Killing Chris

Principium

It's been some time since I've had the chance to write. Suddenly, it seems hopeless. In the beginning, it meant something, it was a way for me to remember what had been taken for me. Someone once told me that the brain holds on so tight to what it's used to. until it learns to let go of what's gone forever. I wonder if my brain will ever learn. The last time I wrote I was fleeing the train yard. Hurt and alone I wandered, pleading to whatever forces drove our world to be kind to me.

I stumbled my way through the darkness, to a small village on the mountain. I didn't even know where I was. What I did know is that it was finally time for you all to know the truth. The version of me Rhys knew, the version of me I hid from the story. Buried so deep under lies I couldn't even find it. The title of the story holds greater significance than the words it encompasses. Is it Killing  Chris or is it Killing, Chris? Rather implying that Chris is killing or that something is killing Chris. I didn't mean for it all to go down like this. I don't even remember the first time I...

I was so young when I gave up my identity, so vulnerable and carved out. So mad at the world that I never really learned how to live in it. My friends and I walked into the darkest places, but we did it together. When you lose a friend it is almost genetically altering. Your life slowly begins to adapt to a world without them in it. Losing my friends was the worst thing that has ever happened to me and I blame no one but myself. There was a reason I saw my face under the mask that night in the asylum, a reason that I know the events of the story this well.

It's a hard truth for people to understand that complex beings like ourselves all perceive emotions differently. An event may cause one person no distress at all and they simply brush It off, while that same event could make another person depressed. In order to describe the depth of emotions I had felt, I put it into a context that would allow readers everywhere to understand. The sadness that is felt from a person passing is universal, everyone, everywhere, has had unfortunate run-ins with death. Whether this is what you wanted to hear or not there's nothing here but the truth.

The story I have created I believed allowed people to feel what I felt when I lost my friends. To some, losing a friend is as simple as replacing them the next day. I made friends for life. That's why it was so excruciating to lose them. In high school, friends really do make up your whole life. People always tell you that it gets better in the future but no one cares when they're suffering so bad in the present. You can't see past high school, you can't see past today, you never know if you're gonna make it. So the finale is finally here, one final time we must start this story back from the beginning, back to the first murder.

It's senior year, graduation is quickly approaching. The kids in my class are meticulously combing through choices of colleges and everyone's making plans for their future. I decided to make one really important plan for mine. Before I leave high school, I want to come out to my friends. previously they all thought I was just a sad little straight man that didn't date.

Lake's story

So, just like that I sat my best friend down and told him,

Expecting the reaction that most people assume, I was sharply met with disapproval and what seemed to me as disgust. I mean it's hard not to understand though, after knowing somebody for that long. Im not sure if it was the fact I felt I couldn't trust him or just that fact plainly but Lake uttered his last words to my face that day.

Turning to our classmates for advice he soon spread it to the entire school, including some staff and the counselor. Now an important thing to me just became universally a gigantic shock and largely blown out of proportion. 

And so, he was hacked up by my mental machete... so Lake died by the hands of the murderer or "my mental self"

Margo's story