My arm hurts. Like a bitch. I don't want to look at it. I seriously don't want to look at it. But wearing a long sleeved shirt makes it ache and I might as well stare at the stitched up mark as I type the fucking post. But I need to do it. God, I was going to forget about this. To forget about this whole fucking, useless blog. But I can't now. 


October 13th was the day I turned seventeen. Four weeks ago they found Sarah's body, cracked and twisted, stuffed in the back of the school, under the graffiti tree. In between all the scratched out hearts and all the names that preceded the exclamation “was here!” was Sarah, spread everywhere. As in...everywhere. They thought it wasn't her body—they couldn't tell from what they found. I...her head...it was...


They canceled school for the rest of the week because really, who the fuck was going to go around sending their kids into the goddamn streets with a brutal murdering fuck up around? The news media jumped at it. They tried to interview Sarah's friends, but a senior guy punched one of the reporters in the face. I'm glad. I'm fucking glad. It's all disguising.


Chelle had been...strange in the last couple of days. It's...worrying. Terrifying, actually. She kept having nightmares and it sure as shit didn't get any better when they told everyone what had happened to Sarah (they tried to keep it a secret, but word gets out, as always). Then Thursday rolled around and...and I didn't know what to do. I'm finally seventeen, and all I want to do is crawl on a train, stay hidden underneath a seat, and let it take me away.


But Chelle had a weird idea. She wanted to take me hitchhiking. I had to tell B.B to make it seem like me and her were in the same room for most of the day in case mom came home early because I needed to go. I needed to escape from here. The clustered room and worried phone calls and all that anger and bottled up fear. So we drove away and let ourselves be swallowed whole by the forest.


I can't describe how it looked like. I know it was beautiful. I know we were talking of random bits of nothingness. I'm seventeen, the forest is green, the water is running not far. I can hear birds and singing and I'm floating for a little bit. There was no fear. Just the sound of leaves beneath my feet and the forest breathing around us, the branches everywhere, stretched out like the awaiting arms of a mother or father, wrapping you like a child and keeping you safe. I stretched out my arms, the leaves brushing against my fingertips, droplets of cool water sliding down my skin.


And then it all froze for a moment, because Chelle had stopped.


I'd been walking behind her for a long time. Her blonde hair my main point of direction as she traveled through out the green land. But she stopped so suddenly, jolted up like someone had screamed her name.


Maybe someone did.


I know things grew bleaker, cold. “What is it?”


But she didn't answer. She half turned, looking right at me and yet far away from me. Glancing past me like I was invisible. A ghost. “Chelle?”


She held up her hand. It shot upwards so fast I thought she was gonna hit me. I wanted to whirl around to see what she was looking at, but she wasn't looking at anything. She couldn't have been because she was staring right at me. Suddenly, I couldn't hear fucking birds or water or even our own breathing. It was all so quiet. My heart started hammering at some point because a chill began creeping on me, but not the usual way. It was strange. Like the wind was reaching out for me. I felt...strokes, on my back, on my neck, in my arms, from the wind. From the fucking wind. I held my breath, like when you can hear your parents yelling at two in the morning and you're afraid to open the door in case what's echoing from the walls turns into a reality, and began turning slowly, but she shook her head. Ever so slightly. I tried talking again, but she stopped me.


Then...the blood drained from her face. In a second. She opened her mouth, like she was about to scream. Like she was about to fucking explode into a million pieces in place. Her muscles went tense, she went all rigid, her lips went white, her eyes bulged out. What what what what.


Then she screamed. Loud and bellowing enough that it almost flew me backwards. But I couldn't fall. I couldn't because she shot forward and grabbed my hand. And she pulled me. “RUN, FUCKING RUN”


That's what I remember. Her screaming. And then I heard it. As we were running. Someone behind us, charging, but not in one direction. The noise. From everywhere. My left, my right, like it was coming from behind every tree at every second. I somehow knew it was one, just one fucking thing, and yet I wasn't sure.


“ALEX, FUCKING RUN!”


Chelle was screaming, everywhere—and then, it was a blur. We were by a hill. Trying to get back to the outer part. And then I felt it. Huge bludgeon to the arm, knocking me off balance. I screamed, I was terrified. What the fuck had hit me, and why had it hit me. I think I was screaming. I think Chelle screamed afterward. I don't know. All I remember is the pain, the fact that whatever the fuck hit me did it with so much force I lost my balance and started tumbling down. Branches, rocks, snapping at my arms and legs and everywhere. I called out to Chelle, and then...


I think I heard someone laugh.


I know Chelle tried to get down to where I was, but I wasn't thinking. I tried to get right back up, but I heard someone scream. Not like fear. More like...anger. And I tried to crawl up, but there was no way without sliding back down. I think I was crying because the ground was blurry and so was everything around me. By the time I started running again, my voice was raw. I couldn't keep calling out for Chelle anymore. Then I heard the footsteps again. All that running. I didn't want to stop moving, no matter what.


Then, right the fuck out of nowhere, I heard a laugh. Loud, ringing, chuckle that I couldn't identify. I turned and turned and turned and then—it slid, across my shoulder, ripping my flesh, oozing out blood. I tried to turn as soon as I felt it, but there was that slashing again. Twice, I tripped trying to look around. It's all a blur. A blur of pain and screaming and footsteps. I tripped but I crawled up in two seconds and kept running, the blood running down my arm.


At some point, the pain increased. Something had grabbed to me. I turned with my hand in a fist to scream but-


It was Chelle, and she was dragging me away. Her hand was grasping onto my arm, and it pulsed and burned, but I didn't want to keep screaming. We ran and ran and the forest spit us out into the street, my arm covered in red and Chelle's hand stained with my blood. I could tell she was crying too, but not as much, because I heard it in the quiver of her voice, the hurrying of her tone. “Get up, Alex. Get up. Get the fuck up.”


She carried me to her car and drove me to an emergency room. I got stitches, my parents were called, and soon enough, house arrest.


I can still see it now, a big fucking X on my arm, stitches and red on it. I wasn't going to leave the house. I wasn't going to let B.B fucking walk around. I needed to stay locked. To be safe. And I was.


And then I got the news.


Chelle...you've been gone for a week and I didn't even fucking know. WHERE ARE YOU?


-Alex

FuckShitDammit

Silence because we're freaking out, we're freaking the fuck out. Everyone was safe for a while, just complete and total silence for a little bit. Someone at our school has a mother working on the case of Sarah/Sasha/whatever the fuck her name was and they've been pestering him for ages. We got some rumors going around that S (fuck the damn name shit) is still alive. Not sure how they figured it out, but we heard all of it on around Friday night, and I was going to update because Chelle didn't know, but shitshitshitshit.


She's been freaking out for days. Bad dreams and screaming at nighttime. I spent the night at her house Saturday and it's like someone's inside her head pounding hard against her brain and messing around with all her thoughts. It's all distorted and she can't make heads or tails once she wakes up. I've told her to write them down as soon as her eyes fly open, but it's not working. She can't form words coherent enough to write. I think she's started drawing them up as quickly as possible, but I never see them, probably because they'll be too fucked up.


Her cat died on Saturday. No, not only that. What? You thought it's fucking funny that we're freaking out over a little kitten's death? It's not just that we found...Bella...fuck...she was on the porch and...her spine, her spine was ripped out. That's not a fucking accident. And we know it. Chelle was beyond pissed, and she was going insane. We called someone to help us figure out, but it's not like the fucking cops can do anything regarding a dead cat when there's a murderer on the lose.


I need to figure out what to do with Chelle. She came back to school this morning because she couldn't sleep for two days straight (or rather, wouldn't, not with so much nightmares) and now...I don't know. I just don't know.


-Alex

Where has she gone?

I want to be happy and cheerful and stuff about Gwen and Chelle actually finding each other after all this time, but I'm really freaking out. Some people we knew from church called my mother around ten this morning and she went out to have lunch and some grown-up talk with them. My brother went with her and my dad stayed at home so I didn't think anything about it. But I was outside a few minutes ago, playing with B.B, and they came in and something's wrong. The whole neighborhood is freaking out because they found--


Fuck, fuck, fuck, some severed arm, thing, I don't know what and they want to run it through DNA but because Sarah's been missing for a while they're sure it's hers and they don't have any leads or any clues and it's almost like someone planted the fucking thing because it was right in front of our school. Why would anyone do that? She was just a kid, what the fuck happened.


Officials were called and my mother said all her friends are trying to tell everyone to be careful. But be careful of what? I'm scared even though nothing can really happen and they're trying to keep it from going viral for some reason but people are just terrified. I couldn't tell B.B what happened, but when she saw me freaking out, I think went on to ask. If she did, hope they didn't tell her. Oh God, I really hope they didn't. Or that she finds this post. I really shouldn't say or write anything but if I don't--I don't know what I'll do.


I'm panicking for no reason, I didn't even know the girl. But it's terrifying. My brother brushed it off and said the chances of anything happening to us or anyone we're close to are low, but why does he have to act like that? As if ignoring things will be any better.


I don't know if Chelle heard or not. I have to call her and ask her, and tell her I can't go to the library today because my mother's been freaking out since she got back. She's so emotionally this whole thing must scare her so much.


I do hope that through all this, I'll still find a way to celebrate Chelle's birthday. She deserves that, at least. We dont turn eighteen every day.


There...just needed to freak out a little.


-Alex

A bit of a scared, really

Three days now till Chelle turns eighteen. Old-old person. I got the laptop today so I could ramblerambleramble blogblogblog of nothing of importance. I just know I keep writing up and looking stuff on elements. I don't think I'm going to completely fail Chem so that's a good thing. I already know the name and symbol, nowww I just need to memorize the atomic numbers and my life will be complete (we don't really have to do that for class, it just seems like something I'll need eventually xD)


Oh yeah, remember that girl I spoke about? Sarah? She's still missing, so I guess the entire school is on turmoil. I've never had anything happen like that in any school which I attended. I'm really scared for her now, but there's nothing I can do. Worst part is, they don't know if she ran away or got in a crash somewhere far away or something. Really, just...scared...


I hope it gets better for her.


- Alex.


P.S: Because of Chelle's tendency to write huge labels, we're going to get a page of labels at the bottom of this blog without any usefulness from them, so I'm going to start reusing them =w=

P.P.S, by Chelle at library: YOU KNOW THOSE LABELS ARE SEXY, ALLY-KINS!
Besides, a lot of them ARE reusable. You're just jelly because my name is bigger than yours down there... >3
Currently having a chess match with Gwen via a messenger... 

You'll forgive me soon!

So contrary to my sis's belief, no, Chelle does not need an amputation o.e' but nevertheless, it sucks that she got hurt just a few weeks away from her birthday.


That's right, Chelle's getting olddddd :D Eighteen in September 27. I don't know if she mentioned it (because I'm a fail) but it's her birthday and so we're cheering. I'm not sure what we're doing for the day, but whatever happens, I'll hopefully manage to take pics and post them here. It'll make the bloggy-blog feel more...bloggy.


Yeah...


Also! Because Chelle writes a buttload of stuff on her labels, I decided to redesign in so that the labels are at the bottom of the blog anddd so that right next to the "About Me" thingy, I can post links to some blogs. Gwen gets epic linky-link because of being such an active reader (it srsly just took me like seven times to get the word right. Among the attempts: replier, commenter, commentor, etc -facedesk-) and so does B.B in case anyone wants to read it.


And if I find any more poems...hehe, watch out, Chelle >.>


-Alex

Totally not supposed to be doing this but...

It seems Chelle's about to take my spot as the writer in this thing. Not only is she the epic artist who drew that picture of us that serve as our profile pic, but I found a poem she wrote not long ago. Like maybe a day old, tops. I don't know if I'm allowed to post it or not, after all, she might just slap me and delete the profile if she sees it here but...

I don't care! DX I LOVE IT SO I'M POSTING IT!

Gwen, I hope you see it! You're our only reader so far xD. Or well...active reader, so at least one more person should get to see it.

Remember, this is by Chelle, not me!

Dancing wildly

like children,

heart beating so loudly

it's threatening

Vivid images

bright and warm

sweet and bitter

till sun sets under a storm

Where did summer go?

when it was needed most

it flashed and left

as only a ghost

Come forth

and you will see

something else

beside me

What'd I tell you? >D

On a note that will not so likely get me killed, I think my sister B.B heard about this online journal of us and wants to try it out. Aside from that, nothing to report!

Except that American History class is evil.

-Alex

Thanks Chelle DX

Welp, guess what two idiots were unbelievably late this morning? What is up with this woman? Dx Poor Chelle was dozing off for most of the morning, during lunch time, and even a bit in the afternoon. I told her if she didn't go to sleep early today and got a good ten hours (yes, ten) she was going to end up passing out in her Pre-Cal class.


My morning more or less began right as my brother had some bipolar, "I'm on the 20's now so I'm obviously better than you" rant, before storming off as my mother yelled after him. My sister just kind of stared at her cereal like it was the newly discovered works of Shakespeare before my dad rescued her and took her to school. It was not a pretty way to start the morning (I still have no clue what all that yelling was about, truth be told), and yet when we got to school today, my homeroom teacher started rambling on about something that had happened. Apparently this girl (can't remember her name. Sasha? Tasha? It was something like that) hasn't been at school for foreverrrr, and she was a good student and really friendly, so I guess some people are worried. She asked us if we'd seen her, but to let you guys in on a little secret, I have no bloody clue what half of my classmates look like, and rarely do I know their names. Sometimes, I even forget what color eyes Chelle has--and she's my best friend. No wonder I'm such a scumbag in her dreams, I can't even remember the simple fact that she has blue eyes. If she hadn't dyed her bangs blue I would probably never pick her out from a crowd of people.


Aside from that, some overload of homework and awkwardness. Lots of awkwardness. That's gotta be a routine in my life.


-Alex

Talk about awkward...

So on my creative writing class (first time there's ever been an elective like that on my high school--squee!) we had to write a paper about ourselves in the form of a character. As in, make a self insert and make up stories for them. Kind of like a character bio. I didn't get to present today, but the stories read today were awkward, and we're like, so totally suppose to relate to that (insert picture of me flamboyantly flipping my hair and waving my hand). I was expecting a bunch of perfect, angel like Mary Sue's and Stu's to start flowing down from the mouth of today's teen society, but that would have been hoping for something good. Instead, there was about ten thousand papers about characters who were not good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, who wanted to vent out their fears and problems through the world and let their creativity burst from their hearts and to the surface.


Yeah...talk about awkward. I think at some point my teacher just started fiddling around uncomfortably with her pen and the paper she was using to grade us. I expected some to outright admit to rape or murder, the way things were turning, that would have been the least out-of-nowhere thing to say in that class. I was glad for the couple of jokers that went up to describe characters who did insane things (seriously, Chelle would have done great in this class, but she's already taking art, jewelry, and some other requirement--I think it's a language class, can't remember), but aside from that, there was so much doom and gloom.


Gack.


So I still have to write mine...not sure what I'll be saying. She said the characters were suppose to be based off, not...directly us, and that there was no shame in exaggeration. But I am in no way interesting enough to even have a scrap of my life put on for the rest of the world. In fact...why the hell do I have a blog? Nothing interesting ever happens, and nothing ever will. Maybe I just like pretending writing about my life makes me someone.


Oops, about to move into "I'm not perfect, nobody loves me" territory. Better stop now. So for the character...well, there's no shame in exaggerating, no shame in lying. Can't have one without the other, right?


-Alex

Remember, remember.

"Are you guys ready? Okay. Let's roll!"
Todd Beamer's last words heard by operator Lisa Jefferson at 09:55.

Since around 8 in the morning, I've been watching the memorial of 9/11, all the names being read out and all the clips they show of the people running from the collapsing towers ten years ago. My little sister just kind of sits there watching it, she was only 4 when it happened, but my big brother, who was 11, hasn't stopped sniffing. He hasn't come close to crying (he's too tough to break down in front of us, or at least, he acts that way), but he's going to sit through the entire names, or he wants to at least. All the way till 1 p.m.


What I've been really thinking about is Flight 93, the men in that plane who took a stand and prevented the death of many. It's heroism that I have never been sure if it shall occur again, but I know that at least once a year, somewhere in the world, someone becomes a hero of their story. Sometimes the most random, out of nowhere, normal, everyday people seem to rise against an evil of the world, to protect people they'll never even look at, but know that are there. And I think that's something that should be remembered above all else, on this day.


-Alex.

Start off the morning with creepy shit, why don't you?

I should introduce myself, I know, I know. But I think Chelle did much introduction for us, and either way, I'm kind of thinking of something else right now. School's being a pain in the ass and I'm still trying to figure out whether or not I should be studying the periodic table or rolling around in pain after from the evil stomach ache I'm gonna get for eating so much food yesterday. Not my fault, really, Chelle's dad cooks like a five start chef.


So I think Chelle wanted me to tell you guys about the nightmare she had. She didn't really remember much, though. Covered in scratches apparently, bleeding, blood everywhere, and she's running towards me but (great friend that I am) I'm not listening and keep running away from her. Jeez, even in dreams I act like such a scumbag. Anyways, it's not really unusual. Every now and then, Chelle was weird ass dreams. Honestly, it's probably freaking Fire Pony, that bastard's on one of her teacher's room and scares the seniors (it watches them so they don't get pregnant).

Terrifying. Don't try to tell me otherwise! D<


Anyways, here's a quick introduction: I am Alex, sixteen near seventeen in October, Junior, writer, owner of encyclopedias of serial killer, and best friend of Chelle the Artist. I might post some of the things I write every now and then, just to show non-existent readers a bit of what goes through my mind, but that is all~