Tears ruptured from my eyes and I bolted from where I stood, shoving past the group and running up the basement stairs. Everyone inside laughed as I left and I heard someone call my name. I ignored them and ran through Montey’s house, lunging through the front door and out into the pouring rain.
“Crissa!” I spun around to see Montey running towards me. “Wait!”
“What the hell do you want?” I felt dizzy again.
Montey stopped directly in front of me. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” I wiped my wet hair from my face as the rain mixed with my tears. “You lied to me! You all lied to me! And that–that fucking man in there nearly raped me!” He didn’t speak. I grabbed my head, nearly stumbling over. Montey caught me, but I pushed him off. “Don’t touch me!” Thunder boomed above us. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again!”
I felt so fucking sick.
Montey stepped back to give me some room. “Crissa, it wasn't supposed to be like that!” I stared at him in awe. “She said it was supposed to be a harmless prank—I didn’t know he was going to do that to you!”
“A prank?!” I glared at the man before me, the man I once cared so much for and longed to be with. But now, all I felt was hatred. “Fuck you, Montey. Fuck all of you!”
His jaw tightened at my words. “Squish.”
I shook my head. “No. No, you don’t get to call me that.” My chest ached from how emotional I felt. “I hope you all burn in hell, Montey,” I growled. I then stormed off before he could say another word.
The storm raged on, drenching my body as I ran. I cried the whole way back to my place, struggling to even keep my eyes steady as I found myself standing outside my home, motionless in the thunderstorm. My head spun and I felt completely lost in some weird, drug-infused reality. I took a step forward, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the edge of my bed.
“What?” I breathed. My eyes slowly adjusted and lightning struck, igniting the room in a bright flash. There was a trail of mud that led straight into my room and ended beneath my muddy boots. “H-how did I get here?” I blinked, realizing I was sopping wet from the storm and still wearing the clothes from before. “Wait…” As my fingertips ran along my torn tights, I began to remember. Slowly, everything that happened in the basement flooded me and played like a movie in my head as I relived it. My chest ached from how heartbroken I felt, betrayed by those I once trusted most. My body screamed in agony at the abuse I had endured from Sybil, and my head pulsated from being drugged. I hated every single one of them, but more so, I hated myself.
How could they do this to me? How?! Why do they hate me?!
I drug my legs onto the edge of the bed and tucked my knees in close as tears poured from my bruised face. “Why,” I cried. “Why?!” My body shook in shame, disgusted and sickened by it all. “What did I ever do to them?” I cried hysterically and caved over.
Everything hurt and throbbed. Everything. I wanted to stop the pain, to end my suffering. I wanted to run away and forget everything that they’d done to me…but I couldn’t. No matter how much I tried, I wouldn’t be able to let this go. These nightmares would always follow me. Always haunt me. Every time I’d close my eyes, I’d see their faces and hear their laughs. There was no escaping this humiliation. Even if I did run, it would always be chained to me.
“I can’t keep running…I–I can’t do this anymore!”
And so…I decided there was only one way left to stop the pain.Forever.
My head raised in defeat and I eyed the sewing kit next to my bed. Such wicked, evil thoughts poisoned my sanity as I reached for it without hesitation. I dumped numerous spools of thread, needles, and the large sewing shears down onto my lap. The reflective tool entranced me as I picked it up, determined to see my plan through. “I’ll make sure everyone knows it was all your fault,” I whispered aloud. “Every single one of yours.” I snatched a pen and the old book, and hurriedly flipped it open without thought. “It was all their fault,” I stated while writing the sentence with hate-filled tears pouring from my eyes. “It was all their fault!” With a loud groan, I stabbed the book with the pin, sending ink across the surface. “To my so-called friends…” I continued. “I hope you’re happy. Lavender…Ryder…Token…Montey.” I grimaced. “And Sybil.” Thunder rolled above as the storm grew extra violent. “I hope you get what you deserve.”
All of you.
And with that lingering thought, I raised the sewing shears, spread the blades, and held it over my wrist.
But something stopped me.
What am I doing? Even if I kill myself, they won’t care. They’ll just keep going, living their lives! They won’t regret it. They won’t blame themselves! Even if I die here right now, they won’t mourn my absence…because I’m nothing to them.
And then it hit me.
“I–I am nothing…” A tear dripped from my face and fell onto the page, smearing the ink. My body trembled as the harsh truth of my existence weighed on me. My arms shook and my jaw tightened as I made my choice. “Fine then…” I sniffled. “Why even try?” I hesitated. “No…my blood is on their hands.” My eyes fell as the tip of the shears pressed into my flesh, making me bleed. I winced, keeping the blade steady as blood streamed down my forearm and fell onto the open pages.
My blood spread along the porous surface and the book began to glow. The words I had written vanished as an elusive text slowly appeared, filling the pages. I dropped the shears and leaned over, gripping my bleeding arm while staring at the page. It was filled with odd instructions and phrases, and even a strange foreign language I didn’t recognize. “What is this?” My fingertip raised the page to see more writing on the next. “Wait.” I flipped through the book and realized every single page was now filled with the same strange handwriting and sketches of creatures and even tortuous practices. Some of the images made me sick to even look at. “I don’t understand.” I couldn’t figure out what any of it meant. It was all written nonsense and pictures of things and words I’d never seen before. And the more I flipped through the pages, the darker the content seemed to get. And it frightened me.
What even is this?
I slammed the book shut to see an image scratched into the old leather cover. It started from the left side and swirled towards the center clockwise, creating an odd symbol. “Wait, I know what this means.” With a bloodied hand, I reached under my bed and retrieved a small stack of occult books. I quickly flipped through them, tossing the useless ones aside to find what I was looking for. “I knew it.” My eyes returned to the strange cover. “This symbol means rebirth.” My bloodied fingertip gently hovered over the etched design and I felt an odd energy seeping from it.
But…why is it here?
The book vibrated within my grasp before swinging open. I held my breath as I watched the pages quickly flip through until they stopped, landing on a specific section. It was filled with instruction-like text and etches of the same swirled symbol from the cover. Lightning struck outside and ignited the room once more as I noticed a sketch of what appeared to be a demon. My blood ran cold at the image, depicted with sharp teeth and blacked-out eyes. Letters were scribbled beneath it, forming a name I’d never heard before. “Z–eth–i–lone–ous?” Beneath the name was a description of said demon, which I dared read aloud. “Zethiloneous is the third appointed demon of the divine.” My eyes widened.
Demon?! I–I shouldn’t be reading this. It could be dangerous.
