Ungodly Addiction

Thoughts in Italics

I have a universal Disclaimer in my Profile, so all angry mobs bearing pitchforks and torches are unnecessary.

**DIP**

This is it.

I'm going to die now.

A drunken giggle escapes my lips as I gaze over the edge of the roof I'm about to jump off. I admire the ground below, so far away, and yet close enough to touch after just a few mere seconds of free fall. I glance behind myself at the wide expanses of the new South Park High rooftop, silently contemplating whether to jump off the front end or the back end of the building.

Front would be more dramatic, a bigger amusement both for myself and the demons I'm trying to impress… But it could also be seen as a sign of attention seeking. A final grasp at all the attention I never received in this blasted bullies' sanctuary.

Nope, definitely not the front.

My half-empty whiskey bottle sloshes at my side as I turn to examine behind the building. That's pretty much out of the question - I'd look like a loser, a pathetic Emo with no class.

The demons would not accept that.

Another chuckles wafts its way out of my mouth, curling with the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. I can't believe I'm debating the best end of a building to throw myself from.

It makes sense, you know. Thinking on it so hard. I need this to be the best performance of my life. I need to show those stuck-up demons that I'm right for the job.

I drain the rest of my bottle in one go and hurl it over the edge, laughing when it shatters into thousands of pieces on the distant ground.

That's going to be me.

Just as son as I can choose which bloody side to jump off. There's only four to choose from, for Christ's sake!

I reach for the other bottle - the last from my cabinet back home. I've been drinking solidly all night, all the alcohol in my house, from cooking sherry to that 12 year old single malt Dam saved for special occasions.

Hey, I figure I may as well get my money's worth. Besides, I need the inebriation and lack of inhibitions to actually do the deed. I won't delude myself - I know I'm too mush of a pansy to actually throw myself off a roof without a little push.

Or, in this case, a drink-induced stagger.

I open my last bottle - Rum, yum - and take a swig. I feel the numbing burn of the alcohol down my throat and sigh in contentment.

At least I'm going out on a high!

I glance to my left and grin like the devil.

It's a straight drop down - three stories - to a rocky, painful-looking P.E. obstacle course. It's not back or front, it'll give everyone one helluva shock, and the demons will have a fucking field-day with all those wooden poles and tires.

It's perfect.

I start chugging the rest of my liquor, thinking of Damien and the demons and eternal awareness and Damien and sex and blood and fun and Damien…

I'm doin' this for you, lover!

I give myself to you and you dear ol' daddy and your way of life. I sacrifice all I hold dear, risk it all on the chance of a better existence with you, Damien.

I love you.

I peer over the edge of the roof just as the sun makes it's debut over the horizon. I snort to myself - how fucking poetic.

Throwing myself from the battlements at dawn for the chance to join my beloved…

I shouldn't have debated for so long, but then I wouldn't have had the time to have some fun before my final fall.

I drain the rest of my rum in three hearty gulps, and throw the glass bottle to spread a layer of glittering splinters across where I myself will land in a few moments. I look at the shards glittering in the morning sun, and can't help but find it beautiful.

As I step back to make my final dash, I wonder who will find my handiwork. I feel gratified to know that I have left my mark on the new school as well as the old. Not only do I plan to make the obstacle course that much more exciting - "Dodge the mangled corpse, c'mon ladies! Hup two, hup two, feel the burn!" - I took the liberty to make my last mortal night one that no one will ever forget.

Earlier, when I broke into the school, I decide to take the long route to the roof. On my way through I drew an extraordinarily detailed diagram of a dick on Mr/s. Garrison's whiteboard - in permanent marker; glued the Principal's door shut with crazy glue; defaced the trophy case; and, amongst other things, skulled a bottle of vodka and pissed all over the couches in the teacher's lounge

Personally, I hope it's Garrison who finds me. The look on his face would be worth the Fatass' weight in gold.

I take a deep breath and start to run. Straight forward, fast as I can, left right left right left right…

As I go careening over the edge and find myself falling, I get the strangest sense of peace stealing over me, bringing a smile to my lips and helping my relax. I float on air for the briefest moment, looking up at the rising sun and I fall, fall, fall…

I hear a dull thud and feel myself stop falling, but no pain breaches the alcohol-enhanced numbness in my system. The shock is probably helping.

I feel a warm salty liquid in my mouth, and when I cough it sounds gurgled, as if I were trying to speak underwater. I've probably broken nearly every bone in my body, but I cannot feel it. There is blood in my lungs, on my face and arms and all over the floor, spreading in a slow, elegant puddle of life.

As I bleed out, the peaceful feeling grows. I have done all I can do. Either I have satisfied the demons and will be with Damien forever, or I will die normally and see him only when he ventured into Hell.

And that's ok.

I laugh softly at the realization that I couldn't care less whether my sacrifice worked or not, it's just a relief to have done something, have gotten away from this dingy, one-dead-horse town. Waiting for Damien is fine, but waiting in South Park is Hell.

My laughter echoes throughout the empty school grounds as I draw nearer to my last breath, completely at ease. I can wait for Damien, I have not lost him by this action, whether it works or not. I can wait for him, wait for the one I love.

And I do love him, what started out as an addiction has turned into one of the best things to ever happen to me. My laughter slows to a contented sigh, and as my breathing stutters and stops, I breathe one last comment, letting the cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes linger with the words of a dying man.

I love you, Damien.

AN ~

So…

How was it? Dramatic enough for all of you? Too sappy, not sappy enough, just right?

Okay so there is one last chapter after this, a sort of resolution as to whether he get's to follow Damien around forever or spent eternity in Hell, the usual trials and tribulations…

Thank you once again to all you wonderful, marvelous, fantastic people who review, I tell you all now that those little notes make my day that little bit brighter!

And so until next time, (for the last time)

Zanchev

P.S. I got over 1000 words again, my honor is restored