I don’t want to live in this sadistic world any longer: People who could kill and walk on, People who could rape a child and deliver its death afterwards, Mothers who can’t see their children, husbands that walk in circles or siblings who walk over and ignore other ones. All this has been trying to be changed and thought has been, but only been hidden more thoroughly. Humans never change. They fight among brothers even if it’s a small quarrel between children, or a war between continents. Humans have never changed. Teenagers time and time again commit suicide because they can’t’ take any of this. I hate to be the same. Matter fact I’ve been using my 15 yrs. and 11mths to be different, but this is an exception. I’m weak. I’ve never been weak, but if I can swallow 24 pills. Not to escape this horrible terra planet, but to prove I can face death in the face. Throw away my friends, family, my stories that I love more than my life, and my drawing. If I can go along with this I am not weak.
One pill
Five more…
Two more…..
Two more than that…
My head hurts; my heart has a lovely drumming speed to it, and my stomach….I want to throw up.
Three more…
One more than that...
Two more…what does that poster say again? Everything looks all fuzzy. Ha ha that’s funny…fuzzy. Fuzzy...Fuzzy woozy….ha aha what’s in my hand? A bottle……a bottle of what? Candy? No……no….Huh? I want one. That tasted weird. No it’s DRUGS. I throw the pretty white bottle down on whatever I was sitting on, run for the door, but I trip before I can get anywhere. I don’t have the strength or the will to get up and as pain rush through me so does the darkness to my sight.
I don’t want to die…
“Sarina Alicson!” someone storm in here angry at first then it sounds more like, “Rin? Rin my little girl open your……..”
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Father I don’t want to die. Please save me. I don’t care how sadistic this world is or how forgotten the truth is. I’ll rather live in an evil world where each person wears their own mask than not live at all. Weak- ha and dying’s strong. Right! I’ll rather have no spine than tomorrow, so someone please save me. I do not wish to sleep in darkness with my last thought for all eternity.
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“S-Sarin-na Alic-son you can wake up now.” An unfamiliarly kind voice informs me, but I really don’t want to wake up. “Wake up! Now!” I’m told by I can now hear as an older person. My eyes snatch open uncommanded to a white room. I would’ve asked if I was dead, but since I’m hooked up to a monitor, that’s not true. But what would’ve pushed this consumption was the strong but incredibly old guy looming over my bed with his tan skin and deeps set wrinkles dressed in white. “SIT UP!” he demands and I have the sensation to obey; which I end up doing quickly and realizing he has no shoes.
“Your name is Sah- Re-nah Al-lick-son. Is it not?” He practically sound out my name, but I simply nod without comment. “Okay and am I correct in saying you want to become stronger. You feel weak and this world is incompetent to hold you.”
“Yes.” What else can I say?
The man coughs before continuing. “Okay what if I can help you?”
I want this man to go. He’s lying and toying with me. No one can change the world any more they can change a Human. “Where’s my parents?” I demand most likely stalling, or avoiding the question. He sighs like I’m unbelievable. “I cannot and will not let you see them until you answer every question. Am I challenged?”
“No and I would love if you could.” I cave.
“Well then,” he says slightly cheerful as he sit on the edge of what is for now my bed. “I can make you ‘strong’, but being strong is more than able to lend a successful kick just remember that. It’s will power, commitment, strong in the head, and even having the strength not to do something,” deliberately he looks around the room. “, or having the will to even walk away. I will not tell you what you’re doing or where you’re going, but I will tell you. You’re going to die. Not in the deliberate sense. Everything you are going to be disposed of. Everything you care about is going to have to be forgotten. Family….friends….your life. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“You have a choice. You have always had this. Even when you were dead for five minutes, even in a comma for six months, or before that when 20 pills went down your throat. Your choice, will you come with me for a year? Will you be brave and NOT runaway?” he left me with this.
Could I do any of this? A weak person would run away from this world and die. A strong person would live and change what cannot, but an even stronger person would have an enough strength to die only a weak person would not even try to live and give up………continually going back and contradicting myself won’t help me make a choice, so should I ?
About thirty minutes later- more or less-The old man arrives with a younger man somewhere between 18 and 21 wearing white as well. White slacks and nothing more, no shoes, or shirt to cover his mildly muscular chest.
“Your answer?” the old man asked with an unusually straight back. At that moment and second I decided –NO. I grabbed the thing lodged up my arm ready to yank it out, so I can tell this old man, but very unrealistic a strong hand seemingly gently stopped me. I looked up, black eyes that 95% somewhere else are staring down at me “let go of me.” I demanded unable to let myself free. I struggle and use more strength than intended. This is annoying, so I kick him hard square in the jaw-his mouth even bleed. I say good for a human with no shoes, but he never let go of my other hand, so I try to push my luck, turn and attempt kicking with the heel of my other foot. He catches it and bends my foot out of socket. In first I thought I imagined the crack ‘til he let go of my foot and hands. Next was the inexplicable, unexplainable pain. I want to cry and go limp, but I bite my tongue. I can’t cry in front of the person who broke it, but it hurts so bad I want to scream ‘til my lungs give out.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The old man looks at me like he’s waiting for the same thing until he sees that I’m not going to give in he announces “stop it. The both of you” He says calmly, but with the same firmness that makes THIS guy step back and straighten up. Me, I try and pretend that I did nothing, but I actually sat slightly straighter and unconsciously removed my hand. “How’s your leg?” he ask just as I forget forcing me to remember. “Fine,” I lie “I’ll repay you” I spit the words at THIS guy with the unkept pony tail, and he smile a smile I already know is ‘I know something you don’t know!’ I already know I’ll definitely grow to hate it.
The old man walks over to me, grab my ankle-“bite down. My name is master Ji……How’s your foot?”
“I already told you. I’m fi-“I stare at my ankle in disbelief. It looks
“Fine,” master Ji laughs which makes me laugh. Why am I laughing? Should I know? Turns out Mr. Break my foot is too serious to even smile without a meaning behind it. I immediately stop laughing and look at him angrily.
“No need to hold vendetta’s you two. Rin, have you made a CHOICE?” if I get a year’s second chance to get him back okay. “Yes I will, but what about school?” Master Ji turns to the GUY. “This is Allek (al-lick) Reus (ray-us), but you WILL call him Master Reus. He will be yours and fourteen other students’ teacher. You will have a week to say good bye and make it seem as though you never existed.” Master Ji said and left me alone feeling ashamed on that good note. I look up at this guy. He’s not much older than I. “so, I’m supposed to call you Master Reus? I’m not and if I want to leave, I will”
“You will and you’re not a prisoner. You can go wherever you like. It was your choice. Remember?”
“Was it yours?”
“Everyone has a choice. Now go to sleep.”
“What it there’s not one?”
“Sometimes you don’t want to see all the choices, but they’re there.”
“Did you take a wrong one?”
“You did to. Now go to sleep.”
I wake up? But I don’t remember falling asleep. Was that a dream? Strange, I think I’ll make that into a story. One character named Reus and another named Ji. I wonder how you spell that. Do you spell it just “G” or more like “GHE”?
I look around and realize I didn’t dream the hospital. The small white room with a be in the corner looks pretty much the same aside from nothings poking out of me and on a near-by chair is a sheet of paper on top of a booklet. Which catches my attention, so I slip out of bed, pick up the paper with my thumb and middle finger.it reads.
Sarina Alicson,
This name will not be your name within a week. Secondly put some clothes on within three minutes of throwing this message away. Oh and since you said yes I’m going to need you to sign your name in the booklet underneath.
R
Why does this guy have to be so much better than me at writing my own name? I turn to the marked page of the booklet and at the very bottom I write my signature.
Close the book, grabbed the paper on top, and throws it in the trash. Now where‘s those clothes. They're under the chair I got the paper from. I could’ve been dressed, but no time to worry about that. I run to the clothes and put some of my own clothes on as soon as I get the shirt over my head the door opens. “Master…….” Reus? “Follow me.” He demands, so I do. “You called me Master like I said”
“No I called Master Ji master. Where are we going?”
And before he answers there is a worn out dad and a tired mother sitting on waiting chairs like I’m already dead. At least I know they would care if I succeeded. Reus side steps out of my view and faces my pretty muscular dad without a fear in the world unlike most people. “Do you remember what we spoke about?” Reus asked with absolute authority of the space. “Yeah, “my father sighed unemotionally that it hurts. “But there’s a lot to consider.”
“We offered to pay all your hospital bills, pay for your daughters’ college, and to change your teenager.”
“I know, but it’s all for you to take my daughter to who knows where, doing what I don’t know. Keeping her on life support was expensive, but that shows how much I want her alive.” He looked down at my mom and intertwined their hands. “Now, you’re saying you’re going to take her for a year and I’m not supposed to know if she’s still in this country. What your organization’s called? Am I supposed to act like she didn’t exist for a year? What would she be doing?”
Reus ignored his list of questions. “She’ll be doing what she chooses to do.”
I’m confused so I gradually stop listening in letting the conversation turn into background static. My father’s suffering because of me. Humans inflicting pain on humans. He cares about me. This man cares so much he’s willing to lock me in a box and throw away the key. The man who paid no attention to what I did unless it was going out. The man I’ve convinced myself he cares about me and now I get a chance to see I wasn’t just lying to myself.
“Your daughter have already made her choice. What is yours?” Reus looks bored, like watching a play he’s seen over and over. He sticks his hand in his pockets. My father looks at me as if he could read my mind and snatch my choice right out my brain with enough concentration, but Reus continued. “She is unable to tell you until we get your answer.” The man on rare occasions I call my father looked at me with his keen sense of reading people, but there’s nothing there. My expression is devoid of any answers. “Okay.” My father release a deep breath in response. Did he really say that? The man who had trouble letting me walk across the street at thirteen.
Reus hands my father the same booklet that I wrote in and shows him my answer. “She stays with us for one more week.” Dad confirms to himself as he and mom add their reluctant signatures. “Thank you.” Reus took the booklet. “Rin, work on walking straighter.” He said over his shoulders then walked away without any direct answers.
I was left alone with two miserable humans. My father; looked at me, stood up and gave me a hug. That was normal, but afterwards my mother gave me one as well. Which is awkward. All my life I’ve waited for her to hug me like she did my younger brother and sister. The only other time she held me was a as an infant and now I wished she would just let go. My father obviously sees this, but isn’t going to help just hide behind his smirk.
Reminder, never try near death experiences again, unless you want an obligatory hug from your mother.
“I guess we have to begin packing up your things.” My father is clearly unhappy. I wish he was the one I wanted to care.