I think have a selective memory.

It's not my fault, I don't mean for it to be that way - it just happens. I don't know how this happened, or why, or when. From what I've gathered, the only things that I can ever remember in some way involves my Raven. As for everything else. . . I don't know. People seem to become disturbed whenever they notice I have no recollection of whatever I have done with them.

Have I fallen so madly in love with my beloved that my mindset is now completely encompassed by her existence? Perhaps, but that is fine by me.

Although sometimes, I do wish I could remember the things my mind is forcing away.

I was let out of the hospital the very next day - they assigned a nurse to do daily check-ups on me for the next month, so don't think they're that irresponsible.

So now I'm back here at home with nothing else to do but sleep all day. But I have far too much on my mind for any of that abstract nonsense. The matter of that foolish little rumor going around school - even around the entire town - of my darling little Raven being deflowered by that thing has still yet to have been sorted out. Yet to have stopped plaguing my mind. This. . . morbid form of torture that this little gossip has placed upon my very existence is driving me to the very edge, and I would kindly like it to stop, soon.

It grows like a tumor, slowly killing me from the inside-out.

It sticks like an adhesive, clinging for dear life.

It boils like lava, destroying everything in it's path.

It festers like an un-diagnosed cancer, waiting to strike.

Do you like the poem I just did right there? It is in the form of a ballad - a poorly executed one - but, a ballad nonetheless.

Oh, how I will enjoy the punishment I will give to the creator of this ridiculously, laughable lie - this farce - when I find out who they are. That will be a joyful day indeed. . .

I close my eyes and sigh happily at the thought. What will I use? How will I use it, and for how long? Perhaps I will use that "antique" I ordered so long ago - that Scolds Bridle? Hm, my mother can be so easily fooled if throw in a word that catches her ears like "priceless," or "old," or "rare." Ah, yes! I can see it now; they'll wake up in a dark room, not knowing where they are or how they got there. They'll try to call out to see if there's anyone around to save then, and that's when they'll be met with a sharp, piercing pain in their mouth.

I suddenly hear the door to my room open. It must be the nurse again.

But the room becomes silent. .

I assume she's just taking the time to just stare at me pitifully - apathetically, even. But a few moments later, I feel her presence grow closer, and then I realize; I've felt this presence before - this aura. I am not sure yet, but as she gets closer and closer to me, my assumption becomes more and more solidified.

My body begins to tingle. She's so close to me, I can just taste her! I finally give in and snap open my eyes. There she is, in all her beauty, her dark, sexy aura shimmering all around her delicate frame. I've never been so happy to see her in my life. My heart flutters at the gaze of her wonderful, magnificent, shining black eyes. I want to stare into her flawless orbs for all eternity. . .

Unfortunately, fate is nothing but cruel to our love.

Just a moment later, my princess of the Moonlight stumbles back, obviously shocked by my sudden movement. Her rear connects with the floor and I get up to aide her. But I quickly stop myself - as long as that monster is still living, the time to show our love for each other cannot commence.

I simply ask what she is doing here, trying to sound unhappy to see her. I allow my mouth and body to go on autopilot so I can easily enjoy her presence. I never liked this facade we had to put up all the time, but until we're old enough to officially make our lives into one, we must do so. Not to mention that monster that dares to try to steal her heart.

I almost sigh out loud. I apologize for lying, he has stolen her heart - that much is obvious. I dare not accept it, for it would kill me - kill. . . everyone. I'd went hysterical when they showed up in school together for the fist time at that dance. Then that mind-collapsing day came, when everyone in our town came to that things house dressed in black - a 'Welcome To The Neighborhood' party. These people, these fucking people actually accepted the monster that stole my Raven.

My Snow White

My Cinderella

My Mary Jane

My Lois Lane

My Juliet

My Morticia

My Soul Mate

It only got worse and worse from there on. Long after the 'Welcome To The Neighborhood' party, an asshole named Jagger showed up in town and tried to take my Raven by force. I didn't see this happen for myself, but everyone in this town - including my Princess of the Night and her dark beast - talk, a lot. That's the only time I've ever been grateful that Sterling was around - tricking Jagger into thinking he bit her.

A while after that, Jagger "befriended" me. I'd realized that he didn't know I knew about what happened with him and my darling, so I decided to accept this "friendship" to see what he was up to.

I still haven't figured it out. . .

After the friendship - partner ship - farce - was agreed upon, Jagger's poser bitch sister who tried to besmirch Raven by dressing and acting like her showed up in town. I figured that if I pretended to like this girl - well, if I said "girl," it'd imply that I actually respected her - if I pretended to like this object, I could probably challenge that monster Sterling's power, and hopefully get him to back down. The night at the fair, when I "lost" the Object in the hall of mirrors, I was actually standing just outside and listening. It became clear to me that she was trying to make my darling suffer - I should've realized sooner that It and It's brother were working together. So I continued to date It to try to find a way to stop It's plans.

Come to think of it, I never see It during the day. . . There's no doubt that It's just like her brother and the Monster that stole my Raven's heart.

When my mind fades back in, I find that I'm holding some garlic (?) and sending my dearest on her way.

I wish she'd stay with me forever. She'd sleep in the secret room I made between the thick, 3-foot wall between my walk-in closet and the next room. Of course, a few bundles of rope wouldn't hurt, in case she was planning on abandoning our love again. I'd do her hair and make-up myself every day, and I'd dress her too. (And when we get married, I'd undress her. . .) I'd cook her the fanciest meals there are all by myself and feed her in our candle-lit crawl space of love. Every night, I'd dress up like a vampire, and we'd act out her fantasy; A dramatic, ghoulish ritual of love. Biting her gently and seductively, letting her mind carry her away and imagine herself transforming into her fantasized creature of the night. That Monster Sterling would be long out of the picture - six feet under the picture, in fact.

Romantic

And we'd stay in this paradise of romance together, forever.

I am able to return to school two days later. Raven is wearing a new jacket today.

No, Sterling's jacket.

Why would she wear that here? Is she trying the tear my still beating heart out of my chest? Is He putting her up to this, or does she not know what is going on? Is he trying to destroy me?

Well, he's not the only one who plays at the game of psychological warfare. I refuse to approach her today with that on. Oh, but my heart aches with disapproval for dismissing her for such a matter that she is probably unaware of. I feel the burning need to punish myself later for putting her through such an ordeal.

When school ends, I drive off to the country club to speak to my mother. When I found her, she was sorting out wallpaper samples for redecorating the lobby. She glanced up at me when I enter the room, then instantly looks back down. As I expected, she's still working on denying my latest hospitalization.

I approach her. "Can I get my allowance early this week - like, today?" I ask with a tone of authority, as if I were giving her a demand.

She flinches a bit and hesitates to place the sample at the top of the stack to the bottom of the stack, then she proceeds to do so. She's trying to pretend to not notice me - a foolish task.

"Mother." I say through gritted teeth, showing my irritation.

She flinches a bit harder than places the samples down on the table. Mother slowly lifts her unnerved gaze to meet my fierce one. "D-Don't you think we can wait a little while this time, Honey? I-I mean, I gave you your allowance twice last week as it is. Maybe we should give it some time this time?" My stare intensifies, and I can see her panic and become somewhat overwhelmed. "But, if you do insist, and if it is important" She quickly goes through her purse and retrieves seventeen twenty-dollar bills.

That's $340 - over two times my real allowance. . . But she doesn't need to know that.

I snatch the money from my mother's hand and stuff it into my pocket before she could notice her mistake. The moment the cash leaves her hand, she rubs her arm to comfort herself. As soon as I turn around, the people who had apparently been eavesdropping in on us look away and pretend to be busy.

Fuck these people.

I immediately go to the auto-shop - after discreetly giving several county club members the bird. All I required was four cans of red spray paint, and four cans of black spray paint. . .

I drive to the supermarket next. I pick up a basket and head directly toward the seasoning isle. I grab at least six bottles of garlic powder, plus some sage - you can never be too safe. Next, I go to the kitchen-wares isle. A dicing knife, a butchering knife, a steak knife, and a long corkscrew are what I add to my basket. I then go to the butchery.

"Hey Trevor, mom having you run some chores?" Harvey, the butcher, says to me.

"Yeah." I reply flatly.

"Yeah. Women, right? As soon as they have men around the house, they never do anything for themselves."

". . . Yeah."

"Anyway, what would ya' like."

"When's your next stock of beef coming in?"

"Next week, son."

"Hold me for ten big t-bones - very fresh, very bloody. I'll be back to get them next Wednesday."

"Damn kid, that all?"

"You're right, I could use some fresh ribs, too. Add two full slabs of ribs, too - very bloody."

Harvey arches his eyebrows as he slowly turn his gaze away from. "Alight." He says with a sigh as he pulls out the order paper and jots down my demands. He looks up and begins to speak, but I turn around and leave mid-sentence. I have no more time to spare for his foolish banter.

I wanted to go to a self check-out line, but they were all shut down. Here comes the inane prodding, again.

I quickly shuffle to the shortest line I see. Begrudgingly, the cashier at the line I choose is one of the cheerleaders for the soccer team. She's been walking around practically naked for me to ask her out - as if I'd date a nude pig. Who does she think I am, Kermit the Frog?

Minute's later, it's my turn to get my thing ringed-up. She immediately fixes up her hair and pokes out her chest. "Hey Trevor." She says with a seductive smile. "You know, my mom says I need to get refitted for my bra size, care to come with me when I do?"

I take a few moments, then an idea comes in mind. "Sure, Claire. Then maybe we can go to my place after?" Her face lights up and she nods excitedly. "But," I continue, "You can't tell anyone, let's keep it to ourselves." I cock my eyebrow and smirk suggestively to close the deal. Girls always go for handle, if you know what I mean - and if you don't, I'm talking about my cock. She nods in hypnotic agreement.

"Pick me up tomorrow at eight." She says, giving me a wink. "We're gonna have a great time."

Oh yes, a great time. . .

When I pull up to Claire's house, in my freshly painted black car. . . I see her sitting on the porch with her head resting on her knees. The moment she notices my car, she straightens up and bolt toward the gate. My car lurches toward the passenger side when she hops in. She kisses me on the cheek, really close to my lips for an uncomfortably long amount of time - at least, in my opinion.

The first stop is Victoria's Secret. I meander behind her as she browses through the lingerie. She goes through racks and racks of cotton one-pieces, ultra-tiny satin panties, and silk crotch-line nightgowns. I would've made suggestive comments like I usually did, but I'm on a mission; I have to focus so I don't say anything to fuck this up.

After twenty minutes of her browsing bullshit, she finally tracks down an employee so she can do what we actually came here for.

Now my patience is wearing thin; we've spent a ridiculous amount of time dicking around with the lingerie, and now the employee is saying that the person that does the fitting isn't even in! Oh, I'm definitely going to enjoy this. . .

She gets all giggley as we leave Victoria's Secret, which only makes my anger increase. Claire clings to my right arm while we cross the parking lot to my car. "Well, that was time well-spent." She says, "Now, why don't we go back to your place like you said we would?" She adds a seductive tone to her voice.

She's wasted my precious time, and now she's rubbing it in my face? That's it, I don't want to wait any longer. I'm doing this now.

I give Claire a light push when we get close to my car. I notice out of the corner of my eye that she gives me a slightly frightened look. Hmph, I guess she's only fierce when it's her turn to top the pyramid. I enter the car and slam the door closed, then quickly throw my seat-belt on. She enters the car slowly, being sure to poke out her chest and ass as much as possible to look sexy for me.

Disgusting.

I hit the gas hard before she can put her seat-belt on. She gasps loudly and looks at me like I've lost my mind.

Well Claire, you're a bit too late to the punch.

I intentionally drive past my house at a high-speed, just to get things going. "T-Trevor! You passed the house!" She screeches. I allow my face to go cold and stoic, then I push the gas pedal all the way down.

Claire pushes herself up against the door now. "Trevor, where are you taking me?! Tell me!" Her words only bounce off the side of my head.

It felt like it only took me a few seconds to get to my spot. I swerve up the twists and turns to get to my special place, still heavy-footing the gas. I hammer my brakes the moment I reach my spot and turn the car off. "Stay here." I say to Claire with authority. I lock the doors behind me and slowly make my way to the trunk. I grab the black bag I'd had waiting for me all day and slam the trunk closed. I stalk over to Claire's side of the car and stare deep into her fearful eyes.

I open the door. . .

I wake up feeling very refreshed - with the curtains closed, I might add. I stretch my arms and crack a few stiff bones in the process. With a sigh, I slump over and run my hands through my hair, then drop them.

But then I stare at my open palms. . . Why are my hands soaked in red? What did I do?

I hesitantly give my right palm a light lick.

Blood? How did I get so much blood on my hands? Did I cut again, but forgot about? I doubt it. . .

I peel the covers away from me so I can get up and wash my hands, but then I notice more blood. It's all over my shirt, my pants, my sheets! It looks like I just killed someone.

There's a knock at my door. "Trevor? Come downstairs Honey, we need to talk to you." It's Mom.

I reply with a "Hold on!" and I tear the sheets off my bed and stuff them into my hamper in a bunch, my clothes following them. I race to the bathroom that's connected to my room and lock the door, just as my mother enters. I scramble to turn the shower faucets, my hands slipping now and then from the slick blood.

Then it occurs to me; why am I getting so flustered about this? I didn't do anything. At least, I don't think I did anything. . .

"Trevor, come to the living room when you're done with your shower." Mom says. I don't reply to her this time.

I set the shower to very hot and stand there as the burning water washes away the red covering my body. As I watch the blood go down the drain beneath me, I try to remember just where the hell all of this blood came from. Who did it come from? Why is it on me?

. . .

I stop the shower immediately and stomp back into my bedroom, slamming the bathroom door in the process. I throw on a pair of sweat pants and snatch the handle of the hamper. I drag the nearly leaking basket down the stairs quickly, but steadily. I feel like I'm a robot by the way I'm moving. I'm not even trying to do this, my body's just moving on its own! What am I doing anyway? Why did I just feel the urge to get these sheets out of sight?

I watch as my body takes the hamper to the back yard and through the gate, to the back garden. I approach my old childhood tree-house and climb up the sloppily constructed ladder with my free hand. Why did I bring myself here? I open the door.

. . . This feels familiar. . . I creep into the small room and shut the door behind me. It gets uneasily dark, but I can still see what's directly in front of me. I make my way to a curtain in the back of the room and slowly slide it open. . .

Sheets. A closet-sized hole. . . full of tattered, old sheets, covered in dried up blood. I drop the new set of sheets on top of the pile. Then take my bloody clothes and trow them further toward the back of the "closet" where I see other sets of gruesome clothes. Some of them look like they're from my middle school and elementary school days.

The overwhelming stench of death - murder - suddenly fills my entire being and the room starts spinning like crazy.

Then everything goes white.

When my mind fades back in, I'm sitting on the lounge chair in our living room. My mother is standing right beside the flat-screen, and it seems like she just finished saying something. She then holds up the remote and presses play.

It's a news report - breaking news, to be more specific. I try my best to pull myself into focus, but it's still a struggle.

"It was just four o'clock this very morning when the body of local cheerleader, Claire Finere, was found. The person who found the body has asked that their identity be undisclosed, although they did comment how close they were to the victim."

"Claire was found gruesomely torn apart in the backyard of the mansion atop Benson Hill with a hand-held electric saw protruding from her head. Apon further investigation, the saw was confirmed to indeed belong to the residents of the mansion."

"The police are conducting a full investigation on the only current resident of the mansion found, a man simply named Jameson. The suspect will be placed in holding until further notice."

"Hold on!"

The reporter places his hand on his earpiece, indicating that he's receiving a message.

"I've just been told that the police are authorizing the body to be documented on camera. We now go to our field reporter."

"Please keep in mind viewers, the following images. . are disturbing."

The TV then immediately cuts to Claire's mangled, torn-apart body.

That's when my mother pauses the report and looks at me with tears in her eyes.

I put on the best disbelieving face I can and say, "C-Claire is. . . dead?"

Of course, I'm not actually sad or even surprised that she's dead. In fact, who wouldn't want to kill her? With her bossy, narcissistic attitude, her annoying, high-pitched, childish voice and her greedy acts. Not to mention, she picks - picked - on Raven the most. . .

My mother nods to my question. I allow fake tears to well-up in my eyes and storm off in a false grief to my room. I take a seat on my bed and hunch over putting my head on my hands.

I just wish I knew what the hell was going on with those piles in my tree house. I mean. . . Whatever I did last night, I must have done it before. I can't stand the idea of doing something that could potentially be important and just have zero recollection of it. . .

Claire. . . She has to have something to do with it. She can't just turn up dead at the same time I find. . . something on my sheets.

What did I find again? It was something that was blue, right? I mean, I know they were the same color as the things I found. . . somewhere. . . Where? And why would they be blue?

. . .

Why am I thinking about blue? It must be important - or, maybe not.

No, wait! The shoes Raven was wearing yesterday had blue low lights! That was blue. . . Is that the only blue thing I've seen? Why is the only thing I can remember now that's blue. . . Raven's shoes. . .?

. . .

I think I have a selective memory.