This is not one chapter. I swear.

When did Alone get big chappies?

Chapter 11
Feeling Fright

So beautiful…so dead…
November, 13, 2009
And

I'm so dead inside.

I can't breathe. I want to breathe. I can't look at myself anymore. I can't believe what I've told them—that I've been tortured, that I've been raped, and the smoothness of my words, sleek and flat and soft and silky—it's like it's nothing and it's like I can't breathe and it's like I can't see and I feel so very hurt and I'm burning so badly on the inside and my body's all burning fire exploding through my body, igniting, horribly igniting—and—oh—I want—I'm just too hurt—and I'm just too confused and too blazing into pain. I want to be numb. I want to be completely and utterly numb.

"Say that again, Ted," Randy's threatening me to.

I look back at him, with tears threatening to fall from my eyes and all I can do is shake my head.

"Did it really happen?" he asks, and Cody's standing there, so very shocked, with eyes so wide, and a pale face and he looks so dead and I wonder why he's not in a casket and my head—it's so very confused hurt exploding with confusion—and I don't know what to do I don't think I can do anything… "Did it really happen, Ted?" his voice's slightly loud with laced anger, pulsing horrid hot anger swirling at the tip of his tongue, so elastically and so naturally.

"No," I whisper. "No, it didn't." Tears are brimming in my eyes and all I can do is try to think of an excuse, and I feel like I'm choking suffocating completely on the inside because I can't even be honest with him and I'm still so very scared of him.

"Ted, why'd you say something like that?" Randy's voice's laced now with concern, faded anger, and he leans down, grabbing onto my chin and making me look at him—how he pushed inside of me, those eyes so greedily staring at me, that mouth exploring all of me, those teeth biting my neck, his head brushing against my chest, his hot body pressing against my cold one—and I feel myself start to lose oxygen from my lungs, completely lose oxygen, and I don't think I can breathe anymore as Randy's hands grab onto my arms, holding onto me.

"It's—you don't care about me," the words are slipping out and I don't know if I mean them or if I don't. "All you care about is yourself, Randy." It's the vivid images that are springing to life in my head. It's the vivid images that are banging in and out of my head, making me feel so vulnerable, so scared of him, so aware of every touch, every breath, he takes and it's all filled with pain.

I don't think I can take it anymore.

The doctor walks inside and all I can feel is Randy looking down at me, his mouth just inches away from my ear—his mouth pressing against my ear, biting that sensitive spot on my earlobe—I'm just so sorry. I want to hold onto him. I want to cry. I want to die. I want to fray away into nothing and nothing at all.

The doctor throws the clipboard down and Randy kisses my forehead so I jump up, falling down onto the floor, having Randy lean down towards me, oxygen battling to get into my lungs as Randy's hand wraps around my waist, and he pulls me to him, all I can do is stare at him, closing my eyes, shut tight.

"Please, don't hurt me," I whisper to Randy.

Randy's hand squeezes to me harder and the doctor takes the clipboard from the bed, making Randy look at it, "his blood charts. I need another transfusion to give him." Transfusions? I shudder, remembering the death scene, remembering my father jamming the knife inside of my body—flapping the knife deep inside of my body, flesh deep with blood, thick and sticky—

"I can't read it." I whisper against Randy's ear.

"What do you mean, Teddy?" his voice's sweet, so very sweet.

"I can't freaking read it! I can't read!" my eyes blur with tears because I'm so disabled. "It's like my mind can't process the words. When I try to read them, I can't! I can't, Randy! I'm so… so damn disabled…"

"Don't think that—"Randy starts but I cut him off.

"Randy! Look at me!" I look down at feel the tears run down my cheeks, so rapidly, so painfully. "Look at me…"

"I'm looking."

"What do you see?"

"A beautiful boy."

I look back at him, to see the seriousness in his face and I jump slightly, seeing him but only feeling the pain of it all rush through me, hit me so hard that I fall down, I fall down and feel like there's something breaking inside of me, something breaking with a knife. "Where is he?" I ask him.

"Here," he says, looking deep into my eyes.

"Where?" I whisper.

His hand lifts my chin and kisses me, sweet and chaste and all I can do is let the tears fall down harder.

"Ted…? Teddy? I'm sorry for kissing you. I'm sorry."

"Stop touching me," I say, shaking my body, trembling, feeling pain inside of me, feeling pain ripping inside of me, feeling it slice through my heart, blood seeping through it. "Stop touching me, Randy! I'm serious."

"Are you that scared of me?" he asks, hurt.

I nod my head, letting the tears fall down as hard as they could and when I try to stop them, they just burn right through my skin, defusing inside of me.

"I'm sorry…"

"There has to be a problem. You were never scared of me before, Ted."

"I know," the tears are dry and my face feels sticky and all I can do is hope that Randy just doesn't think less of me at all. I stand up, walk towards my bed and sit back up, trying to register the thought—I can't read. I had been raped in real life and I had been raped in my head. By my best friend. I can't breathe. I can't think. I'm just not human—I don't feel like it.

I fall asleep, hearing Randy's breaths from where he sits down.

It all hurts…

Too much pain…
November, 14, 2009

"He can't be back in a coma!"

"Sadly, he is."

I stare down at my ring.

It's now a beige color.

I stare at it. I've never had something so tiny and so very fragile control my mind. I try to slip it off my fingers and it easily comes off and I just hope that I don't lose it. If I do, I'll never be able to know if I'll go back to Randy or if I don't and if I break it—does that mean I break my memories, too?

"Like we've told you, loss of blood, half of brain barely working, he slips in and out of consciousness."

"But-but that's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, Mr. Orton."

I walk around school and I find eyes staring at me, angry and hateful as I feel two hands go behind my back and press me against the body and my head spins and I'm just scared it's Randy and my question is answered as I feel two warm lips kiss my neck, and head towards my back.

"I…Randy…"

"Break it up!" he hears a few teachers say so Randy gives them a glare and takes me by my hand to push me inside of the closet, pushing me towards the wall and kissing me, pushing me as hard as he could.

"Randy, stop."

"I won't. I love you too much."

I can't believe it.

I won't believe it.

"I know you're losing everyone, Teddy. Do you want to lose me, too?" It's the way he knows how my brain works. It scares me half to death and as he kisses me, running his hand down my back.

"No," I manage to whimper out of my mouth.

"Good then…" he says, reaching for my pants but I kick him inside and he looks at me, almost murderously, and he throws me towards the floor, and between his kicks and his threats, I don't think I can hear anything and as I stare up at him, feeling like I'm going to cry, I bury my head into his shoulders.

I've never been so scared of him in my life.

It's like having your best friend betray you.

It's that way, isn't it?

Randy takes me into his arms, after demanding me to dress up and after he did, as if nothing's ever happened and helps me to my feet, grabbing onto my hand and dragging me outside, I stare out into the empty school—how long were we in the closet? My head spins quickly as he holds onto it, hard and harsh, forcing me to walk with him to his car and when we had, he'd thrown me to the seat and starts to drive off and I don't care where he's taking me.

But when I realize it's my house, my heart sinks into my chest.

Tears threaten to pool out of my eyes.

My body aches all over.

I can't breathe.

I can't see anything.

Everything's too gray.

Everything's too black.

I can't speak without thinking of the grayness and I can't breathe at all and even if I can breathe, I'm still dying on the inside.

I don't know how a corpse can live.

But I'm proof.

When I walk inside of my house, my mother acts concerned when she's really angry and I know it all too well and I just want to crawl under my bed and stay there forever and feel empty there forever.

"Theodore? Were in hell's name were you?"

I twist my head to look at her clearly. "Mother…go fuck yourself."

And that's all it takes for her to hit me, slap me so hard that I think that snot threatened to flow out of my nose and I stare at her as she shoots me an angry, annoyed look. "I'm sick of you, Theodore Marvin DiBiase!"

"You think I'm not?" I spit out angrily.

It's the scent that's flowing through my head.

The sting that stays on my face.

I can't believe that my mother's done this to me.

I can't believe that I said those words to her.

"Sick of what, Theodore!?"

"Sick of this," I say, motioning to myself. "I deserve to be dead, don't I?"

"Yes, you do!" she says and then as she realizes what she's said, her eyes soften but I know those words hurt me more than they could ever hurt her for saying them and I make a run to go upstairs but she grabs onto my wrist halfway up the stairs and I find myself falling onto the first step, blood running from the back of my head, horror reels in through my mother's eyes and all I can do is stare at her.

"Oh, Theodore…I'm sorry…"

She leans down towards me, holding my neck, and kissing my forehead, feeling the blood that's soaked her fingers, "do you need a doctor?"

"No. Let me bleed. You said I deserved to die."

Her eyes look hurt but I think I'm more hurt on the inside. Having my own mother agree to this—it's just too sickening.

I stand up before she can do anything else, letting the last trail of blood run to my t-shirt, sticking to it and I make an attempt to walk upstairs—mother doesn't stop me and as I shut the door, I slide down to my knees.

Feeling pain slosh through my stomach.

It just hurts.

It just freaking hurts.

So much.

I can't breathe.

I can't take another breath.

Why is there so much pain in the world?

Too much death.

It pains me.
November, 15, 2009

I feel insane.

I am insane.

I find myself, standing in the sink by the door, having no one being here and running my hand towards my pocket, grabbing onto the razor that's inside of it and look at it, eying the razor.

I let the razor slide towards my wrist.

Isn't anyone going to save me?

Like in all the cliché love stories and even in the horror movies?

Isn't anyone going to hold onto me?

Isn't anyone going to miss little ole' Teddy?

I let the razor slowly slide.

My veins throb in protest.

I hear the sound of the boy's bathroom door opening wide and Randy's dangerous eyes staring at me, as he walks towards me, holding onto my hand, making me stop in place and having his breath on my neck.

"R-Randy?"

"You're crazy, aren't you, DiBiase?" he asks me, sickly sweet.

Nausea rolls through my stomach.

Badly.

I feel like I'm burning.

"Just a little bit…" I insist.

He takes the razor and slides it towards my wrist, harsh and hard, a painful jerk that makes me press towards his stomach. "You're beautiful when you're in pain." He tells me and my head spins as it wraps around those words.

He hates me.

I'm just his tool.

I'm just his toy.

How would I feel staring into the eyes of the real Randy now, knowing that all I can see is the demon of his past? I don't know. I can't tell. I'm suddenly too scared to know. Randy's hand runs towards my wrist, harsher, harder, a surge of pain shuffling through my body, I feel like I'm water and he's trying to hold onto something that's going to eventually slip away from his grasp.

His breath on my ear.

"You wanted this."

I realize that he's right but I never want it from him.

It just hurts.

I look into his eyes, 'aren't you the one who wanted to die, DiBiase?"

"I…" I look down to my feet and nod my head, slow and quick. "Yes, yes, I wanted it. I want it so much, Randy…"

He lets the razor slide towards my stomach and he drops it when he hears the sound of the bathroom door clicking open and I bend forward to grab onto my razor, seeing the horror in the teenager's eyes as Randy grips onto my hand and I grip onto the razor in my other hand.

Randy pulls me out and I stare.

I stare down.

My wrists are bleeding so badly.

It hurts so bad.

I want to die.

I really want to die.

I think about it all the time.

I think about dying every day.

But dying—isn't the same as being dead.

Because I'm dying.

And I'm waiting to be dead.

I stand by my house and I should walk inside, I tell myself but I don't and I walk towards the backyard and stay there, leaning towards the grass and resting my head on it, though I feel the little blades prick through my flesh and it's so cold outside and as night falls, I'm still trying to get to sleep but I can't.

"You mean it?"

"Yes."

Mean what? My head's pounding.

"We do need to know Theodore's thoughts and his memories so we can help him through his treatment. This is just the device."

"You hear that, Ted?" his voice's close. He must be whispering it in my ear. "I'm going to help you, little buddy."

All I could think about is…how I can change this?

I don't want to be here.

I don't think I can last here.

Without having the Randy from this world mangle me.

Without having the Randy from that world feel too sorry for little ole' Teddy, who can't do anything to even change his thoughts.

I can't control anything anymore.

I'm so out of control.

I need control.

I need it so very much.

To see them like this.

It pains me.
November, 16, 2009
I

I stretch out and hold onto my neck.

I'm wondering if Randy's watching this. If even the damn doctor's watching this. I can't even keep my thoughts to myself. I look back down onto the ring in my finger, beige…beige is hazy.

Am I in an unclear world right now?

Because nothing seems to make sense anymore.

I stand up, feeling like I'm going to fall back down again, my eyes catch towards my mother's, "you slept outside?"

I can't deny it. I nod my head.

"Why?"

"I…I just did."

"School called." She says, with a dull tone in her voice. "Why would you cut yourself in the bathroom?" her eyes are on my scarred wrists.

My head pounds.

If they could hear that…

I look down at my wrists, purple being there instead of my normal skin and I take a deep breath.

"Ted…?"

It's Randy's voice that shocks me.

He's watching me?

I look away, trying to run off, scurry off towards school and looking back at my hurt mother's face, "bye, Theodore."

"Goodbye."

I know what's in her eyes.

She doesn't know if I'd just kill myself right now.

Before I can walk away, her hand goes to my wrist and she pulls me so that she's eye level with me, "because don't hurt yourself, Theodore."

"You said I deserved to die."

I can almost feel her heart jump.

Her eyes brim with tears. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't take it back," I respond, walking it away, pushing my hands into my pocket and looking down, hearing the sounds of a familiar car driving by makes my heart flip in my chest as I stare towards the owner of the car.

"Bad day, Teddy?" Randy asks me.

"Leave me alone, Randy."

"That anyone to talk to me?" he asks, his eyes turning dark and my heart feels like a knife's been thrown at it, blood all over, and I'm sure I look more fearful than ever. Can Randy see this? Did he take a break? I'm just scared that he's watching this. I don't want him to. I don't have any place to hide my thoughts away.

I can't let him see this.

See me like this.

Weak and fragile Teddy.

I'd rather die than have him see me like this, this weak, this fragile, this scared…I'd seriously rather die.

I watch as he steps out, his hand snakes to mine, letting me walk towards the other side of his car, and almost throwing me inside, he goes to the other side, running his hand through his brown hair, batting his eyelashes.

"Randy?"

"Oh, shut up."

I look back at the window. Almost expecting this of him.

"Did I just say that…?"

"I think you just did."

"Where are we going?"

"You let me drive and I'll tell you." His voice's softer now, making me feel secure inside knowing that at least he's not too devilish.

I just hope that he wouldn't try and rape me again.

I don't want them to see that.

I don't want them to have their eyes set onto me screaming, maybe I won't scream, maybe I'll like it…

As he stops by his house, my hearts stops to my chest.

I'm not ready to do this. I can't fake not feeling pain. I can't fake being emotionless. I can't fake liking this.

I follow Randy because I know if I didn't, he'd punch me or something and ask me why. I don't want Randy to know that I can hear him. His voice's the only piece of sanity left in me and his voice doesn't even belong to me.

I walk inside of his house, lying down and letting my head fall down to my shoulder, then seeing him walk inside with a smirk on his face and my heart sloshes with acid, burning, burning as if it's set on fire. "My parents aren't home." He says, shrugging his shoulder. His father—I know. With mine probably. His mother—out? And his siblings are out so this house is empty.

And I'm empty, too.

It doesn't take even a moment for Randy to attack me. Clothes on the floor in less than a second, blood pouring, tears falling, pain burning, my head feels like it's going to explode, my heart threatens to burst off my chest and I can't pretend to like it, it's too painful, it's too much…

I just face the facts.

Screaming.

Begging him to stop.

Those words just flow out of my mouth.

When he's done, he leaves me alone to collect myself. And I don't hear anything from Randy. I think he might've turned off the device or something.

"Did…did I do that?!"

"In Ted's memory, yes."

"I can't—oh my—"

"Calm down, Mr. Orton."

"How can I calm down? Did you see what I just did?! I raped Teddy!"

"You didn't really do it."

"No wonder Ted can't look at me, I bring him too much pain."

It's how his voice is—laced with shock, laced with horror, laced with so much paint that it hurts me, too.

I watch as Randy comes back and my heart flops in my chest as he grabs onto my hands, forcing me to stand up.

"Let's go out today."

"Parents gone for a while?"

"Yes."

"Your—?"

"I'm all free."

Part of me doesn't want to spend time with him but I nod my head slowly, from fear of what he'd do to me if we're not together and as he takes me outside, holding onto my arm, pressing me to him like we're all love and life but pretending is not a game I can play so easily.

Fog is in my eyes.

I'm so depressed.

I walk around and he stops by near an alley. I know that he can't be serious. I know that if he wanted to rape me, he wouldn't do it here in all of places. Relief floods through me when he lets go of my hand and comes near me, holding onto a piece of glass on the ground and when he looks up at me, there's a smirk on his face.

My heart thuds.

Hard.

So hard.

What's he doing?

When I turn around, there are a group of bulky men and my head's swirling with thoughts. "Get me out of here! Put me into some other memory…please?" I whimper, feeling my throat crack and my head pound. "I don't need this! I—"I feel Randy's hand cup towards my mouth.

"Oh, look at the pretty little thing."

That's all I am. A pretty little thing that everyone likes to play with.

Randy…?

I feel the piece of glass go to my throat, and they stare at him, smirking with him—he's with them?! He's really betrayed me. He's gone too far and all I can feel is his relaxed body against mine.

"Can't let you go to the police, Teddy."

Because of the rape? I won't! I won't…Randy…

The words are going to roll away from my mouth but they don't.

"I want you to die…" Randy whispers in my ear.

And the piece of glass presses to my throat.

Laughter.

All I hear and see is laughter.

Laughter.

Too much…

The piece of glass slits towards my throat, too much.

"You wanted to die, Ted."

I try to speak out but I find myself coughing and choking on my own blood. It's all black as I fall down.

"TED!"

"Teddy!"

Randy.

Cody.

It's so scary.

It's so vague.

They're so unreal.

It's all black.

I hear the sound of beeping.

Oh great, God.

Is my heart racing?

Am I—?

To breathe like this.

It pains me.
November, 17, 2009

My eyes are fluttering open.

Too bright.

The white colors are too bright.

Randy's hands hold me before I can do anything and my eyes are threatening to pop out, having him so close.

"Oh, Ted…I had no idea…"

He's sobbing.

He's scared.

I'm scared too.

Why'd I do this to them?

Why's he so scared?

I can't understand.

I don't understand.

It's like my brain's frying.

I can't process the images around me.

"Theodore?" My doctor asks me. "Are you okay? You look…very confused."

"Why am I here?" I manage to choke out. "Randy killed me…"

I'm sure I'm dead.

Or am I?

Just confused.

Just so very confused.

I can't understand anything anymore.

"Ted…" It's Cody's voice that breaks my thoughts.

"I don't know how to think…"

Is it possible?

Is it impossible?

I don't think I can process my thoughts at all.

Randy steps back, trying to contain himself from sobbing and Cody, Cody's just silent, just speechless, with tears running down his face.

"Get him some food or something."

I haven't eaten in a while.

I don't want to.

But when the food really comes, my stomach sloshes and the voices in my head are screaming against it. "I don't need it. I have IV."

"Part of getting you into a normal life again," the doctor suggests.

"I don't have a normal life. I'm living in a hospital." I tell him, spitting my words out like acid.

"Do you want to stay in the hospital forever?"

"Might as well."

Since I'll always have something wrong with me.

Something inside that'll haunt me.

Tear me.

Into pieces.

To break them.

It hurts me.
November, 18, 2009

I don't know.

I'm dead, right?

Randy killed me, right?

That seems to be the only thing I can remember. I hold onto Randy's shoulder, bringing him close to my body but all I can see is how his eyes want to tear up into pieces.

"Did you kill me?"

"It was a nightmare."

"Promise?"

Randy nods his head and he notices—and so do I—that I've lost my ability to trust and confide in people. What else did I lose? What else am I going to lose?

I feel Randy's lips press against my forehead.

"You're safe now."

The doctor breaks our reunited time, "I made sure Theodore's condition is stable for the next—few weeks."

Randy smiles as he hugs onto me.

He's just happy that I'm going to stay with him.

I don't know if it's the same for me.

I'm just so confused.

Bits and bits of nothing clustered in my head.

I don't feel like I have a past.

I don't feel like I need a past.

Do I?

I grab onto Randy's face, "make me have memories again."

And before I can say anything else, he presses his lips to mine and part of me knows that I would've kissed him back but it's the horror of those memories/nightmares that bring me back to reality—the touches, the shock, the-the death—

I spin out of control and push Randy away.

"No!"

Randy's eyes turn sympathetic when he realizes the pain that's in my eyes because I can feel it. I can feel the horror that's exploding in my head and body. I can feel it so very well. And it hurts too much.

So very much.

"I'm sorry, Randy."

"It's not your fault, Teddy."

I let the facts sink in.

It really is my fault.

But I don't say anything else.

To see him die inside.

I'm scared…
November, 19, 2009
Breathe

Cody and I spend time together since we haven't in such a long, long time and he's my best friend, Randy decides, and leaves me alone with him.

Cody's silent.

I'm silent.

Our eyes speak more than words can.

"I'm sorry-"

"I'm sorry-"

The same thought breaks off at the same time.

"I'm scared of him. Terrified."

"Randy?"

"Yes. Shouldn't you be terrified, too?"

Cody bobs his head to the side. "Teddy, you're not thinking right."

"I don't think right ever!" I exclaim. "My head's all messed up. I'm all messed up. I might as well live forever like this…"

"No, Ted." Cody walks towards me, holding onto my shoulder. "You're not messed up. I like you in every way. Because you're Ted."

"And I like you," I decide. "Because you're Cody."

We share a hug and I see him, tears springing to his eyes, as he backs away and sit down onto the chair, holding onto my hand. "I'll pray for you."

I nod my head, wiping the tears off Cody's face.

"I can't handle seeing you this way, Teddy."

"I can't handle having you break."

Cody smiles, a cracked one, but he's still trying to lighten to mood around us as he brings my head to his head and he prays. His turquoise yes concentrated and his soft, inaudible words fill the air.

I don't listen.

I just stare at him.

It's like I'm dying.

Am I dying?

I'm not breathing but I'm not dead.

I'm not breathing at all…
November, 20, 2009

Color class. Take two.

Black.

Splatters across the world.

Red.

Burns in my brain.

Pink.

Lost color.

Blue.

Color of Randy's last shirt before the piece of glass cuts.

Green.

Dulled and broken. Never seen again.

Orange.

It's a vague memory.

Yellow.

I'm searching for sunshine.

Gold.

I'm not priceless anymore.

Gray.

The skies are gray.

White.

A flash of white.

As I snap back into reality. This is too familiar. Not falling asleep at night. I want my memories back.

Can you kill me?

18 pages?

Whoa. 'Alone' really loves long chapters. :P Review for the immense chapter I made. Lol.

;) Sam