Short Story (3 of 3)

[Noah]

Trapped Insanity (Memories)

I know nothing, I know not myself, I know not you. This place around me only confuses and distorts my reality. If this is my supposed life, then where is my being? Where is my realm of limitations? If this is my world, then why do I have no control? And if this is me, why dont I know who I am? Thus I walk around; angry, confused, hurt, and so very very lonely."


[[ Everything is dark. No sound, no light just an overwhelming nothingness. Out
of the nothingness comes a noise. The sound of a door opening is heard and then
several footsteps then the door slamming shut ]]
Tom: DAMMIT DON'T SLAM THE GODDAMN DOOR!
Chris: I'm sorry I didn't mean to, it was an accident.
Tom: BULLSHIT! THAT'S BULLSHIT! YOURE A FUCKING LIAR!
Chris: I'm not lying, honest.
Tom: DO YOU THINK IM SOME SORT OF FUCKING MORON, YOU GODDAMN FILTY LIAR! GET UP
TO YOUR ROOM 'FORE I SMACK THE PISS OUT OF YOU BOY!
Chris: But...
Tom: SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET UP TO YOUR GODDAMN ROOM!
[[ the noise continues and the footsteps are heard going upstairs and another
door opening. The light floods into the room illuminating everything, at first
the light is blinding. Chris enters the room and very carefully shuts the door
so as not to make a sound. He places his backpack on the floor and sits down on
a chair over by the desk with scattered papers. ]]
Chris: sigh...I hope your day was better than mine.
[[ The Chris turns to another kid sitting on the bed reading a comic book. The
other kid appears to be a few years older. Taller, with a bigger build and a
Pittsburgh Pirates hat on ]]
Exile: enh just another day. Here this came for you in the mail.
[[ The older boy tosses a package to Chris. The package is a small brown one
that has two different addresses on it. The one on the top left is from a
Richard Lemke in Atlanta Georgia. The center address says Christopher Lemke 1412
17th Street Pittsburgh, Pa 15016. The young Chris Lemke stares at the package
for awhile not moving. ]]
Exile: So what is it?
Chris: Its from dad
Exile: So open it
[[ Chris looks back down at the package and hesitates still ]]
Exile: Its not a bomb, Chris, just open the package.
Chris: alright.
[[ Chris tears open the brown wrapping paper revealing another package in
brightly wrapped colorful paper ]]
Exile: HAHAHHAHA IS THAT A BIRTHDAY PRESENT?
Chris: Yeah I think it is...
Exile: Your birthday was like 2 months ago!
Chris: I know, but he never remembers.
Exile: So open the present maybe its something neato
Chris: YEAH!
[[ Chris has a glimmer of hope in his eyes as he tears open the wrapping paper
but then as the present is revealed the hope fades ]]
Exile: What? What is it?
[[ Chris reaches into the package and pulls out a blue and red Atlanta Braves
hot. He flings it over towards the other boy who catches it and looks at it for
awhile before taking off his Pirates and replacing it with a new one]]
Exile: Well hey at least it fits
Chris: I don't even LIKE baseball.
Exile: Well your dad is an asshole man. You know that.
Chris: He cant even remember when my birthday is. HE DIDN'T EVEN SEND ME A CARD!

Exile: Weak man. That's weak.
Chris: I hate him
Exile: You don't hate him.
Chris: Yes I do! I hate him!
Exile: Then scream it. Let everyone know how much you hate him.
Chris: What?
Exile: SCREAM IT MAN!
Chris: I hate him.
Exile: SCREAM!
Chris: I HATE HIM!
Exile: CMON CHRIS SCREEEEEAMN!!!
Chris: I HATE HIM! I HAAAATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I HATE HIM! I HAAAAATE HIM!!!!
[[ Chris breaks down crying as the boy looks on with a smirk on his face ]]
Exile: Don't cry. Crying is for the weak. You gotta be strong Chris.
Chris: I am too strong. It just hurts.
[[ Suddenly the door is flung open and the outline of a large man is seen in the
doorway ]]
Tom: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?
Chris: N...noone sir
Tom: I HEARD YOU TALKING TO SOMEONE! WHO'S HERE!
Chris: Honest sir, there is no one here. I swear.
[[ Tom steps into the room and the light hits him showing a larger man with a
clean shaven face with a tan face and black hair. He's got a white button up
shirt with the top 5 buttons undone and a pair of tan slacks. In his left he has
an open bottle of bourbon, which is half empty. Tom walks over to the bed and
with his free hand grips underneath and flips over the bed causing a huge crash
and several things to break. ]]
Chris: THERES NO ONE HERE, HONEST!
Tom: BULLSHIT! I HEARD YOU TALKING! TELL ME WHERE THIS PERSON IS OR IM GOING TO
FIND HIM AND WRECK YOUR WHOLE ROOM IN THE PROCESS!
[[ Tom opens the closet door and starts throwing around clothes and other
objects looking for this mysterious stranger. Tom comes out of the closet after
finding nothing and stares at Chris. He walks several steps towards the child
and stares at him as Chris quivers in his chair ]]
Tom: Look I'm just worried about you. Tell me where this person is, Chris.
Chris: I told you, there is no one here
[[Tom brings his free hand across Chris' face, knocking him out of the chair and
under the desk. ]]
Chris: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! There's nobody here sir! I was just talking to
myself!
Tom: DON'T YOU LIE TO ME!!!
[[ Tom reaches under the desk and pulls out Chris who has a large welt on his
face from being struck and tears are streaming down his face as he continues to
claim his innocence. Tom grips Chris' arm tightly causing his to squeal out in
pain. Tom breathes a bourbon filled breathe in Chris' face causing him to look
away ]]
Tom: One...last...time. Where is he?
Chris: (between sobs) there's....no one...here
[[ Tom lowers his head for a second then raises it to meet Chris'. Then Tom
grips Chris' arm tighter and flings him into a already knocked over nightstand
causing a sickening thud. Before Chris can regain any composure, Tom comes back
of and slaps Chris again ]]
Chris: Please...stop! STOP!
Tom: DON'T YOU TELL ME WHAT TO DO!
[[ Chris looks to his left and there stands the older boy that was on the bed
earlier. He's watching with a look of disgust on his face ]]
Chris: help....me
Tom: WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO!
Exile: Quit crying
Chris: but...it...hurts!
Exile: Crying if for the weak.
Chris: IM NOT WEAK!
Tom: SHUT UP YOU STUPID FUCK!
[[ Tom strikes Chris again eliciting more sobs from the child ]]
Exile: I SAID STOP CRYING!
Chris: IT HURTS!
Tom: YOUR GODDAMN RIGHT THIS HURTS! YOU LITTLE FUCKING LIAR!
Exile: GET UP! GET TO YOUR FEET! DON'T LET HIM DO THIS!
Chris: I...can't
Tom: YOU CAN'T WHAT?!
Exile: YOU ARENT WEAK!
Chris: I'm....not....weak.
[[ Chris attempts to get to his feet as Tom looks on with a look of surprise on
his face, which quickly turns to anger. Tom picks Chris to his feet and gets
into his face.]]
Tom: YOU THINK THAT YOU ARE TOUGH BOY? DO YOU?
Exile: DON'T BE WEAK!
Chris: I'm...not...weak.
Tom: BULLSHIT!
[[ Tom brings his fist into Chris' stomach causing Chris to crash to his knees
unable to breathe. ]]
Tom: YOU THINK YOUR TOUGH?
[[ Tom rears back his right leg and kicks Chris harshly in the gut. Chris
collapses to the ground unable to breathe ]]
Exile: Get up.
Chris: can't.
Exile: GET UP!
Chris: get.
Exile: GET UP DAMMIT!
Chris: up.
[[ Tom looks around to the room to see who Chris is talking to but sees no one.
He picks Chris, who is bloodied and broken, back up and tries to get him to
stand up on his own but he's too injured at this point. Tom just hold him there
since Chris' cant stand ]]
Tom: You aren't tough boy. Look at you. Your pathetic. You'll always be pathetic

Chris: I'm...not...weak...
[[ Tom seems shocked at the child's resistance but his look of shock turns into
a grimaced look of rage ]]
Tom: ILL SHOW YOU HOW WEAK YOU ARE!
[[ Tom raises up the bottle of bourbon in his hand and pours it all onto Chris,
causing Chris to scream out as the alcohol burns his open wounds. Tom laughs at
the spectacle. Tom quits pouring the bottle and takes the last swig of liquor,
emptying the bottle. ]]
Tom: All gone!
[[ Tom raises up the bottle and brings it crashing down on Chris' forehead. The
bottle shatters to a thousand pieces and Chris falls to the ground lifeless as
Tom just stares down at him ]]
Tom: You will always be pathetic boy.
[[ Tom turns and walks away from the child and leaves the room slamming the door
behind him. Chris' struggled and labored breathing is the only audible noise.
The room is in total disarray and reeks of the spilled bourbon. Finally Chris is
able to regain some composure only to lose it by crying hysterically. ]]
Exile: Weak. Crying like a little baby. Your weak. You'll always be weak. That
will be your downfall Chris Lemke.
[[ Suddenly the light become very bright and everything in the room is drowned
in a bright white.]]



(Couldn't finish this one, there's a text size limit on these boards - If you're interested email me at [email protected] and I can send you the whole thing)