That's all I feel right now.
Dirty, disgusting, filthy, horrendous. Just plain dirty inside and out. No matter what I do to my body, the invisible dirt just won't seem to dissolve. I've tried everything I possibly could. Bathing (four times I might add), spraying myself with my favorite axe spray, scrubbing my skin with the hard end of a sponge, and moisturizing my skin with "Moroccan Beach" smelling body lotion.
So this must feel like to be a subject of unwilling sex.
Well, no, it's not rape. I just didn't want to, but I had to so nothing bad would happen to me. So did I just sleep for immunity? Whatever it is, I hate it. It's a disgusting feeling.
Then again, I have to suck it up. Mikey was - is - able to do it, so I can too. It's what we have to do to survive.
Geez... It's been at least three or four hours since I got back from James' house. Probably a quarter of the time was spent showering and removing any tainted follicles of James from my skin, and yet I still feel dirty. I just... Maybe in some part of the Book... I don't know...
I don't want to skip any pages. I feel like if I do, I'll miss something important. But... Maybe just this once? Will I get stricken by lightning? Or possibly mauled by bears? Or get sucked into the book like those people did in Inkheart? Maybe a flask of poison will be delivered to me for me to drink.
I seriously have to stop thinking.
It's just skipping some pages. Everybody has done it, so what harm could come out of it?
Maybe I should just go write some tabs for my bass. That should hopefully clear my mind. But that book would still be here, staring at me from its specified corner located right next to my bed.
That's it. I have to finish. At least count how many more entries or pages were written on.
Quickly, I plop the book on my lap. Taking a deep breath, I open the back cover and notice that it's not written on.
I scan through the pages. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-fi-- wait, no, Thirty-two. Thirty two blank pages. I guess Mikey didn't have enough time to finish writing in it.
Or Mikey committed suicide.
No. Mikey could not have committed suicide. It would have been on the news. And it would have been circulating around school.
Then maybe he's in hiding.
He could, but why would he hide?
In total, this kind of journal has about seventy-five pages. I know because I googled it. So far, I've read about thirty-something pages.
One would think that five-six entries shouldn't take up thirty-something pages, but Mikey's does.
Some of the words written are neat and tiny, but his handwriting turns massive when he's probably emotional. Or when he's in a hurry. In fact, some pages only have about three to six words, all written big yet neat.
So seventy-five pages minus thirty-two pages minus thirty-something pages should give me about... Wait...
So about seventeen or so pages left. Hmm. It doesn't seem that long ago since I've found the book. Maybe I'm just a fast reader or something.
Well, with that math done for the rest of the weekend, it's time to read.
Cue electro beats from that one Panic! Song! No? Oh, that's right, I don't have magical theme music playing in the background... Well this is awkward...
Oh, heavens above, why must you deal this harsh sleight of hand unto me? What did I do to deserve such a terrible life? Well, wait. I guess I may not have such a terrible life. They always tell you that there is always someone else suffering more than you. That's fucking bullshit. What do they know about what goes on in someone's mind? They're not mind readers, they're not human mood rings for other people, they're nothing to me. Hell is inside my head. Everyone's hell is stuck inside their own head. No one will ever understand my Hell. But... I want it to go away. I really want to stop thinking these horrible thoughts. But what can I do? No one has ever even attempted to break through the heavy thick barrier around me.
Either that or I just never noticed if other people really did try.
I've got a question for the ones that got a question about love and all it's weapons and lessons? Let me get a second to think about it, because I honestly don't know if it exists. And if it does, then Love doesn't trust me.
I guess I know that mom loves me. And Gerard, too, but I just don't feel it. My own father can go rot. He's always preferred Gerard. I guess that's only reasonable, since he's the firstborn and he actually shows talent for doing something.
What am I good for? All I have is a bass that I'm semi-good at playing. I'll never reach my dream of playing onstage.
This is much more than I bargained for.
I just want someone who can understand me, isn't that enough? Just someone who knows what I'm going through.
Whoops. I really need to be careful with this journal. Gerard just asked why I keep writing and why I never put this book down. I can't tell him. He'd think I'm crazy and should be locked up. But he does look genuinely concerned for me.
Or is it pity?
Gerard does get bullied sometimes, but when he's with his boyfriend, it's as if nothing matters. I guess I should be happy for him. And I really am, it's nice to know that he has someone to take his mind off of things.
Why don't I have that?
Because I can never get that. I'm not good enough...
You know, I really wish someone wrote a song for me. Or for the suicidal or depressed people out there, like the ones who self-harm.
Maybe if I tell Gerard, he'll do it, but then he'll ask what's wrong.
Maybe if I just
I fucking hate him. How dare he be my father?! He just came in the room and threw my journal out the window, telling me I should stop writing, that it gets annoying hearing the pencil scratching the paper. This journal is the only thing that's keeping me alive right now. But before I die, I want to do two things first.
And that, I'm preparing for.
"Alicia, you've got a visitor!" yelled my mom from downstairs. I sighed in frustration. Really? Now? When I'm reading this gripping journal? I will kill the person who interrupted me.
"Who is it?!" I yelled back. "It's James, honey!"
Kill me now.
"Tell him I'm sick!" "Okay, honey, I'll try!"
I heard some chatter downstairs and footsteps going upstairs, then suddenly the presence of someone in my room.
"Mom, seriously. I'm okay, just leave me alone for a while. I'm doing some homework." I lie easily, sitting in my chair, facing my desk.
"Such a shame you'd lie to me like that." I hear a voice behind me.
That wasn't my mother.
Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms encircle my waist and a broad chest on my back. There was breath hitting my ear, and I could feel his mouth slightly grinning.
"you didn't think you'd get away from me so easily, now, did you?"
My mouth dried up, making it hard to talk. "J-James."
"Honestly, I thought you were smarter than that. Guess I was wrong. Now I'll have to punish you for your indecency." my eyes widened. He wasn't serious, was he?
I felt a hand reach down into my pants and another hand grip my breast painfully. Then a sharp pain on my neck.
He really meant it.
Okay, Alicia. Calm down, him seeing you freak out will only give him satisfaction. Now think. You're in your own house. He's not exactly welcome. Plus, you're mom is home. He can't exactly have you with her here.
The lightbulb suddenly sparked.
"James, my mom... You can't do this with her here."
He pulled away, suddenly giving me that sly smile that tells me he has other things planned. And not good things.
"you're so right, darling. Why don't we leave and drive off somewhere? Thank you for telling me that." he grabbed my wrist painfully and pulled me out of the room. Luckily, I had managed to bring the journal with me, hiding it in my jacket.
"Bye, Ms. Simmons, have a good day!" James said in his convincingly false voice, sounding like the perfectly innocent guy he just so isn't. "Bye, have fun, you two!" my mom called from the kitchen. "Oh, we will!" he said back, hinting at the innuendo.
He flung me in the Passenger seat and started up the car, driving off to God knows where.
I had to get out of here. Now.
Luckily for me, James forgot to lock the doors. Okay. Now I just have to wait for the perfect timing.
"You know, we could always have a threesome, make it more enjoyable." I offered, slightly disgusted that those words just came out of my mouth. Well, slightly is an understatement.
James looked a little bit surprised, but then regained his composure. "You know, that sounds like a very good idea right now. Now the question is, with who else? A guy or a girl? Alicia?"
I put on my fake mask, and caught him by surprise again. "How about both?" I think after this, I'm going to throw up because of my words. I've never felt so... Bimbo-like.
James patted my head "That's a good little slut! Let's go find some people who will enjoy this." he got his phone out and dialed a number. "Hey, Nik! What's up? Listen, I gotta tell you..." I blocked his voice out. He was distracted. And now he's turning a curve. Now's my chance!
I opened the car door and jumped out, landing painfully on the grass. But that didn't matter, I had to get out. Run!
A dashed as quickly as I could into an alley and looked around. To my left, a park. To my right, some houses.
I heard something, so I ran to the park. I just kept running, never looking back. Going through masses of crowds, I managed to get to the other side, hopefully ditching James.
More houses were in front of me. If I wanted to ditch him for good, I had to find shelter.
I ran to the nearest house and knocked on the door. "open, open, open!" I whispered harshly, practically shaking.
The door opened to reveal a boy about my age, probably a year or two older with green eyes and black hair. I think he could tell by the look in my eyes that something was wrong.
He pulled me in, and shut the door, locking it in the process. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank You..."
He smiled slightly, "No problem, my parents aren't home anyway and you look like you fell out of a car." I laughed shakily, "Because I did. Had to or else." He didn't press on any further. Instead, he walked into the kitchen and brought back a cheese sandwich.
"I have these prepared just in case. Mostly for me, because there's nothing good to eat anyways." he chuckled, handing me the sandwich. I laughed and joyfully took a bite out of it.
Looking deeply at the guy, he looked vaguely familiar. "You know, staring at people can be taken wrongly." he said, a slight smile of amusement crossing his features.
"You look familiar, do I know you?" I said bluntly, earning a laugh from him. "Alicia Simmons, one of the most popular girls at school, noticed me? What a compliment." he said sarcastically, but not offensively. "I'm being serious. You look familiar. And the fact you know who I am does slightly sadden me because I don't know who you are. I feel like such a bitch right now."
He smiled again. "At least you've seen me before. The only people who really pay attention to such detail are my friends and bullies." I raised my eyebrow, "I'm neither, so what am I?"
"A person who just hangs with the wrong crowd." he stated simply.
"Wow, what great observation you have, I think that's the closest someone has ever categorized me as. Thanks." "You're welcome." "Now, Mystery man, will you please tell me your name?"
His eyes glistened and he laughed a little bit.
"My name's Gerard. Gerard Way."
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