We Are All Victims Of Life

Finally edited, but only a little. Still comtemplating rewritting. Anyhow, enjoy. -Ace

***

I once knew a serial killer, but this serial killer was unique. He wasn't quite like the others. He didn't kill people with his hands, or with a gun, nor knife, nor any other object. He killed with his mind, or how you say manipulation.

My story, or Alice's story begins, with well, Alice.

Type, type, type.

Her hands moved vigorously fast across the keyboard. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, moving as fast as the words came. She was so absorbed in her work, she forgot to breathe.

The time had felt like forever as milliseconds turned into seconds and seconds turned into minutes.

She opened her mouth and let her lungs gulp in delicious oxygen. She sighed as she removed her hands from the keyboard and stretched. She blinked her tired eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as she stood. She swayed in tiredness to the window, to shut it.

"I finished my report!" She called.

Her statement echoed through the house. She began to giggle. The empty house provided no answer. She began to laugh. She was howling in laughter.

"I forgot!" She cried out. "No one's here!" She laughed some more.

"You are such a stupid, foolish girl."

Her head snapped to the door way. A man dressed in black. He gave her chills, but she smiled anyway. His face was gray with deep dark purple circles under his eyes. Alice stood from the bed and skipped to him.

"I did it, just like you had said. Aren't you proud of me, mister?" She jumped in happiness as he laughed.

"Stupid girl, I didn't want them gone. I want you gone." He whispered in a deep voice. "For you shall push your friends and family away. Kill them, slaughter them, but in the end you'll only kill yourself."(.1)

Her mind stopped. It processed this.
Again and again, her mind processed. She felt a startling fear set in at the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes wide and her lips parted.

"But- but you said,"

"I know what I said and you were foolish to believe me. You are worthless. Nothing but the dirt we all step on. You believe worthless lies. And you look at me with that stupid hope in your eyes. Hope is a stupid pitiful thing to have, quite like you are." He said in a firm low tone. "You are alone in this world." He moved closer to her and whispered in her ear. "I'll drown you in your own misery with your agreement. I'll show you how worthless you are."

And with that,

He left.

But he didn't leave fully.

For the past couple of days Alice gained a subtle voice inside her head. Whispering words of discouragement. But as days went on and became weeks, the voice grew louder. Soon it became hard ignore.

She pulled and tugged on her hair. She licked her chapped lips and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Why won't it leave me alone?" She cried in agony.

She threw her head back into the wall repeatedly. She was crying, sobbing. She just wanted the voice to stop. Suddenly the door to the bathroom opened.

She stood slowly and walked into the bathroom. On the sink was a blade with a little note tucked under it.

'A gift for a good friend'

She looked up and behind her in the mirror was the man dressed in black, a smile tugging at his lips, and as she dragged the blade across her wrist, his smile grew. Obviously this was supposed to be a happy feeling, and so it was. She thought that this was a feeling that brought joy. Cutting was pain. Pain was happiness to her. In a way, you could say, happiness became her drug.

And you dear reader, begin to see Alice's spiral downward into the rabbit hole, and into glorious madness.

It began as one cut when she was depressed. It turned to two cuts a week. Three cuts. Four cuts. Five cuts. Six cuts. Seven cuts. What had started as a so called "cure" began to destroy her. Slowly she began cutting all the time.

She stayed in the bathroom most of the time. She wanted to cut. She wanted to starve. To get away from the awful rotting stench, that was either her rotting soul or the rotting corpses in her living room. (.2)

Soon, the voices came back. She was becoming sadder and sadder to the point where she couldn't take it anymore.

She filled the tub.

She stared at herself in the mirror as suddenly it hit her.

She had no friends.

She had no family.

She had selfishly killed them all.

Who had started out as her friend had suddenly became the reason she wanted to die. And that, dear reader, is exactly what he wanted.

She had no one. She felt worthless. She wanted someone to save her, but no would come. No one would care.

Her eyes rimmed red. Her hands began to shake. She was angry and sad. She opened the cabinet and pulled out the prescription. She slammed the medicine cabinet so hard the mirror broke.

Shattered pieces that much resembled her heart fell into the sink.

With trembling hands she downed the pills. She slipped into the tub. She cut her wrists. And she sunk until her head was submerged under water. Bubbles floated up to the surface, but she did not.

The man smiled at his work. He walked down the stairs. He walked past the rotting corpses. (.3)

He walked out the door. He walked away from the house. He walked away from the family he had just destroyed.

He was smiling.

He was onto his next victim.

He had left Alice in a tub of blood and despair.

He left her suicide letter blinking on the computer.

And dear reader, this murderer, he was unique. He was special. He was great.

He was Depression.

And he has never been caught.

***

(.1) (.2) & (.3) People suffering from depression will not kill their family and friends. (This is not a "symptom" of depression.) This is a metaphor; simply people suffering from depression will most likely push others away. They fear of being hurt or hurting them. They simply want acceptance, but believe they will not get accepted and so avoids rejection period.