How could I be so predictable?! Well I'd show him. I would not be beaten. I would not be outsmarted by some psycho hatter. I'd show him… I'd show him… I'd show him…

I was going to figure this out. I figured everything out. That was me. I was not going to show up by him. Not by anyone. I was what people were afraid was hiding in the darkness. I was a monster and as a monster I was going to get my way one way or another or die trying. But how? Jefferson was in the damn way. He was always in the way. No matter where I went or what I did he always seemed to show up. Always seemed to have been there before I could get there. Always one step ahead or two or five for all I knew and it was pissing me off. It was not right.

"Victor."

I looked up, blinking several times to make sure it wasn't in my head.

"What?" I asked after there was a long moment of silence.

He didn't say anything for a moment and that just made me paranoid that this obstacle had somehow burrowed into my life enough that I had a voice in my head that sounded like him like Elizabeth had at one point before her death. Elizabeth's voice was always chiding me on my habits when I was digging up graves or doing something of that nature and then she died and the voice went away. Don't get me wrong. I had been devastated when she passed.

"You just looked like you were thinking about something you shouldn't be." Came the delayed reply and I felt some relief. Not my head then. Thank God.

I opened and closed my hand as I seemed to have been clenching it for awhile. The tenseness and the slight burning sensation of where my nails had dug in was rather irritating. It also seemed like I had chewed a raw spot on the inside of my cheek. Damn unwanted habits.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You were thinking of doing something stupid."

Stupid? That was rather offensive.

"Was not."

He didn't bother responding, but it was obvious he didn't believe me. He went back to sticking the needle in the hat. He thought what I was doing was stupid and here he was sitting on the couch making who knew how many bloody hats a day. I swore he was doing it in front of me on purpose. That needle could easily be put to better use. I ended up just watching the needle weave in and out of the fabric. Pulling it together. Darkness crawling into the depths. A light flash. Leathery work and rubbery feeling work coming together. Fitting together so easily like it was made to be that way. Perfection. Another flash to give me a brief look at what I was making in depth. The excitement. The adrenaline. What a rush. Heart pounding. Hands working. Sweat crawling swiftly down. The blade and the needle working in perfect harmony like they were meant to be. Beautiful metal. Carving through even the toughest of flesh and fabrics. The needle curving around the blade with ease. Another flash. Almost done. If they wanted a monster I'd give them one. Monster. Monster… a splash of red. Color? Where did that come from? It overflowed each and every cut I made. I slashed more. It oozed out, but it soon faded away like it had never been there before. The color gone. Slash. nothing. Slash. Slash. Come on. Come on. Where is it? I hissed as a burning sensation bite my arm. I quickly pulled back my sleeve. When did I cut my… red. Trickling out like a gentle stream. Calm. Warm. Sweet. Not enough. There was no question to what needed to be done. I brought the contaminated blade to my arm. More red. Silver dancing easily on flesh. Enticing the red to come out. Back and forth in a zigzaging pattern like an amuature violinist as-

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" I asked immediately when I came back to reality.

"Whatever you're thinking about, stop."

I frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

"Right. Of course not."

Hey guys. I just figured this would be enough to let you know I was still alive and that this story is not dead. This is just a way to get me back on track here with this story. I need to start somewhere so I have direction you know? Well I just had a lot to deal with as of late.

If you don't want depressing don't read on.

Had a funeral and since I'm 18 now the doc's called me and asked whether the plug should be pulled not going into detail but the person in question is dead because I left it up to the other family. Then some other family member tired suicide, ended in a psche ward for a while. Then my brothers dad got hit by a truck and needs surgery and a fake shoulder since his got turned to literal bone mush because he hit the pavement so hard. Then of course the teachers in school are all like 'hey who wants to write an essay in all of your classes at the same time?' Sorry ranting, but I'm going to try and get this going again so yay!