Hell on Earth

Chapter One - Grape Cool-Aid

The night dragged by. I felt groggy and a little sick, the medicine in me trying its best to work. I didn’t feel any different mentally, which is never a good sign. At least, that’s what the doctor said. I don’t know, I’ve never felt any different.

The crowd roared as one team scored a touchdown. I raised my glass of water at the TV. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

I woke up the next morning with no headache. Good.

Speak of the Devil, though.

My back arched in pain and a faint croak left my mouth before everything changed.

Fuck! No! I have to get to school!

The scene before me unfolded. A woman was walking with her child – the same woman from the vision before. I frowned. That was weird. My visions were usually unconnected. The kid, of course, was me.

“Mommy, why are the birds dead?”

She glanced down at her kid absently. “They aren’t, Alex.” She looked around for a dead bird.

He glowered at her, his chubby face frowning. God damn I was a fat little bastard. “No, mommy! The ones in the sky!”

She glanced up, frightened, then laughed, a chittering, nervous sound. “Alex, sweetie, there aren’t any birds.”

He stamped his foot. “Mommy! Stop it! They’re scaring me.” He looked up at the sky, his anger melting into fear.

The woman clenched her jaw, clearly fighting back tears. “You need to stop this, Alexander. The birds aren’t real. Neither was the skeleton man who was under your bed.”

Little me watched her in confusion. “Why are you so scared, Mommy? Why do you think there’s something wrong with me? Why do you think I need to see someone? Why do you think this is Daddy’s fault? Why do you –“

The woman’s eyes flared, fear and anger flitting over her features. “Stop this! We are going home.” She grabbed the kid’s arm, dragging him along.

Then, he looked right at me. “Help me! Please!” He screamed.

I sat up, gasping for air. “Wow, that was a doozy,” I whispered, voice ragged. I pulled myself to my feet, staggering to the bathroom and taking in my appearance. I looked like shit, and that’s saying something. I mean, I wasn’t bad looking. I mean, I get my fair share of lady attention – usually not returned. But right now, I looked like shit. Shitty shit. My eyes were sunken into my face, which had no color – instead of just lacking color, it actually had grey cheeks. I had almost blue shadows under my eyes. My jaw was covered in a small forest of stubble and my hair was greasy and going every which way. I looked like death warmed over and felt like it, too. I stumbled, woozy, as my headache increased in its intensity. Fuckity fuck. Fuck! I turned and puked into the toilet, throwing up the little I had had to eat. Fuckin’ hell. Shit. Fuck. Shit. God dammit.

I wandered into the kitchen and took my medication, eating some dry, unbuttered toast. Then I grabbed my barely finished and barely passable work and made my way to school.

It passed slowly. Who doesn’t think lectures pass slowly? Every word echoed around in my mind and I tried my best to just keep my head down and not attract attention. To be honest, I don’t even know what I was doing here. Nineteen years old and trying to get a life for myself, I guess. I don’t have much choice. Eat or be eaten.

I turned in my shambled excuses for work and hauled butt as fast as my still-blinding headache would let me.

“Hey bro! You okay? You look sick.” Tanner, my roommate, walked in to the room, where I was sitting and watching the TV again. At least commercials didn’t have faces, even though that didn’t mean they didn’t lie.

I turned my head to him, nodding. “Hey Tanner. I feel like shit.” I took a swig of water, trying to wash the weird flavor out of my mouth. Tanner said something nice, like, “I hope you get better!” or “Aw, sucks man.” I wasn’t paying attention. I knew it wasn’t true. I already knew he didn’t care about me or who I was. He only cared about Tanner and a nice piece of ass. I mean, I care about a nice piece of ass, especially if it’s real ass. But Tanner was one of those golden guys. He had blonde hair like a surfer and glowing tan skin. He was a lady killer and it was obvious. He didn’t really care about his freak roommate. That much was also obvious.

I heard him clinking around in the kitchen, then his door shutting. He was only here once or twice a week, probably to sleep off hangovers or kill time.

I stood, shutting off the TV. Finishing my water, I made my way to my room, my dull headache behind my eyes making light painful. I snapped on my desk lamp, flinching away and hissing. I know. Teenagers nowadays hiss at light. Blame Stephanie Meyer.

I pulled my sketchbook out and, hesitating, flipped it to a blank page.

This book was my life. My one pride and joy. I could draw or write anything I wanted in it and it wouldn’t be touched.

I titled my new poem Blank.

Paper that’s white

Plus black pen

Equals a change

The paper is now black and white.

White souls

Plus black sins

Equals what?

A grey soul?

A perfect mix?

No

There is evil in all of us

That time can never fix

What? Poetry rhymes.

I settled for putting my headphones in and sketching. Music floated through my mind, pushing my brain this way and that. Slowly, an image took shape. I studied it for a minute before pushing it away.

It was the face of my father, as a child. A picture that any sane person would lock me away for.

His face was smiling at me, but I had made it look like it did then. It had his kind eyes, his smile lines, his wonderful designs. It was him. 

With him underneath. The real him.

Not something anyone wants to see. Especially his three year old son.

That’s when everything started to change.

A/N: Listen to the song on the side. It fits Alexander's personality and situation like a lost puzzle piece. :) Vote and comment for me! ;)