Real Horror Show

The horror

The war stroke my dear brothers. It was horrible. Once you live on the streets, you believe you are invincible. You believe you have seen the worst the world can offer you. You are wrong. War was the worst the world could offer, my dear and only friends. And if it wasn't well enough, there was Johnston. Rebecca Johnston wouldn't get off my mind. The feeling that she could be dead at any second kept me awake at night. I tried to forget. I tried to be the Alex Delarge I had always been before her. I was fierce. I was aggressive, outgoing, young, bold and vicious. I went to jail. I was brain washed. I was abandoned. I was suicidal. I almost died. What happened to me? I tried to think of everything I had done. I thought of my old so called droogs, about the Milkbar, about jail, about my new droogs. And suddenly she came back to me. Like a parasite stuck in my head. Ready to eat me bit by bit. To enjoy every part of my body. Well, that last part had already happened. I laughed alone in my bed. I imagined her there next to me. Her warm body against mine. She was beautiful. I wanted all this to end. I wanted her back. I looked for the black lack of hair on my head and held it in my hand. It was more than that now. It was the promise that she would be back. I slept. I slept dreaming that the mailman would come the next day bringing me a letter. A letter that read: Privet Rebecca Johnston. And who knew it came. However, I didn't get the time to read it.

"Mr. Delarge you have to leave the building right now."

"Why?"

"The troops are coming."

Suddenly, a loud bell started ringing. I ran inside the house and called for me mom and dad. They came running and we all left. This was my days now. Those French bastards came with guns and we had to hide. Sometimes I thought about joining the army just so I could have a gun too. But then again, Johnston joined the army and look where it got her. We ran faster and faster each day. We joined the crowd going toward the holes on the streets where we were kept. This time we were a bit late. I could see them now. And those were the sick days.

They shot innocent people. They killed them. Cold-blooded murder. I don't even think they were sorry about it. I was. I killed people and I was sorry. And that was the difference between me and soldiers. Now, I could only watch them die while I ran. I also hated to run. I never ran. I stood up and beat up. That was what I did. Now, I couldn't. I had to run. I had to enter the dark hole on the middle of the street. And I had to stay there. In the middle of the dark. Imagine what would my fate turn out to be. What would her fate turn out to be. I pretended like she was talking to me. Right there infront of me. Purple hair with the white details, wavy shirt, shorts, converse boots, the bravita and the scar. She seemed so real and still I was the only one who could see her.

I tried to keep her wispers louder than the sobbing and moaning of the London people. Urg pathetic. If I died maybe it would be better. Better than hearing this people cry. I liked the sound of tears as long as they were caused by me.