Murder the Noisy

Contemplations

     They lasted a full 5 minutes before hitting me and locking me in my room. I should probably give them some form of credit. I suppose they did try to be better. At least they didn't put me in the small room. To be honest, I don't really care at this point. I just think everything's just a bit of a shame really. They failed. I failed. We all failed. Our relationship was not sustainable, and inescapable. I thought back to various things in my life which were pleasant. I couldn't find many. The few which were pleasant were getting my book published and the beginning of my relationship with Them.

     I had once been reasonably normal. Most likely, it was during my life as a writer. I had been able to transfer so many perverted emotions into writing to feel a bit better. During that time of being normal, I always thought that Them was just something in the back of everyone's life. Now, I know differently. I know that They are real. They are the creepypastas. They do lurk in the backs of everyone's minds, but they sometimes come out and kill, renewing their presence among us.

     I went to my cupboard and opened it. Inside was a rope. They weren't planning on me using it, I suppose. Either that, or they completely missed it. I took the rope in my hands. It has always interested me how rope is simply smaller ropes intertwined together, which in turn are made of even smaller fibres. One would think it would be rather flimsy, but it is surprisingly sturdy. I held the rope close to my face, trying to see the smallest strings that made up the rope.

     I walked to the door. The wooden frame was slightly larger than the thing itself. Quite peculiar. Probably to be able to keep an eye on me easier. I looked outside the room through the lock. I saw someone staring back. They quickly moved away. I had never noticed it before, but eyes are incredibly beautiful. The way the shimmer under light, and go almost entirely black under darkness. The way the pupils get bigger and smaller. The vibrancy of the colour in the eyes. All so incredibly beautiful and astonishing.

     I moved to the chair that hid in the corner of the room. It was quite small, but high enough to reach the rafters. So it was good enough. It then dawned on me that I didn't really know how to make a noose. I would have to do with makeshift knots. I put the rope in front of my throat, then tied a triple granny knot around my neck. It didn't look very good, but it would work. I then realised that no one end of the rope was long enough, so I had to undo the knots, replace the rope, tie it again, then tie the other end of the rope to the rafters while standing on a chair.

     I was finally ready to rest eternally. I did know that Ann would reanimate my body, but at least I — my mind — would not be conscious for the experience. I doubt even Zalga, the Demon lady thing, would not be able to return the entirety of my soul, if one could even call it that anymore. Mine was less of a soul than a pulsating goop of sadness and despair that struggles to remain alive. This, I supposed it would act as more of a lobotomy, at which point I wouldn't be me.

     I thought back to the hell I had experienced. The beatings from both my parents and lovers. The insults from them whenever I tried to get a bit of freedom back from their tight, clutching grasp. I could do anything against any of them. They all wanted me to be their puppet, or their slave, neither of which led to a happy life. I had always been less than them. I was always the one to be controlled. So at this point, my current goal seemed perfectly reasonable.

     I stared at my shoes. They were sandals that the creepypastas had given me so as not to get blisters. However, they were so rough and thin that I got blisters anyway, and if I complained in the slightest, it was another beating. I hated those sandals. They were uncomfortable and always hurt when I wore them. I took them off and threw them on the bed. The clothes I wore were also given to me by the creepypastas. A simple cloth t-shirt and trousers. They were hole ridden in all the wrong places. These clothes were the definitive manifestation of the creepypastas sexual perversion.

     I looked to the door in front of me. It was a mahogany door, and seemed to be made very well. It had a golden door handle, and the hinges were also either painted gold or made of gold. All metal bits of the door were carefully crafted. That door had received more care than I had ever had. How strange that people prefer to use their time on inanimate objects rather than other sentient people. Such a shame. Oh well...

     I closed my eyes for the last time. I balanced on the chair I stood on. It wobbled. One of the legs was shorter than the others. I breathed in deeply. I had always referred inhaling than exhaling. Inhaling air felt fresh and cool, rather than old, hot, and humid. It was just nicer to breathe in than out. I swallowed, something I didn't do very often. It registered as an audible "gulp". I obviously wasn't quite ready for this, but what other choice did I have aside from this. It wasn't like I could go back to living with them, or escape, or even lock myself in this room. It was all either impossible or too hard and unpleasant. Then again, my life was just a hodgepodge of unpleasantness. That was just how my life worked.

     With one last force of will, I raised one leg and kicked the chair.