Subjects of My Sanity - Part 1 by Terrasa
Standard disclaimers apply

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~Subject One~

I died.

I know I did.

I could see the ground below, thirty feet from where I stood. I could feel the churn of my stomach as I started my descent down. It felt like a roller coaster… the fastest I’ve ever been on. And the most thrilling, because I know… I know that after this I will be dead. I could just barely see as the concrete came into view… no flashes come before my eyes. No unfulfilled past promises are haunting me… I just am.

But I don’t die.

As I lay on the hard black ground, I stare up into the foggy sky. My heart is beating fast against my chest from the exhilaration on my fall… but my mind was cursing myself over and over again for the failure.

I had failed once again.

I couldn’t possibly count the number of times that I have tried to kill myself, tried to end it and go to the nothingness beyond. Every time… I find myself without a scratch… scars disappeared from when I had chopped vehemently at my wrists. And there is no reason why… there is no answers to me that make sense.

Except for that damn pounding in my head. Yes, that stupid beat that drums against my skull as I am just about to hit the black and become a pile of nice bloody goo. I can’t say that it is a voice… but for some reason I understand it… much to my annoyance.

I cant die yet.

That is all it will tell me… me! The one person who would love to die more than anyone. I would not be able to… not be able to… for how long?

But it never answers me.

It never answers my angry cry… calling it a bastard… calling myself a fucked up freak.

All I can do is live… in this world I hate so much, with the people I want to die even more than myself. Inside though, I’m a real softy… couldn’t even hurt an ugly cow. Funny how I can manage to mutilate myself… but maybe it is because of the thought that it will disappear, leaving no trace.

Could that be how I’ve gotten the courage to try and kill myself so many times? Because of the fact that I know I wont die? No… I always go into it thinking that maybe this is the one… maybe my time has finally come. Whatever purpose I have for being alive should have past by now, right? I mean… its been so long… its been six years since the start of my self hatred. I can still see the cold eyes of the ten year old, staring into the mirror… bringing a bottle of bleach to his lips.

It did nothing.

And I was relieved… but got curious as to why the bleach had suddenly turned into water. The smell was obvious that it ‘was’ bleach at first… I didn’t understand.

The next time was with a handful of aspirin… there was no way ‘they’ could turn into water. It didn’t have to… candy was sufficient enough.

Someone up there (look at me as I point to my dirty ceiling) hates me. And I don’t mean god… ok, so I do mean him in some way… but also the people who raised me… living upstairs. They’re up, because I’m down… down in the dark comfortable basement they shoved me in, telling me that I wasn’t suppose to come upstairs until dinner time. Yes, I am only allowed to roam the free range of my (maybe ten foot) bedroom. Asking is the number one joy of this family. Never take without consent. I have no fucking freedom… I feel like a slave going, “Master… may I please have a glass of water.” It fucking sucks.

I want out.

But I cant ever get out now can I? Nope, not me, not the boy who cant die! Not the boy who’s trapped on this fucking hell hole. The boy whose family is a bunch of fucking stuck up boring ass pricks! Yes, they sit there with their tea and crumpets thinking, “Oh, its so nice that we have our little dog trained.” Of course, I’m the dog now aren’t I?

The reason I tried to kill myself the first time… them… those stupid people upstairs who care for me… ok, it was more like chained me up to a wall and beat me until I behaved. Maybe if I was lying in a coffin they would finally love me… finally hug me like any parent should. That is what I wanted… I wanted them to feel sorry for the way they treated me… but no… I’m never going to get out of here. I don’t even think they’ll let me go after high school!

Oh god, please let me get out of here after I graduate! I don’t believe in you at times… ok… I don’t believe in you that much… but you already took away my life… by making it so I couldn’t take away my own… so give me my fucking freedom already!

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~Subject Two~

I sighed, running a hand loosely over the top of my head. More customers would come today, another day in which I will feel like throwing up. The disgusting memory burned into my mind, of their hands on my body… mouth kissing me… fingers roaming in unwanted areas. The pain that lances through me every time they take me… I hate myself for it.

It started when I was ten… that was the time I met… him. Him who is now my… I guess you could call him Mr. ‘Pimp’. Though he doesn’t call himself that. He says he’s da’ boss. He talks like that too, always using ‘duh’ instead of ‘the.’

It was my birthday… the day that I met the boss. Not so much met as ran into the short disfigured man. I think the first thing that went through my mind was… ew, a disgusting bum.

That was my first time with someone… I didn’t call it rape… because I didn’t know what rape was at the time. I never paid much attention in school… never listen to my parents warnings. But it was too late now, wasn’t it? They died a month before my birthday, a month before I ran away from the stupid orphanage they wanted to put me in. And where did I end up? A damn whore house is where. I knew I screwed up… but it was too late to change it now… there was no way I would ever get free.

“Kisama!” My single booted foot connected with the bed as I realized that no matter how much I looked, a matching boot was not going to come out of hiding. “Stupid freakin… Kisama! PAIR get in here!” I yelled towards the slightly opened door to my left. This door led to Pair’s room, a hot tempered boot stealer.

“What you yelling for so early, babe?” Her long black hair was thrown casually over her shoulder as she leaned cockily on the door frame, smirk set on her perfectly red lips. I had to admit, she was an attractive person… well, would have been attractive if I didn’t know her, and maybe just saw her for the first time. Anyone who actually speaks to the woman would be turned off by her horribly blunt and smart ass attitude. The boss had often ordered her to keep her mouth shut with customers, after the last one had beat her up for her “smart lip.”

“Don’t call me that! What did you do with my knee high?” I growled as she batted her lashes innocently at me. “I know you took it!” I yelled standing up and walking over towards her in order to look more domineering. Which wasn’t easy… since I was about two feet shorter than her. God how I hated tall woman. Ok, I don’t think I liked woman much at all… not since coming here, that is.

Pair… it wasn’t her real name, but none of us ever went by our own, it was supposedly forbidden. She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling before they fell upon her own shoes, the tilt of her head made me look down to what she wanted me to see.

“Kisama! Why the hell do you always do that! Give it back!” I reached down to try and unlace the knee high boot on her right foot. The other foot consisted of a shorter black boot, it was her ‘thing’ to always where different shoes on each foot. Much to my annoyance. Pair seemed to love taking my shoes… I think she enjoyed it because I was the only one with almost as hot a temper as her’s… and therefore the only one she could ‘play’ with without making cry.

Yes… I really hate these woman.

“Aww… Why’s ya gotta be all mean for baby?” Ugh, how I wished that the word ‘baby’ (hear me say it with repulsion) had never been invented… if only so I wouldn’t have to feel the disgust that ran through me every time someone called me that. Yeah, that was my whore house ‘code’ name. I hated it with a passion… but I didn’t have much choice in the choosing. Since I was the shortest… youngest… and only shitin male in the whole damn place they took it upon themselves to tease me… since I was the “baby.”

“Pair! You bitch! Give it here or I’ll give you a second black eye to match your right!” Her eyes narrowed as I threatened her. No one liked to get messed up… it was bad for business. And if you weren’t making any… then the boss would see to you personally. Truthfully, I would rather die than fuck that disgusting man again. Even thinking about it makes my blood run cold and I have to take a couple deep breaths to calm myself.

Pair ended up kicking the boot across the room, I didn’t yell at her after that, too pleased that she was leaving. Also, I was in too much of a hurry. I was being called away, had to go make one of our ‘house visits’. It was rare that we were actually allowed to leave the little hell hole apartment complex (where the business took place) for a job. But every once in awhile we had to go… pleasure the richo snobo’s who were obviously too good to come down to our dump… yet they still were good enough to buy an illegal prostitute. That never made much sense to me… but I don’t ask any more questions. I had learned my lesson.

I was never getting away from this place.

Surprisingly, I ‘was’ allowed to go to school… even if it was only once and a while. The excuse was that I was sickly, so only could attend a couple days a week. The boss had ‘saw potential’ in me, as he had stated. He had big plans for an educated prostitute that could help him take care of the money… which I do anyway. I don’t think the man can count all that well, and he wants to make sure that he is getting everything. He trusts me with it… which was a big mistake. I’ve already stolen a couple thousand from the man, and it was damn easy.

It’s gone now though… I spent it all. Not on myself, if only I were that fortunate. They’d know if I were to come back with more clothes or accessories than my weeks measly pay could afford. Yes, so I had to do something else with the money.

A boy came in here a couple weeks back. He was about the age I was when I first came. It scared me, to think that he would become like me, I didn’t want another horrible person to be created. So I pulled him aside one day… talked to him… he didn’t want to be here. No one did at first. But, like me, it was his last option. I can still remember the tears that filled his bright eyes as I gave him the money, telling him he could take it as long as he promised me one thing.

I made him promise to never stoop so low as to sell himself, use the money to find a better job… this life really wasn’t worth it.

Death was probably sweeter… but that is the weak way to go… too sinful of a way. I’ve done enough damage to my pride… suicide would shame my soul. Though I do admit I think about it sometimes, lying there in a pile of my own blood, after a rather aggressive customer has had their fun… I think of what it would have been like if I were to die… maybe I’d finally be happy. Maybe not, but anything was better than this, right?

But once again I tell myself that it was my own fault for being here in the first place. I was the one who ran away from the orphanage… who stupidly stayed when there still was a chance. It was all my fault… so I must live with the consequences and maybe be able to salvage some of my pride in the future.

I never saw that boy again… and I looked too. Every street corner… watching to see if he was there selling himself, seeing if he had broken his promise. I didn’t see him again… and that was as much reassurance as I needed… to know that even if he was bad off, he wasn’t ‘this’ bad off. Because nothing in my dictionary is as bad as doing something you hate… something you know your going to regret, yet you do it anyway… because that’s all you can do. Because the damn lid of fortune wouldn’t open enough to give you a piece of the prize.

Kisama! All of them!

It’s time to go… another damn richie to please. Heh, maybe I’ll be able to steal a silver spoon.

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~Subject Three~

Humming softly to myself, I made my way through the maze of hallways called my home. It was too big, one of the things I disliked about it. It was like walking through an endless tunnel of misery… that’s all this place gives off… my misery. There was a time when I did enjoy it here, did love the huge castle like home that my rich father bought. It didn’t last though… this short term happiness. I saw it for what it really was soon enough… a big waste of space.

I would have said I hated living here… but father always said hate was too strong of a word, and there was no way you could actually ’hate’ anything. He was wrong though, there is plenty for me to hate.

There are at least fifty maids that clean the rooms… fifty maids that clean the ‘unused’ rooms. Its pathetic really. We don’t even use them yet we have them! What for?

Of course if I were to ask that… well, I don’t know what would happen if I did. I don’t even want to think of the consequences.

Yes, I am weak… I bow down to my almighty father and obey his every command. Not that I have much choice… I was raised that way, can’t change myself so far out into the programming process. I’ve tried… the words just wont come out of my mouth, the words to tell my father what I ‘really’ think of him.

He’s old… and what can you associate with an old bachelor? A pervert. There are other things I would like to call him, but my mind is not supplied with those words. I am carefully taught, if I might add. Nothing bad can go into my head. That was what my father told my teachers, anyway.

Yeah, I was home schooled. Although I will finally be allowed to go to high school this year. My freshman year, in order to learn to socialize… one of the key things needed for the position I will be taking over. I don’t want to take over the company… I have this fear… that if I do, I will turn out like my father.

Let me go into a little more of why I strongly dislike him… why I can barely even look the man in the eye anymore. It’s because of my mother. She died when I was young… my father would love for me to forget about her, yes, he would pay quite a sum for it. Why? Because I was there when he killed her. Not so much as in outright murder… just by not helping her when she needed it most.

At the young age of thirty she had a heart attack. The doctors said she would probably have more, because of her weak heart. Sure, we could have gotten a new one for her, with all the money she had and all… did I mention that the money was hers? It was all my mothers. She chose to not spend ‘her’ money to get her name put on the top of the list for a donor… she didn’t want to have anyone die because of her non-official hand. If that makes sense.

Soon after that she had another attack. There was a good chance that she would survive… but my father neglected to call the ambulance in time. The phone was right next to him, he just stood there, with a weird expression on his face as he watched her collapse to the floor. He watched, I watched, as she took her last breath, eyes never leaving mine even in death. I didn’t scream, I didn’t yell at my father for not saving her… for calling the ambulance only after she was dead. I didn’t tell the police the truth about what happened… I just silently sat, and nodded my head like the good puppet I was. I agreed with everything my father said like I was his miniature body double… and that’s what he wanted me to be. Him, in and out. Though I will never be him inside! I wont let myself do the horrible things he does.

Bide my time. All I can do is wait. Eventually he will die… eventually I will be let go from his tight control.

But as the years past… I started to hate myself more for my weak decision… hated myself for killing my mother. Yes, I killed her… I am no better than that son of a bitch of a father. I just stood there as she died, didn’t do anything… I’m just like him… a murderer.

“Drat!” I cursed lightly as I stubbed my toe on the bedroom door. For some reason they always have a hard time opening and it drives me nuts. Its like father personally saw to it that the doors all stuck so he wouldn’t be caught doing something… naughty.

Speaking of indecent things to do… my eyes scanned the hall as I heard a loud tapping of some foreign shoe walking down the hallways. That’s when I saw him, turning from around the corner. His knee high boots banging loudly on the tile floor as if announcing his amazing entrance into the world of high class.

Nothing about him stated ‘rich’. But I already knew who he was… he was one of ‘them’.

Coal black eyes met mine for a moment as the small boy passed. I shivered as I took in the cold expression lying within their depths. He was unhappy… I could see it in the way he walked, not cockily like I’ve seen the other ‘boys’ my father had requested strut around. His shoulders were slumped, in defeat… maybe of his life.

I know, I shouldn’t have done it… but I started to feel sorry for the boy. He didn’t seem to be any older than me and would pass for a normal teenager if not for his clothes, tight and slutty… just the way they were suppose to be… just the way my father most likely liked his ‘boys’.

His shiny black hair was pulled tightly into a short ponytail… the grease was evident making me realize that he probably didn’t get to bathe much. But that is the poor for you… cant waste water… a freaking natural resource that is so expensive. Yet my stuck up rich family has two pools we don’t even use… of perfectly good water!

The boy past me quickly, as if unnerved that my eyes were trailing down him… god! He must think I was like the perverted old man. Like father like son, huh? My curiosity made me watch him some more though, as he swayed nervously down the hallway towards my fathers room. Peeking around the corner, I couldn’t help but smile as I saw him eyeing the silverware left outside one of the rooms for a servant to pick up. His right hand reached out and quickly snatched one of the spoons. I had to cover my mouth to stop the giggle that wanted to escape.

My humor soon disappeared as I remembered why the boy was here. Never, I would never stoop so low as to…

“Ugh!” I rubbed my hand over my aching forehead as I entered my room. All that rambling in my brain was giving me a pretty big headache. I must think too much… got to stop that somehow. But I cant help being a daydreamer… daydreaming about the life I never had… my problems that were never solved… I was really pathetic.

Laying on my soft overly priced bed, I stared gloomily up at my ceiling, wondering what it would be like to live in that boy’s world… a young Chinese boy having to sell himself only to survive. Sell his body to the greedy rich overstuffed pigs of politicians. He probably envies the rich people… not having to worry about where their next meal will be. But, at least he doesn’t have to live knowing what he will become.

My future holds nothing new. Everything is planned… I even had a damn fiancé at the age of seven. And do you know what I dislike most of all?

I ‘hate’ the feeling I have inside… see father? There is something I can hate… something I hate even more than you! I know I don’t like girls! I know I will never love my wife. I long for someone of the same sex… and I will become my father. The man who did not love his wife… the man who didn’t even care that she was dying… the man who takes little boys for lovers. Will I do that to?

I wonder how the color red would look… running down my skin… my wrists to be exact. Blood for the naughty boy I will not become… I should just kill myself before it is too late… before I become completely brainwashed to become my fathers… my fathers… copy. Yes, that is all I am… I am not my own person anymore…

Now about that color red…

 

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TBC

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