What You Expect Is What You Get

[BadForm]

I couldn't take it any more. I was 33 and felt like I was the biggest piece of shit in the history of mankind. Funny, whenever anyone else told me that, I always listened to them, heard them out, reassured them it was ok, that what was mostly things done to them was not their fault, and the minor sins they may have committed were hardly so big that they were unforgivable. I was good at listening to others. I just wasn't good at hearing it myself. That's the problem with being an abuse survivor AND a genius. I'd tried the best doctors in the world, and every logical argument they had I could counter.

Oh, I'd done nothing that bad. One time, when totally screwed up, I flashed someone hoping to get a date. Yeah, like I said, totally screwed up. Other than that, the worst I could say in my rational moments was I had some sick fantasies. Maybe the doctors were right and that was natural with my background. Thing was, I didn't believe it. And that's why I stood on the edge of the bridge that night and lept. The world would be better off without me.

It was painless. An oncoming headlight, the blare of a horn, the roar of a truck engine. My head hit the grill and I was gone. Gone, but not forgotten.

Steve Kenner?

I opened my eyes, surprised to have survived, and realised from the skeleton holding a scythe and talking to me that I hadn't. So, death really had a personification. I nodded affirmatively. He swung his scythe, severing the last grip I had on life, and welcomed me to death.

"What happens now?" I asked.

What did you expect to happen?

"Huh?" I didn't understand.

What you expect, said death, his tones dropping like coffin lids into neat rows of understanding, is what you get.

And then I knew I was in trouble. Death cleared up a lot of things. I knew then that I wasn't such a bad guy after all, and that the few things I had done wrong, weighed in the balance, were nothing compared to what I had done right. I knew I had been just like anyone else, that my story really wasn't so shocking. Yet I also knew that I'd spent so long convincing myself that I deserved to be punished that what I expected was damnation. Not hell, for I'd never been a Christian, but interminable suffering and punishment nevertheless.

Death's smile, while fixed to his skeletal face, seemed to shrink. Stupid, he said, waving his hand to send me on my way.

And then I was among them. The ranks of the damned. Whether any of us deserved to be there didn't matter. We had believed we deserved it, and now we would suffer together. Forever.

OOC: Hordes of sick things and ranks of the damned both needed. Anyone?

 

[ARaynes]

Ingrid Morris

Seems that these days everything was going wrong. No matter where I looked it was as if people were watching me, waiting for me to make a wrong move. Even my husband, Bob treated me as if I were a horrid creature.

I guess that is why I did what I did. Don't really know how long ago that was now, for I had been here forever it seemed. It seemed as if it were yesterday though.

I came home from work, noticing that the kids had ruined the couch I had just restored. Restoring furniture was the only way that I could get peace with life. The white fabric that I replaced with burgandy was now strown across the floor. The burgandy had melted crayons on it. It was cut with some kind of object. Holes poked all the way through it.

I guess that is when I snapped. I picked them up and put them in the car. Driving as fast as I could I took them to my mother's house. She wasn't the best mom in the world, but what did that matter. It was either that or take them with me. I didn't care anymore.

I drove back to the house, walking in mere moments before Bob. He was outraged. "Where is my dinner woman?" He bellowed before I could turn around.

"Same place as always. On the cabinette. Just not made yet."

He didn't like my tone. His hand reached out and slapped my bare cheek. My eyes flamed red. "Don't dare hit me again." I screamed at him.

He hit me again. "Bitch, don't dare talk to me that way!" He yelled. His fist hit me again and again. When he did stop it was only to say one thing. "You better get your fat ass in there and cook my dinner!"

He went and sat on the couch, not seeming to realize what had happened to it. *SNAP* I went and hid in the bedroom. The gun was in the closet where it usually was kept. I didn't have time to waste. I grabbed it, loaded it and went to the living room where Bob sat. "Make your own damn food!" I yelled before emptying the clip into his chest.

The next event sort of blanks from my mind. I don't remember grabbing the knife, or it sliding across my skin. Cutting me in places I would have never thought of cutting before. Through my breast, my legs. Everywhere.

I must have slashed my wrist, for I got sleepy. Laying on the bed to sleep was the easy part. I fell asleep. I woke, thought i don't know how long after to silence.

Then a skeleton came to me. It was not long after that he blanked out and I was in the middle of this place. I can only think of it as purgatory. After all, wasn't that were the damned went to wait?

 

[AngelOfDarkness]

Jayme

Do you guys mind if I join?


Everyone has their own ways of dealing with problems. Some hang themselves, cut their wrists, jump off bridges, slip a few too many asprins before bed, whatever. And we all have our reasons for doing it. For me, I was tired of my parents beating and abusing me into insanity. I was especially tired of my girlfriend cheating on me. I was tired of high school. I was tired of everything life had to offer.

Most people would have considered me lucky. Barely 18, I had blonde curls, big blue eyes, and a lean and muscular body. I could play any sport I tried and I always did well in school. Unfortunately, I couldn't see these things in myself. I only saw what my parents saw: an ugly, worthless, stupid kid who should be completely grateful they hadn't killed me yet.

One day, after my father had given me a completely thourough beating, I decided enough was enough. My emotions were mixed between completely not giving a fuck and feeling sorry for myself but it was very easy to pick up the blade and slice both of my wrists. An instant warmth and gladness came over me and I knew I was dying so I eagerly slit my throat to hurry the process.

Now, dead for only a few minutes, I was startled to look into the face (or lack of a face) of death itself. When he asked me what I expected, I retreated into the usual carelessness I had posessed throughout my life.

"Don't play games with me, just send me to hell,"


Sorry bout that BadForm, Jayme is a guy character. Guess I never actually said that huh? lol

 

[BadForm]

Steve Kenner

OOC: Angel, you're welcome to play - frankly I had thought that this had died through complete lack of interest, but, particularly if we get some nice (or not-so-nice) demons, it could be fun. BTW - male or female char?

IC: What now? I looked about the cursed halls of darness, more of a cavernous system of massed fear and loathing than anything else. Demons, if that was what they were, were everywhere, doing everything and anything they wanted to the damned. It was terrifying to watch them, to see how they degraded and abused the people there. The people there? I should say the people here, for now I was one of them. But what was I expected to do?

"This isn't some kind of art exhibit, boy!" A harpy-like creature screamed in my ear, her breath making me want to vomit. "Get down there and work!"

She hooked a clawed finger under my chin, digging through the skin and dragging me forwards by the jaw. She led me forwards towards the edge of a cliff down into the main cavern, then she kicked me over. I screamed as I plummetted down to the floor, and felt something shatter in my back. Agony lanced through my entire body as I lay there, but somehow I knew it was healing. The point wasn't to cripple me, but to hurt.

"First day?"

I looked up into the face of a male demon, his yellow eyes gleaming as if friendly. That was unusual in this place, but I had to hope.

"Yes," I said nervously.

"TOUGH!"

And with that he brought a pitchfork down on my ass, skewering me.