Drake's Day

-Unfinished- Drake has had a rough life up to today and now, he struggles to keep the tension within him. He now faces a day full of his most hated thing and has to finally make a decision.

    I shook in place as I saw the blood from the horrific gore slowly drip into my hand, the coldness seeming to make my vision blur until I finally blacked out.
    My brain seemed to be taken back, numbed and stunned, too horrified to think as it began to replay the days events before my dark blackened eyelids. It was a normal day, just like any other, waking up to my parents yelling at each other over dumb-a*s things they don't like about the other and how they acted. I roused a bit, still tired and sleepy from my dream of fantasy. I had rolled out of bed and stretched out somewhat, a few cracks emanated from my body when I did so. I threw on some pants and a t-shirt overlapped by a hoodie as I always enjoyed wearing. Though i  didn't just wear them because of my enthusiasm with the garment, but more so to hide the  cuts, bruises, and burns that riddled my arms and body from the others that would inspect my body. The hardest one to cover was one that really was tricky with hiding on my neck but all that would take would be a scarf of some sort. A fitting piece for the cold weather of North Dakota. I had headed out of my room and into the living room where both my mom and step father could be found. Looking around the floor, all you  could see were some toys for my little sis and empty beer bottles from the man that claimed to be my father,but clearly wasn't. A bottle that sailed quickly across the room had caught my eye, heading right towards my head as I ducked right in time for it to miss and shatter against the wall behind me, denting the wall a little and sending my heart in to a bit of a race. Jarred, the step father, had been the one to chuck it at me, telling me to get my a*s out of his house so he didn't have to see my poor pathetic a*s around there again, even though he knew good and god damned well he would see me later today once I had returned from school. Look at myself now, I kinda have to laugh at myself for how corrupt I had become in such little time. Only 17 years of age and so insane, so corrupted from the s**t my parents had put me through. The endless nights of abuse and torture they put me through for even the simplest of mistakes that they and I both know I hadn't meant to commit, but either way I'll talk probably think about that later. Anyway, as I made my way slowly across the sidewalk to shcool, I found my self relieved to know that I had my switch blade in my pocket and my dad's old revolver tucked safely away in my handbag so no one would see it.
    I slowly approached the school, walking at a pretty slow pace down the pavement, and seeing my friend, Christopher approaching me. He wore his usual happy go lucky smile spread wide across his smug little face, showing his nasty a*s yellow teeth that wreaked of rot and disgusting things he ate. God how I hated him for that and wished I could bring myself to just slam my fist in the side of his face and knock them out so I wouldn't have to look at those horrid yellow things any more. Even if it was a simple flaw in his design, he could at least not show off his disgustingness whenever he could. It's quite hard to believe he had a girlfriend that loved him with a mouth like his, ugh.  As he approached me, he called out to me, giving me a usual greeting for the morning. "Hey Drake, whats up? I see your still looking pale as usual." Hearing those words had lit my fuse and boiled my blood, the rage inside me starting to feel the desire to break out but keeping somewhat at bay. My hands clenched from there turning to fists as I shoved them into my pockets to restrain them some. Though, knowing where I kept my knife now made it really hard for me not to just whip it out and shove it into his wind pipe to slash up his throat for him so I wouldn't have to hear is annoying a*s voice ever again and deal with the s**t he gave me. I know I take things personally alot of the time, but even when I tell people that, they seem to try me the best they can just like the fucktard in front of me. "Ah, you know, just another day in the life I guess." I responded to him, keeping myself at bay from the violent images that passed through my head as he joined me on the commute to school this day.
    It took the usual twentyfive minutes of bull s**t that Chris gave me on the way to school for me to finally have some peace and quiet. He parted on his way to his first class as I went to mine to study before it started. Now, ever since I was in elementary school, there was this kid that everyone knew, Samuel or Sam for short, that was your typical popular jock a*****e who got anything he so desired. We seemed to share at least one class every year of school and haven't seemed to break that habit yet. Ever since then, he would call me names like "Drake the phantom of all ghosts" or everyone's favorite "Pale b***h" God how much I wish I could take his and everyone else's ego and just drown him in it. Just maybe if they knew how much I suffered from even those small insults. Well heh~ I guess sooner or later they'll get their just deserts. Anyway, today, there I sat in chemistry as I prepped myself for our lab today, knowing that it would be risky since we were experimenting with acid today. No one was in the class but me though, a bit of a difference in the kind of start to the day, but as long as it was quiet, I was happy. Within minutes I had my lab book ready and the materials prepped except for the acid on the table in front of me. I watched as a couple of people had started to enter the room, just a trio of the sophomores that were highly educated and had the okay from their old teacher to take a junior level course in their second year of high-school. I let out a bit of a sigh while I walked to the back room to grab my chemical, then noticed that there had been a small vial of left over hydrochloric-acid left on the counters in the back room. My mind seemed to pound away at my will as I looked at it closely, then took it. I quickly shoved it in my pocket just a second before you know who walked in to the back to greet me. "Well hello there Pale B***h, hows my favorite ghost today?" His voice was that of all the typical d*****s you'd hear. "Oh, I'm alright Sam, no need to worry, just getting ready for the project today." I simply responded as I grabbed my beaker of fluid and walk back to the classroom nonchalantly. I sat there through class, working with my lab partner, some blonde b***h that had no intentions of ever wanting to speak with me but was forced to work on the project with me. The class seemed to whiz by as the bell rang within what felt like twenty minutes.
        A slight sweat poured down my head as I exited the room. My mind raced as I pulled my back pack straps over my shoulders and secured it to myself.  My head seemed to be in scattered places as I walked down the hallway, shoved and jostled around by the a******s that roamed them. Plenty of things made my mind frightened, while at the same time enthralled with happiness as I stopped at my locker, putting in the same combination I had every time; 26, 14, 12 .  The numbers seemed to replay in my head as I opened the locker to find a note with my name on it. Written in beautious cursive writing, there my name was written as I reached in to grasp the small parchment to read what was on the inside. My mind had guessed it was just another letter from the b***h that I liked from my last  class of the day. What a surprise I had when I found out I was right and my eyes rolled over. I began reading, feeling a bit dumbfounded when she talked about having an interest in me but still at the same time upset when she said that she still had some other feelings for that a*****e Samuel. It didn't come to me as much as a surprise when I read that part and how she could still love that heartless a*****e Sam. I looked around the hallway and then to the note, tearing it up and tossing the scraps behind me, then grabbed my books for therest of the day that I'd be using. I started walking up and down the halls en route to my next class, my mind thinking about the other bullshit things that could be going on when one particular thought stuffed itself inside my head and wouldn't leave. The thought of a blood lust homicide on the ones that I hated filled my brain. The irony of it was that I hated seeing blood. For how much pain I, my family, and the others put me through, I never understood how me of all people still got queazy at the sight of blood. But now my mind ran free, thinking about where I would have to cut on the body of another to derive teh most from someone's wounds. I immediately puked the second I stepped into the next class, being jeered and laughed at by the others. The teacher of the room had calmed them down and requested I leave the room and stated I was obviously too sick to be in school. She had sent me out with this kid named Benjamin to the infirmary, who had smelled of really high end cologne. We had reached a hall way outside the main building where most of the fights and beat downs took place. All of them taking place there mostly because there was no cameras in that specific area of the school but also because of the dangerous jagged corners and uneven ground beneath our feet. Right then, I stopped, holding up in my stance as I looked down at the slighly blood covered pavement. "Say, Ben, do you know who I am? Do you know what I am? Do you know what pain and suffering is?" I had bombarded him with question, letting him answer aftwerward with what he thought would be the answer. I had let out a deep chuckle as I reached back behind me and into my pocket to talk a good firm grip of my knife, pull it out, and flip it open so he couldn't see it. "Okay then ben, here....Let me show you something. This should give you a better understaning of what true suffering is." He seemed to shake a little from my words until I took a good grip of his collared shirt and bring him close to me as I drove the sharpened tip of the blade as deep as I could into his stomach, coaxing a good quick gasp to come from his lips. His white collard shirt stained red as he choked up a liitle, feeling the knife somehow digging itself deeper into his body, causing me to gag up a little.  A bit of unsettlement set into me as the blood got on my hand, but I pulled through and kept it in enough to regain composure and start to pull my hand, as well as the knife, side ways to cut over and across his body to his appendix, deriving forth more and more of his blood. I let go of his shirt and stepped back, yanking the knife away from his body, puling a bit of chunks of his insides with me. Seeing such a horrific sight causes me to vomit again into the blood on the ground that began to pool up on the ground underneath the poor souls body. Before I knew what I was doing, I pulled his head up, roughly by his hair and then took his jaw, forcing it open as I snatched his tongue up with my index finger and thumb. I then slowly inserted the knife into his mouth, pushing side to side to slash open his cheeks some and then plant the blade at the very base of his tongue. I had to yank fairly hard and cut across his tongue to pull it out and detatch it from his mouth, thus causing him to start squirting blood all over the ground, making gargling noises while he twitched and writhed on the floor until he was limp. Ben seemed to gurgle on his own red colored life as it oozed out of his body and pooled on the ground under his head and stomach. I took him by the ankles and pulled him to a dark corner where no one would possibly be able to spot him in the outside hallway. I had taken a look at myself, somewhat covered in my vomit, and then my shoes splattered with a bit of blood from Ben. I was a bit nervous to  continue to the infirmary with the blood where it was, but knowing myself and the way I did things, I just continued on my way after taking the razor sharp edge of the blade, and quickly cutting my leg across a less vital point where nothing would be damaged except my skin and actually look like the shoes were just a mess from that. I would lie to the nurse and tell her that I had just got tripped up on the ground on the way there and got cut on one of the sharp jagged poles that were left over.
     I finally made it to the clinic, telling the nurse of my happenstances the way I planned and what happened before the class had started and about my leg. She had payed my mother a call and within a good fifteen minutes, I was in the car, bandaged up, and on the way home with my pack on the floor in front of me. Upon arrival, I left the knife in the car, not wanting to see the bloody edge of it anymore, and walked inside, holding my stomach as it slightly wretched. I collapsed on to my bed and layed there, feeling the sorrow of having taken the life of Ben and how he now had turned cold and dead in the most non-seen part of our school. I opened my computer up and had seen that a few messages popped up about my incident puking at school, another about how Sam had been awarded yet another medal for football and the usual "school prodigy" stories. I rolled over on to my back and pulled up my pant leg to examine my cut wound to examine it, but seeing the bloody rag that bound it and kept it sterile made me feel even sicker at what lay beneath the medical bandage. I shook my head and rid my mind of the though, assaulting my brain with the images of some other things to do and keep myself active and under some sort of sanity within my own home. I got up and paced a bit, ran around in my head and then went to the car to grab my knife just before my mother left again for her job over at the hospital. I took a seat at my desk back in my room and opened up my journal I kept underneath all my other bullshit on the flat surface. I read the names off in order and began to think about what I could do with my spare time. I did what seemed reasonable at the time. I wrote a letter to the person that would find out who I was and what I did to Ben this day and what my intentions were for the others. To add to that, I put in a little addition about how it was the worlds time to suffer and that it was about time I could be happy. I told of how within the next few nights I planned on killing a variety of people that I was tired of taking s**t first, starting with the one that everyone loved...Samuel.
          I stopped my pen, feeling as if I had written enough for the time being, then rested back in my bed for a while, waiting as the day went by, slowly. My ears perked up a little bit and thus caused my body to sit up and rest against the wall as I realised my step-father had returned home from work. My mom was the first to tell him what had happened, giving him the whole run down of  my incident with the puke and leg. I got up and walked over to my door to crack it open just a little bit to hear them better as the two conversed. After my mother had told him of my day, he used words that seemed to rind in my ears. "Huh, I guess the failure finally is giving out on us and shutting down just as I thought he would." My tension snapped inside my body as I rose out of bed and grabbed the knife off my desk. I then stormed out of my room until I was right up in his face, "Okay, I've f*****g had it with you! Tell me what the f**k your problem with me is! What have I done done to make you think I'm such a failure and a piece of s**t?! Huh! Give me an answer now or just shut your f*****g mouth before I stitch it shut!" He seemed a bit hesitant before he laughed in my face, pretty much giving me the message that he didn't give two s***s about what I just told him.
        The final straw had been taken when he did this, my fist came up and slammed against his jaw, causing him to stumble backwards and fall over on to his back to smack his head against the ground, knocking him out. I held my fist and gritted my teeth as my mom rushed to my side from the corner of my eye and then layed a very forceful back hand slap across my face that kind of turned my head violently. I looked back at her and gave a look of pure evil. She stood her ground and waited a few seconds for me to react to her actions while I stood in thought of my next move which happened in just a few seconds later. I took a bit of balls to hit her back, but I did, and when I did, she knew that I wasn't one to fuck around with and that I wasn't in any mood to fight with my own mother.   She looked up at me, giving me a look of pure grief from my smack back across her face. I looked back, feeling little to no sympathy for her as I slowly took another step towards her. I had yet another moment of hesitation when I raised my foot up to around knee height, but resumed action and thrust my the sole of my foot right in to her nose, breaking it and shoving the shattered bones back and up into her brain to kill her.  Her body fell backwards as some of her blood dripped from her nostrils and some other bits leaked from the corners of her mouth. My eyes didn't leave hers, knowing that hers wouldn't flinch, blink, or see anything any more. I knelt beside her and shut her eyelids, then spat on her corpse, knowing that, even after I had killed her and given her the final sleep she deserved, I still hated her.
    The other task of dealing with my step dad had presented itself to me once I turned away from the b***h I called mom. I moved my position to my father's upper torso, taking him by the wrists and dragging him back to my room where I started to think about my next move. I ran to the garage and looked around, pulling some duct tape out of the tool box and then trying to find a way to keep him from moving around when I tortured him. I guessed some chains would work since we didn't have and rope just laying around. I went back to the room and saw him stiring in his state, seeming to rouse from his unconscious state. I quickly rushed over and threw another punch across his face to put him back into the blackness of unconsciousness. It took me a while to get him there, but once I got that prick in to the garage, the real fun began.
    I took the chains and bound him by his ankles and wrist, then hung him from a hook that was up on the ceiling. A couple of strips of the tape had to go on or else people would hear the screaming that would come from his muzzle, which I intended to stop before he could get any words or muffled yells out and beg for forgiveness. Once awake once more, to see where he was, he seemed a bit distant, feeling like he as in a dream of some sort. The chains around his wrist seemed to dig in to his flesh and lashed away in to his skin, causing some blood to spill forth before I even had a chance to give him a little bit of pain. I shrugged, feeling unchanged from the sight, then turned to my side where a stereo lay. I popped in a cd of some classical music, then turned my attention back to my step father. I had a bit of a plan layed out, but some improv was needed to torture this spawn of pure a*****e. So what did i do, you may ask? Well, to start off this torture, I looked around my area of work and found a good sledge hammer, picked it up and flipped it around in my hand.He stared at me with somewhat of a fearful gaze as I circled his dangling body a couple of times until I stopped in front of him. What happened next immediately gave him the action to scream, muffled greatly from the tape, in great pain. I took the hammer, wound up behind me, and swung it in to his shins, snapping both of the tibia and fibula with a loud and audible crunch  that rattled the doors. I proceeded around him as he started to breath more unevenly and swung again, letting the hard, rubber end make contact with his shoulder blade to shatter it. An agonizing pain it must have been to feel you r body being slowly broken down and destroyed bone by bone.
  I dropped the hammer and then stepped out of the garage momentarily to grab a few more tools of the trade torturer and then placed them on the work bench behind my dad. "too bad old man... too bad for you, but you fucked yourself long ago. Now, it's time I took my revenge on you." I went silent again as I turned around, holding a sewing kit in both hands, then reaching out and taking a firm hold of the tape covering his mouth to tear it of. I tossed the adhesive over to the side of the room before yanking his head back by his hair, then tugging upwards on it, feeling the follicles slowly ripped out of his head. I stopped myself short of making my next move to put the sewing materials back down on the bench and then throw my knee into his jaw, putting his head back again and then threw my hands around his neck, staring to squeeze as hard as I can as I began to watch his face, seeing it slowly turn white from lack of air. I made sure to keep my grip on him for a few minutes before letting go and then and then waiting for him to take a few breaths, then resuming my grip on his throat,    tighter than I had before so he could hardly breath after I let go the next time. The last time I did it to this piece of s**t in front of me, I watched his eyes closely seeing them slowly fall out of their sockets as the tendons connecting them followed, still attached to his head and white orbs of vision. My stomach sank, feeling its usual feeling when blood was factored in, starting to want to regurgitate and turn away from the sight, but I persisted and shook the feeling away, giving a long, heartfelt yell as I took each of the whites in my hands, then pulled, feeling, as well as seeing, the red tendrils of connecting fiber rip off and come out. That was all it took, that one feeling of his  eyes being torn out and robbed of his vision threw my stomach in to the spin cycle as I tossed my stomach on to the man as well as the floor, dropping the whites and hearing his yells come forth ragged and very strained, as his throat was practically crushed from my choking him.

My stomach continuously rolled over, spilling my guts over and over on to the floor. I tried to get the image of what just happened out of my head, but couldn't, considering that the man's eyes were still in my hand, squishing and, within time, popping in my grasp. I started to hold back with my stomach acid until I finally stopped and then resumed my original plan. I wiped some of the vomit from my mouth, then took up the sewing needle and wire from the table, my grip starting to shake as I left his head laying back. I made quick work with my needle the best I could, penetrating his lips to connecting the two together as I slowly stabbed the sharp tip from his bottom lip to top repeatedly. Now it seems like an easy, simple task, but when I was sewing, it felt like it took forever and more resistance was there and that it took forever to get even half of it done. I had to think about it for a second as I stopped myself half way, wondering why this task was so tedious to me, though when I opened up the un-sewn side, i found my answer. I had, by mistake, sewn further in than desired and started to put his tongue in to the mangled mass of stitching wire. I continued soon after, now thinking about how it felt to have my own tongue pierced repeatedly and entirely attached to my lips for however long I had left to live. About another quarter of the way to the other side of his mouth, I felt some tension on the wire. Not constant, but every few seconds that passed. I didn't know what it was, but I could hear a tearing sound coming from his mouth. I couldn't believe it; he was trying to free his tongue from the wire. I never thought he would think of doing it let alone go through with it, but he did it with only a few yanks back into his mouth. Sad really, because soon enough I finished the stitches with minimum amount of blood seeping out from the corner of his mouth. I quickly tied the end of the wire to his cheek and then walked to the side of the garage, pulling up a chair to the space in front of him and just taking a seat in front of him as his mouth began to fill up with blood. Sitting there in front of him gave me time to think, to really break down in to pieces what's been done. I thought about what kind of person I became as I watched the man in front of me slowly twitch and cough from the blood filling up in his mouth. I already kind of felt bad for having to kill him, but honestly, he deserved it. I really couldn't help but to stifle a slight laugh at him while he squirmed around on the floor, trying to get a simple breath as well as the blood out of his lungs.

To be continued.....~

Reviews

[BrinaMarie]

I need to finish reading it, but so far it's rather intensely interesting . Also, if it helps, you can make it into a book rather than a story, so you can continuously add chapters rather than editing the same story over and over. I'll give you a in depth review once I have time. Either way, nice righting~