A/N: Some dark content in this chapter. Also lots of cussing and use of the F-word.
Cue Watch Me Bleed by Tears For Fears. Seriously, the lyrics relate to this so well. I'd recommend listening to that song while reading this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kickin' It.
I'm currently in Jack's house, looking through the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. I had no luck at my own house, because my parents don't drink alcohol and I don't want to try to get high off NyQuil. There's nothing in his bathroom, so I'm going to check in his room. I open his nightstand drawer, and jackpot! There are a bunch of orange pill containers, prescribed to different people. Jack stole drugs from people? Who am I to judge? I'm stealing his drugs! I grab one bottle, and it appears that the label was ripped off. I press and twist the cap to open it, and inside is a rolled up note that says:
Molly/pure MDMA crystals: cut into a fine powder to snort, take no more than 0.2g at a time. Effects: enhanced sense of well-being, increased extroversion, emotional warmth, empathy toward others, willingness to discuss emotionally-charged memories, warped sense of time, enhanced sensory perception.
That sounds nice. Actually, that sounds like a drug Jack should take.
Under the note are several small rock crystals that are a pinkish-white color. I put the note back in the bottle, close the lid, and shove it in my jacket pocket.
The garage door opens. Oh boy, I have to go. Why is Jack home so early? Or is it his parents? When I get halfway down the stairs, I can hear the garage door closing, and the door that leads to the garage opens. I sprint upstairs and go back into Jack's room, hiding behind his door and mentally scolding myself for choosing such a stupid hiding place. Someone is coming upstairs. Down the hallway. Into Jack's room. It's Jack. God, he's so hot, even just from behind. He drops his backpack on the floor, flops onto his bed, kicks off his shoes, and rolls onto his side so he's facing away from me. Is he sleeping? I tiptoe out from behind the door, but the dang floorboards creak and Jack sits up and turns around immediately.
"What the hell are you doing in my house?" Jack yells.
"You're home from school early. Uhh… surprise?" I say, forcing a smile. "I came here… to tell you happy birthday!"
Jack stands up and shakes his head, squinting his eyes. "It's not my birthday. You were here before I got home. I would've heard you breaking into my house. What the fuck were you doing in my room?" Jack has never been more intimidating. He's stalking towards me, making me back out of his doorway.
"Well, you see, I was setting up your surprise party, and… whoops, silly me, I forgot the decorations!" I say, putting all of my willpower into forcing a smile and an awkward laugh.
Jack shakes his head again, still getting closer until I back into the wall on the other side of his hallway. "Cut the crap. You better tell me the fucking truth right now," he growls.
"Or else?" My voice quivers against my own accord.
Barely above a whisper, Jack says, "I'll call the cops on you for breaking and entering. And trust me, I'm not bluffing."
"Okay, do it. Call the cops. But first, I just need to ask you… Why do you hate me so much?"
Jack rolls his eyes and takes a step away from me. "You're annoying as hell. I told you I never wanted to see you again, and here you are. Why won't you just fucking leave me alone?"
"Why won't you let me be your friend? It's like you don't want to be happy. What's the point of life if you're alone, you're never happy, and surround yourself with douchebags?" Now I'm getting worked up.
Jack looks at the ground, takes another step back, and growls, "Go. Just leave."
"Seriously. What happened to you that fucked you up so bad? I mean, I might be going crazy at this point, but the way you go through life is no way to live."
Jack scoffs. "Oh, I'm fucked up? What about you? This whole past week you've been totally out of it, you've lost weight, you were fucking high in detention—"
"I wasn't high! I was hallucinating, yes, but not because I was high. When I went to the hospital, they said it was from sleep deprivation," I tell him.
"It's not my fault you're not going to bed on time," Jack retorts.
"Actually, it is your fault. It's your fault I that have insomnia, that I have no appetite, that I question whether life is even worth living. It was Saturday night, after you told me that I'm annoying and you never wanted to see me again, all because of my baggage and my past, that all of this fucked up shit started happening to me," I yell.
"None of this is my fault. If you hadn't tried to be my 'friend,' we'd both be better off," Jack shouts.
"You're right. I shouldn't have wasted my time on you. I thought you might be different, but that was naive of me," I say.
"Great, we're both on the same page. Now get the fuck out of my fucking house before I make you!" Jack yells, making me squeeze my eyes shut. When I open my eyes, Jack is pointing down the stairway and pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed to show his irritation and impatience.
"Okay," I mutter, swallowing the lump in my throat and blinking away the tears before jogging down the stairs and out of his house. All of the thoughts are coming back. I hate my thoughts. It's like I'm watching my own brain think them, and someone has me tied down in front of a screen, and they're holding my eyelids open and forcing me to watch the chaos that is my mind.
Jack hates me; I don't have anyone to talk to; they wouldn't understand; the only one who could understand is Jack, and he hates me; I was most likely raped; the fact that I don't remember it means it was so traumatizing that my brain blocked it out to protect my sanity; I'm not sure I even have my sanity anymore; my body doesn't feel like my own; I'm living in a stranger's mind and body; nothing that happens to me is really happening; nothing feels real; nothing is real. Life has no purpose. Life is pain and suffering, and it never ends. The blood keeps spilling. It will never end, until I die. I'm bleeding out. Can't I just run out of blood already?
Blood all over my clothes.
Blood all over Jack.
Blood everywhere.
The hallucinations replay in my mind, but this time it's different.
Jack is on the floor, lifeless, blood pooling by his side. I pull my shirt up to reveal a deep hole in my abdomen. I reach my fingers in and pull out a bullet. It says something in fine print. I hold up the small metal object to my eyes and wipe away the blood to reveal the message engraved on the side: SAVE ME, BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.
I really need to get high.
A/N: It's funny how right when things start to make sense, it gets confusing again. Everything will come together and make sense in the end; I promise. The next chapter will probably be intense, even though I'm not the best at writing intense scenes.
Review! Give me your honest opinion, criticize me, compliment me, tell me to update soon, tell me my story is a piece of trash, I just want to know what you think!