Monster Boy

chapter i

I'm tired. It's the first time I've began to feel tired since he's appeared.

He isn't necessarily a he, either. I don't know why I consider it a he.

I'm not scared of him, he's hardly even scary looking. He's a cloud of green smoke with purple eyes―that sounds like a monster from Scooby Doo. I'm tired because I haven't slept, and I haven't slept because he keeps me up. He doesn't do anything, really, I just can't sleep knowing he's there.

But maybe he's not there, not really. Maybe he's just in my head.

Thinking I've lost my sanity is not something I should be thinking about. I should be thinking about my math test tomorrow. But how can I think? Because what if I have gone crazy? How can I think of math when I've lost my mind?

It's early, so I'm aware I shouldn't be thinking of this right now, or anytime, for that matter. It's not like the loss of sanity is a bad thing; all it is is being stripped of that fake overcoat on reality and seeing how truly evil reality is. Maybe I'm being set free.

Everything is difficult now―I can't tell what's real, and what's not real.

I've only told one person so far, and that was my best friend, Lydia. She didn't seem fazed by it―she's crazy, too. She doesn't see things like me, just hates things, wants to kill half the people at our school, and cuts herself. She's great, and I love her.

"Welcome to the crazy club, we've been expecting you," she had said the day I told her. We were at the town park, swinging on the lonely swing set, watching as the lonely slide remains lonely, as the lonely monkey bars remain unused. her long, purple sweater wasn't enough to keep her warm from the cold air.

The snow fell silently that day. Like the dark haired girl when she slashes her wrists.

I don't even like to talk about the two girls much, they're the one's that bother me the most. I mean, there's the really disturbing shadow-man that follows me during school, but he doesn't give me half as many chills as the two girls do.

The blood. There's always the blood. The dark haired girl's blood is dark like her, and the red haired girl's blood is red like her. I don't really understand why they come back three times a day―eight a.m., twelve p.m., and five p.m., breakfast, lunch, and dinner―when they should just come once and never come again. They should all do that.

I feel like I'm drowning in a public pool and no one see's me.

But I also don't want anyone to see me. If they see me, they'll send me away.

It's cold today. Really cold. The snow is piled up on the curbs and sidewalk messily. Danni skips in front of me, her pink school bag flopping up and down, weightless. She's singing a song I don't know, but it's annoying, and I'm just itching for her to shut up.

Danni is fourteen and has the mind of a five year old. She's a freshman and my mom expects me to show her around, introduce her, and keep an eye on her. I can't do it, so I asked Lydia's cousin Julian, who's a sophomore, to do it for me.

I'm freezing my fingers off. The school is right around the corner. It's seven forty-two, the girls she be showing up soon.

That's the thing―they show up at the times of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but that doesn't necessarily mean they show up at breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It bothers me; I've tried skipping each meal, sleeping during the times they show up, but nothing works. No matter where I am, they show up. When I'm sleeping during that time, they show up in my dreams. I can't stop it, I feel trapped.

A few more minutes of walking, and we finally make it to school. It's warm inside, I'm thankful for that, but there's only five minutes until eight. The hallways are cleared, with only a few kids walking to their classes. Most are already in class.

I don't want to be around anyone when they show up.

I reach my locker, taking out whatever I need today and placing in whatever I don't need. I check my watch: 7:58. The hallway is clear as of now, so I'm safe.

I bit the insides of mouth, tapping my foot on the ground as I wait for eight to come.

7:59.

I shudder in discomfort. I hate these two.

8:00.

I don't want to turn around. I push my head into my locker, gripping the hinges tightly. I can hear them crying, like they always do, and try to ignore it. The cries got louder, forcing me to turn around. They stand there; the red one on my left, and the dark one on my right.

The red haired girl's light red skin in tinted by the low lights in the hallway. She brings the handgun up to her temple slowly, whatever make-up she was wearing smearing down her face. The dark haired girl raises the blades to her wrists as slowly as the red haired girl.

"Goodbye," they both say, their voices cracking as they always do. I close my eyes. I hate this part. The gun does off, the sounds of blood dripping on the floor echoes in my ear. My body falls into the lockers, my hands reaching up to wipe my eyes. I can't take this. I hate it.

I wasted ten minutes crying in the hallway. I can't take much more of this. I'll end up like those two; dead.

As I stand, I look behind me, and he's there.

[. . .]

"So, is he still following you?" Lydia asks.

I look behind me. "Yeah."

"Does he ever say anything?"

"No. Just follows me. Silent."

Lydia grabs a chunk of her thick dark hair, placing it in her mouth and slowly chewing on it. "Insanity's a bitch, Henry." she says. She's right.

It's still cold outside. In fact, it's even colder than it was this morning. Students walk past us, gossiping about how much they hate their teachers, how much homework they've got, what boy talked to them today. Lydia spist her hair out towards Nancy Mile, a girl she really hates. She hates everyone at this school.

I look behind me, and he's still there. He leaves when I leave the school campus. Something about that makes me think it's not me.

Lydia and I turn in the direction of the park, even though it's really cold and I just want to sleep. We walk off campus, I turn to make sure he's gone. I smile in relief. When I turn my head back to face Lydia, I notice that it's not her whose whose standing in front of me, but a tall, dark haired boy with deep blue eyes.

"You're him," he says.

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm who?"

"Him," he says. His eyes search my hair, was their something in it? My hands shot up to pat the top of my head, and he just narrows his eyes slightly. "The kid who was crying today in the hallway."