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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · LGBTQ+ · #1381296
Alex is a girl with problems.A lot of problems.
Chapter One – Black Sunshine

“Exert 1: Desert Intro”
My name is Alex Corella and I am a seventeen-year-old drug-addicted serial killer. Okay, that was just for kicks, really. I’m not exactly a serial killer; I’m a simpleton generic killer. I only killed one person, there was a reason, yes I’m horrible and evil, blah blah, we’ll get to the why of that situation later! First I need to clear my head, figure out how I wound up in the middle of the desert with a dead body.
Holy Christ Almighty, there is a dead body beside of me, I think there’s a maggot in his eye, God help me! I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked slowly forward and backwards, trying in vain to comfort myself. To some people, it might have looked like I escaped from an insane asylum and was too accustomed to being in my straight jacket to do anything else.
I am not currently insane, despite what you may be thinking of me. I am simply a little frazzled, a tiny bit scared, somewhat angry, a few other things that involve high dosages of chemically engineered substances.
I’m your typical all-American girl gone down the wrong path, I tell you, and I could have been sweet! I could have been a lot of things that most girls are and I’m not, if only there were a few different decisions I made in my life.
I pray to no one in particular that this first seventeen years will have been the worst, most of the world wants you to believe otherwise, but if I’ve got worse ahead of me than my current existence, than I might as well go ahead and kill myself now. I wondered if overdosing would be a happy way to die. What better way to kill yourself than with drugs? At least there’s a small chance that you’ll die happy.
It’s got to be at least a little satisfying, and hey, that’s good enough for me! If only I had something to OD on, then there’d be a way out of this situation!
My mind continued on with it’s distracting thoughts of drugs and dying and general unpleasant things. I wished it would shut the hell up. I banged the side of my head, as if trying to empty out some thoughts, or just trying to damage my brain or shock it so that it would fucking stop what it was doing.
My mind just wouldn’t shut up! It kept rattling on and on, dragging out unpleasant memories and thinking unpleasant thoughts I just didn’t want to have to deal with right now.
Bitterly, I began to think of all that I had left in back in Novella, the place I had left all that meant anything to me. My friends were there…and I nearly flinched at the thought of them.
I was incredibly ashamed to be in this situation, but, along with my shame and humiliation and disappointment with myself, there was aftereffect that brought my misery to a whole new level. Anger. Not just normal anger, either. This was a festering, quiet anger that was just waiting for an opportunity, well, a second opportunity, to show itself.
I had a feeling a lot of this anger I was feeling was actually sadness, trying to pretend it was something else. They had abandoned me. My friends abandoned me. Abandoned me so easily, as if we hadn’t been through anything together, as if I hadn’t ever helped them or swore to be there for them.
Especially Andre, after all we’ve been through, all the crap we’d gone through together. I would have died before I would have let Andre fall to my level of living, I would have dragged him out of his depression and misery kicking and screaming if I would have had to. I wished he would have done the same for me. I know I had said some things, did some things, but damn it, couldn’t he just forgive me this one time! I had forgiven him so many times, but noooo, Alex doesn’t deserve any mercy.
Andy, well, thinking of her just made me want to rip out my insides, or at least douse them in something numbing so I couldn’t feel anything. All of my memories of the passed month were blurred and unclear, but I remember her disappointment the most. I remember her disgust with me and all that I was putting everyone through.
Kylie…I missed Kylie so much. She hadn’t shown her face since the first time I screamed at her for something stupid and insignificant. I had regretted it, so much that I’d cried for a good 20 minutes after she had left the room.
I couldn’t help the way I had treated them. A victim of my own sick mind, I had fallen into deep depression, and my constant negativity had sapped all my ability to pretend to be a normal, mannered, kind person. My true self had shown, the horrible, short-tempered girl who’d punch you in the face if you tried to wake her up to early.
I’m not proud of who I am, and I generally don’t have anger issues, not towards my friends, but I don’t have an excuse! I remember after I first started lashing out at my friends, I tried to convince myself it was because of alcohol or a drug I had taken. Looking back, I don’t think it was true it all, I think it was some form of denial and responsibility for my actions.
So instead of not treating my friends like piles of shit, I pushed myself into a whirlwind of drugs to try to escape somehow. To make my statement true, to flush my life down the toilet before I had even properly began it. I, of course, regret that decision now that I’m on the brink of death, and I will probably never see those I love again.
I edged nervously away from the dead body, it was starting to smell. I tried to block out everything around me by concentrating intensely on the flames of the campfire we had started, noticed the bean can blackening from the heat, watching the flames jump up as if they were trying to consume each other. It wasn’t very relaxing, I noticed when I tried to clear my mind, and my anxiety came in massive waves as if it were trying to spite me for trying to avoid it. It did work, though; I nearly forgot that I even had a dead man lying next to me. I couldn’t smell him, I couldn’t see him, I could just forget it all happened long enough to collect my thoughts.
I realize now that I am completely alone in the middle of the desert, that I really need people. I need my friends, I want them, I might as well just die a lonesome, piteous death without them. They shaped my goals, they shaped my future, they were everything to me! This is saying a lot to me, my motto has always been one of a jackass, lonerish and pessimistic person. Like, May has well go it alone. Or, People are bastards, why even try. Things like that.
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