"Illness", chapter 1

A story to make you ill...

She lay sprawled across his lap, drugged to a shivering slumber, breath smelling
Of the sweet drink he so cleverly spiked with sake. She wore nothing but a black
Tank top/underwear set. She was so innocent and pure, so unknowing of his cruel
Hidden agenda, it made you want to cry out in agony at the sick people who
Infest this earth. He wore the usual. Black from head to toe, with a red tie and eyeliner around his striking green eyes. He was one of the most beautiful people on the earth to her, so mysterious and grateful. He twirled her long hair lovingly in his fingers, and stroked her soft face. She was slowly sleeping off her drunken stupor, and when she awoke, the full blow of what was happening dropped like a bucket of icy water. He gently lifted her to him, studying that face that was twenty years younger than his own. He closed his eyes and kissed her in such a shy, loving fashion, she could hardly believe that what he was doing was wrong. But it was. It was sick and wrong, something that can't be described in words. He pulled her up and sat her against his thin, frail body. She was so confused, and as he started kissing her lightly on the shoulders, she couldn't stop the flow of tears that spilled from her eyes. He shushed her, "don't cry, it will all be over soon."...

... About an hour later, he wrapped a sheet around his naked torso and left the room, leaving her to weep her soul out, tears spilling over her eyes in a mad rush. She was shaking uncontrollably, and she felt so weak and fragile. She barely knew what happened, and she refused to listen to that part of her mind that kept whispering that dreadful word; she refused to believe that he had actually done that to her. Some small, sick part of her kept telling her that she wanted it. She'd been dreaming of it for so long. She felt ill every time she thought of those voices in her head, battling each other, slowly stripping away her sanity. When he came back into the room to get his clothes, he kissed her lightly on the forehead, and, in a barely audible whisper she said, "I love you", and tears spilled down her face in enormous amounts. He stroked her face and looked at her with such a depressed, loving stare that she wanted to hug him and kill him at the same time. She was just so damn confused. Part of her loved him and the experience, and part of her hated him and wanted him to die. But all she could seem to do was cry. He turned and walked out, leaving her alone and lethally depressed.

Now, most girls in this situation will eat and eat and get very big in the hope that this will prevent anybody from ever touching them again. But this wasn't like other cases, and she wasn't like other girls. She was so confused, so happily out of it, yet so weakeningly depressed, that she stopped eating altogether, and she got thinner and thinner every day. She had several cut marks on her arms and legs. Curiosity, insanity, and altogether indifference got the better of her, and she had taken a razor to herself. After about a week, her parents took her to a hospital, where she was drugged and put on a feeding tube. It was a sight to make you fight to hold down your lunch, and she enjoyed every minute of it.

The two never saw each other again. Of course, she did go see him when he happened to be performing in the state, but other than that, they never acknowledged the other's existence, and he slowly forgot all about her. Neither breathed a word about the incident, and three years later, when she killed herself, he still refused to reveal how he knew her and why he reacted so strangely to his death. He wouldn't speak, he wouldn't smile. Some nights he would hold her letter in his hands, and read it over and over again. It was the letter she sent him just before she brutally and slowly took her life.

"Maybe, once I'm gone, you'll realize what you've done to me."

He had tried so hard to forget about it, and this was her sick way of making, forcing him to remember. A reminder that ate away at him from the inside out. The best I can do to describe it is to say that he had been overcome by an illness. An illness that took over her and ultimately cost her her life.

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