember doing this, but that didn't matter. He jolted up to sit straight when he heard a loud sound. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It seemed like it was coming from somewhere nearby, so maybe he could figure it out. Whatever the noise was coming from, it was on the bedside table. And it was...oh! The phone. It was ringing. He stared at it for a moment, confused. It rang three more times before he picked it up. "......"

"Hello?" A confused feminine voice came over the phone.

"Charlie?"

"They're here...."

"Who? Who's there?" She sounded worried.

"They're gonna kill me."

"WHAT? Charlie! What's going on?"

"I have to get out of here." Charlie wasn't even aware he was speaking to anyone on a phone. He was just talking.

"No, Charlie, wait! Who's there? What's going on? Where are you--"

Charlie slowly put the phone back down on the receiver. He wasn't sure who that had been, but they were very odd. And why didn't they know what was going on? Who was here? All that they were asking about, they should have known...shouldn't they?

Charlie slowly made his way off the bed to stand up. He stumbled slightly in the darkness as he tried to find his keys. Oh, well. He didn't really need them anyway. He had legs, he could walk, right?

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The beginning is always great, isn't it? No one knows what's really going on, and you've got to be at least slightly intrigued by what might happen next. I've always liked the beginning. It's the end that I've always hated. The middle is all right, but the beginning is everything. If the beginning is boring, no one cares enough to stick around and find out what happens.

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Charlie wasn't sure when he had got there, but he suddenly found himself in the park. Sitting on a bench. In the middle of a park. Why was he here, again? He wasn't sure. Maybe it was to think. What about, though? He had no idea. Suddenly, he reached up and touched his face, a little under his eye. Right! That was it! Where and why the tears had come. He still wasn't sure about that. Maybe if he tried to focus...

He had gotten home from...something....he didn't know what, but he knew he was having withdrawls. That's why he hadn't been able to think straight and all, right? That's why he'd gotten off work early. People thought he couldn't do his job. Well, they were wrong. He could do his job just fine, he just needed a little help. He needed a little cocaine was all. That's why he had gone home. When he got there, he did his usual routine and soon found himself on a nearly immediate high. He liked that feeling. And the feelings leading up to the velvety feeling that always resulted in the end.

After that, he'd just sat there, for hours, in the same position. His thoughts were reeling, but he something struck him. Something that wasn't good. Something that was so bad that he had let silent streams of tears flow for hours. The only problem was, he still wasn't sure what it was. Oh, well.

Now, Charlie was thinking again, and the thoughts that were running through his mind weren't good. They weren't nice thoughts, or happy ones. They were sad...and depressing, and extremely different than what would usually be there.

Is anything worth it anymore? Does anyone care? If I was to suddenly disappear, who would try to find me? Maybe Kristina. She's my sister...and the only one that could ever begin to understand me at all. But...is she the only one? I think she is. I don't think there's anyone else in this world that cares on bit about me. Not at all. No one else would miss me if I were gone, would they? Is anything worthing it? Is life really worth living? I remember hearing people say that, and "Live life to its fullest," but what does that really mean? Does it mean, if there is no true 'fullest' point of your life, or if you've reached it, you should end it? If you've lived your life to the point of fullness, you shouldn't still be around, right? When your life has been complete, you should die. Even if you do it yourself. You shouldn't be allowed to live. If living life to its fullest is what you're supposed to do, God isn't that great of a judge of fullness. I've done everything I've ever wanted to do. Seen lots of places with the band's touring and all....been in a band...gotten drunk off my ass...high to the point of no return...I've even fucked a girl senseless. What else is left for me to do? Why hasn't God rid the world of me? No one cares anyway, right? Maybe I'll play God for a day. Maybe I'll choose if I live or if I die. It's my right, isn't it? Freedom and all, right?

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I hardly remember anything after that. I remember finding myself with a knife sitting near the stream that ran through some point of the park. I remember not wanting to take my life quickly. I wanted it to be slow. I didn't want the pain accompanied by a slow death, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

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At some point, Charlie has acquired a knife. He was currently sitting cross-legged in front of the stream that ran through the park. It was so clear you could see straight to the bottom during the day, and on nights like tonight. When the moon was just over the stream and shining down directly on it. Charlie wasn't sure why he had picked to do this here, or why he wanted to go out slowly. But here he was, cutting himself. At first, the cuts were small slits; they were only tests. With each slice on his arm, the cuts grew bigger. So much so that by now, they were near gash-sized.

When his arms couldn't be done up much worse, Charlie had decided to start somewhere else. Place of choice being his legs. He didn't get there, though. He wasn't sure what had happened, but something was strange. The knife fell from his hand to lay next to him and he eventually joined it on the ground. Out cold.

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I don't remember much after that. The next thing I remember are lights too bright for their own good and muttered, muffled voices. I had no idea where I was or how I'd gotten there. It was an interesting place, this new surrounding was so bright. I remember a few things from the bright place, though...

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Charlie was slowly coming to. His eyes barely squinting open because of the sheer brightness of the lights in the room. After a few minutes of finding out that he probably wasn't going to be opening his eyes too much anytime soon, something else slowly started to register in his mind. Voice. Muttered voices. Muffled-sounding voices. What were they saying, though? Was it about him? Or did they even know he was there?

"Is he...is he gonna be all right?"

He knew that voice. That was the voice he'd heard earlier. Back at his apartment. Before the park. Yeah, Charlie liked her voice. Not right now, though. He didn't like the tone in her voice. She sounded worried, and scared, and...

"He'll be fine. But it's good you found him when you did. If he had lost much more blood..." The man's voice wasn't familiar. And he wasn't very informative. "And the drugs...they've gotta stop. You have to convince him to stop. If he doesn't stop soon, he might--"

"I've tried, ok! I've been trying! Ever since he was fifteen, but, he just..he won't listen!"

Charlie knew he had heard this girl's voice somewhere besides from the phone earlier in his apartment. But where? And who was she? He didn't know. He couldn't piece things together right now.

"I know that this is a hard thing to deal with. Especially when it's a family member, but you've really got to try to control him, Miss."

Now she was getting annoyed. "Fine, whatever! Can I just see him? Please....you've been talking me for almost ten minutes, I just wanna see him!"

Family member. What was she to him? A cousin? Neice, maybe? No...he didn't have a neice, only a nephew. Was she his aunt? No...she sounded too young to be his aunt. Charlie was confused, but at least now he could open his eyes.

She slowly and attentively made her way into the room. She couldn't believe how she had found him. She didn't even know how she had known where to go. This had never happened before. "Ch--Charlie?" She asked slowly, "Charlie, can you...can you hear me?"

"Who...who are you?" Charlie asked, looking up at her with confused, green-gray eyes.

"Oh, God. You're so out of it you don't even know me." Tears were sliding down her cheeks. "Charlie...It's me. Kristina." She reached out and gently touched his cheek.

Charlie reached up and grabbed her hand, taking it into his own. "Kristina...."

Kris nodded, biting down on her lower lip. "Yeah...Kristina...your sister." She coughed a little, trying to keep hold the tears in. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

"Kris....Kristina...how...how did you find me?"

"I...I don't know. I just...knew where you were. I don't know how I even knew where to go. I guess it was just...one of the feelings, you know?" Kris smiled a little. He seemed to know who she was now.

"But..." Charlie's eyes held something like a cross between sorrow and anger. His voice was neither, though. "Why didn't you leave me?"

"Le--Leave you? No! Charlie, I could never do that! Why would I just leave you there?"

"I don't understand....I was trying to make the world a better place, right? Rid the world of my useless, fulfilled life."

"What?" Kris frowned, confused, staring down at her brother.

"You know that saying, 'Live life to the fullest', right?" When she nodded, he continued, "Yeah, well...I was thinking about that and...I've decided that God doesn't know very well how to judge when my life is fulfilled. I've done everything I've wanted to do. My life should be over, right? So...that's what I was doing." He explained to her.

Charlie was being so deadly serious, that it sent a shiver up Kristina's spine. "Oh, God, Charlie!" The tears had begun running down her cheeks again. She leaned over and gave his the biggest hug she could. "Charlie! Don't you ever do that again! I swear to God, if you do, I...I don't know what I'll do."

"Sorry that I made you mad..."

"I'm not angry, I just..." Kris sighed and sat down in one of the chairs provided in the room, her hand still enclosed in Charlie's, "You're my little brother and...I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Yeah, well, let's be glad I'm not the older one, huh?"

"What'd ya mean?"

"Well, isn't the older child in a family supposed to set an example? Imagine if our ages were flipped. Some role model I'd have been."

"Charlie..."

"It's true! Think about it!"

Kristina fell silent. She knew he was right, but she wasn't about to admit it. "Hey, I've gotta go...visiting hours are over and all, you know? They'll be dragging me outta here soon..." She stood up and tried to leave.

Charlie didn't allow his grip on her hand to loosen. In fact, when she tried to leave, it tightened. "Don't leave..."

Kris looked over her shoulder, "But,"

"Stay with me. Stay the night. Please?"

Kristina nodded. "All right..." She smiled a little, "But you know, even if I am staying here, I will need my hand back."

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That night, I promised her I'd go into rehab. That I'd stop. It was the first time I had lied to her in such a big way. Sure, I went to the rehab center and did well enough to let them trust that I wouldn't go back to it. But you know what? Whoever came up with 'Old habits die hard,' was completely right. I know they were. How? Come on, you can't piece things together? Yep...tha's it. I went back. And Kristina found out. I've only talked to her twice since then. I actually betrayed her. I had promised her something and I went back on that promise.

I guess I was right about what I'd said in the hospital, right? It's a good thing the ages weren't switched making me the older sibling. I would have been the worst role model for a younger sister on the face of the earth.

Kris and I had been so close. And I blew it. I went back on that promise, and she has hardly spoken to me since. Even as the thrity or forty-something of us are all stranded here on this island with this thing, Kristina, the promise, going back on it, and that night...it's nearly all I can think about. But you know what the most pathetic of it all is? The thing that is in my mind even more than the promise and Kristina...is what the hell I'm going to do if we're stranded here longer than my cocaine is going to last. What am I going to do when I run out of cocaine....

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Notes - Ok, I don't know exactly just how really realistic that was, but...deal with it, all right, Jack's the doctor, not me! lol.

Drop me a line!

Later days,
-PFB-