Chapter Two
Blood And Bliss
Don't want to let it
Lay Me Down This Time
Drown My Will To Fly
Here In The Darkness
I Know Myself
Can't Break Free
Until I Let It Go
Let Me Go
-Evanescence
I remember Darkness.
It was everywhere. All around me; nothing but blinding, suffocating, darkness. Hell, Maybe I was darkness. I don't know. I don't think I'll ever truly know. All I know is that I was both terrified and comforted at the same time. Weird, huh?
Now floating along in that darkness, that darkness that I feared and loved, I thought; I thought for what felt like eternity, and maybe it was. I thought about many things; My friend, Max, the only person I ever truly cared about; My mother, Janice, Who probably didn't even know, or care, that I was dead; My Father, Who I know was to busy to notice the continued absence of phone calls and complaints; Chad and the others, My murderers….My life in general.
And I came to a conclusion; Life wasn't fair. I was a victim all of my life…right until the end.
It was amidst these thoughts that a light broke through my darkness.
"Awaken."
I coughed. Hard.
Blood oozed and spurted from my mouth, and as I opened my eyes, I found I was looking into the night sky. Rain fell in droplets against my cold, numb skin, and I found that I could move, if only a little. Slowly, I sat up. My hand felt something leather, and I slipped; Pain radiated through out my body as I hit the ground again.
How the hell am I still alive? I thought, confused, as the memories returned to me. Chad slit my throat…did I imagine all that?
But then, why would I be lying in a dark alleyway for God knows how long at God knows what time? And why would I be covered in blood?
It didn't add up.
None of it added up.
I tried to sit up again, and grinded my teeth against the sudden pain. I grabbed at the leather thing that caused me to slip earlier, and pulled it onto my lap. Everything ached, burned, stinged, and hurt. I managed to use my arms to pull my injured body from the rain, putting my back against the brick wall and my side against a dumpster. I huddled up against myself and shivered in the rain.
This wasn't right.
I was dead.
And now I'm alive?
I shook my head, deciding to think about it later. I had to get out of this alleyway; but my house was at least two miles away, and with the beating I took, I didn't think I could make it. But then I remembered where Max lived.
Max lived in an apartment complex to the south of here her parents paid for, for her. In a sense, we're a lot a like; neither one of our parents really gave a shit about us. The only reason Max's parents gave her an apartment was because they wanted her out of their hair; but didn't want to look bad for it.
Slowly, I managed to stand, still clutching the odd leather rectangle in my left hand. It felt like a book, or maybe a journal of some sort. I didn't know, but I told myself I'd look at it later. Right now, I needed to get to Max's.
Using the dumpster next to me as support, I began to walk out of the alley. I saw a few kids running around in costumes, so at least I was covered there. I bet I looked horrible. Or maybe I looked great. Who knows?
The moon was full overhead by the time I reached Max's apartment. I knocked heavily on the door for several minutes, until I heard Max's voice yell in a very irritated voice that she was coming.
When she answered the door she laughed and said nice costume. I smiled weakly, then everything went black, and I fell forward, right into Max's surprised arms.
I don't remember much beyond this point besides bright lights and Max's worried face. I remember asking her if I was dead again, then I remember darkness.
I woke up in a painfully bright room, with white tiled floors, and white walls. I tried to sit up, but felt something tugging on my arms as I did so. I looked down and saw that I had several Iv's stuck in both elbows, stuck under the thick white bandages that twisted around my arms. I lay back down, weary from the effort.
I touched my throat and forehead, and was met with the same thick bandages. I sighed and closed my eyes as the memories returned, still perplexed.
I turned my head and noticed Max, curled up in the chair next to me. A pang of surprise and guilt muddled together in my heart. She stayed with me. Max…
Seeming to feel my stare, Max woke up. Noticing that I was awake and staring at her, tears flooded her eyes. "Oh thank God!" She cried.
In a split second she had thrown her arms around my neck, crying heavily into my shoulder. The thick bandage around my throat was making this uncomfortable, but I ignored it. She kept repeating thank God and I thought you were gone over and over again. I just sat there; not knowing what to do or say. Although I don't remember doing so, I had put my arms around her body. A couple of Iv's got ripped out of my arm, but I didn't care.
When finally Max pulled away, teary eyed, snot nosed, and her make up running down her face, she asked the question I'd been dreading.
"Chris….Tell me what happened to you."
I looked down. "I…" I began, my hands searching for my instinctively necklace, which wasn't there. "I don't remember."
I don't know why I lied to her. I still don't. Maybe because it was so farfetched.
She looked down, and fiddled an identical necklace. Then, mumbling, she said:
"It was Chad again, wasn't it?"
I didn't answer, just sat there, clutching the white hospital blanket.
"I knew it," She all but yelled. "He did this! I'll kill him!"
"Max," I said. "He'll kill you in a heartbeat….he had no hesitation when he killed me."
Her eyes lit up with surprise and I cursed in my head. "I-I mean almost killed me," I stuttered.
Max looked at me, doubt muddling her pretty features. "Chris, tell me exactly what happened," She commanded, bits of her long, curly, black hair falling into her face. She has always hated her curly hair.
"Max…" I sighed. "Can I please….just rest for a bit?"
Max sighed. "Promise me you'll tell me later? The truth?"
I sighed. "I promise."
At that moment a nurse walked in, pushing a cart. She smiled when she saw that I was awake, and said she was going to check on my Iv's before the doctor came in, then scolded me for ripping a few out. After replacing them, she asked me my pain level, one being the lowest, five being the highest. I replied a modest two even though it was more like a ten.
The nurse gave me a disbelieving look and told me I didn't have to be tough, before administering some drugs to the end of one of my Iv's. Then, she said the doctor would be in In a few moments, took her cart, and left.
As the pain started to recede from my body, my thoughts became disheveled, and a smile touched my lips, though I'm not sure why. Must be Morphine. I laughed. Morphine was such a funny word.
Max looked at me, a bit of a smile splayed on her black-stained lips. "Max," I laughed. "Max!"
"Yes?" She laughed. It was so good to see her laugh.
"Come here," I made little waving motions, signaling her.
She stood and walked the short distance to my bed. "Yes?"
"Closssser," I hissed.
She bent down closer and I grabbed her face and turned it sideways. Then, pressing my lips against her ear, whispered:
"Your sooo pretty." I laughed and let go of her face.
Max blushed a deep red. "Um….Thank you."
I laughed again.
"Chris? Can I ask you something?"
I giggled. "Max," I started. "You're face is still so red."
She smiled. "Chris, did you really die?"
I stopped laughing. "It was dark," I slurred.
"What was dark?" Max replied, a worried expression forming on her pretty face.
Just then the doctor entered the room. Max informed him that I was higher than a crack-heads kite, and I denied it, looking at Max with my index finger to my lips, laughing. He said he'll simply come back when the Morphine's side effects wear off to talk to me, but he wanted to talk to Max in the hallway. I laughed when I heard the word Morphine.
Max laughed at something the doctor said, and she as she got up to follow the doctor into the hall, I yelled something to her.
At the time, I wasn't sure what the hell I had said, or if I had even meant it. All I know is that, whatever I had said, had brought tears to her eyes and a beautiful smile to her lips. I remember foolishly smiling back, before everything went utterly black; but even now, in the midst of all that's happened, that smile…I knew in my heart that I wanted to see it again, everyday of my life.
When I woke up later the room was dark, and Max was gone. I felt a twinge of hurt, but understood that she had a life. She couldn't be sitting in here with me all day and night; the notion that she would is ridiculous.
I snorted and, sitting up, I ripped the iv's from my arms. A few beads of crimson blood ran down my arms, but I didn't bother wiping it off; it didn't matter to me.
Turning the bed light on, I swung my legs off the side of the bed, took a deep breath, and attempted to stand up. My first try landed me back on the bed. I cursed silently, then ripped the hospital socks I was wearing off.
My second try was a little more successful. I not only managed to stand, but also to make it to the chair across the tiny room; the little wooden recliner I had seen max curled up in, when I first woke up. As I leaned over it, I noticed what appeared to be a black plastic bag sitting in the seat of the chair.
Curious, I picked it up, dumping its contents on the old wooden recliner. Clothing fell out, along with a pair of converse shoes. Max must went shopping, I thought. I gues0s she left her clothes here.
But as I picked the shoes up to inspect them, I noticed they were a size12. In men's.
I dropped the shoes on the floor and proceeded to pick through the clothes.
I picked up an article of clothing, and, finding the right side, saw that it was a shirt. The front read Godsmack, in big , red, letters. Behind it were tribal designs decorated in crimson, with a huge red tribal sun, right behind the band name. I set it on the top of the chair.
Next I picked up a pair of pants; Chains hung off the back and front, as did removable crimson strips; I smiled. Tripp pants. I was starting to think Max left these here on purpose.
I hung the pants were I laid the shirt, and picked up the next thing.
It was a heavy, black hoodie. Upon further examination, I found that it read Tool across the chest and back, with a mixture of gray, brown, and red mingling in the background.
I draped the hoodie over the chair and picked the last two things up.
One of the last items was a Black bandana, with a pattern of white dragon skulls on it. I have to say that I not only liked it, but I fuckin' loved it.
The last thing was a pair of black arm warmers, elbow length. I smiled.
Quickly, (Well, as quickly as one with so many injuries could muster) I undressed. I threw the hospital gown on the floor, and slipped the Tripp pants on. They were lose, but close enough.
Next, I painstakingly tried to put the shirt on, but after one painful attempt, quickly decided not to bother. Instead, I slipped the Tool jacket on, wincing slightly as the sleeves dragged against my bandages.
As I was going to sit down, something caught my eye; A black, leather bound journal was sitting in the seat of the chair. The front of the journal read Death Note in slivery letters. A blood red ribbon snaked across the front, reflecting the dim glow from the bed light. I reached to pick it up, but as my fingers touched its surface, a cold shock raced through my fingertips, up through my arm, and throughout my body. I jerked my hand away.
What the hell was that? I thought.
Hesitantly, I stretched my arm out towards the book once more. I cringed as my fingers touched its leathery surface, but nothing happened. No cold electricity shot though my finger tips this time, and I sighed with relief. must've been my mind playing tricks on me.
Still, stranger things have been happening…
I picked the journal up and flipped open its cover,
Silvery lettering against a black background catching my eyes. The page read, starting from the top, Death Note: How To use it.
The Human whose name is written in this note shall die.
I chuckled, closing the book, when a thought occurred to me.
How long have I been out? I thought with an edge of panic. It couldn't have been more than a couple of days, right?
I shook my head. I'd have time to think about this later.
Sticking the leather book into my jacket and under my bare arm, I carefully sat down in the hospital chair to tug the converse's on, cringing as I bent over. The book felt strangely icy against my fevered skin, as if it had been sitting in the arctic for the past hour, not in a hospital chair. I threw the Godsmack shirt over my shoulder, then, I tied the bandana around my throat; Loosely, of course.
Exhaling as I stood, my body aching, burning, and pounding everywhere, I walked to the door, leading out into the hallway. I cracked it open and dim light filtered in. I glanced down the hallway, right then left, and after assuring myself that no one was there (minus a random nurse somehow appearing to busy herself with a seemingly empty cart), exited the room.
As quickly as my injuries allowed, I half limped half pathetically-ran down the hallway until I found an elevator, all the while keeping an eye out for anyone in scrubs. A light flickered over head as I punched the button for the elevator, and I swear I heard the faint giggle of a girl.
At last, I heard the elevator chime and the doors open. I stepped inside, quickly pressing the floor one button.
The overhead lights flickered as the elevator came to a stop with a grinding screech, and the doors opened. I stepped out into the dim lit corridor, with the strangest feeling of being watched. I looked around, and, as I thought, there was no one around.
The feeling of being watched persisted as I walked past a (thankfully) empty nurses station/reception desk, and exited the automatic double doors leading outside. Fortunately, my house was not a far walk from here. I zipped my hoodie up and started the six block walk in the chilly autumn air.
By the time I made it home, every inch of my body ached and burned, pounding in unison with my heartbeat. As silently as I could, I opened the front door, hoping Janice was passed out somewhere.
I should know better by now then to hope at all.
The television was blasting some game show and against its light I saw the silhouette of a woman standing, a bottle clasped in her hand. She seemed to sway a bit, side to side, back and forth. Silently, I closed the door behind me, and began to creep by.
The door closed with a thud and I swore under my breath as Janice turned around, liquid sloshing from the half empty bottle and onto the already stained carpet. "Chris? Is that you?" she slurred.
I paused, unsure of what to do.
"Chris? Baby, is that you?" Janice began to stumble towards were I stood frozen, caught like a deer in headlights.
I urged my legs to work, to move, but frozen they stayed.
It was then that I realized just how poor Janice looked.
Her hair was long and brown, lacking luster and very thin and tangled. Her brown eyes were glazed over in a state of what seemed like permanent drunkenness, and her flaccid skin hung draped over her bones, framing her sunken face.
Janice finally made her way to me, and a cold bead of sweat ran from my forehead. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a loose embrace, and after a moment I finally found my will to move.
I pulled away from her, and in response, she jerked her hand from my shoulder and slapped me across the face so hard my head snapped back and my vision blurred red. She slapped me again and again, until finally I caught her hand and threw her back.
She landed with a heavy thud on the floor, her bottle of alcohol spilling over and draining into the filthy carpet. After a moment of initial shock, rage overcame Janice's features. She began to stand as I turned my back to her and walked through the hallway that led to the stairs to the second floor, where my haven awaited.
No sooner had I turned my back to her than the sound of glass shattering filled my ears and something hard hit me in the shoulder, causing me to stumble and fall to one, aching kneecap.
"You shouldn't hurt your momma, Chris!" she slurred, and I swore audibly. Can't I get one freaking break?
Just one?
I stood, feeling warm and cool liquid alike slithering down my back. My body was pounding, my sight blurred, and I'm pretty sure my cuts had cracked open and were now bleeding heavily into the pearl white bandages, staining them crimson.
A cloud of anger and indignation rose in my chest as I turned around, facing the very woman who has made my life hell since I was born. So much has happened to me recently, and so many didn't even care. Of all the things said on the night I died, one rang clearer then others; Janice didn't care about me. She never has, and she never will. My own mother hated me.
"You are not my mother," I growled, through clenched teeth.
Janice stood there for a moment, confusion settling over her features, as if this puzzle was to complicated for her drunken mind to grasp. Then, startling me, she laughed out loud. My gut twisted.
The anger in my chest flared once again and I thought back to the journal in my hands. I wonder….
But I quickly dismissed the thought. It was just a journal, right? How could a journal hurt someone, let alone kill them?
"I never asked for a faggot like you, anyway," she stated, picking up a beer bottle from a nearby coffee table and taking a large swig from it. "If I had a real son, he wouldn't be some rail thin girl," she paused, taking another mouthful of the foul liquid. "He'd be a real man, or at least dress in boys clothing."
Now it was my turn to laugh.
"And if you were a real mother, she would actually take care of her son, not whore herself for booze. You know, maybe buy some groceries?"
Janice narrowed her eyes, and at that moment more than any, I was glad I hid all the knives in the house. "You little bitch," she snarled, stumbling towards me. "Do you know what I've given up for you?" She slurred.
"What?" I laughed. "The chance at an abortion?"
"You know what? Maybe I should have aborted you! You've caused me nothing but problems and money anyway." she took another gulp from her beer, liquid slithering down her cheek.
"You didn't abort me because you knew you'd be getting a hefty child support check to spend on booze, you whore."
What happened next was kind of a blur. Janice staggered towards me in a mock run, the beer left forgotten on the stained carpet. Her hands met my throat and we tumbled backwards, were I hit my head hard against the blunt end of a protruding nail in the wall. Stars filled my blurry vision as her hands squeezed my throat, cutting precious oxygen from my lungs.
"I never loved you, you piece of shit!" She screamed. "And your right about the money," she laughed. "That's all you are to me. A check."
That was it. That was the last straw. I am so sick of being abused, so sick of being hated, hurt, and beaten.
With an effort I managed to reach up and grab her long hair, yanking it down with a snap, causing her to roll off me and hit the floor with a heavy thud. As quick as I could manage, I rolled to my feet and half staggered half ran to the stairs, my body pounding harder then ever, hearing her footsteps tottering behind me.
I made it to the stairs, and with an aching groan, pulled myself up with the help of the guard rail. I made it to the top without incident, not once looking behind me. I stumbled down the hallway, searching my pockets for the key to my room.
crap… I thought. Max must have took it.
Swearing to myself, I swerved the corner to the bathroom, throwing open the door and quickly slamming it behind me. I threw the deadbolt back, hoping it would hold against Janice's drunken rage. I slumped against the cold wood of the entrance, my body pounding, thumping, burning, and stinging, the heavy tottering of Janice's footsteps growing closer.
"Chris!" She shouted. I heard the metallic scraping of metal against wood. A bead of sweat ran down the back of my neck, my heart pounding against my rib cage like a hammer to a nail. Fuck…
"Chris," She shouted again, and the scarping grew louder. it's a knife, I thought, my mind teetering on the edge of panic. She found a knife!
Finally the footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door. For the briefest of moments, silence took hold. All was quiet, except for my rapid breathing and the swift beating of my heart pounding in my ears.
But it didn't last.
The doorknob began to rattle, and the door commenced to shake under the initial rage that seemed to pour from Janice. I pressed myself harder against the door, hoping she would give up and slouch away, like usual.
After several minutes, The rattling stopped. I almost sighed with relief, almost relaxed my shoulders, when a sharp blow sounded next to my right ear.
With a shaking gaze, a slight turn of my skull, I glanced towards the glimmer of silver protruding from the wall not two inches from my head. I stumbled back, falling to my ass, dropping the leather Death Note on the floor in front of the door. Janice has removed the knife and currently was yelling obscenities and stabbing the entrance over and over again. I scurried away from the doorway.
"Open-This-Door!" She shouted, enunciating each word with a jab of her blade.
I sat with my back against the wall, knees drawn up, level with my eyes. I folded my arms across my knee caps, and let the tears flow. I'm so pathetic…Why did I survive?
Time passed slowly. I knew the door wouldn't last much longer; I knew Janice wouldn't quit until either I was dead or hurt, or she passed out.
Amidst all Janice's yelling, stabbing, hitting, and kicking, I heard a girl giggle. Clear as a bell amongst the chaos. I lifted my head from my knees, looked around, but I saw no girl in sight. But then again, should there have been one? I'm losing my damn mind.
Chris…
I jerked my head up.
Chri-is, the bell-like voice mocked again.
"W-Who a-are you?" I stuttered, my mind reeling.
Abruptly, all the noise surrounding me quieted, becoming silent. The room began to darken, until it seemed I was sitting in nothingness; I thought maybe I had died again, until I noticed that before be sat that same journal; The Death Note.
"What do you want?" I yelled, into the blackness. My voice echoed and bounced back, mocking me with my own weakness.
Chris, it simulated again, but it didn't stop there. My name repeated throughout my skull, through me, until I felt my brain was going to explode. I heard a scream in the distance, and a after a moment, I realized I was the one screaming.
Abruptly, the voices stopped; My scream died in my throat as two, little words found my ears:
Do it.
I honestly don't remember much beyond this point; I remember blinking, and the room returned; I remember the door bowing and bending under Janice's murderous rage; I remember the silver glint of the blade as I, as if in a trance, reached for the Death Note. I remember writing, in my own blood, the name of the one who gave me my life;
Janice Danielle Woods.
Then, I remember silence.
Blissful, joyful, silence.
BloodAndBliss
Chronicles Of a Monster
A/N- I hope you all enjoyed this. :) if you have any questions, please pm me or review. ^.^