Come With Me Then (Creature Feature)

Prologue

Warning: This story includes strong language and surrounds suicide and death  

Set In 2015

Inspired By 'The Nether World' probably my favorite by Creature Feature (Can't really decide! XD)

(Erik: Age 15, Not Mute, Has Not Met Curtis)

Prologue

Erik ran to his room, trying to block out the yells of his father. He slammed the door, wiping his eyes in a worthless attempt to stop the tears. Hearing stomping up the stairs. He snapped back into reality, quickly locking his door.

"You don't run away from me, you little brat!" His father yelled, pounding on the wooden door drunkenly.

This went on for what seemed like forever, Erik praying that the door would hold steady as he leaned against it. The pounding finally stopped, his father giving up on the lost cause and stumbling away. Breathing heavily, Erik quickly opening his door.

"I hope you die of alcohol poisoning, you bastard!" He yelled, slamming his door again.

Sniffling and walking over to his dresser, which held a glass tank. Which held his pet tarantula. He opened the top of the tank, dipping his hand into it and receiving the brazilian black and white striped tarantula. That was one of the reasons he had picked it, because it had the same stripes as him. Picking it up and holding it loosely in his hand, he brought it over to his bed and sat it down on his pillow. He sat down on his bed, hugging his other pillow tightly.

"You know, Blacula?" He said, having named his spider after his favorite comedy horror character, "I don't think I'm meant to be here... Or... Or anywhere..." He mumbled.

Of course, the creature couldn't respond, only gently crawl on to Erik's hand. Erik tried to give a smile, but couldn't force them any longer. He had done it for too long.

"I'm just a lost cause, aren't I? There's nothing left to be here for." He said, remembering his grandmother's death, who was the last person to truly care about him.

Setting Blacula back into his tank and feeding him, his tried not to shake. Going to his drawer, he grabbed a familiar object from under a book. Erik traced his index finger along the razors sharp edge, pulling it away when it easily nicked his skin. Staring at the razor, he unlocked his door before sitting down on his bed to sleep for the last, eternal time. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm. His arm was riddled with white lines in each and every direction. Some even curving and forming letters. 'Worthless', 'Emo', 'Abandoned'. That last one had hurt the most to write, taking hours to cut it and clean the blood. He was glad he wouldn't have to clean up this time around. He gripped the razor tightly, feeling sick to his stomach, because he knew this was it. He didn't know what was after death. Hell? No, he was already in it, and it was time to finally escape, even if he was scared. He tried not to cry again as he slowly dragged the sharp razor along his skin, pressing as deep as he could get himself to. He gasped as crimson blood instantly began to pour out, draining out and onto the floor and bed. But he kept digging, making a deep line on his other arm. With his other arm bleeding and shaking, the cut wasn't as straight, going jagged. After a couple of more cuts, he began to feel dizzy and lightheaded. The pain in his arms began to go numb as his pulse subsided and he couldn't keep himself up. Suddenly, he was laying back on his bed, his breathing shallow and failing. He couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. They lightly fluttered shut, introducing him to a new world full of black nothingness...

(An: Otay! That's the prologue! Hope it interest you! Please tell meh if it does! :D)