User talk:Christa Fiedor

(Experiment 666)

Oh God…I just hope this gets to somebody that can help…I pray to God there’s somebody there that will pick this up as I hear the screams of my parents being murdered and hear the sound of flesh being torn and eaten and the breaking of bones being cracked and gnawed on…All I can do to keep my sanity is write. They’re dead, they’re fucking dead. Hell, they might not even be dead yet and are still fighting for their lives. My name is not important but I might as well write down my story before I end up taking my life or, worse, he ends up making me his own. I always had a stitch plush that I carried around, you know the cute little blue guy from Lilo and Stitch. I took him everywhere with me, no matter where I went he went. I even carried him to school with me, mostly for my own comfort that he was with me and would be willing to talk to me when I needed it. Of course he couldn’t talk, but I pretended he could and I would usually end up having long conversations or debates with him and not just in my head. When I was alone with him at home I would talk to him out loud. I even got in an argument with him at one point, I ended up losing it. Anyway, it was the beginning of my last year in high-school. Yes I did carry him all through high-school and I don’t regret any minute of it, at least I didn’t at the time. He was my only friend throughout my whole school term but when senior year hit…I wish I never took him with me during that year. I had decided to take Advanced Art for my first semester since, well, I liked drawing and got tired of just sitting around in a desk wasting my life away doodling on small sheets of paper or on the side of my paper. I mean I had taken Art classes before in high-school so I figured I’d try my hand at a more advanced class of it. I love drawing and this was a chance to go and make something that I might actually want to keep, other than Stitch. I soon realized it was a mistake the minute I walked in. Everyone there looked like a popular kid by the way their clothes were and the fact that they were all talking to each other about football or some shit and I was the only one sitting at my desk alone drawing a picture of a man with a scraggy beard, other than Stitch who was in the medium pocket of my book bag laying there all nestled and quiet. I should mention that my parents normally fight, I mean really fight. First it’s the yelling and it slowly progresses to punching, kicking, and even biting. My mother had come out of a fight with my dad with her ear missing and my father’s nose had been broken. Everyone seemed to expect me to be mentally stable enough for school. That wasn’t a happening thing. I tried my best not to get noticed in that class, people who notice you the day you go in are usually the ones that will make fun of you the most there. Luckily it worked for a week or two, until the teacher said we were going to need to partner up. I get bored easily and when I get bored I tend to run my mouth so one thing lead to another and I quickly went from being the “silent kid” to being the class’s play thing. Every day from then on they did whatever they could to mess with me, torment me, and play around with my mind. Some days on the ride back from school, because I rode the bus home, I would just stare out at the window and cry. Silently. I didn’t want people to know I was breaking and usually didn’t tell anyone. If they asked why I had red eyes on the bus ride home I would just smile and tell them I had just got done yawning or my eyes were itchy. Soon the teacher joined in on the fun. He would bring me out in front of the whole class or snatch things off my desk saying they weren’t supposed to be out and then he’d call my art work worthless and that I should work more and stop fooling around, which I never did. I did my best in that class every-fucking-day. It was like living in Hell every day, and Stitch watched it all unfold. Then one day I just started snapping at them in a rude, unamused tone telling them to leave me alone or shut up when they tried to talk to me. I was just tired of them making fun of me and telling me why I should just go and kill myself while I was still young. They would look over my shoulder and laugh at the drawings I did no matter how good they really were. I didn’t, I didn’t want any of this to happen. I mean at the time I did but now? I’m terrified. That day haunts me even now as I look back on it. I walked into class, a feeling of dread came over and I saw everyone in the class staring at me. The teacher had this smile on his face that suggested that I was in for a world of trouble and that I was not going to get out of it easily. There was a long hard look on his face as he watched me take out a piece of paper and start to draw like I usually did. He was trying to look for any mistakes I made, any little thing that I messed up on. I was sick of it. “What did I do now?” He looked at me and chuckled a bit. “Your attitude in this class and your attitude associated with your class mates has gone far enough. Now I want you to straighten up and get your act together before I send you to the guidance office and force you to change it.” That did it. I was done with everyone there. I clenched my hands into fists making the paper crumple and shoved it into my pocket almost causing the pocket to rip and I looked down avoiding eye contact. A small whisper suddenly hit my ear like a small bell tinkling in the air. “No more.” It said it in a way that was almost quiet and I had to listen in carefully to distinguish what it said but when I figured it out I suddenly thought of the Doctor Who episode, you know. The one with John Hurt, Matt Smith, and David Tennant, the scene of John Hurt blasting at the wall while making his speech flashed in my mind and the small phrase “Gallifrey Falls No More” flashed into my head. My class went by fast, as did the rest of the school day and my head seemed to not want to believe what I heard. That night I had a strange dream. I was sitting in the same room but…it was dark and something didn’t seem right. I tried to figure out what it was and then I realized I wasn’t breathing, I was holding my breath as I was trying not to smell a fart like in school. I took one breath in…the strong smell of blood and decay hit my nose first. I closed my nose again and tried to get the smell out of my system. No good. I turned and threw up, uncovering my nose and allowing my body to do its thing. When nothing else came out of my body I started to smell something familiar, something that worried me to the core. Paint. That’s when the lights turned on and I saw a horrible sight. First there was the blood. Every drawing was replaced with different tints and shades of it. Next…the bodies of my classmates. They were all killed the same way, three long horizontal cuts down the middle of their bodies with their intestines and organs laying on the floor in front of them. They were lined in front of the classroom, all seeming to be looking dead at me. Then there was the teacher. His neck had been sliced with a pair of razor sharp scissors. His body hung with his arms and legs attached by rope to the white board. His head was tied to the board in the same way. His shirt was ripped up and his chest had writing on it that I could easily make out. No More. The final thing I noticed was, to my horror, Stitch. His mouth was open to show stitches that had been pulled apart showing yellow, rotting, razor sharp teeth on both rows. His eyes…They were hyper realistic and were bloodshot. His fur was tattered and looked worn. His fur seemed to be greying and his claws had become long and sharp, both hands bloody and one held a pair of bloody scissors. Some cotton stuck out of his belly and I noticed that if I moved his eyes followed me. His grin seemed to widen and the lights turned off. When they turned back on after what seemed like forever the saying…No More….was written everywhere on every wall over, and over, and over again. I closed my eyes and started to scream not wanting to see any of this when he suddenly started approaching me. “No more…No more…No more…No more…NO MORE!!!” He grabs my neck and looks me in the eye and smiles evilly repeating the phrase over and over again, screaming it in my face. I turned and screamed wanting it to all stop, wanting to just wake up. I woke up with my plush seeming to look at me, knowing that I had a nightmare. I pushed him away and backed away from the edge of the bed looking at Stitch scared out of my mind. I didn’t want it to be near me anymore, then again it was just a dream right? At the time I thought it was a dream. Oh how I was wrong. I decided to not take him with me to school that day, to keep him locked in my closet just as a safety precaution. I turned to go to school feeling bad for leaving him but I had to, I couldn’t take him to school with me out of fear. As I got to the school the first thing I realized was the police being there and the crime scene tape. My heart seemed to stop as I saw twelve small body bags and one big one. I walked to one of the students to find out what happened. A boy turned to me. “Apparently the art teacher and all the students came to the school last night and hung themselves in the room after writing two words on each of their wrists. I think they were…uh…No More?” My heart stopped at the phrase and I shut my eyes. No…this couldn’t be true…no. I turned and ran away fast, the deaths had all been the same. They had all been hung and had written No More on their wrists. I ran home and was confronted by my parents but I was too frightened to even care about what they had to say. I ran to my room and slammed the door shut and then remembered something that I wish I hadn’t. Stitch was in the room, I had left him here today. I turned to my room and looked around it but I didn’t see him anywhere. I finally yelled out to him, “Where are you hiding you little shit!?” That’s when my parents started to fight again. Like I said, it starts with the yelling. I closed my ears not wanting to hear any of it, wanting it to all just stop. “No…..more…..” I turned to see where the voice had come from. There, on my bed, was Stitch staring at me with the…hyper realistic eyes. He was grinning again and I knew immediately this wasn’t a dream. I tried to scream but my fear was too high and nothing came out. He got off the bed and came to me. He grabbed my arm hard, digging his nails deep into my wrist while I tried to get away but couldn’t. Blood seeped through the cuts and dripped slowly to the floor. I was in pain and I could tell he enjoyed seeing the blood. I watched as he lifted his now bloody hand to his mouth and gently lick it. The laugh he gave after he did this was evil, like the gurgle of a young child mixed with his own laugh. “Don’t….worry…I’ll protect you…forever. You…won’t have to…deal with your issues…I’ll take them away…I’ll make you happy…” That’s when he left the room and headed to my parents. This is why I’m huddled in the corner hoping he doesn’t kill me like he is my parents. I can hear him coming back to the room. If I survive…I’ll write another note.

I’m alive. I don’t feel pain. Everything’s okay. Don’t come looking for me. I’m happier now. Haha…HAHAHA! I’m home now, I’m happier here. Stitch and I both help each other, we protect each other. I…haha…I was made better thanks to Stitch and now we both help each other. He helps me get away with murder…and…we both eat. I eat with him. I get the legs and arms and…Heh…he gets the organs and brain. We’re happy like this. We’ll be okay. Don’t come looking for me, but if you do, make sure you have some food. We’re getting hungry again and…I can’t control myself…God I’m not okay. Somebody help me! I’ve been…I’ve transformed into a monster just like Stitch! I learned what Stitch is! Don’t come for me! Stay far away! Haha! No Stop Don’t! … I’m…happy. Maybe…once I accept myself…we can play. I’ll find you and we’ll play together…forever…I have to go…dinner’s…almost done hanging…