✂--‹❤›--ℓσνє αη∂ ιηѕαηιту--‹☢›

o o c t h r e a d

/ / Open and full. ;; If you would still like to join, you must do so before we enter the other world, and you must do so with a partner, a power and a mental illness in mind. / /

​

Love. There's something magical about it, isn't there? Some sort of fairy tale element. You meet the person of your dreams and they're perfect and stuff, and then you get sick--or something, and if you leave this person you feel even sicker. It's beautiful. So what happens when you don't even have the option to chose who you want to get sick (or something) with? What happens when you're forced together?

An arranged marriage is bad enough, really. But what if it's with someone who's already sick? Not only has the joy of finding that perfect someone been stolen from you, but the joy of becoming sick with them has been stolen too. It's not entirely everyone elses fault. They just don't understand you. They think you're sick, too. So they've done everything in their power to try and make you well again. It's really no surprise they would think this might be a solution.

There is a new study out which states that if you put two mentally ill people together, they'll balance each other out--cure each other. Scientists and researchers were searching for the perfect experiments to try it on, and you just happened to be one of the lucky ones chosen. So I guess you weren't completely forced together. You both signed the contracts, even if it WAS mainly to get your family to shut up, and you're now living together, married. Married.

You're married.

​

There is a reason for all of this happening, of course. You're sick, remember? Well, they think you are. Your family has tried almost everything to get you to see the light, and remember reality. You've had therapy, countless medications... They just don't know what will help you; and that's all they're trying to do. Little do they know that nothing is actually wrong with you. You're perfectly fine, right? It's not their fault that they can't see them, or hear them. The spirits, I mean. You're not crazy. You almost wish you were though. Then maybe some of this treatment would actually help you.

All of the lonely days you've spent with yourself and the demons has driven you into the strangest predicament. No, you're not crazy. But yes, maybe you talk to yourself a bit. Maybe you're a little bit detached from the rest of the world. But so what? No one else understands you and it's the only way you can cope, they'll just have to deal with it, just like you've had to deal with it. The voices. The figures, the shadows, the screams. The threats, the whispers, the ghosts, and uncontrollable fits and illusions. The nightmares.

Lucky for you, you're not alone. The one you're forced to marry, whether you like them or not, is just like you. You think for a moment that maybe they really are insane but it becomes apparent they're just coping. When you're together, you can feel something. A connection. A spiritual bond. And this bond may just be the thing that sets you free. When you're with your spouse, in the right place, something magical happens. You're transported to another world--Asanteos-- to save your sanity, your life, and your world.

Maybe this treatment isn't so bad? Ehhh.

​

Angel's rule this dominion. Humans truthfully know nothing about it. Those that find out about it's existence are cast off as foolish, insane or just plain weird--and that was perfect for the inhabitants of this world, the world who's entirety was one big Eden; or as the beings that lived there call it Asanteos. This world exists perfectly, right beside our very own Earth, same height, shape and size. Beautiful cities are here, and they've stood there since both planets were created.

The only difference is Asanteos's cities are perfectly chiseled from gold, silver and the bountiful wild life of the forest that dominates the planet. The walls of each building are exquisitely sculpted from lavish liquid gold. Then molded peaceful silver is cast and hardened as an accessory to the trimming of each window and border of each house. And nothing looks the same, oh no, Angels are very imaginative beings. They do have wills of their own after all. Broad arches, no sidewalks though, after, who walks but the mystical creatures that live there.


That's right. Beings that we've been told are fabled and mythical actually walk about and abundant in this world where they are not hunted or prosecuted. Instead they are nourished and have flourished over the millennium's since their creation. So winged horses clip clop through the streets paved in gold and lined in silver. Fairies and pixies fly and absorb the plentiful sunlight in the skies above. Yes, everything is wonderful and carefree in this world. And when an order is given from the man above, it is obey without question, and life moves on without a single delay. But delays of all kind happen when your world is flipped upside down.

That is literally what happened when the seemingly forgotten brother of the beloved Ariella broke the arcane seal that kept demons and the like from slipping out of the space of Hell. Asanteos began to shake from the force of Damien's new army, Angel's slaughtered left and right, creatures slain without a drop of mercy, beings enslaved for personal enjoyment and cities and villages were burned, decimated and down right destroyed in his on slaughter. Now in this modern century. The planet that was one big Eden is a ghost of it's former self. Ruins and decaying forms lay about, trees once tall, proud and magnificent, sag and all together fall from their ill treated branches and roots. Brown and green they are no more, instead they are grey and disintegrating. The once legendary cities, now wait their turn to be sacked even more so then they already have, or to become the next wasteland on the Demon's list. Out of the many cities, only Damien's and Ariella's still stand. Thanks to a combined effort of all the beings that have fortified that city, it is one of the few places that carry a gateway to the human's realm.

When visiting the Earth was more known and common, Angels with good and bad intent would take these once plentiful gates and enter appear through 'hot spots'. Then they would make themselves known to who they wanted. Though the gates are now destroyed from Damien's multiple ransacking, his sister would not let him get a hold of this one. Which was the key to transporting herself through her world into ours.

'Hot Spots' are simple patches of dirty, three or four feet wide and across that aloud a human of high spiritual aptitude or an Angel or Demon of any kind enter this Earth. But what makes it a hotspot? Oh a multitude of things, many deaths in one spot, cult rituals, curses..let's see, another is a spot that's been blessed by an actual Angel. Of course the Demons have gate on their side, and freely they use the portal to cause horrible ripple affects in both worlds.

[/url] In many ways she is very much like a lioness. The lion of God. For thousands of years she's watched over the human race, like they were her own cubs. But now, a very evil...'lion' is trying to take dominion over her pride lands. And Ariella will not stand for it. It is time for her to teach her special cubs to defend her pride lands, her world. Or they risk losing theirs.

From a young age, the Angel's Ariella and Damien were praised for their prowess. From writing elegant Angelic script to destroying targets with bows and arrows and slashing menaces down to pieces better then anyone had ever seen before. Unfortunately as were the traditions and rules for that specific period in time. The eldest was showered with favoritism. And the Archangels noticed Ariella was the elder of the two, and when they noticed someone then that person has it made. For an Archangels favor means that you have basically have God's favor. So of course when this younger brother notes that his sister has a following a bit more larger then his. Ariella would have normally felt this feeling of negativity from her brother, but as they grew older and more apart, her responsibilities and time spent with him grew further and further from her mind as the centuries flew.

Her trusting, protective, justice filled personality that only developed over the years eventually landed her the responsibilities of judgement over humans who were abit more spiritually sensitive over the others. She came to love this job, sure apart of her missed and wished to see her younger brother. But he'd been gone for a few centuries, and try as she might, she couldn't find him anywhere in the humans world or her own. So she delved her talented self into these humans and their lives. Until, a new threat of epic proportions reared it's head. Her own lost little brother has come about, with a plan that'll only destroy the human's world. And lay waste to her own.

Ariella will be the one to guide you through this world. She will protect you, and grant you with the powers you'll need to defend yourself. She also controls the gate in 'Eden'. A large, shimmering, golden gate that will transport you anywhere you need to go--by Ariella's control. She will tell you your objective, lead you through and guide you.

So how do you leave this world? Simple. You die. To return to Earth, you are to die in this other world. Ariella will explain the rest to you the first time you enter. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. <3
*****

*****

​

One way in. One way out. And that's through the front arched gates. Courtesy of Damien. Built by a wickedly evil genius architect from Damien's own designs. This place screams, death, carnage, and despair. From the dark obsidian spires that make this wonderful death ridden castle, the big boss calls the shots. Everything that has transpired since the take over has happened in here. Occasional bouts of fire stream out of the tip, for show or torture, only the ones inside the Damien's throne room know for sure. Candles made of the skulls of those killed adorn the walls, lighting up the bleak and sinister interior.

This Kingdom is inhabited by the darkness itself. A variety of demonic creatures and beasts lurk in the shadows. This place is where you're going to find Damien, if anywhere.

Damien[/url], the younger brother of the great angel Princess, Ariella...
Damien... the once great and bright Angel, now Prince of the Demons.
How did such a tragic story unfold?

Both born as Angels, from a young age, the two siblings were praised for their amazing prowess and skill. Whether it was from writing beautiful angelic script, playing glorious and sweet music on the harp, to destroying evil with their accurate bow shots or powerful sword slashes.
But despite them both being incredibly skilled, favouritism for the elder sibling was always a case.
To no fault of Ariella herself, that’s just how things became.
And poor Damien was always left behind... alone.

The two siblings, despite their great love and care for each other... slowly grew apart as Ariella’s duties and responsibilities increased. It was because of this... that she, the one closest to her brother did not notice his growing feelings of negativity, hatred and jealousy.
It wasn’t fair. If only he had been born first, if only he had been born a few minutes earlier, then he could be the one getting all the glory..

....He had to make his mark on history. Or forever be forgotten.
To him, he was already un-cared for. He had nothing to lose...

That was when he did the forbidden act that plunged the good nation of Asanteos into chaos.
Seeking more Power, Damien went down to the seal in secret... The ancient seal that long ago was created to prevent the Demons from wreaking their havoc on both the Spirit World and on Earth.

Damien broke the seal, and unleashed the dark powers within, absorbing most of them into himself and gaining a strength unlike anything that had ever been seen before.
With the army of Demons from inside the seal under his control and command, Damien established his own nation Myravene and declared war on Asanteos.

Now changed by the dark energies... The ‘Demon Prince' sets forth on his quest to conquer and reign above all, not considering himself a King until he has successfully brought all of the Spirit World, and maybe even Earth, under his control.
*****
*****

​

1. Obvious rules: No godmodding, powerplaying, read KHV's rules, no fighting except in character, proper grammar and spelling, READ ALL THE RULES, etc.


2. Jayn, Fuzzy and Bushy are all in charge of this RP, listen to us... it’s simple really.


3. We may break our own rules for Plot purposes.

4. Keep Romance PG18, if you’re gonna go further into the more... well more ‘stuff’, you can hint it but no details, Keep it appropriate people!

5. Only 1 OC per player, and a total of 10 slots in the RP. 6 have already been taken.

6. No controlling NPCs. That is our job to help control the plot.

7. We can add rules at any time.

8. Since this RP relies heavily on being pairs. If you don’t post, you hold them up, and therefore, that isn’t fair. As such, if this happens too often, we reserve the right to kill off your character.

9. If you have an idea for something, tell one of us. We are open to suggestions.

10. Going with rule 9, since this is an original RP... things might be confusing at first, if you have any questions. Ask us.

11. Overall, let’s have fun.

There[/url] are ten slots open in this role play. That means that there are going to be ten role players. The way that the marriage system works is like this; You can join with another person to be your bride or groom right off the bat, and write them in on the Skeleton. You don't have to, however. If you join with no one, I will pair you up with someone of the opposite gender who doesn't have a partner, or we will scout for you/make a second character, that kind of thing. The 'gender' usage is for what gender you will be playing, not what gender you are.

Spoiler: Summary of the Role Play

I know this role play is pretty confusing. It made sense in our heads. So here's a run down. Your family thinks you're crazy, because of your spiritual abilities and claims. So you've been diagnosed with a mental disorder, and signed up for a scientific study stating that if you are partnered with someone equally 'disturbed' as you are in a romantic situation, you two will balance each other out. You sign the papers, and are legally married, whether you love this person or not. You live together with your partner in a house, and one day, you stumble upon a 'hot spot' and are teleported into the Kingdom of Asanteos where you meet the Princess of Angels, Ariella. She tells you about the war that Damien started and asks for your aid, giving you a power to defend yourself.

You meet the others who participated in this study, and together you form a force to defeat the evil Damien has created. The princess will use the gate in Eden to tell you your objective and send you on your way, to apart of the kingdom being overrun. Think of it as a 'mission'. Once you complete the mission, in order to go back home, you have to die. You can do this yourself, or have an enemy do it for you. If you are ripped from the world through death, so is your partner because your spiritual 'link' has been broken. The goal of the RP is to reach Myravene, master your skills and defeat the Prince of Demons--Damian, restoring the land to it's original peace. Once you do this, you will be put safely back into your world, your mind clearer. You will have learned to cope with your abilities, and eventually fall back into 'sanity'.

While you navigate through the worlds, keep in mind their goals are not the same. In Earth, you're essentially trying to get along with--possibly falling for--your partner. You can go on dates, do 'earth things' too, and try to cope with yourself. However, the times you are in Earth and the times you are in Asanteos is entirely up to Bushy, Fuzzy and Jayn (collectively). You are not to be suddenly booted out, unless we say so. Otherwise this RP would be even more all-over-the-place. You will be told when to find your hotspot, and when to return home. PM Jayn any questions you may have. We will lead by example, and you will understand how this works.

FuzzyBlueLights ♥ Jayn
Hotspot; The master Bedroom Closet.

BushyBrow ♥MrsBaggins
Hotspot; The upstairs Attic.


Lilbueno ♥ Princess of Hearts
Hotspot; The backyard treehouse.

Britishism ♥ Fuuka Yamagishi
Hotspot; The indoor pool.

Master of Keyblades ♥ Kingdomhearts530
Hotspot; The garage.


Guardian_Soul ♥ Saxima
Hotspot; The outside balcony.
​

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This is Fuzzy B. with your patented Double Post Prevention System. DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!! DPPS!!

 

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Alyssa? It's time to grow up now. It's time to open your eyes and be an adult. Are you ready, dear?

No. Turning eighteen doesn't mean anything to me. It's just another number, another age, another year. It's not as if I magically transformed into something new. I'm still Alyssa. Still Alyss. Still lost. Still living at home. Still sick. My hair still tumbles down in thick, black strands. My dead, almond-shaped eyes still tend to glare more than they tend to 'look'. My skin was still chalky and pale, my fingernails too long, waist too thin, nose upturned and cheeks flushed and dimpled. I'm still 5'6â€, and I still can't make up my mind. Am I happy, or sad?

We have a surprise for you, darling. For your eighteenth birthday.

I already know what it is. They don't have to sugar-coat it, or make me feel special. It's heartbreaking when they try. Like, because they even have to put effort into loving me. It doesn't come naturally for them or myself. But I'll open those dead eyes of mine anyways, and smile towards the black, bolted, bedroom door while I pull myself up onto my knees and make my way to their voice. I'll crawl, in my blue nightgown with the shorts under, and turn the heavy knob myself. Then I'll fall onto my ass and gaze up at them, like I'm expecting a puppy or something. Like I'm innocent.

Of course, I already knew what it was. That fucking contract. They feel the need to bring it up here and wave it in my face every day, reminding me. But today is different. I can't help but start to tremble, though the childish grin is still on my face. They have a car for me, they say. There are men waiting for me, in front of the big doors—the entrance. My little sister and brother are peeking out of their rooms. My mother is crying. My father just stares.

I try not to, I swear to God, if I try any harder, I might give myself a heart attack. But sometimes I just can't contain it. I scream. The smile is gone. I'm thrashing, crying, gasping, clawing. Anything to prevent them from taking me. I've changed my mind, I'll be good, I'll be good.

Mama, papa, please. Please, please, please. I'll be good. ​

​

I don't like him. He's a freak. That's the first thing she thought when she saw him. He was too quiet, too self-absorbed, too...weird. When she had arrived at the house, he was the very last thing she noticed. Her stomach flipped and threatened to drain, when she thought about it. He was her—Oh no. After a few trips to the bathroom and some angry punching of walls, she could finally bring herself to think it. Husband. Her husband. This red-haired weirdo. He hadn't said a word to her since they had met.

It was ironic to her, if she were to be honest with herself. She wasn't crazy. Not in the slightest. Sure, she had fits and mood swings, but she wasn't crazy, and yet they had paired her up with this loony in hopes that they would fix each other. But as she sat there on the loveseat across from his place—the couch—the lump in her throat just kept expanding until she thought she'd explode, the shivers coming back. Her bottom lip was red from all of the nervous chewing, and her long nails dug into the leather seat. Part of her wanted to go outside and hang herself on one of the many trees in the back, and as sarcastic the original thought felt as it floated through her mind, she realized with a grimace just how tempting it really was.

She was scared, nervous and miserable. The tears teased her—threatening to fall, but never quite doing so. So she just sat there, eyes focusing on the red shags on the boys head. She wanted to know how old he was, without asking. What if his voice was creepy, and that's why he wouldn't speak? Maybe he sounded like Darth Vader, or something. She almost threw up again, before swallowing the bitter taste down and closing her eyes with a deep breath. They would be living together, she should at least try.

“My name is Alyssa, and I don't love you.â€

Shit. She hadn't meant for that to come out. But it was true. This crazy, mute bastard had stolen her first marriage, her first wedding, her first house. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to jump across the table and strangle him. He probably wouldn't make a peep.

With a sigh, she calmed herself, turning her attention elsewhere, welcoming the silence that followed. “I'm eighteen. I'm not crazy.â€

She never did have a way with words. She wished she had a cigarette.​

 

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"Dear," Mom begins gently, putting a hand on mine, "You're doing it again."

I stopped. My candy brown eyes dart down to my hands and my arms. My dark blue-jeans showed short blond strands of hair sitting on them. I stood from the chair and dusted myself off quickly, my face turning red in embarrassment, I wanted to cry. These days, it always seems like I want to cry, there was nothing else to do. Mom would tell me I was doing it, dad would tell me, aunts, uncles, grandparents, doctors . . . They would all tell me I was doing it and stop me.

All of them telling me over and over made me insane - something I wasn't before. No, I'm not insane, I won't let them force that into me. They won't break me.

"Are you nervous my love?" Mom says again, still keeping her hand on my pale one.

I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. I don't want to do this. I repeat in my head. But I don't want to disappoint mother or father. I already have too much in life. My lips formed a warm smile, "Of course not mom, I'm perfectly fine!" And I pop out of the chair clapping my hands, and one of them automatically goes to the underside of my hair as I make my way to the kitchen, "I'm sure everything will be just peachy!"

No it won't. I don't want to do this. I might consent to doing this. But I don't want to do this. I'm eighteen. Only eighteen. Too young for this. Too young . . . I begin to pull at the understrands of my near-white hair; some of them pop out - the close feeling of hyperventilation goes away as I open the fridge.

I laughed, I don't know why, but I laughed, harder and harder. I stopped myself, removed my hand from my hair. Sometimes it calms me, sometimes it makes me laugh, and I soon realize it just adds to my parents' conclusion. The story, the lie, the tragedy that was apart of my life.

I was fine with it really, I would cooperate. Once I met him, it could or would be alright. I would cope - I can do this. It wasn't that hard to wrap my head around. The only thing bothering me - I'm eighteen. Only eighteen. Too young for this.

I blinked, pulling out some milk and drinking it. When? When will I meet him, this . . . this . . . "partner" of mine. I won't call him that. No way.

"Alright there honey?" I turned and saw dad in the opening of the kitchen. He points at my arm, "You're doing it again."

I jumped a looked down at my hands. When did I put the milk down?

It's getting to me.​

 

​

Resistance is futile. As they say. Who are they, anyway? See, rambling like this is why they think you're screwed up already. Then again, you get alot of time to think to yourself when you don't speak to anyone else. The only one who didn't judge him for not talking was kids. Usually they'd ask 'Why don't you talk, mister?' and when he didn't respond, they'd simply smile as he shook his head then he'd be ask to play and have a good time.

"You're going and that's final. Can't take care of your-damn-self if you won't speak and won't even learn some God damn sign language."

As he packed his bags for what he hoped was the final time. He glanced from one old parent to the other. Had enough to be nineteen with parents nearing sixty, add that to a old fashion parenting and the fact that he wouldn't say a word. Boom, troubles troubles and more troubles. He glanced around his old room. At least they promised to keep it the same. The same sky blue walls that comforted him when he was alone, or day dreaming during his counseling sessions. The very same spot that used to hold his first Nintendo 64. He almost cried as his mother put a cold hand on his shoulder, walking with him quietly out the suburbia to the limo that waited for him. His old man gave him a card and opened the door for him. Before Cameron could settle or even wave a good bye to them, a double tap was heard on the roof of the car and he was lurched back in his seat as the car abruptly took off.

His light violet gaze pierced the tinted window as he kept his expression blank, as was the plan, always the plan. Crazy? My ass. Did suck that they married him off to a chick who was supposedly crazy. He sighed, shifted to the opposite window, and sighed again as the car drove to a stop. The man must've been payed to help him unpack his things, because when Cameron got out of the backseat, the man was already taking his things into the house.

At least his mother had style, the place wasn't bad, or bleak. And a look around the place showed that either everyone was hiding their craziness. Or just as normal as any human should be. It made him grin to think if only they knew.. This all took a minute or two. By then, the man was gone, good thing the parents weren't cheap, the two new cars in the driveway could attest to that. Taking a deep breath he opened the door, and stepped inside, expecting his Russian ordered bride to be standing there, waiting for him.

Surprise surprise! She wasn't, looks like he'd beaten her to being first in the house. It was only as he unpacked that he figured he should see if she was hot or not. After all, it was till death do us part, said the contract. So dressed in his normal red t-shirt and blue ripped and faded jeans. He descended the stairs to meet his bride. His face was a wall, not vivid and one color. He kept his eyeballs pointed to the left, absorbing every physical feature she had through his peripherals. Her words shocked him, especially the part about her not being crazy. But then again, didn't crazy people not think something was wrong with them? Or something like that. He shrugged at her words, not caring one bit. Only figuring her name was useful for later times.

Normal people with selective mutism have sensitivity to others feelings, most of the time. Only thing is, Cameron was pretending, it'd gotten him this far, he'd be damned if this girl made him break his cover. After not meeting her eye for the entire time she spoke, he breezed around her after his shrug and went straight out the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. On paper, he implored his more easily manipulated mother to get this house an old fashioned swing. Just two pieces of rope and a board to hold it all together at the bottom. And there it was, the weather was perfectly warm and the grass perfectly cool under his feet as he made the few feet to the mighty tree in their backyard, he sat on the wooden seat and slowly began to swing. With a surreal joy in his heart and sullen blankness on his face.

 

the lights are too bright. close your eyes. the sounds are too loud.

​

"Hey, Joshua. Wake up. You know what today is, right?"
Yes, I know what today is. It's the day my life somehow becomes even more ******.
"Oh, come now, it might be fun."
It won't be fun.
"Well. Be that way, Joshua. But you still have to wake up."
Who says I have to wake up? Why can't I just stay in my bed forever?
That seems like the perfect solution to me.​

They're wrong about me. I'm not "crazy". They call me crazy. People can be afraid of spiders and society accepts them. So... why would this be different? I understand it's not normal. But why the hell do I have to be? They know what I can and can't handle. This is definitely something I can't handle. "There you are, Joshua. It's almost time to go by now." she says. Is she even going to miss me? "Alright, mom." I glance outside. There's a car waiting for me.


I pull out a chair at the table and dip my spoon into the cereal in front of me. I don't know why I decided to eat cereal on my last day at home. You'd think I'd be getting something home-made. Something that would at least let me have good memories as I rode a strange black car into hell. I can't even finish. My stomach is twisting and contorting, trying to tell me that it's vehemently against this mental suicide. I agree. But it's time to go.

"Bye, honey. I'll miss you." No she won't. She can go shopping now, without having to worry someone will call us and I'll freak out. It's not like she's wrong. I'm still pissed off, though. "Okay." I say. My voice is trembling. She comes to give me a hug. I pull back. God, things are blurring together now. I'm about to pass out. Dammit, I'm making it to the car. I walk out the door. The men are waiting right outside. They usher me into the vehicle and close the door.

We speed down the road. I'm about to burst now. I can't stand this. I reach for the door handle. But what would I do if I made it out? I'd probably just curl up into fetal position and wait for the men to grab me. Minutes pass. No, it's longer than that. We pull into the drive. The house seems nice. It would be great if I were anyone else. But I'm not. And this isn't home.

 

My mother shook me awake saying "C'mon Adriana. It time to wake up!"
But I didn't wanna wake up. I didn't wanna have to live with someone I don't know- That I don't love. But then again... Who do I love? No one.. Not my mother.. She thought I was crazy because I burned things. Not Dad who left when I was 5... Not my friends- they all left me behind when I "went crazy". Maybe I had loved Ben... But Ben was gone now. My Ben Mason was dead and gone...He would have loved me forever... Even now he would have sticked by me...He wouldn't have let my mother make me sign that contract... He would have stopped her... Why did he have to be gone... Why now?!? Why when I needed him!?!
"Adriana, please get up now! We have to get going,"
Slowly I opened my Amber eyes. My mother was staring at me. She pointed to my clothes and left the room. Most of my room was empty. Most of it was packed and in the car. I threw on a shirt with pants put my red sweatshirt over it. I brushed my long red hair and slipped my headphones into my ears:

Tick tock, hear the clock countdown
Wish the minute hand could be rewound
So much to do and so much I need to say
Will tomorrow be too late?​

Tomorrow is too late late because today is too late. I should have never signed that contract.
"Adriana now!" My mother shouted from the stairs. I signed and walked out of my room taking one last look at my room and turned around. I went back into my room and grabbed my picture-of me and Ben... I didn't even look at his picture. It would just cause more pain...I just pushed it into my pocket and walked down the stairs.
"Are you ready to go?" she said.
"Yes" I mumbled.
We both walked out the door and into the car... This was going to be a long ride...

 

Love and Insanity

"Carson?Wake up,Its time to go." My mother whispered in that shaky voice of hers.
I opened my sunken eyes,all those night staying up dreading this moment,and It was finally here."Whatever." That wasn't how I felt inside.I didn't find it often that I was scared of something.I pushed my self up and called out to my mother."Leave."
I watched my mom walk down the stairs in the flamboyant way only she could walk down stairs.
I quietly got up,put on a white t-shirt and a black jacket.I walked over to the mirror.I didn't want to comb my hair for this person who I didn't love and most certainly didn't love me either.But I figured I could at least make a good impression.I ran a comb through my hair and walked down the stairs.
My mother saw me and asked,"Aren't you forgetting something? She pointed back up the stairs.
Of course,My bags.I walked up the stairs and grabbed my bags.I searched through them some.I found something I didn't want,A picture of my family.I threw it behind me.That was the only bright side to all this.Finally escaping them.They didn't love me,even as kid.I wanted nothing to remember them by.I walked down the stairs taking one last look at my "room".This person I "Married" didn't didn't deserve me,and I didn't need her.I stepped through the open door and walked to the car.
I threw my bags in there and walked to the passenger seatHe sighed,waiting for the llong drive ahead of them. ​

OCC:You guys post are so big ; ;

 

I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me​

These pills, they make me so drowsy. Why won't they believe me? But no, apparently I have somatization disorder. So they give me these anti-depressants to help me cope with the stress and that will get rid of the pain. Unaware of the fact that there is nothing wrong with me. Sure I have the occassional headache but isn't that normal? They must be too proud to admit that they might have made a misdiagnosis. And here I am. Laying down on my bed and staring at the featureless ceiling, unable to do anything. I'm supposedly crazy. So who would believe me if I said that "I'm not crazy"?

I hear a car pull into the driveway. They must be here. Here to take me away. I want to resist and run away but I have nowhere to run to. Nobody wants me. Not even my own family can bear being with me anymore. All hope was lost when I signed that contract. Now I'm going to be moving to a new house where I'll be living with my wife. Now usually most people would hear that sentence and think "How great!" but this situation is completely different. I have no clue who this girl is and I feel nothing for her. They think that putting two crazy people together will make them less crazy. But what if one of those crazy people wasn't crazy? Couldn't this possibly lead to me actually becoming insane? But I can't let this get to me. I must endure.

"Time to get up sweetie," says my mother as she knocks on the door of my bedroom. With all of my strength, I get myself out of bed and onto my feet. The pills make me feel weak but I should be able to make it downstairs and to the car without any trouble. I grab the bag that I had already packed the night before and open the door to my room.

I walk downstairs to see both of my parents, my little brother and a man that I have never met before standing by the door. My brother asks me where I'm going and to not worry him too much, I just say "That I'm on vacation." A very obvious lie but he's only 6. Telling him that I'm insane just wouldn't roll off the tongue as well. And then I look to my parents. I have nothing to say to them. They're the ones that decided that I should be going to this hell and with all these mixed feelings about the situation I'm in, I honestly don't know what to say. If I have nothing good to say, then it's best to stay quiet. So I look towards the man who will be taking me away and I tell him, "I guess it's time to go."

Together we walk out of the front door. As I walk to driveway, I turn around to have one last look at the place that was once my home. I take a mental picture because I might not be able to come back for a while. The man tells me that I need to hurry up as he opens up the door to the limo, gesturing for me to enter. "Can't you see that I'm kind of having a moment over here. At least show some courtesy," I say as I walk over to the limo and get inside. Letting out a sigh as we drive away, I wonder to myself what my wife would be like. We would be spending a lot of time with each other from now.

 

Jaden

'Can't hold on much longer,
But I will never let go.
I know it's a one-way track,
Tell me now how long this'll last...
I'm not gonna think this way,
Nor will I count on others.
Close my eyes and feel the burn...
Now I see what I've gotta do.
Open your heart and you will see...'
​

Those were the lyrics that blared through his headphones as he lay there... spending the last moments in his room.
What were his thoughts on this matter? Being married off to a girl he didn't even know?
Someone who was 'crazy' 'like him'.
Well here was the thing... he wasn't crazy. And so, if she was like him in that regard, then she wouldn't be crazy either.
No problem right?
Yeah that's right, no problem at all.
Nineteen year old, Jaden was certainly not crazy.
So what if he had sleep problems? A lot of people did.
He didn't actually care what his family or the doctors thought though. They could think of him as crazy if they wanted, he knew the truth, and that was all that mattered.
Just gotta think positive... It was simple really, that's how he operated.
The same would be with his 'new wife'. She may be just a girl like any other, sure they were now bonded together for eternity by the power of... whatever government shit it was, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Yeah, he might not know her... and therefore certainly not love her, at least for now.
Who knew what the future could bring?
All of that could change at any moment, why should this be any different?
He might come to love her, and she him.
Then again, they might not.
But life was an adventure, it was a fight.
He was distracted by a shoe hitting his head. "Ow! What was that for?"
"You're out of here..." his dad muttered.
That's right... they had already sent all of the stuff off to the new house ahead of time, right now... the only thing from this house that was missing... was him.
He put on his shoes and stood up walking by his Dad and down the stairs, noticing his mum by the front door, he too walked by her and then looked back at his home one more time.
"Don't worry, the freaky weirdo has left the building." he muttered with a smirk before walking off.
"Hey! We have a car to take you!"
"I'd rather walk, thanks. I know where it is anyway.."
They knew they had no reason to worry and that he would go to the new house, after all, he hadn't resisted them so far, he saw no point to it right now.
After walking for an age, he finally looked up at the house in front of him and whistled. "...Home sweet home, eh?"

 

Claire
​

Early, as always; they were that eager to get me out of there, I guess. A half-empty family is now rid of their pessimistic side; they can be whole now that I’m gone.

Claire was alone on the bed of her new home, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling; she had not bothered to unpack her things, nor did she much care to. She would get whatever she needed when it was necessary. She had noticed the bags and suitcases that weren’t hers at the base of the stairs when she’d come in the house, but had only looked at them for a moment; all she wanted was to lay down and try to sort out her thoughts.

Right now, she was recalling the events of this morning: her parents saying goodbye to her, waking her and sending her out much earlier than they needed to. Mother was almost in tears, yet Father was stone cold, she thought, almost crying herself at that mere recollection. She tried very hard to love me, for twenty-one years… yet I could never return it; there was no point, no real reason… I mean, we all die, don’t we; it all ends so soon anyway, right? What’s the point? I’m not crazy; I just see things differently than others.

Claire blinked, one tear falling down the length of her cheekbone and into her long hair, spread out on the pillow beneath her. Father, on the other hand… he had relief in his eyes; finally being rid of me released a great burden from his shoulders. I can just see him at home now, cleaning out my old room, a bright smile on his face, a spring in his step, planning a beautiful, long-awaited vacation with Mother…

She sighed miserably, knowing it was for the best; Claire was better here, on her own, by herself, in an empty room. Yet… I’m not alone, she mentally remembered, the rest of the situation sinking back in. He’s with me now… my… husband. Hell, I know I’m twenty-one and he’s not much younger but still… so suddenly, still practically kids ourselves? And he obviously isn’t right in the head, either, getting dragged into this odd life with me. Jaden, was it? I wonder what he looks like, how tall he is… yet… how could any boy want to be with someone like me? I’m boring, can’t function around any other people, and certainly don’t comprehend love.

Claire swallowed, a small sob escaping her lips. As usual, the sadness came over her like a wave, a dark, suffocating blanket she couldn’t control and didn’t have the strength to resist or throw off. No; giving in was her only option. “Oh, God,” she whispered aloud to herself, suddenly feeling hopeless. “What now?”

 

═══════════════════════

​

I took one last look around my room. My room, the place that had been my sanctuary in my darkest times, my room, where some of the best memories I have of life were made . . . My room, my last escape. And I would never see it again.

Mommy . . . daddy . . . don't make me go - I'll be a good girl, I promise . . . please . . .

But they won't let me stay. They want me to go. It's for my own good, they tell me - but they don't know that. They don't know anything. If they really loved me, if they really wanted what was good for me, they would let me go on as I am, let me have what I want.

"Dear," mom's voice sounds from downstairs, "It's time."

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no . . . It can't be time already. I haven't said goodbye yet - goodbye to everything that's ever mattered to me in life, to everything in my room. There wasn't enough time, and now it was time to go. I'm out of time. Time isn't on my side. Time doesn't like me.

Time fast forwarded when I wasn't looking. By the time I knew it, mom and dad had said goodbye, I had met a man I didn't know, and was ushered into a car with tinted windows, set on my way for my new home.

My face burned, tears stung at my eyes, my nose was wet and runny . . . I was going to lose it if I had to contain myself anymore. The only thing I wanted now was to be alone with my iPod, crying my heart out.

The next thing I knew, I sat in a parlor, my stuff in my new room - creamy walls, soft carpet, comfy bed, a few other things . . . But I didn't want to be in there, it wasn't like my room at home, the one I would never see again. The parlor was nice though, I guess . . . I asked for some tea, to calm my nerves, to calm my headache; I watched my hand on my arm, picking at the barely noticeable strands of hair - soon my right arm would be entirely smooth . . .

My iPod was the only thing real to me now. I was willing to meet my partner, really I was, but I didn't want to. We . . . we were going to collide a lot, and I knew it. I didn't want him, not in the least, and he would know this the first time we would meet. I would tell him - it will be the first thing he hears from me - maybe.

If I don't chicken out.​

 

When my mother pulled into the driveway two men in black suites came out of the house. The house on the outside was pretty. It was white with a blue roof. It had a balcony too. It was white but it was large. Hopefully I would be able to hide away up there. It was pretty but it wasn't home. It was just a house. Not my home. But then again mother's house wasn't home either. The tree house was. The tree house was home. In that tree house me and Ben always hung there. That was ourhideaway. No one else's. Just ours. No where would ever be home again. Not that he was gone... The two men took whatever bags my mother had packed and ushered me into the house. My mother didn't even bother to say good bye and I didn't eather. No one else was there yet. They brought us to the sitting room. It was... Ok I guess.. The walls were yellow. Not a cool yellow like BumbleBee from Transformers.. It was an ugly yellow.
I was ready to meet my partner but I knew I'd never like him much less love him. I would let him that that as soon as I saw him. The only boy I ever truly loved was gone. Dead and gone.

 

**

Come now, you've got to be kidding. Love isn't this, this is insane! And for so long you've called me insane, and yet here you are, sending me to live with some stranger.

What if he kills me? What if he dumps my body in some grave, never to be seen again? How is this even legal!?

And yet, here I was. Playing along by driving to my new 'home' with my wonderfully new husband awaiting me. Oh, I bet he's just dying to do this too! That is, if he's not a murder. I wonder... if he is going to kill me then can I at least request my body to be dropped off at my mother's house? So she may know just how wrong she was.

"It's for your own good. It'd help, trust me."

Trust? You're sending me off to die!

Oh well, here we are now. Home sweet home. And oh look, we made it here before the murder, I mean my new hubby, did. Now at least I got a fighting chance! Funny how I am still able to unpack my things into my new room while looking around for possible places to hide weapons in case I ever need to defend myself. In the drawers, under the bed, above the door... Hm, maybe in the bathroom too. I'm my most venerable in there after all.

Once all was unpacked I found my way into the living and stared at the flat screen tv which was mounted on the wall. At least now I will not have to miss my favorite shows. So I laid down on the couch, feet hanging off and swinging back in forth, with the remote and surfed through the channels while thinking over that contract.

"Till death do us apart! Or something. Hehe...how sad he wants out of it so badly."​

 

​

H-How dare he...

I have no feelings or attachment to this asshole; but the fact that he totally--no--he completely rejects my efforts at even attempting to get along just makes me want to throw something. How could he? Does he think he's superior to me? What a freak. In the end, he just walks outside to sit on a swing. That could be more interesting than getting to know me? His wife? Ugh! Arrrrrgh! I take up on that original desire, picking up a fruit bowl from the center of the coffee table in front of me and throwing it into the screen door leading outside. He can see my glare clearly now, from the newly ripped black material separating the living room from the outside.

I hate you.

Part of me--A small, shimmering, still-innocent part of my heart wishes he would suddenly stand up and come inside and try to befriend me--or something. A part of me wishes he would prove me wrong and end up being my knight in shining armor. I've never been one to fall into the damsel role, but that's just made it harder and harder for me to be saved. But screw it. Screw it, screw it, screw it.

I already know he's no different from the rest of them, now. He wants nothing to do with me and he makes that beyond painfully obvious with his lack of communication, effort, and obvious interest. I almost think I'll cry. But then I remember. I don't care. I vowed not to. I don't care what he thinks, or what anyone else thinks. I am sane. I don't need this marriage to work out, anyway. But then I feel like crying again, and wonder if that's true, or if I really am crazy, and I really wished he liked me.

I really wish he liked me. ​

​

After another outburst and near scream, Alyssa shot one last glare out to the fire-haired boy on the swing set, blinking any trace of tears away and storming off. She dragged her bag with her, messing up the rugs previously neatly placed on the hardwood floors, lodging them into door ways and making scuffles and marks on the shiny surface beneath her. She didn't even bother reaching for the doorknob of the bedroom, kicking it open instead. (Luckily for the both of them, the door was cracked open.)

This place really was lovely. It wasn't the biggest home, but it was modern and traditional all at once. Nothing looked out of place, or beaten up. It was fresh. The bedroom especially. A huge King-sized bed in the middle, against the far wall; a small marble balcony to the opposite of the closet door Alyssa made her way to. She ripped it open, making sure the knob crashed into the wall with her actions for dramatics (she was throwing a tantrum, really) and throwing her bag inside and groaning, dropping to her knees to unzip the suitcase.

The back of her wrist lifted, wiping her eyes again, a scowl on her face as she ripped clothes and other things that were meaningless to her now from it, watching in awe as even more tears fell from those dark, round orbs. She was trembling, an icy lump in the middle of her throat, making her choke and gasp gently when the tears just kept coming. She leaned further into her suitcase, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. They came like waves, threatening to push, pull and lure her out of her composure and into the deep, frozen feelings within.

Threatening to drown her.
​

 

the lights are too bright. close your eyes. the sounds are too loud.



"We're here. Get out of the car."
Honestly, sir? Do I really? I had no idea.
"Now."
I don't feel like it.
"Is this... is this, uh, the gorin'phobia?
No, no. You don't have to worry about the gorin' phobia with me. Oh, did you mean agoraphobia?
"'Cuz they said, don't mess with their disease, I think."
They're probably right, you know. I'd snap and kill all of you. Oh, wait, agoraphobia might kinda hinder that.
"Jus' giddout."​

Thing is, in my mind, I can be sarcastic. I can be mean, even. But one little part of my mind won't let me say it. But there's nothing I can really do about it. I can just stay safe in my little world where I'm really me. But what would I do if it ever came out? That's something I think about. Because when I'm like this? Nobody has to deal with me.

I might as well just go inside. There's another car in the driveway. She's here. I wrap my jacket tighter around me and sigh. My jacket's my shell. A thin outer shell, threatening to break at any moment. And I think it's about to. I slowly walk inside. The TV in the living room is on. I grip the handle of my suitcase and slowly pad up the stairs. I'm not ready to meet her quite yet.

All the rooms are so different from home. They're too big. Too empty. I drop the suitcase on the floor and sit down, cross-legged. The floor's different. There's something. I wish it was like my old floor. That was a good floor. The bed's wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It's all wrong. I open my mouth and breathe in. Let's go meet the wife.

Thump, thump, thump. Each step of the stairs, a new crack in my shell. And there she is. There's the unlucky lady. She's got long, pink hair. I'd call it weird, but I've dyed my hair blue since I was thirteen. I'm about to do the hardest thing in my life so far. Say "Hello."

 

​

Cameron dug his heels into the earth beneath him and slowly rocked himself to appear cool and collected despite his 'wife' ranting and tantruming in the now ripped screen door. Wonder who's 'gonna pay for that? Maybe I should learn how to fix it..hmm.. He'd never envisioned himself as a handyman, then again, he never really thought about the future.

He couldn't believe she had the audacity to be upset by his ignoring of her. After all, they were complete strangers and she may not be crazy, but she was definitely something..odd. His fingers slipped into his coat pocket and with a glow of light, a cigarette magicked itself in his mouth. He took one puff before stepping back into his new home and sliding the door close behind him. Then he took out the little palm sized composition book he used to communicate with others. And so he began to trudge upstairs to their shared room.

Before he got up there, he began to scribble in his book for a few moments. He would not let his mutism slip but the more he thought about it, the more he saw that she was kind of like an adult sized child. That, Cameron could work with. Slapping a blank expression on his face and remembering to replace that fruit bowl downstairs he quietly slid into the room with his book open to the page he'd finished his writing on.

'With my selective mutism and natural shyness, I couldn't even nod at you, let alone talk. We're going to be together, whether we like it or not. So we should at least be on a friendly basis. The more comfortable I am the more I can bring myself to talk to someone. Or so the doctor says.. Anyway I'm sorry, Mrs. Straham.'​

 

Jaden

'Can't hold on much longer,
But I will never let go.
I know it's a one-way track,
Tell me now how long this'll last...
I'm not gonna think this way,
Nor will I count on others.
Close my eyes and feel the burn...
Now I see what I've gotta do.
Open your heart and you will see...'
​

Jaden finally decided to take his first steps inside the house, closing the door behind him.

There were signs of someone having been here already.. His new wife?
How would he even greet her? ...He had no idea in all honesty.
Like... what do you say...
Hi, I'm your new husband you've never met before. Wanna start falling in love? Neither of them had any guarantee of course that love would ever be a factor between them. He was only nineteen... he'd never even felt love before.

For now... he figured he best not look for her directly.
She might be asleep or something, and he shouldn't disturb.

Nah... he'd just explore the house downstairs for now, and if he came across her... then...
Well... he didn't know... he'd just work something out.



​

 

And here he was. Mr. Murder himself. He didn't come to me right away so maybe I was safe...

But now he was in the same room. And even spoke to me. So come on now, self, be nice. Sit up and smile.

"Hello, hello," I said, laughing slightly. Maybe from nerves or just because I wished to laugh. I didn't even know why.

Oh look. His hair was blue. Blue was a wonderful color, but this was strange. Forever pink represented girls and blue was for boys. I felt silly now. Like I fueling the stereotypicalness created by society. Waaah.

"So what is your name Mr. Murder?" I wonder how he would react. Maybe he'd smile awkwardly then run for the knife to get and stab me with. Ouch. Well while he runs for it I shall run for the door...​

 

Claire
​

Claire shifted suddenly, her latest breath catching in her throat; she'd heard a noise downstairs. He's here? she thought, her heart suddenly beating twice as fast. Right now? So soon? For some reason she thought that she'd have more time, to settle in and think of what to do, what to say before anything actually happened. She sat up quickly, rubbing her eyes and the tears off her face. Clearing her throat, she smoothed down her long, white-blonde hair.

Go say hi, she told herself, but she only got as far as the edge of the bed. What was the point? No marriage started the way theirs did would actually work. She shook her head, trying to not think that way; give him a chance... just go downstairs and introduce yourself.

Claire stood and made her way out of the bedroom, stepping down the stairs slowly, her heart racing. What's the matter with me? she mentally snapped at herself. Why on earth am I nervous? Plenty of people are married that don't love each other, that are "together forever" but never see each other. If we don't like each other, then it can still work... right?

She peeked around the wall that separated the house's entrance from the living room, trying to be as quiet as possible. She swallowed when she saw him, his back to her, exploring his new home.

"Ah," she began, and then blushed: her voice was hoarse and cracked from crying and staying silent for so long. She gripped the wall, her knuckles white. "Jaden, right? I'm Claire. What do you think of... the house?" She hated the way her voice sounded, how stupid her words were. He's already going to hate me... what kind of a question is that? She immediately diverted her eyes to the floor, waiting for his response.