I'm scared for the next person...

I don’t go near others anymore…and I’ve been paranoid. I’m also scared for the next person…here’s why.

It was a hard time. I was a young boy going to middle school then... The names started after I lost both of my parents in a car accident. They were coming home from a skiing trip for a vacation, a road trip date, something like that, and they went too fast on the black ice because they were almost home and they were very excited to tell me the news when they got home…but that was destroyed by a drunk driver who was also going over the speed limit and spun out of control.

The police told me they were crushed in between the building and the drunk driver’s large Chevy which had one of those snow things hooked up in front.

They died instantly.

The Chevy’s front was barely crushed in and the airbag saved him. The hook up cut into the side of our mini-van and the drunk driver was the only one who was lucky to walk away from it alive.

The police saved me the gory details of everything else.

I didn’t want to hear anything else anyways. My stomach and the mental images from even imagining the screams of my parents and the sounds of the car spinning out of control and the sounds of the crushing metal and glass.

Christ.

But that wasn’t the end of the bad news.

I heard the rest on my way to the bathroom when I was waiting...

I was going to the bathroom and I found out the reason why they were so excited to come home so quickly. My parents were finally going to get married and my mother…she was a month pregnant.

It was a girl…

I was going to have a little sister…

I was utterly crushed and broken.

I couldn’t stop crying after that. The idea of having to be an older brother, a family that could been brought closer together…a little sister…

I was angry, depressed and I felt completely lost. I had so many mixed emotions. But the day came when they held my parents funerals and I was given over to one of my relatives.

It was my mom’s little sister and her husband. They didn’t have any kids yet and they looked at me like I was a lost hope. The remaining presence of both of my parents…I was a constant reminder of them being lost forever.

They took me in and noticed my distant presence from them and were worried. I would lock myself inside of the room they gave to me. The only times I would come out were to use the bathroom and to eat.

Then I would seclude myself once again and begin drawing, listen to some heavy rock music and write. I even read some comics and some of the books I had.

I even looked outside every now and then and always saw the same old car parked in front of the house. Most times when I looked, I don’t think it ever moved. I started to get bored and even began to count the times I saw it and kept a record. It then became a boring game and I moved onto other things.

I then made myself a little haven inside my room to be left alone in my thoughts for the passing time to recuperate and feel better…but still, nothing I really did inside the room didn’t made me any feel better.

I even resorted to harming myself for since it was strange I would either cut or burn myself and it wouldn’t really hurt. I then found a way to punish myself for my parents deaths… I grinned so much that I could use this as an act of redemption.

More time passed on and my behavior was considered the same old, same old. My aunt and uncle had even tried to cheer me up with trying to do the “family” thing, presents and even being taken out to dinner. They even told me that I could wait on school and do classes whenever I felt like I was ready. I had been out of school for about a few months now.

I then started to grow bored and so withdrawn I had to at least feel something….something…

It wasn’t long after that I then found this pain entertaining...it went from forgiveness to just plain self pleasure. I began to test how long I could last before I felt something.

I even made a twisted little sick game out of it. I became some kind of masochist out of this…it never really hurt anyways.

One time I cut my wrists about eight times before I even felt a burn. Then I would use the lighter to burn away my cuts and then rub alcohol on it to feel even more of the burn. I laughed at how it finally felt like it was on fire. Then I would cut again and pour the rubbing alcohol on it and then soak it onto the bandanas I had to leave a lasting pain.

Then I started to wear long sleeves or hoodies. I didn’t want my aunt and uncle to find out about my new found habit and entertainment.

Then one day I was caught. I knew this would happen eventually. I shrugged it off and explained to them how I first started and now I just like it.

The expressions on their faces seemed more shocked than anything, I just simply added “that it’s better than being addicted to drugs.”

My uncle then got up quickly from his chair and slammed his hands on the table and he then yelled about how unhealthy my mind is to think that it’s normal and to even like hurting myself and he was very upset about this and even how I hide in the room and that tomorrow we were going to send me to a therapist and make me go back to school. He didn’t care that I was into doing it and what I was doing to myself and it was going to stop.

My aunt was shaking and looked at me with tears in her eyes and she couldn’t find any words to say to me that she left from the table and went to her room in where I heard her crying and sobbing.

I couldn’t help but be nonchalant and uncaring. I was so numb and hallow that it didn’t bother me and I said “okay.” Then I went back to my room to continue my little deeds.

It wasn’t long before my uncle came up with some cookies auntie made and had a glass of milk. It was rare for them to do such a thing and he told me that we were going to talk. I merely nodded before reaching out for a cookie and started to eat.

He then sighed and started to talk. He talked about how hard it was on the whole family, how my parents died and that I shouldn’t blame myself for their deaths and I shouldn’t be doing what I was doing, that this was considered frowned upon, that what I had become is a masochist and I may be destroying myself and they really wanted to help me get better.

That’s why they left me alone to get better, tried their hardest to raise me so far and waited until I was ready to go to school. He also apologized on how he bursted out on me downstairs and he never really knew how to be a “parent” to me.

I nodded again quietly understanding and I also apologized. I was sorry I made them feel this was their fault and that I couldn’t help my habit. Especially to auntie. She looks at me as if she saw her sister and I’m just a screw up and I hurt her.

It seemed we came to an understanding but that wasn’t the end of it… As soon as I was halfway through the plate of cookies, I drank half of the milk and suddenly I felt drowsy…I looked to my uncle and glared at him knowing what he had did and I had seen my eyesight go completely black.

The next morning I awoke groggy and found myself tucked in my bed and I tried recall all that night but couldn’t. I tried to remember what happened and all I could recall was that my uncle was talking to me, offered me the milk and then…everything else was a blank.

I tried so hard to remember that my head began to hurt and as hard as I tried to even remember even just a little…it was blank.

My mind just then went to the idea that my uncle had drugged my drink so I could fall asleep. My memory of him giving me the drink supported that idea…and I just flipped out.

I threw around my blankets and I was so pissed that only one thing could patch this up…I decided I needed my daily fix.

I reached in my drawer for the box opener only to find that it was gone. I looked all over my room for the things I hid and they were all gone. I then looked down to my feet and finally remembered that I passed out while talking to my uncle. I was a bit ticked that he would drug me and took all of the blades, alcohol, needles, lighters, matches and even my favorite box opener.

I sat in the middle of the room for a long time feeling once again lost. I then got all sweaty, fidgety and I even went a little…mad. I tried looking for substitutes to at least give me a bit of pain. I used pens, paper, pencils…it got to the point where I was about to use my own fingernails and bite at myself.

Just then, my uncle came in and I ignored him. I was too upset with him right now. He took away all of my tools. I had resorted into this…monster… I didn’t realized how badly I needed the fix…

How badly…I…

I then glared at him and snapped. “WHAT THE HELL?! YOU DRUGGED ME LAST NIGHT DIDN’T YOU?! WHAT GIVES?!”

He looked at me like he was soulless. Like an empty shell. He held his arm tightly and didn’t say nothing while I still fumed from him drugging me up last night.

I then found myself inside his car. We were on our way to see a therapist, a psychologist to help me feel better. I had already given up when I noticed all of my tools were gone. But that didn’t stop me from scratching my wounds to make it bleed while we waited in the waiting room.

It was about an hour wait.

My uncle then took this time to apologize to me once again and it was only to help me. I glared up at him and gritted my teeth. “How are you ‘helping’ me? You drugged me up and you snuck around my room while I was out! Fuck you and your help. I was perfectly fine just by myself in that room. You’re not helping me.” I didn’t even look at him and continued to mess with my wounds and then covered it up with my bandana.

“It was for your own good Daniel…We couldn’t just sit back while you mutilated yourself and be in pain.”

I ignored him after that and wished I hid the items in more clever places.

It wasn’t too long that we met a therapist who just started working here and went by Dr. Lucius Goodman.

He asked me to follow him to his office and had me sit on a cushioned chair and asked if I liked some candy. I couldn’t resist because he had Snickers and Hershey’s. He then placed the candy bowl back and smiled. He was a husky kind of man, wore slacks and a work shirt. His shoes looked like loafers and his bright green eyes gleamed under his glasses. His dark wavy hair seemed well tended and his clean shave and dimples he had just made the aura around him so bright.

I laughed at how the perfect image of doctor was supposed to look like and thought he would look more like a professor.

He then sat down in front of me and grinned. I was caught in awe of how pearly white his teeth were.

“So Daniel. What’s up? Was there something you found amusing a moment ago?”

‘What’s up?’ What kind of adult says that to a kid?

“Nothing much. You’re nothing what you’re supposed to look like…I thought you’d look more like a professor. Also thanks for the chocolate.” I really did like the chocolate.

He seemed to beam a bit from that last comment. Before his look changed drastically. He then became very serious and took hold of my arm and took the bandana off and looked over my cuts and burns. He seemed to study it.

He finally got to ask after looking over each cut and burn marks on my wrists. “How often do you do this to yourself?” “…I don’t really need to tell you.” I replied bitterly and took back my arm from Dr. Goodman.

Dr. Goodman sat back into his seat and rubbed his head. “Well then, how ‘bout we get straight to it then shall we?”

I sat in my seat and I fidgeted and shifted on my chair impatient and wondering how long this was going to take. I was hoping and wishing I could really leave so I wouldn’t have to deal with this strange doctor…then again, I never wanted to deal with anybody at ALL.

“So your parents tell me you have been anti-social and have been hurting yourself such as cutting, burning and stabbing. I agree with them it is not healthy for such a child to be doing this to himself. So the question is…why? What has drove you to even do such a thing? I mean, you’re just a child and clearly this is not the answer. It’s alright, it’s perfectly okay to spill everything. Our doctor to patient privacy rights has made it so whatever it is, it won’t leave this room.”

I remained silent and I continued to shift on my chair trying to show I was clearly uncomfortable even talking to this guy right now. Then I felt something snap inside me. I found my mouth moving by itself and spilled what I’ve been so pissed off about.

“…Did they even tell you that they drugged me up? That they drugged my drink so I could pass out and take away all of the things I used to hurt myself with? I mean come on, who the hell does that to a kid? Drug them up so they can pass out and the people that the kid trusts just go behind their back and do whatever they want. It’s fucking sick.”

The doctor looked at me with a raised eyebrow then smiled.

He. Fucking. Smiled.

“That’s good. You’re finally opening up what’s been on your mind…tell me Daniel, did they really drug you up so you could pass out? You know…that could be an act of child abuse. I don’t think that your aunt and uncle would do this to you, you know. But it doesn’t seem like that would be something they would do to you. You’re the only family they have left of your mother and father.” Dr. Goodman said and held his creepy white grin.

I felt my eye twitching. He was playing it off. It just made me so mad.

“…Didn’t you fucking hear a word I just said…? My uncle and aunt drugged me up and they made me go to sleep.” I about hissed the words out as if he wasn’t even listening to me at all.

“You’re right Daniel. You do need more sleep. It seems to me that you need some anti-depressants, sleeping aid and also maybe some friends. I heard how concerned your aunt and uncle were about how you weren’t associating yourself with the outside world and you can’t shut it out. You need to at least open up, get some of that weight off. How about you take this prescription I am filling out for you and you try to at least do some more recreational activities and maybe make some friends out in the neighborhood?” He smiled again and started to type on his computer.

I was so furious right now. I stood up and I started to yell, “WEREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME?! I DON’T WANT TO LIVE WITH THEM! THEY COULD POSSIBLY KILL ME IF THEY DRUG ME UP AGAIN! I DON’T WANT ANY DRUGS OR YOUR HELP!”

He continued to type on his computer and started to whistle. It was as though he was ignoring me.

It wasn’t long after that I found myself back inside the car again.

I had a paper bag filled with anti-depressants and some instructions for me to start opening up and another appointment with Dr. Goodman.

My uncle didn’t say a word to me and took me back to the house.

As we pulled up, my aunt stood on the doorstep with her left arm bandaged up. My eyes were fixated on her and I was struck with dumbfounded-ness. Why didn’t I notice her arm this morning? Why didn’t I notice that she hurt herself?

I tried to remember and I remembered her holding her left arm and she was wearing a long shirt this morning…but she was wearing a polo shirt. She must’ve just got back home from work. Did she hurt herself at work?

When we were all sitting around the table in the dining room, they started to discuss how we were going to live from now on, how things were going to be and that I needed to get out of the house more.

I know that was mainly the highlights of that evening but I couldn’t help but stare at my aunt’s covered arm and got lost in thought as to what had happened to her.

It wasn’t long after that I had a very strict schedule that they were going to keep me on so I could go back to school.

It had been about another few weeks…

I started to stick to my schedule and take my medications and even go to bed around nine. I even started to go outside of my room more often.

I then started to go out every other weekend to go bowling, skating, sight see and even out to the movies.

My aunt and uncle were so proud of my current progress that I then got my very own TV and video game system so I could play it in my room. I got new books, clothes and even an iPod.

They said if I continued to keep this up they would get me a laptop and a printer for my stories.

I was quite happy about this too because I started to see that doctor less and less and I felt like I was achieving things so far in life. Then my aunt and uncle finally thought I was ready to go back to school. I started to attend my high school year and started to make friends and started to do well even though I was really behind.

Then I started to hang out with friends at video game nights, sleep overs and even one weekend of camping in the woods near town. It was going so great.

During that week when I was feeling sick in my room, I started reading a book by Shakespeare. It was Hamlet. My aunt brought it home and told me to read to act two because the school I was going to was covering this in their English class. She thought I was going to like Shakespeare…and I did.

I even read Romeo and Juliet and then watched whatever movies that I could rent. They were all about the same but the movie styles were a bit different…

But it wasn’t before long before I noticed the violent malevolent triggering words stuck out and started to catch my attention.

Whenever the words poison, knife, bite my thumb, sword and blood…

The words started to haunt me and I just about had it one day and I just…I just couldn’t take it anymore…

I just felt the need…I felt the trigger being pulled slowly back and I just couldn’t take it anymore.

It started as an itch. A very…irritating itch…it started to claw and scrape and before I knew it…

I felt the underlying craving my innermost self, had wanted.

I started to take my medications a little more, I started to feel myself lose my two months of finally taking back control and actually getting better.

I couldn’t disappoint and let down my aunt and uncle now. I was doing pretty well and I really wanted to get internet once I had my very own laptop and all.

Then I started to wake up in strange places. This started to make my aunt and uncle concerned.

I once awoke after dark in the neighborhood park and they really flipped their shit when the local cops found me.

I had to go see Dr. Goodman more often than I wanted. He gave me different happy pills. Ones that were going to decrease my urges and told me how to better control myself. He told me to take care and use the medication well and not to abuse them. I merely nodded and took them as advised…but the itching started to burn. It started to burn inside of me.

As a week passed over I could just feel myself starting to feel the scars on my arms burn. Burning to be itched. I could feel myself hurting. Actually it was the headaches I started to have. Then the blackouts. I would be in one place then find myself in another. It was exactly like before…then I noticed something after a while…

My aunt and uncle started to flinch whenever I moved my hand across the table to pick up a utensil. They would freak out when I was behind them and then…I saw the bandaids and the unusual bruising. Were my aunt and uncle fighting? Getting abusive over each other?

I grew concerned and I asked one night at the dinner table as to what was going on.

They both assured me it was nothing and that I shouldn’t even be worried. But another two weeks of the same thing going on… My aunt and uncle were practically almost mummies. And I, I felt like I was going crazy over the time I was losing every time I blacked out and it was really affecting my school and my friends started to distance themselves from me.

I felt like I was reverting back to that state when my parents died…

I couldn’t bear this agony anymore and the medications seemed like they weren’t working at all. I decided to double up on my medication that I took for another week and then…total blackout.

It was dark. Like one of those times you have when you know you’re sleeping but it was just black.

Then my blurry sight was of gray, white and dark navy blue shapes.

I felt…so cold. It took me a while to regain my vision before I heard the screaming and crying of my aunt. She started to then call out for my uncle and I heard him running down the hallway. When I could finally lift my head I saw what I had done.

It took me a while to figure out I was burning. I felt stickiness and the burning. I realized I had cut myself up on my arms and even on my legs. I was wearing shorts so I could feel the edges of my shorts dragging and it was stuck to the ground.

All I could manage to say was “oh” in realization and I just smiled. It wasn’t long after that I blacked out again…

After a while when I awoke in the hospital bed, I blinked and saw nothing but white. I noticed I wasn’t alone and saw a man in a business suit and he wasn’t somebody I really knew.

“Hello Daniel. I’m Detective Carlson. I’m afraid…I have some bad news for you.” His dark charcoal eyes finally looked at me as I stared at him with my heavy eyelids.

“It’s your aunt and uncle. I’m afraid…I mean…” He sighed as he tried to find his words.

My attention was caught immediately. I struggled to sit up and he finally got to look back at me to finally speak back up.

“…They’re dead. We came to answer the 911 call and when we got to the house…there were blood stains almost everywhere. We inspected and cleaned the scene. They found multiple murder weapons that were used on your aunt and uncle…and…they found your prints on them.”

My eyes watered and I couldn’t believe what he was saying. I…I killed my aunt and uncle? No…How…? My throat started to burn and my words got caught in my throat. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you for the murder of Bethany and Evan Bigamy.” Detective Carlson looked at me as I let out a soft sob.

“No…” I choked and started to cry. The detective looked off and down at his feet. “…As soon as you are discharged we are going to see whether or not you’ll be tried as an adult.” Detective Carlson finally spoke back up as I hugged the sheets and blankets to myself. The shock was getting to me and I couldn’t believe it at all…I killed my aunt and uncle who dearly loved me…?

“No…no…” I whispered to myself over and over slowly not believing this at all. Detective Carlson stayed until I had passed out. The next week and then another passed in a blur. I was just so out of it that I…I was sort of gone.

Then came the interrogation room, I remember them asking questions until another officer came in and then handed Detective Carlson a brown package and some folder. They left me alone and I just receded back into becoming blank.

Then I noticed there were more people around me shaking their heads and staring at me. I was being taken to another room inside the police station. It was another interrogation room but it wasn’t so gloomy. I don’t know how much time passed until I could hear the other officers come into the room. I looked up and saw Detective Carlson. He was looking at me with wide eyes and he was pale. The other officer was a lady and she sat down in front of me and folded her hands on the table.

“Daniel…we just got a strange package and your blood work just came in and I came to tell you that you are not going to be charged as a murderer or as an adult.” I looked up surprised. I tried to move my lips but I couldn’t speak. As she further explained what she meant by that, the horror washed over me and I was pulled back into more shock.

I found out that the therapist I was seeing was not even a therapist at all. That Dr. Goodman had been drugging me with drugs that weren’t legally authorized and not even listed in the pharmacy. They also found out that he had been using hypnosis on me which caused the blackouts and the unknown drugs had been feeding my habits of harming others and myself. They even showed me a tape where I had just snapped or switched to a totally different person that was filmed outside my aunt and uncle’s house. Dr. Goodman was experimenting on me and filmed it.

He even filmed how I viciously snapped and started to kill my aunt and uncle…but thankfully the tape was stopped by the police officers before I saw anything further. I shuddered. This explained how my aunt and uncle would always flinch or be scared of me…yet they never told me this is how I was really acting towards them.

The package came in and there was no returning address, no prints but only typed notes of how my behavior was documented and everything about me even before I met Dr. Goodman. The police have been investigating it for about almost a year now and trying to track down Dr. Goodman. They lost the trail after they found an empty apartment that had fake IDs, passports and even still had everything in there except prints and Dr. Goodman’s whereabouts.

They check in on me every once in a while and I was put in a foster home full with other kids. Then I was adopted by a middle-aged lady who treated me as her own. Still…I’m paranoid to even get to close to Rochelle. I’m scared that I might still be dangerous. The wanting to hurt myself is gone now. The only thing that lingered was my distance to stay away from others. I’m just glad that they spared Rochelle the gruesome details about my past before I came into foster care.

It wasn’t long before my paranoid hunches were proven fact. Rochelle said I got a package from a L. Goodman. I immediately felt horror and I called the cops about the package. They arrived in five minutes. They secured the area and had a bomb squad on standby. They began to open the package and what was inside just was so insanely sick… The neatly typed letter said, “Her name was going to be Linda and she would’ve been born today.” and what was inside was a jar of a baby fetus curled up in a ball. They removed the jar and found a small tape at the bottom.

The police reviewed the tape, dusted for prints and tested the jar…the fetus’ DNA matched my dead aunt’s. They said the fetus timeline was three months old. Then they explained what else was on that first tape they stopped. They said I was yelling at my aunt and saying something about I won’t let it happen again and said I cut open her stomach and pulled the baby from her womb…

The small tape was played on a tape recorder. It was Dr. Goodman’s voice. He was explaining how the “subject” was reacting to the drug known as “X1-071” and with hypnosis being used. Then Dr. Goodman’s voice continued on saying his experiment was a success and will begin on his next experiment soon.

…Rochelle knows everything now and treats me as though nothing was different and dotes on me more than ever. I actually love the overly affectionate hugs and being checked on and tucked into my bed even though I’m a young adult. She even told me the news that I might get a chance to have another younger sibling in the house and possibly a pet. Oh God, I can almost feel the happy ending for me. But right now, I’m currently sitting in my room on my laptop while Rochelle is making dinner for us. I haven’t been acting weird ever since then. I’m also still scared to interact with others but I thought I’d warn the next person about Dr. Goodman or whatever name he’ll use next and do…

I just hope that you know you might be getting surveillanced right now without you knowing it.

Also one other thing…

Have you gotten or seen a new doctor or therapist you never met or heard before lately?

Source by innominatetitle
Mens Hair Styles 2015