PsychoBeth
12-13-2007, 08:25 PM
These following are four seperate little stories that tie into eachother. Enjoy:
Layne
Layne stared at the broken bottles scattered at his feet. The debris left behind from the fight.
‘Guilty as charged,’ Layne thought dully to himself, ‘I had no right to be here, I shouldn’t have- No. no don’t think that, he’ll be fine, and tomorrow everyone will forget, they were plastered anyway, right? No one would ever be able to remember who did it, it all happened so fast.’
Layne shoved his hands into his pockets, trudging past the broken beer bottles. There was a bit of blood on the ground.
‘Why? How could I have? God, I’m such an idiot! And I wasn’t even high this time. They didn’t know what they were doing, but I did. Why am I such a follower? I could have just said no. I could have. I know it. I’m not that much of a pushover, but when they’re drunk… it’s harder then, the way they pressure you. I’m so stupid! Why am I always so stupid?’
Layne continued his walking, dragging his feet. It was late, or early, depending. Three in the morning. He hadn’t slept at all, but the thoughts that taunted him and the leftover adrenalin warded off the sleep he so desperately needed. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves.
‘I wonder what it would be like to be fried on an electric chair. Probably like being burned from the inside out, all along your nerves.’ The thought made him shiver, and made him glad that wasn’t the way you were punished for murder anymore. ‘They might not even find out. No on knew the guy other than us, no family, no home. We can just pretend he never existed.’
Layne continued his walk home, thoughts of an impending doom tormenting him at every footfall.
‘We killed him, how could we have killed him? It’s all my fault! I was such an idiot, I should have told them to stop, but I didn’t! The police will come for me, they’ll find out. And I’ll go with them, I won’t argue, won’t fight.’
He continued on home to his small, shack-like post-war house. It was nothing special, and it reflected Layne’s personality, small and reserved.
‘Why? Why? Why do I even bother thinking I was ever a good person? I killed someone!’
Upon arriving home, he slowly walked up the stairs, expecting a police officer to jump out of a dark corner, telling him he was under arrest. He stripped himself of clothing, and took a long, hot shower. One done, he felt much better, Layne walked downstairs, sat on the couch, and turned on the TV. Flipping through channels restlessly, he found nothing but late-night talk shows, pathetic soap operas, and porn. It disgusted him that people actually watched those shows, especially the soap operas.
‘When they come to get me, I won’t resist.’
He finally found something to watch, a show about UFOs.
“… evidence that life beyond ours exists is shown through sightings… multiple sightings of cigar shaped UFOs over Germany… motherships are larger… some disks hover above Earth, studying us…”
Everything seemed to pass over his head except these few trivial bits of information. They seemed to grasp his attention for no apparent reason.
‘When they come I won’t resist’.
A knock came to the door, startling Layne, he turned off the TV, the show was making him nervous anyway.
‘That must be them, they found out about me pretty quick. Well, I’m ready to pay for what I’ve done.’
The knock came again, louder, the person outside said nothing to identify themselves as the Authorities.
‘They must be trying to catch me off guard. I’ll go without a fight.’
Layne rose from the couch, wondering if he’d ever see that scene again, and, in a trance-like state, opened the door.
Kurt
I watched the train puff by, staring at the passengers, trying to imagine why they were leaving, and where they were going. It was my favourite pastime. The girl by the window was crying because she had just been informed her best friend had died while leaving a shopping mall, drive by shooting. The old man was watching the scene whisk away, remembering the first time he came there, fifty years ago, with his wife and twins, a boy and girl. He was being taken to his wife’s memorial in Aberdeen. She had died ten years ago. The children refused to come.
I remembered the first time I made up a story about people. I told my sister why the man and woman on a bus were fighting. I told her they were fighting over custody of their baby. My sister asked my how I knew. I told her I made it up. She told me never to do that again. I was ten, at that time, she was fourteen. Now I’m sixteen, and her words never did have any affect on me, except never to tell anyone what I thought up.
Why do I even think up these things, it’s not like it benefits me any. And people think I’m crazy already, without this on top of it all. I guess it’s not very ‘manly’ either. But then again, ‘men’ just abuse women, and treat animals like dirt. They expect respect; they get respect, just because they’re men. I’m not a man then, I guess. I could never like a man, if that is what a man is. But I could never like a woman either, because they’re so vain, and they like the abuse, it gives them attention. Win-win situation. Maybe I’m the dog.
I watched a girl walk past; short and ugly, she was the daughter of a heroin-addicted mother and alcoholic father, probably where she got her pug-ugly looks. Poor girl. Despite her stocky figure and dull face, she still spends hours staring at herself, vain, she barely saw her ugliness, so in love with herself.
My cell phone rang, that was something new, no one ever called me, I don’t know why I even had it. It was Jerry on the phone, I was glad it was him. I’ve always been worried every time my phone rings, in case Mark calls. I hate Mark; he’s annoying and so self-righteous. It makes me sick, really it does. I picked up the phone, greeting Jerry with a ‘hey’.
What Jerry told me almost made me be sick, right there at the train station. He said Layne killed someone. Killed! I never thought Layne would ever do something like that. I liked Layne! We spend restless nights in his kitchen, drinking root beer floats and getting high. I never thought Layne would do such a thing, it’s terrible, he took someone’s life!
Jerry asked me to go get some coffee with him, at the local 50s Diner, I agreed, because I figured we both needed someone to talk to about Layne and what he did. I got to the diner pretty quickly, and found Jerry already there, drinking his coffee. I sat down with him. We spoke about Layne for a while, the place was pretty much empty, so we didn’t worry about being heard. Jerry asked me to come with him to visit Layne when we were done. I agreed, because it wasn’t like I had anything better to do.
Jerry
Layne killed someone tonight. I’m not sure how, and I’m not sure why, but he did. Actually, I’m not entirely sure if he did, but that’s what They say. I’m not even really sure who They are. It’s sort of like, when you know something, and someone, or multiple someones told you it, and they’re the They but no one ever really knows who They are, because it’s what happened and what They know that’s important, not who it is that knows.
But enough on They, because they’re not really all that important. I really do feel a bit of pity, and a bit of guilt. Pity for Layne, guilty for myself. I’m feeling guilty because I’m Layne’s best friend, and I shouldn’t have run off when it started getting rough, but I’m a bit of a pacifist, I don’t like fighting when it’s not for fun. And this certainly wasn’t for fun. But at least I know Layne will be alright, I know he won’t get arrested, because no one will tell. I know this because if they tell, they’ll all be arrested, too, for some sort of legal law stuff. For not stopping it, or joining in, or something. The ‘they’ I’m talking about here isn’t the same as They, it’s more whoever or whatever friends were with Layne at that time; They obviously couldn’t have been, because They are much more hidden, I’m sure, kind of like secret spies.
The reason I feel pity for Layne is because I know he’ll be feeling pretty psycho about now. Not evil, angry, violent psycho, more just messed up in the head, out-of-it type psycho. And I should be there to help him through this, but I’m not. Mostly because if you visit a person too soon after they kill someone, they usually are gonna act pretty weird. Or at least, that’s what I would expect; I’d never been to close to someone who’s killed before. But I’ll go visit Layne, not now, maybe in an hour or so, to give him some time to feel a bit less psycho. I don’t want to be around him when he’s feeling psycho.
In a way I feel kind of bad that I’m not there with him now, but really, for my own sanity and health, I think it’d be better not to be there, who knows what Layne will be rambling about. If he’ll be proud of killing him, or if he’ll feel really bad about it, or if he’ll start going crazy, if he’ll be a real Psycho, and not just feeling psycho. I really don’t know, and at this moment, I think I don’t really want to. I’ll wait for an hour, and go visit him. In the meantime, I think I’ll go get a coffee; maybe I’ll call Kurt to come join me.
Mark
What use is life if you can’t live it to the fullest? But even I have to put boundaries on myself. Doesn’t everyone? If they don’t, they’ll end up dead. I don’t want to end up dead, not like that guy Layne killed. Stupid Layne, I never liked him. Layne forgot his boundaries, and now he’ll end up dead, in prison, obviously. But I didn’t like him all that much to begin with, so when he dies, it won’t be that bad. Why’d he even kill that dude anyway? Well, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s dead, and it’s Layne’s fault. I’m not even sorry Layne’s going to prison, I’m sorry that old hobo had to die for him, though. Well, I’m not sure he was a hobo, or if he was a he, but that’s not the point. I’m not sure my point, but there is one, there always is one.
Oh, you should’ve seen how Jerry reacted when we told him Layne killed someone. Jerry happens to be Layne’s best friend. It was pretty freaky, and pretty funny, seeing Jerry getting all sweaty and twitchy when we told him. I don’t get how Jerry can be friends with an idiot like Layne, but Jerry’s pretty stupid anyway. He’s probably got some mental disorder or something. No one sane is that stupid. At least, no one I know, and I pride myself on knowing only the finest. I should probably demote Jerry from ‘acquaintance’ to ‘person I’ve seen around’. I want to surround myself with the best only. Friends are hard to come by, which is why I like to choose them very carefully. They have to be rich (but not richer than me), smart (but not smarter than me), good looking (but not better looking than me), and sane. I don’t need to add that they can’t be more sane than me, because that’d be impossible. So far, I’ve only had to worry about richness, because I’ve never met anyone smarter or better looking than myself. I probably never will. Oh, and my friends can’t be wimps, or try to copy me, it’s happened before, and I demoted them. I can’t be surrounded by people who are so insecure about themselves that they try to be me. I also hate being around wimps, that’s why I demoted Kurt, he was a total wimp, he wouldn’t even punch anyone! But I never really liked him anyway; he was Layne and Jerry’s friend. I don’t think he was all there, either; he never spoke to me unless I spoke to him first. Layne mentioned that he didn’t like me much, but that’s impossible, everyone likes me. I demoted Layne for that little bit of blasphemy towards me. I guess Layne must have been pretty mad when he found out I demoted him, that’s probably why he went out and killed that dude. Oh well, I don’t care, as long as I’m not somehow blamed for it.
Layne
Layne stared at the broken bottles scattered at his feet. The debris left behind from the fight.
‘Guilty as charged,’ Layne thought dully to himself, ‘I had no right to be here, I shouldn’t have- No. no don’t think that, he’ll be fine, and tomorrow everyone will forget, they were plastered anyway, right? No one would ever be able to remember who did it, it all happened so fast.’
Layne shoved his hands into his pockets, trudging past the broken beer bottles. There was a bit of blood on the ground.
‘Why? How could I have? God, I’m such an idiot! And I wasn’t even high this time. They didn’t know what they were doing, but I did. Why am I such a follower? I could have just said no. I could have. I know it. I’m not that much of a pushover, but when they’re drunk… it’s harder then, the way they pressure you. I’m so stupid! Why am I always so stupid?’
Layne continued his walking, dragging his feet. It was late, or early, depending. Three in the morning. He hadn’t slept at all, but the thoughts that taunted him and the leftover adrenalin warded off the sleep he so desperately needed. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves.
‘I wonder what it would be like to be fried on an electric chair. Probably like being burned from the inside out, all along your nerves.’ The thought made him shiver, and made him glad that wasn’t the way you were punished for murder anymore. ‘They might not even find out. No on knew the guy other than us, no family, no home. We can just pretend he never existed.’
Layne continued his walk home, thoughts of an impending doom tormenting him at every footfall.
‘We killed him, how could we have killed him? It’s all my fault! I was such an idiot, I should have told them to stop, but I didn’t! The police will come for me, they’ll find out. And I’ll go with them, I won’t argue, won’t fight.’
He continued on home to his small, shack-like post-war house. It was nothing special, and it reflected Layne’s personality, small and reserved.
‘Why? Why? Why do I even bother thinking I was ever a good person? I killed someone!’
Upon arriving home, he slowly walked up the stairs, expecting a police officer to jump out of a dark corner, telling him he was under arrest. He stripped himself of clothing, and took a long, hot shower. One done, he felt much better, Layne walked downstairs, sat on the couch, and turned on the TV. Flipping through channels restlessly, he found nothing but late-night talk shows, pathetic soap operas, and porn. It disgusted him that people actually watched those shows, especially the soap operas.
‘When they come to get me, I won’t resist.’
He finally found something to watch, a show about UFOs.
“… evidence that life beyond ours exists is shown through sightings… multiple sightings of cigar shaped UFOs over Germany… motherships are larger… some disks hover above Earth, studying us…”
Everything seemed to pass over his head except these few trivial bits of information. They seemed to grasp his attention for no apparent reason.
‘When they come I won’t resist’.
A knock came to the door, startling Layne, he turned off the TV, the show was making him nervous anyway.
‘That must be them, they found out about me pretty quick. Well, I’m ready to pay for what I’ve done.’
The knock came again, louder, the person outside said nothing to identify themselves as the Authorities.
‘They must be trying to catch me off guard. I’ll go without a fight.’
Layne rose from the couch, wondering if he’d ever see that scene again, and, in a trance-like state, opened the door.
Kurt
I watched the train puff by, staring at the passengers, trying to imagine why they were leaving, and where they were going. It was my favourite pastime. The girl by the window was crying because she had just been informed her best friend had died while leaving a shopping mall, drive by shooting. The old man was watching the scene whisk away, remembering the first time he came there, fifty years ago, with his wife and twins, a boy and girl. He was being taken to his wife’s memorial in Aberdeen. She had died ten years ago. The children refused to come.
I remembered the first time I made up a story about people. I told my sister why the man and woman on a bus were fighting. I told her they were fighting over custody of their baby. My sister asked my how I knew. I told her I made it up. She told me never to do that again. I was ten, at that time, she was fourteen. Now I’m sixteen, and her words never did have any affect on me, except never to tell anyone what I thought up.
Why do I even think up these things, it’s not like it benefits me any. And people think I’m crazy already, without this on top of it all. I guess it’s not very ‘manly’ either. But then again, ‘men’ just abuse women, and treat animals like dirt. They expect respect; they get respect, just because they’re men. I’m not a man then, I guess. I could never like a man, if that is what a man is. But I could never like a woman either, because they’re so vain, and they like the abuse, it gives them attention. Win-win situation. Maybe I’m the dog.
I watched a girl walk past; short and ugly, she was the daughter of a heroin-addicted mother and alcoholic father, probably where she got her pug-ugly looks. Poor girl. Despite her stocky figure and dull face, she still spends hours staring at herself, vain, she barely saw her ugliness, so in love with herself.
My cell phone rang, that was something new, no one ever called me, I don’t know why I even had it. It was Jerry on the phone, I was glad it was him. I’ve always been worried every time my phone rings, in case Mark calls. I hate Mark; he’s annoying and so self-righteous. It makes me sick, really it does. I picked up the phone, greeting Jerry with a ‘hey’.
What Jerry told me almost made me be sick, right there at the train station. He said Layne killed someone. Killed! I never thought Layne would ever do something like that. I liked Layne! We spend restless nights in his kitchen, drinking root beer floats and getting high. I never thought Layne would do such a thing, it’s terrible, he took someone’s life!
Jerry asked me to go get some coffee with him, at the local 50s Diner, I agreed, because I figured we both needed someone to talk to about Layne and what he did. I got to the diner pretty quickly, and found Jerry already there, drinking his coffee. I sat down with him. We spoke about Layne for a while, the place was pretty much empty, so we didn’t worry about being heard. Jerry asked me to come with him to visit Layne when we were done. I agreed, because it wasn’t like I had anything better to do.
Jerry
Layne killed someone tonight. I’m not sure how, and I’m not sure why, but he did. Actually, I’m not entirely sure if he did, but that’s what They say. I’m not even really sure who They are. It’s sort of like, when you know something, and someone, or multiple someones told you it, and they’re the They but no one ever really knows who They are, because it’s what happened and what They know that’s important, not who it is that knows.
But enough on They, because they’re not really all that important. I really do feel a bit of pity, and a bit of guilt. Pity for Layne, guilty for myself. I’m feeling guilty because I’m Layne’s best friend, and I shouldn’t have run off when it started getting rough, but I’m a bit of a pacifist, I don’t like fighting when it’s not for fun. And this certainly wasn’t for fun. But at least I know Layne will be alright, I know he won’t get arrested, because no one will tell. I know this because if they tell, they’ll all be arrested, too, for some sort of legal law stuff. For not stopping it, or joining in, or something. The ‘they’ I’m talking about here isn’t the same as They, it’s more whoever or whatever friends were with Layne at that time; They obviously couldn’t have been, because They are much more hidden, I’m sure, kind of like secret spies.
The reason I feel pity for Layne is because I know he’ll be feeling pretty psycho about now. Not evil, angry, violent psycho, more just messed up in the head, out-of-it type psycho. And I should be there to help him through this, but I’m not. Mostly because if you visit a person too soon after they kill someone, they usually are gonna act pretty weird. Or at least, that’s what I would expect; I’d never been to close to someone who’s killed before. But I’ll go visit Layne, not now, maybe in an hour or so, to give him some time to feel a bit less psycho. I don’t want to be around him when he’s feeling psycho.
In a way I feel kind of bad that I’m not there with him now, but really, for my own sanity and health, I think it’d be better not to be there, who knows what Layne will be rambling about. If he’ll be proud of killing him, or if he’ll feel really bad about it, or if he’ll start going crazy, if he’ll be a real Psycho, and not just feeling psycho. I really don’t know, and at this moment, I think I don’t really want to. I’ll wait for an hour, and go visit him. In the meantime, I think I’ll go get a coffee; maybe I’ll call Kurt to come join me.
Mark
What use is life if you can’t live it to the fullest? But even I have to put boundaries on myself. Doesn’t everyone? If they don’t, they’ll end up dead. I don’t want to end up dead, not like that guy Layne killed. Stupid Layne, I never liked him. Layne forgot his boundaries, and now he’ll end up dead, in prison, obviously. But I didn’t like him all that much to begin with, so when he dies, it won’t be that bad. Why’d he even kill that dude anyway? Well, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s dead, and it’s Layne’s fault. I’m not even sorry Layne’s going to prison, I’m sorry that old hobo had to die for him, though. Well, I’m not sure he was a hobo, or if he was a he, but that’s not the point. I’m not sure my point, but there is one, there always is one.
Oh, you should’ve seen how Jerry reacted when we told him Layne killed someone. Jerry happens to be Layne’s best friend. It was pretty freaky, and pretty funny, seeing Jerry getting all sweaty and twitchy when we told him. I don’t get how Jerry can be friends with an idiot like Layne, but Jerry’s pretty stupid anyway. He’s probably got some mental disorder or something. No one sane is that stupid. At least, no one I know, and I pride myself on knowing only the finest. I should probably demote Jerry from ‘acquaintance’ to ‘person I’ve seen around’. I want to surround myself with the best only. Friends are hard to come by, which is why I like to choose them very carefully. They have to be rich (but not richer than me), smart (but not smarter than me), good looking (but not better looking than me), and sane. I don’t need to add that they can’t be more sane than me, because that’d be impossible. So far, I’ve only had to worry about richness, because I’ve never met anyone smarter or better looking than myself. I probably never will. Oh, and my friends can’t be wimps, or try to copy me, it’s happened before, and I demoted them. I can’t be surrounded by people who are so insecure about themselves that they try to be me. I also hate being around wimps, that’s why I demoted Kurt, he was a total wimp, he wouldn’t even punch anyone! But I never really liked him anyway; he was Layne and Jerry’s friend. I don’t think he was all there, either; he never spoke to me unless I spoke to him first. Layne mentioned that he didn’t like me much, but that’s impossible, everyone likes me. I demoted Layne for that little bit of blasphemy towards me. I guess Layne must have been pretty mad when he found out I demoted him, that’s probably why he went out and killed that dude. Oh well, I don’t care, as long as I’m not somehow blamed for it.