January 20, 2008
YoYoYo! PD is back in the house! Hehe, well..sure you've heard this story from me before but I want to continue this fic or at least try to! First, what must we do? REVISE THIS POOPIE!
Hey. In away this is a sequel to Maybe I am Sick. This time, Ponyboy is dealing with his demons, the voices…he other personalities. In Maybe I am Sick, I tried to hint at the idea he had DID (Dissociative identity disorder) once known as MPD (multiple personality disorder) which is is a psychiatric diagnosis described as a mental illness in which one person displays multiple distinct identities or personalities, each with its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment
So here is some more of my mess, hehe.
Disclaimer: Of freaking course I do not own The Outsiders or any of the characters. But, that does not mean I can't torture them until SE Hinton says 'No'!
First Person Plural-
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair unruly and wet upon my scalp, the very tips of my hair still blonde. Those blonde tips held the pain of the past months. In my right hand, new brown bottle of peroxide, the price label still attached: $.30 cents from Ralph's Pharmacy.
I continued to stare at my reflection; my left hand quickly ran over the towel draped across my shoulders, I watched as a drop of water or sweat ran down my forehead and reached the bridge of my nose before my left hand wiped it away.
The bottle of peroxide was unscrewed and the white cap was placed to the side, brown bottle was raised as my body bowed forward my head closer to the sink, liquid was slowly poured…I could hear it run down, drop and drain into the sink.
A sigh escaped from my lips. I continued to wait.
I knew my head and ears were getting cold. But, I couldn't feel it, I couldn't feel anything.
The process was repeated. I waited again.
The smell of peroxide made me want to gag, made me want to cry…if I could.
Whoever said scent is the strongest sense tied to memory I waned to punch in the throat. They were correct, too correct. Memories came flooding back; Johnny tugging on my hair as his pocket knife cut through the clumps, Johnny laughing at me as I threw every curse I could think of at him, Johnny-
Shut up, you sound like a love-sick puppy. A voice snarled.
God, help me.
I like the smell of witch-hazel. A quiet voice whispered in the back corner of my mind.
My hand turned the knobs of the sink, and water rushed out the facet, my head was ducked under, the chemical was rinsed out my hair.
I then saw my reflection. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I wasn't able to. My hair was once again bleached to its unnatural color: blonde, like it had been those many months ago by Johnny.
Johnny…I miss him, I wish he were still here. He could help me.
"But, he's not" A quiet voice said, it sounded right next to me. So close. I knew it was, but it wasn't.
I know, he's not.
"You killed him." The voice said again, closer. Almost, if speaking right into my ear in the darkness.
I…killed…I…I wanted Darry, I wanted Soda.
My reflection started at me coldly, a smirk slowly taking place.
"But Ponyboy," A mockingly hurt voice was coming from my body, but it wasn't my voice, kind of, this voice was feminine, cold, and emotionless, "Why would you want them, when you have us?"
We…us…them…my demons, my voices. Turns out they were more, so much more than that. These demons, in my head, could push me back and confine me in my own head…they would then take over, and run my life…run me. They did as they pleased.
"Whether you like it or not." The smirk turned into a wicked grin, a laugh escaped from 'my' lips.
A laugh that sounded inhuman. A laugh that I would never laugh.
To be Continued…
So, guys? What cha' think? Interesting or not? Continue or just dump in the river? I'm really interested in doing this piece. Hope you guys want me to continue. So, please review!
January 20, 2008
Woot! I'm tired and I think my son is planning to kill me! A RL Stewie…Babies are scary!!! He won't stop staring at me not only is it him but my Weenie dog too!