Hell on Earth

Chapter One - Grape Cool-Aid

My name is Alexander, and I have a problem.

I know that’s what most teenagers say, but I’m serious – I have a problem.

“Fuck yeah you do,” I groaned, sitting up. My bright work lamp was frying the back of my neck. Grimacing, I wiped away the sweat there, feeling a slight sting. “A sunburn? Really?” I couldn’t help but whine.

Yes, I’m pale as shit. But that’s not the biggest thing.

I waited as my eyes slowly adjusted to the light – slowly, because of the pounding headache that was blooming in my brain. I reached out to the bottle of Advil I always kept handy, popping in four. You’ll give yourself an ulcer at this rate. I hesitated, debating on what was worse, a migraine or an ulcer. Screw it, ulcer it is. At least the ulcer isn’t here now. I shrugged, chugging down some water to wash down the already-dissolving pills.

Yes. I get terrible headaches. Very terrible ones.

They only come after the visions, though.

Go ahead, laugh all you like. No one had a problem laughing when I was growing up. “Vision Boy” “Rain Man” “Vampire” “Freak”.

My personal favorite, though, was “Grape Cool-Aid.”

It fit pretty well, probably because my eyes are purple.

I leaned back in the chair, begging for the throbbing to subside in my skull.

Like I said, go ahead and laugh. I won’t stop you. I have visions. Or “visions”, as my psychiatrist liked to say. He said it’s all in my head, that I actually can’t see the past and future. He said that people aren’t just masks to hide their true nature, their true face, behind.

Then I mentioned to him that I knew he was having an affair and that I knew he felt the most guilty about it because he wasn’t spending enough time with his son.

Needless to say, I now need a new psychiatrist. At least this one didn’t try to sue me.

I would almost say, besides my looks, that I was a normal guy. You know, besides the schizophrenia. “Seeing things that aren’t there”, “hearing voices and people” yada yada. Schizophrenia. A schizo who doesn’t spend enough time in the sun and has Grape Cool-Aid eyes.

Who wouldn’t think I was normal?

“Hey Alexander,” Jessica drawled out, popping her gum.

I nodded bluntly. “Jessica.”

I know, I know. Maybe I should make some friends? Take a sip of the “social life”? Well, I would. It doesn’t help that under Jessica’s pretty face lies, well, lies.

Damn, under all those pretty looks she sure is ugly.

She pouted and walked away, swinging her hips, obviously trying to be seductive. Sorry, you just aren’t my type, I thought grimly. Mostly because I’m not yours.

I’m not trying to say anything here. Maybe the preppy, cheerleader-type actually likes the Goth boy look. I’m not trying intentionally to be Goth, I promise. My eyes are the real deal – some genetic defect. Hopefully it isn’t one that kills me. Or, maybe, hopefully, it is.

I watched her as she walked away, again fighting down the feeling of sickness at what I could see. What I can see and can’t say.

She was a beautiful girl – on the outside.

You know how people say to get to know people before your judge them? I don’t even need to get to know them. I can just…see. I can see what really lies underneath their false exterior. Kinda sucks. Every person I look at seems to have their regular face super-imposed over something else, something uglier and darker.