This is a story inspired by A Walk On The Wayside by N. Dieter House, and The Heroine Diaries by Nikki Sixx. I've read it cover to cover nearly a dozen times. If you're feeling like your day sucks, and there's no one who understands, just pick up a copy and skim through it. After a couple of pages you'll realize that your day could be a lot worse. The words in the book are very powerful and paint a very ugly, horrible picture. And worst of all, it begins and ends during the holiday season--a time of joy and happiness.
Though inspired by true events, the story that follows is of my own imagination. All characters and events are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead, real or fictional, or any event past or present is entire coincidental. No actual event is depicted. This work is copyrighted to me and is my property. This story contains strong graphic imagery of drug use, lesbian sex, strong violence to include but not limited to sodomy, torture, and murder. If this sort of thing offends you, or if you are not of legal age to view this kind of content, then please leave now. I am not responsible for any harm, physical or legal, that may befall upon you for viewing this. If you want to download it for your own personal enjoyment I request that you ask me first; don't steal it.
I'll be straight upfront: this isn't a happy story. I've seen firsthand what drugs do to people (I've lived with junkies in a halfway house some time ago). If you've never seen it, I advise that you do. The world needs to have a better understanding of what these people put themselves through instead of turning a blind eye and say things like, "They did it to themselves," and shit like that. They need help.
"Merry Christmas, well that's what people say at Christmas right? Except normally they have somebody to say it to. They have friends and family, and they haven't been crouched naked underneath a Christmas tree with a needle in their arm like an insane person. They're not out of their minds... and they're definitely not watching their holiday spirit coagulate in a spoon. I didn't speak to a single person today. I thought, 'Why should I ruin their fucking Christmas?'
"Nobody would believe the shit that happens inside my head, it's haunted. Now that I've come down from the drugs it only seems like a sick play I saw in a theater somewhere. Thirty minutes ago I could have killed somebody, or, better yet, myself."
--Nikki Sixx
"Halloween" part one
Jessica was not your typical high school teenager. She would wake up every morning hating her alarm clock, brush her teeth in a hurried but orderly fashion, get dressed in clothes that she thought looked cool, eat a simple breakfast and be on her way out the door before her dad finished his first cup of coffee. When she arrived at her locker she would brush her hair out before gathering her things needed for class. It was her routine, and had been for the last four years. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever think that anyone or anything would upset that.
Her taste in clothing was nothing trendy. In fact she hated 'trendy people' with a passion. People that have to follow what some random celebrity said looked good were the people that made her want to throw-up. That disgust ran the gamut of preppy-cheerleader-types to the cyberpunk neo-goths. In her mind, if you're not brave enough to decide that you like something because you genuinely like it then you're not worth even your own time and energy; you're a pimple on society's ass that should be popped.
So what did Jess wear? Name it. The only trend that the seventeen year old followed was her own. She wore a little bit of everything, spreading it out to cover each day of the week. Friday's outfit looked nothing like Monday's or Tuesday's, everything from her underwear to her latest kind of cranial accessory to her shoelaces flowed with the days. And it was because of this bizarre style that she became the target of ridicule not long after high school started.
No, Jess was not your typical high school student. Not many people voluntarily ran with Jessica. Many thought she was simply too freaking weird, while others just used her as the butt of their jokes. What few friends she did have learned the hard way to never stay around her too long lest they be involved in one of the cool kids' pranks--which have been increasing at an alarming rate. As she ran her overused brush through her hair exactly fifty times, she knew today would be no different. It was Thursday, the day before mid-semester exams. More of a proficiency test than examination, but, to listen to the teachers, one would think the world would end if you didn't pass.
The senior redhead opened her locker and immediately looked in the mirror. She hated her glasses and how they slid down the bridge of her nose. Everyday she had to adjust them against her face for no less than thirty seconds straight. Then she would pick out her hairbrush from a perfectly aligned group of grooming tools.
Her hairbrush; nail file; compact; antiquated mirror; hair clips--three to be exact; two scrunchies--one yellow, one black; butterfly hair pick; and finally a standard comb.
Jessica counted the brush strokes oblivious to whoever was approaching her from behind. "Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two--"
"Don't lose count now," came a mocking, feminine voice, a voice she knew all too well. It belonged to her eternal tormentor, Rachel Alexandria Bearden.
"Forty-four. Forty-five..." she continued, ignoring the girl's words. As the brush reached the tips of her locks at number forty-seven, Rachel reached out an snatched the grooming tool from her hand. "Hey, you stupid bitch! Give me that!" Jessica lashed out to take it back, but Veronica, Rachel's best friend and right-hand man, threw her back against her locker.
Rachel pulled one of Jessica's hairs from the bristles and let it drop. "What happens now that you've stopped?" the blonde asked, playing dumb.
"You know that means that I have to start all over again," Jessica whimpered. "What the hell's the matter with you?"
"The better question is what's the matter with you, you little freak?" Veronica said with enough venom to kill an elephant. "Did we ruin your day?"
"Yes you did actually... fucking skank."
"Watch your mouth, loser," Rachel hissed, taking a step closer. "Don't forget who runs this school. It would be such a shame if something were to happen to you in gym, or the parking lot," She looked at Veronica, then over to Ashley, Veronica's little sister, then back to Jessica. "Or to your precious little hairbrush." The taller girl made like she was going to snap it in half.
"NO!" Jessica lunged and grabbed it away from the blonde bitch, tripping over her own feet in the process. The three girls just laughed, pointed, then laughed harder. "Get away from me! Leave me alone!"
"Why?" Ashley asked. "You're so much fun." The younger bitch reached down and untied Jess's shoes.
"No! What are you doing?" Jess shot up and reached for her shoes. She untangled the knot, measured out the lengths of each lace and started retying. All of this to the maniacal sound of her three tormentors' laughter.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Barbie?" shouted another familiar voice, this one belonging to the only person at this school who seemed to give a damn about the girl on the floor. Juliane. Jess looked over and saw her savior marching towards them.
"Let's go you guys," Rachel said, tapping Ashley on the shoulder. Veronica looked back and paled. "Let the little dork tie her shoe."
"Get the fuck away from her!" Juliane said even louder. The trio of barbie dolls backed away slowly without taking their eyes off of her. The six foot tall basketball player was truly an imposing figure with her dark hair and fierce amber eyes that seemed to glare right through you.
With that the three navel-bearing bimbos took off down the hall. Jessica hated that part of her life. It wasn't bad enough to be gifted with her mother's curse, but she had to endure the torment of those three plus all of their other friends on a daily bases. Jessica sobbed and stayed on the floor. She new that as soon as she got back up that her brain would tell her to start over again.
The cursed redhead let the tears fall. For all of her intelligence, for all of her bubbly personality, she hated her brain and the problems it created. The girl was labeled as a genius before she was ten years old. She used her gift to help others where and when she could, which is why she was still in high school, but it didn't make her happy. Then there's things like this. She can't get on with her day until she's ran THOSE bristles--not any others--through her red hair fifty times. Then she would have to touch each book in her locker, adjust the cup that contains her pens for no apparent reason, take what she needs, then close the locker door and turn the dial counterclockwise twice until it lands on 25.
In one sense, Jessica was a typical teenage girl--she hated her life. There was nothing she or anyone else in this world who could make it all go away and she could just for once be normal. And, in this very moment, the only way to be normal was to lay on the dirt-caked floor and sob. For her, being a crying pile of rainbow colored-clothing was the closest she'd ever come.
"Oh my god!" Juliane said with deep sincerity. Juliane had been Jessica's best friend since the two of them could remember. Se was very much aware of her gifts--and curses--and tried her best to make it easier on her. The six foot brunette crouched beside her and asked, "What happened, honey?"
"Rachel happened," Jessica said with shaky, venomous breaths. "Her and the two halfwit sisters took my brush away before I got to fifty."
There was only one person in this school who took that just as hard as Jessica. "Want me to beat the shit out of 'em?" the taller girl asked with disdain oozing from every pore.
"No," Jessica said, tossing her hands up. "That'll only make it worse." She couldn't stop crying.
Her friend pulled her against her larger chest and just sat with her there a moment. "What else did that slut do?"
"She threatened... to... to break... my brush." The auburn haired girl threw her face into her best friend's sizable cleavage and just let it out. Juliane didn't mind; this was hardly the first time.
"They wouldn't dare do that to you. They know what will happen if you lose that thing."
"It's not a thing!" Jessica yelled. "You know that. And no, no one knows what would happen if I were to lose it. Rachel and her crew don't give a fucking rat's ass leap at the moon if I lose it."
Juliane didn't say anything. Instead she pulled her distraught friend back against her and just held her there. She waved off one of the staff who happened upon them. They all knew about her condition, and they all knew that they could do nothing about it. After their first year of this, the faculty and staff just let Juliane take care of her friend the best way she could. And if that meant sitting on the floor holding her like she was her own child and letting her cry, then that's what was going to happen.
The taller girl shushed and cooed and rocked her friend. It tore her heart out to see her this bad, but what broke it to pieces was knowing that there wasn't a damn thing she could do to make it stop. Rachel has picked and picked since as far back as the fifth grade. Jessica was the easy target; the poor, nerdy OCD girl that everyone suspected was a lesbian--a rumor started by none other than Rachel, or course.
Juliane was quite a different story all together, an enigma really. She was named Most Attractive last year, and was the captain of the girls soccer and Basketball teams this year. She has all the makings of being Homecoming and Prom Queen. Even Jessica found her only friend to be an enigma; with her looks and athletic abilities, she had no reason to hang around--much less care for--the redhead. In yet, there she was, holding Jessica in her lap and doing what she can to ease her pain.
"Come on, honey," Juliane said, patting the back of Jessica's head. "Let's get to our feet and get this over with."
"I hate my life, Ju-Ju," the redhead sobbed. Juliane smiled at the use of her pet name, it meant that this was a last ditch effort to delay the inevitable. "I hate all of this."
"And I hate seeing you like this just as much, so let's get this done." Her tone shifted to an assertive tone which translated as 'move your ass'.
The two of them stood in front of Jess's locker and did what they had to do to in order to get on with the day. Fifty strokes. Every book touched. Pen holder adjusted. Locker dial turned to 25.
"I'm sorry, Ju-Ju," Jess mumbled. "I hate that you have to practically carry me."
Juliane snaked her long arm around her shoulders. "It's no trouble, hon."
"Yes it is," the short one complained. "You had to completely redo your school schedule to accommodate mine. You have to put up with my crap."
Juliane chuckled. "You know, I've known you my whole life and this has been the least formal you've ever spoken to me."
"Well, technically, we haven't known each other our whole lives. That's actually impossible. Humans generally can't remember anything much before they're three years old."
Ju-Ju laughed harder. "And that's exactly why I like hanging out with you." Jess just raised an eyebrow. "I don't know anyone else who can talk like that." The tall brunette leaned down and kissed her friend on the top of her red head.
Classwork is nothing special to Jess. She just has to make sure that her pens and pencils run parallel with the edge of her desk; her paper must be squarely in the middle; and her other nonessentials must be stacked neatly beside her seat. If anyone of these things was out of order, then whatever the teacher said went in one ear and out the other. People would watch her fidget with the things on her desk and just laugh and giggle. Juliane would roll her eyes at their immaturity.
The squeaking of the dry-erase marker on the whiteboard wasn't easy either. The teacher would stop every now and again to discuss the lesson in depth, but all Jessica could do was stare and fidget. The lines that were supposed to be parallel weren't. Mrs. Jordan's blouse wasn't buttoned up all the way, and that wasn't helping Jess's focus either.
"Just try to ignore it," Juliane wrote on the note she passed to her friend. Jess couldn't figure out how this girl could read her mind so easily, then again, it probably wasn't that hard to figure out.
"You know I can't," Jess wrote back in perfectly sized and spaced letters. Juliane just laughed it off.
"Is there any questions? Anyone?" the teacher asked at the end of class.
"It's actually, 'Are there any questions?'" Jess answered, much to the delight of evil sisters by the far wall.
"I'm sorry, I thought this was math," Veronica said, feigning confusion. "English was two hours ago." The other twenty students chuckled.
"And you slept during that class too, didn't you barbie doll?" Juliane said sardonically. The two of them locked eyes, the class eagerly waited for someone to make the next move.
"Alright, both of you shut your mouths," Mrs. Jordan hissed. By all accounts she's a fair teacher, but she doesn't put up with anyone's crap. A fact well known to the student body. "And I'm sorry Jessica, you're right. In light of that, does anyone have any questions about your assignments?"
Silence was her answer. Some of the students kept their humored expressions hidden by their hands or books. They always got a kick out of hearing the spats between Veronica and Ju-Ju, and how smoothly Mrs. Jordan handled them. She was no fool; she knew that Jess was arguably the easiest target for the bullies, but there was only so much she could do to help her.
"Good. Make sure you study for your tests. They'll be here before you know it." Mrs. Jordan went back to her desk, passing by Veronica's with a look of utter disdain.
The bell rang and everyone left the room. Juliane followed Jess to her locker and waited for her to finish her routine before she left for the day. Jess would brush out her hair again--only thirty strokes this time--and put everything she didn't need in it's proper place--twice--and then shut her locker and turned the dial back to 25.
Jess put her head against her locker and said, "You don't have to wait for me, you know."
"Yeah, I know," Ju-Ju answered, trying not to smile. "But I want to. I want to make sure that no one picks on you, or gives you any shit."
The OCD girl sighed. "And I appreciate it, but it isn't necessary." She looked over to her friend. The caring looking on her face caused a tear to slip from her eye. "You don't have to be around me every second when we're at school."
"I know," the taller girl repeated.
Jess went to say something further, but stopped herself. She hated the fact that she relied so heavily on this girl for not only moral and, at times, physical and emotional support, but for her survival in his place. Jess remembered reading something somewhere about how kids view school as a kind of prison. For her, her own existence was her prison, the school was just the outer fence to it, and Juliane was like her friendly cellmate that protected her from everything else.
"What are you thinking?" Juliane asked suddenly.
"Huh?"
"I just asked you what you were thinking," she said again, taking a step closer.
Jess could only shrug. "I think a lot of things," she answered bluntly, trying to forget about the pain in her chest.
Her friend giggled. "Yeah, I know, and that's what makes you so much fun to be around."
"Don't you have practice tonight?" That seemed to take the taller brunette by surprise.
"Oh shit, you're right! Do you think you'll be okay without me?"
Before Jess could answer, her friend pulled her in for a hug. Their height differential almost caused Jess's face to be smashed against Ju-Ju's shoulder. Her glasses were knocked askew. "I'll try," she mumbled.
The soccer player let the poor girl go. "Okay. I'll have my phone with me at all times, so call me if you need anything."
"Will you get out of here so you're not late?" Jess responded.
"Not until I hear you say it."
"I'll be fine; I don't want to get you into trouble again. I hate that I've already made you late."
Juliane paused. "How late am I?" She looked at her watch then back to the short redhead.
"If you were to sprint at your fastest speed all the way there, you'll be exactly one minute, fifty-five seconds late. But if you walked, I'd say somewhere between three and six minutes, depending on if the janitor's already making his rounds. He doesn't stick to an exact schedule like he should."
Juliane smiled. "And that's why I think you're adorable," she said, touching her friend's nose. "There's no one else like you."
Jessica rolled her eyes and grunted. "Get out of here."
Then Juliane did something that neither one of them expected. The taller girl leaned down and kissed Jessica on the lips. Jessica went wide-eyed, not knowing what to do. She didn't know what to feel. Was this good or bad? But before she could do or say anything, the kiss ended and Juliane took off down the hall and left Jess standing beside her locker completely dumbfounded.
As Jessica walked home, she had to wrap her arms around herself. A benign chill shook her to the bone, adding to the stress of the day. She looked over to the soccer field and watched her best friend play for a couple minutes. They all looked so happy to be around each other, like the way a group of friends are supposed to be. Jess often wondered what it would feel like to be accepted like that, to be a part of something special if only for a moment. In fact, she fantasized about it, even obsessed over it. And now, the girl who kissed her was having the time of her life with her "real friends", as the red head called them, her head was left only more confused. And confusion was not something with which was accustomed to coping.
Thank you for reading Part One of this new miniseries. There will be more to come, but while you wait feel free to check out my other works on Nifty. Here they are from first to latest: "Loving A Shadow" (lesbian/high school[2006]); "Silent Cellist" (lesbian/sci-fi); "Abandoned Blood" (lesbian/beginnings); "Embrace The Enemy" (lesbian/beginnings).
And don't forget to check out the book "A Walk On The Wayside" by N. Dieter House on Barnes & Noble's website.