The Ignorance That Opens Bliss(CH1)

Chapter 1: Encounter

Diana

          My name is Diana Lynn Marr. I live with my older sister and my half-arsed mother. I can’t relate to anyone anymore. Something inside me has changed. Craving for more than this ordinary life I had been so “blessedly” given. I can’t help but feel like I’m not here. My home isn't actually my home. Home is where the heart is right? My heart is somewhere far away from this washed up town. God, what am I doing here? I’m not living. Living is laughing, having a happy, giddy, restless feeling in my chest. Living is having an actual will to live, and scars marring my wrists completely up my forearm clearly say that I am not living. I am going through the motions of life without even the courtesy of feigning interest.

    This is all because I deserve it. I still remember that night. My brother, my father, and my best friend all died because of me. I killed them. They were celebrating my sixteenth birthday. I always wanted to go to a concert so my father bought the tickets and booked a hotel for us to stay in. We never made it there though. Our car was hit by a semi. It flipped three times and I remember feeling like I was on a roller coaster, only I knew I wasn't. I opened my eyes to see if everyone was okay, but when I looked around all I saw was blood. My best friend, Hunnybrooke, was impaled through her heart. My brothers head was barely attached to his body. My father was unconscious against the steering wheel. The wreck had caused blood to stop flowing to his brain. He didn't get to the hospital in time...

    Feelings start to burn fiercely in my chest. A need to just end this all and finally be free of the life my body had ruefully bound me too. Just one cut is all it will take. I know where my life blood flows. All I have to do is sever the correct vain and then I will become numb, and then slowly fall into a darkness that will give me what I need. Freedom from the burden of guilt I bear.

    I press the razor blade I had been squeezing in my hand for quite a while, causing small tendrils of blood too spatter on my too-black-to-stain comforter, to my wrist wanting so bad to be rid of this unbearable pain.

    Suddenly tears start to stream down my face. I fall limp to my bed, despair filling every inch of my being at the realization that killing myself isn't an option. I'm not done yet.

    “Is your life really that bad?” I jump looking around for the source of the intruding voice. I find him sitting on the window seal opposite of my bed. He had wild hair, styled in a way that it seemed like he was attacked by random razor blades that decided to make his hair look like a masterpiece instead of marring his all too perfect face. His crazy black hair that gave even the devils soul a run for it’s money framed a pair of yellow eyes. When the setting sun hit them just right, they looked almost golden. My eyes travel down and see he is shirt-less, and his far too perfect abdomen was currently bleeding out onto my white carpet.

    “What the hell are you doing in my house?” That brought a smile to his all too perfect lips.

    “Hiding.” He gets up and stumbles slightly but manages to stay on his feet.

    “Who are you?” He just walks closer to me and decides it’s okay to sit on my bed. Why am I not freaking out about this?

    “Why were you crying?” He seemed completely sincere about the question but I'm not going to have it.

    “Get out!” He laughs,and looks down at his very bloody yet still noticeably fit stomach.

    “What were you planning to do with that razor blade?” He gently tugs on my arm and starts running his fingers up and down my scars. I quickly reclaim my very exposed reoccurring mistakes and jump to the other side of the room, bumping into my closet door. I have an impulse to slap him.

    “I said get out of my house!” I yelled at him, pissed at this stranger sitting on my bed, clearly ready to pass out right there at any moment. Hey swayed steadily while in his sitting position, already closing his eyes. Suddenly worried about him, I creep over to him, still weary of his presence. He pressed a single finger in the middle of my forehead and an unsettling calm swept over me

    “You haven't answered my questions.” He says softly. I paused, trying to get my bearings together. What is it with this guy? Why am I not afraid of him?

    “This is my house. Answer my questions or I will throw you outside to bleed out on the dirt. First, why did you break in here? Second, who are you?” I smiled smugly waiting for my answers but saw he was passed out and still bleeding profusely. Drops of the dark liquid puddled up on the comforter and dropped to the ground with a steady beat. Drip. Drip. Drop.

    “Shit, he can’t die in my room. What am I going to do with the body?” Frantically I start to search for the first aid, running down the stairs  with a speed I never believed I could reach. Is it on top of the fridge? No. Is it under the sink? No. Beside the stove? No. God, I can't find it! I start to hyperventilate until reason calms me down. I’m in my kitchen. The first-aid kit is in the bathroom. Face-palm.

  I make it back to the room with the correct supplies to bandage him up, I know this because I am currently studying to be a nurse, and see that he is conscious, but barely so. His eyes are squinted but he still smiles when he sees my arms filled with plenty of rubbing alcohol, gauze and a damp towel.

    “You gonna take care of me?” His words took effort but his voice was still strangely beautiful.

    “I can’t have you dying here in my house. It’s bad for my image.” He laughs softly, sounding more like Paleolithic grunts as he tried, but failed, to ignore the pain.

    “This is going to hurt.” I slowly walk over to him and kneel down for better perspective. I start to clean his wounds with the towel and cringe at what was revealed. He was cut deep. It looked like an animal dug his claws into him hoping for a midnight snack, but changed it's mind at the last second.

    “How did you get this?”

    “Not your business unless you want to be harmed as well.” His words sent chills down my spine because I knew he wasn't exaggerating.

    Silently I continue cleaning off the wound until it was clear enough to put the rubbing alcohol on it. I decided it was a lot like ripping off a band-aid when it came to these things so I just dumped it onto the grotesque wound. He let out a blood curdling scream, arching his back and trying to push me away.

    “Stop fighting. You’re making it bleed more.” He still didn't stop squirming. With out thinking I straddled him and fought for control.

    “Shit that hurts.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes where closed tight. Veins revealed themselves from their hiding places caused by the strain it was causing him to gain control.

    “Shh, sit still and stop yelling. You’ll attract unwanted attention from the rest of the household.” Slowly he calmed down but his breathing remained ragged as tears slid down the side of his face.

    “One more time okay. Try to stay quiet.” Still straddling him in case he decides to get feisty with me again, I hesitantly start to poor the alcohol on him. Slowly this time. I felt him tense up and his hands started to grip the bed posts to keep himself from having another out burst.

    “Now I’m going to bandage you up. You need to sit still for this okay.” I picked the gauze up from the side of the bed where I dropped it and then gingerly started to wrap the fabric around his waist, careful to cover all of his injury. Carefully, I pulled it tight and bound it so it would never come loose until it needed to.

    Fatigue suddenly hit me. With a sigh I laid down next to him, this is my bed after all, and closed my eyes to welcome sleep. The last thought that crossed my mind before I fell asleep was that he smelled like roses and something else...so familiar.

Sam

         I wake up to the sound of birds chirping and soft snoring. I feel a weight on my chest and look down to see a very beautiful girl sleeping. She has red hair. Not a natural red but honest-to-God fire truck red. From what I remember, she has dark blue eyes. She isn't tan but she isn't pale either, somewhere in between. She is thin, but strong. I can tell by the grip she has on my shirt. I try not to laugh, but fail at the sight of her.

    "Hope I'm a comfortable pillow." I whisper quietly. She stirs slightly in her sleep and I can't help but smile to myself. I stare at her a bit, feeling a sense of peace I haven't felt in a long time, then look around the room.

    The room was dark, not in the sense of lack of light, but it was depressing. Black curtains, black doors, from what I see inside of her closet, black clothes. She seems to be the only color in the room. There is a desk under the window I climbed into last night. That is also black, but on top of it, I see drawings of people hanging, bleeding out, or just sitting alone in a depressing setting. Next to the assortment of morbid pictures lay a notebook. Curious, I lift up my hand.

    "Come" The notebook flies through the room and places itself into my hands. Quickly I open it, reading eagerly. I'm always up for good entertainment.

    January 21, 2012



    My sister had another panic attack. I don't know why she keeps having them, but it still scares the hell out of me. She kept hyperventilating, laying in the fetal position on the kitchen floor. I still don't know what to do about it.

    My mother decided to renovate the house. She put white carpet in my room to contrast with all the black furniture. Doesn't she know how big of a pain in the ass it will be to get stains out? I wanted wood flooring, but it didn't fit her budget. The room seems colorless now. I miss the red carpeting. At least then if I cut myself and blood dripped onto the floor it would just blend in...

    I had another dream about them. They were all staring at me angrily. Blaming me, as I blame myself, for their deaths. I need to get out of this house. I just don't know when the right time will come. I want my life to be filled with adventure to distract myself from my past. I want fist flying, splitting lip fights. I want to rebel more then ever, just to cause trouble. I want someone to care for me like my father use to. I just don't want to be alone anymore.

-Diana

    I look down at the beautiful girl resting peacefully on my chest, sighing loudly.

    "So much to think about for someone so young...Diana. I like that name. Beautiful, just like the girl who it belongs to." I shake my head slightly. I don't know her that well but I'm starting to become interested in her. She'd make my eternal life less boring. Maybe even make me less lonely. My type of girl...

    I start to comb my fingers through her hair. It was silky and soft to the touch. I wouldn't mind waking up to someone like this ever single day. I know she will grow older, and die. My loneliness will continue once again. What am I even thinking. I can't take her with me. She has a family and probably friends too. I can't take her away from that. I look down at her arms,staring at the many scars that decorate them.

    "I can't leave you as you are either though. You'll try to kill yourself again. You don't seem to care about leaving your family and friends if you are willing to commit suicide. Maybe you'd be willing to come with me." I smile at the thought and stare down at her. She tenses and then opens her eyes.