CthulhuPeople
Lord of Altera
The following is a working project of mine.
TRIGGER WARNING: If cutting is one of your triggers, tread with caution.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cedric felt the blood run down his arm and tears down his face. The banging on the door grew louder and louder, contrasting the sweetness of his mother’s voice calling out his name.
“Why did you resort to cutting, Cedric?”
“I.. It felt like a need.. Like.. I couldn’t stop…”
“Sometimes cutting is a way to release emotions, did you feel that way?”
Sirens blared down the street, lighting up the road like Christmas. Cedric waited outside on the cold grass as his mother stroked his hair. They had bandaged his wrist as best they could in their over-emotional state, his father shaking more than even his mother.
“I don’t think so.. It was just a need.”
“Well, we deal with these issues in different ways. What was different that night than usual?”
Rain dripped down the hospital window. Cedric begged to have a shower, but on suicide watch has it’s rules. One, you can’t be in the bathroom alone, especially in Cedric’s case. Two, only one visitor can be with you. For Cedric, it was his mother. She was the sweet one, the stereotypical mother figure in his life. His father was more stern, but could cry like a baby at the drop of a hat.
“I hadn’t eaten dinner.. I just felt hopeless.”
“Hopelessness is a strong problem.. I think you should see a psychiatrist as well. I have a few recommendations.”
Cedric’s roommate was nice enough, though had violent spouts of mania late in the night that woke up the entire ward. At least it felt that way. Every incident was met with orderlies storming inside with as much grace as a snake in a firewalk. Lunch was at ten-thirty AM every morning, which was frustrating enough for someone not in a looney bin, let alone an actual patient.
“Have you ever been happy, Mister Boyle?”
“I.. Don’t know.. I can’t remember..”
When Cedric’s mother drove him home, they talked about seeing a therapist. The doctors said that even though he was let out of the psych ward, episodes may continue, so a therapist would help. Just get someone to talk to. Cedric was never a fan of doctors, too clean and white.
“I think we should continue this session next time. In the meantime, I’m prescribing you Prozac.”
The pills made him feel sedated, like a real patient. Cedric wasn’t broken, they all said, but he felt shattered. No matter. He wouldn’t be here much longer. An interesting fact, suicide attempts generally end in failure and the attemptee feel remorse after doing the act. “A permanent solution to a temporary problem” is a popular saying. Cedric felt no remorse. Cedric felt nothing
5:30 P.M.
Cedric was released on a rather dreary monday, rain pouring down the windows of his mother’s SUV. The ward doctors had given him four different prescriptions for four different drugs of varying doses. Cedric felt high already. His mother drove him home, saying the occasional “I love you” or “Things will get better.” Cedric supposed that she was true on both accounts. It wasn’t so unlikely that things would indeed get better, it was just a long shot in the dark.
They pulled up to a welcome home party at their suburban home, causing instant dread in Cedric’s face.
“Mother, what is this…”
“Sweety, the doctor said that you should spend time with family, so we organized this-”
“This ambush?! I’m coming home from a psych ward, not a damn vacation!” Cedric screamed as loud as he could as he ran through the rain and into the woods out back to his old treehouse. Him and his friends had built it all by themselves during a rather boring summer, but they had long since moved. Now that they had all moved away, Cedric remained alone. It was he escape. His mother knew where he was, so she didn’t come after him.
He heard her have to explain where he went for the third time in a month, earning the sorrowful looks and insincere apologies from relatives from all around the county. Most only visited during Christmas and easter, so Cedric called them “Fairweather Family”.
Just as Cedric was thinking of marching out into his house and telling them the real business, a voice rang out from the tree, “Hey!”
Cedric looked over with a blink. No one would climb the tree up unless they had a deathwish, especially from that side. That side is where the poison ivy ruled over with an iron fist.
“Hello..?” Cedric responded.
A bleach-blond haired boy stepped along one of the more flat branched and into the treehouse with a thump.
“Hi. I’m new on this planet, come to eat your brains.” the teen responded to Cedric questioning greeting. Instantly Cedric hated the teenager, but he kept up with the dialogue, rubbing his eyes.
“Nice joke.. What are you doing in my treehouse?”
“Not your treehouse anymore, I claimed it as mine.” the teen said authoritatively, puffing his skinny chest out and setting his fists on his hips.
“...It’s on my parent’s property, I come up here all the time.”
“Haven’t seen you here since I moved in nextdoor. My dad says you were in a hospital for something.” Cedric’s heart stopped. Who did his mother tell? Everyone? No one? Well, obviously she told someone. Oh God, and now all hsi friends knew and-
“Hey, you okay? You got all pale.”
“Y-yeah… fine.. Thanks for the info..” Cedric scrambled out of the treehouse and back inside from the rain, though already soaked. By now, all the adults had left.Cedric was alone.
7:00 A.M.
Cedric woke up early. During most people’s early mornings he had already been up for several hours before the sun rose. This left him plenty of time to do absolutely nothing. That was most of his day, nothingness. Sure, he could play video games, and he did, but after a while even the virtual world becomes grey. At seven-thirty his father would make coffee for the both of them and his mother. Cedric used to hate coffee, but his father’s brew was the best he ever tasted, with only a teaspoon of sugar to wash it down.
Cedric was depressed to say the least. Many things in his life he was unsure about, but one stuck out like a sore thumb: Sex. He dreamed and daydreamed about it all day long, sex with one person, two people, three people. It’s all he cared for really, but the hardest thing to pin down was who to have sex with. Cedric liked both genders, a habit that in his southern roots one would be thrown out of the house for. Bisexuals are the second most discriminated against sexuality, falling only short to transgenders, which Cedric even considered himself.
Hormones raged through his body as he sat on his bed, hands twitching, trying to control the urge to touch himself. A knock on the door startled him out of his mad fantasies and led him to toss the blanket over himself.
“C-come in!”
Cedric’s mother drove him to school on her way to the flower shop where she worked. It was a liveable wage, though his father made the real money in accounting. It was nightmarish work, but it put bread on the table, so his father sacrificed his own happiness for security. To Cedic, happiness was security.
As they reached the school, Cedric moved out of the car and into the long, pale hallways of Chester A. Arthur Academy, a rather low end private school despite the name. Whenever people think of a private school blazers and sportcoats come to mind. But really this was a school that those who have been kicked out of every other school go to.
First period started off with sympathetic or scowling looks from his colleagues. Word spread fast of “The Incident” and everyone and their mother knew by now. Some even wanted him to be taken out of class for fear that he would make another attempt during lecture. The day started off perfectly.
Lunchtime was much easier. Cedric didn’t have a certain friend group to hang out with. He had a few close friends at one point, but once this all started he distanced himself from them all. Now they wouldn’t even look at him--
“Excuse me.” the tender voice called out, music to Cedric’s ears, “Would you like to sit with me?”
When Cedric turned to look at the offer, a short bleach-blond haired teen about Cedric’s age stood from his bench, offering his hand.
“.. Sure.” Cedric replied with a bit of confusion, taking the hand in a soft shake, “I’m Cedric-”
“I know. We’ve met before, remember?” Cedric did now, the boy from the treehouse.
“Ah yes, the owner of my treehouse..” Cedric spoke a bit derisively.
TRIGGER WARNING: If cutting is one of your triggers, tread with caution.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cedric felt the blood run down his arm and tears down his face. The banging on the door grew louder and louder, contrasting the sweetness of his mother’s voice calling out his name.
“Why did you resort to cutting, Cedric?”
“I.. It felt like a need.. Like.. I couldn’t stop…”
“Sometimes cutting is a way to release emotions, did you feel that way?”
Sirens blared down the street, lighting up the road like Christmas. Cedric waited outside on the cold grass as his mother stroked his hair. They had bandaged his wrist as best they could in their over-emotional state, his father shaking more than even his mother.
“I don’t think so.. It was just a need.”
“Well, we deal with these issues in different ways. What was different that night than usual?”
Rain dripped down the hospital window. Cedric begged to have a shower, but on suicide watch has it’s rules. One, you can’t be in the bathroom alone, especially in Cedric’s case. Two, only one visitor can be with you. For Cedric, it was his mother. She was the sweet one, the stereotypical mother figure in his life. His father was more stern, but could cry like a baby at the drop of a hat.
“I hadn’t eaten dinner.. I just felt hopeless.”
“Hopelessness is a strong problem.. I think you should see a psychiatrist as well. I have a few recommendations.”
Cedric’s roommate was nice enough, though had violent spouts of mania late in the night that woke up the entire ward. At least it felt that way. Every incident was met with orderlies storming inside with as much grace as a snake in a firewalk. Lunch was at ten-thirty AM every morning, which was frustrating enough for someone not in a looney bin, let alone an actual patient.
“Have you ever been happy, Mister Boyle?”
“I.. Don’t know.. I can’t remember..”
When Cedric’s mother drove him home, they talked about seeing a therapist. The doctors said that even though he was let out of the psych ward, episodes may continue, so a therapist would help. Just get someone to talk to. Cedric was never a fan of doctors, too clean and white.
“I think we should continue this session next time. In the meantime, I’m prescribing you Prozac.”
The pills made him feel sedated, like a real patient. Cedric wasn’t broken, they all said, but he felt shattered. No matter. He wouldn’t be here much longer. An interesting fact, suicide attempts generally end in failure and the attemptee feel remorse after doing the act. “A permanent solution to a temporary problem” is a popular saying. Cedric felt no remorse. Cedric felt nothing
5:30 P.M.
Cedric was released on a rather dreary monday, rain pouring down the windows of his mother’s SUV. The ward doctors had given him four different prescriptions for four different drugs of varying doses. Cedric felt high already. His mother drove him home, saying the occasional “I love you” or “Things will get better.” Cedric supposed that she was true on both accounts. It wasn’t so unlikely that things would indeed get better, it was just a long shot in the dark.
They pulled up to a welcome home party at their suburban home, causing instant dread in Cedric’s face.
“Mother, what is this…”
“Sweety, the doctor said that you should spend time with family, so we organized this-”
“This ambush?! I’m coming home from a psych ward, not a damn vacation!” Cedric screamed as loud as he could as he ran through the rain and into the woods out back to his old treehouse. Him and his friends had built it all by themselves during a rather boring summer, but they had long since moved. Now that they had all moved away, Cedric remained alone. It was he escape. His mother knew where he was, so she didn’t come after him.
He heard her have to explain where he went for the third time in a month, earning the sorrowful looks and insincere apologies from relatives from all around the county. Most only visited during Christmas and easter, so Cedric called them “Fairweather Family”.
Just as Cedric was thinking of marching out into his house and telling them the real business, a voice rang out from the tree, “Hey!”
Cedric looked over with a blink. No one would climb the tree up unless they had a deathwish, especially from that side. That side is where the poison ivy ruled over with an iron fist.
“Hello..?” Cedric responded.
A bleach-blond haired boy stepped along one of the more flat branched and into the treehouse with a thump.
“Hi. I’m new on this planet, come to eat your brains.” the teen responded to Cedric questioning greeting. Instantly Cedric hated the teenager, but he kept up with the dialogue, rubbing his eyes.
“Nice joke.. What are you doing in my treehouse?”
“Not your treehouse anymore, I claimed it as mine.” the teen said authoritatively, puffing his skinny chest out and setting his fists on his hips.
“...It’s on my parent’s property, I come up here all the time.”
“Haven’t seen you here since I moved in nextdoor. My dad says you were in a hospital for something.” Cedric’s heart stopped. Who did his mother tell? Everyone? No one? Well, obviously she told someone. Oh God, and now all hsi friends knew and-
“Hey, you okay? You got all pale.”
“Y-yeah… fine.. Thanks for the info..” Cedric scrambled out of the treehouse and back inside from the rain, though already soaked. By now, all the adults had left.Cedric was alone.
7:00 A.M.
Cedric woke up early. During most people’s early mornings he had already been up for several hours before the sun rose. This left him plenty of time to do absolutely nothing. That was most of his day, nothingness. Sure, he could play video games, and he did, but after a while even the virtual world becomes grey. At seven-thirty his father would make coffee for the both of them and his mother. Cedric used to hate coffee, but his father’s brew was the best he ever tasted, with only a teaspoon of sugar to wash it down.
Cedric was depressed to say the least. Many things in his life he was unsure about, but one stuck out like a sore thumb: Sex. He dreamed and daydreamed about it all day long, sex with one person, two people, three people. It’s all he cared for really, but the hardest thing to pin down was who to have sex with. Cedric liked both genders, a habit that in his southern roots one would be thrown out of the house for. Bisexuals are the second most discriminated against sexuality, falling only short to transgenders, which Cedric even considered himself.
Hormones raged through his body as he sat on his bed, hands twitching, trying to control the urge to touch himself. A knock on the door startled him out of his mad fantasies and led him to toss the blanket over himself.
“C-come in!”
Cedric’s mother drove him to school on her way to the flower shop where she worked. It was a liveable wage, though his father made the real money in accounting. It was nightmarish work, but it put bread on the table, so his father sacrificed his own happiness for security. To Cedic, happiness was security.
As they reached the school, Cedric moved out of the car and into the long, pale hallways of Chester A. Arthur Academy, a rather low end private school despite the name. Whenever people think of a private school blazers and sportcoats come to mind. But really this was a school that those who have been kicked out of every other school go to.
First period started off with sympathetic or scowling looks from his colleagues. Word spread fast of “The Incident” and everyone and their mother knew by now. Some even wanted him to be taken out of class for fear that he would make another attempt during lecture. The day started off perfectly.
Lunchtime was much easier. Cedric didn’t have a certain friend group to hang out with. He had a few close friends at one point, but once this all started he distanced himself from them all. Now they wouldn’t even look at him--
“Excuse me.” the tender voice called out, music to Cedric’s ears, “Would you like to sit with me?”
When Cedric turned to look at the offer, a short bleach-blond haired teen about Cedric’s age stood from his bench, offering his hand.
“.. Sure.” Cedric replied with a bit of confusion, taking the hand in a soft shake, “I’m Cedric-”
“I know. We’ve met before, remember?” Cedric did now, the boy from the treehouse.
“Ah yes, the owner of my treehouse..” Cedric spoke a bit derisively.
