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05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!


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Authors Chapter Notes:
I had to get it out of me. I had it all building inside me and i had to let it out. This actually is a really really sweet fic, but it's a tear-jerker at the end. I nearly cried while i was thinking it up. But i needed a break from the current fic that i'm working on "Stronger"... and i think this might be just the thing. It's a little different... i know.

Ch. 1 To whomever it may concern

To whomever it may concern, … to all the doctors in the world, to all the forms I haven’t filled out yet and all the future forms that I’ll have to fill out. To this pen I’m writing with, to the desk that I doodled on, to the bed that hasn’t been made, to the food that hasn’t been touched- and it’s disgusting, by the way. To my oh-so-loving parents, and my incredibly selfless, bestest friends in the world who would never, ever manipulate me. To my teachers, to my neighbors, to my dentist, to my gardener, to the damn president of the United fucking States. And most importantly, to you. But you aren’t here anymore, Dr. Pratt. Are you? It’s okay, I forgive you. I promise.

Anyways, to whom it may concern.

So I was told one day to sit down, please, and kindly inform the gentleman dressed up in a little tweed suit and maroon colored wool vest why, exactly, did I swallow the entire bottle of little white pills in my medicine cabinet on July 4th, 2005. And that’s simply putting it.

Well, sir, I’m not really sure. You see, it could have been a number of reasons. It could have been the damn rain. See, it’s been raining on and off for weeks before the fourth of July and let me tell ya, a girl can get depressed. So much rain and gray and clouds and not even a trace of sun can really put a girl in the dark. That week was just so cold. I felt like I was doused in a pool of frozen water every single night and every single morning, I couldn’t seem to get the ice out of my hair. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Sometimes I go to church and they tell me God loves me and to let his countenance shine down upon me. I really don’t know what that means or what the hell I believe right now, but I guess it doesn’t matter since I’m going to the burning pit of fire anyways. All I have to say is that God’s moodier than a bitch in heat. One moment, the world’s as peaceful as can be, sun shining, birds singing, flowers blooming, breeze warming, and the next moment, bombs are going off and everyone becomes a demon. It really bites you in the ass when you’re so suddenly pulled out of paradise and into the hell of the living dead.

But I guess that’s not important and it’s not what you guys really want to hear.

Anyways, back to why I swallowed that damn bottle. Another reason could probably be that on that one rainy week, I lost all my friend’s loyalty and all my parent’s respect. Not that I expected their support, or even you guys’s supports, really, but it would have been nice to know that I had people around me who cared. I don’t really blame them – everything was actually my fault. You see, I had to go and get myself knocked up – it was an accident. promise. – and my baby’s daddy told me that getting rid of it would be for the best. In everyone’s eyes. I don’t know what was worse, getting pregnant or killing my baby.

Killing my baby. That’s the only thing I think I’ll ever regret. You might think I’m a horrible person, I don’t blame you, but believe me when I say that I really wanted the kid. I had everything planned out, even. I was going to name her Carmen. It means ‘song’. Isn’t that pretty? She would have been beautiful and I think I would have been an okay mommy. We would have had so much fun. I always wanted a little girl, one of my very own. But I guess she came at a bad time so I had to get her out of me.

When I told my mom, she stopped talking to me, and when I told my dad, he stopped looking at me. I guess they were ashamed, or maybe disappointed. Either way, they turned their backs on me. I’m not mad at them. I deserved it – I made my own mistakes.

When I told my friends, they kind of just widened their eyes all in shock if you know what I mean. They did the thing where they open their mouths and no sound comes out. But I guess that’s just because they were around me. Because when they weren’t around me, their mouths apparently made a lot of sounds. A lot of talk. In less than two days, everybody knew that I killed my baby and everybody hated me. Even the people who didn’t know me. Like that one guy in school that everyone makes fun of. He has safety pins all over his clothes and makeup all over his face. I never even spoken to him and I could already tell that he wanted to kill me with his eyes. They all did. They would see me walk by them and murder me with words. As if I cared.

But I did care… I do care. It doesn’t matter now, though.

I lied to you. When I told you that the only thing I regret is killing my Carmen. I regret something else. I think. Sometimes I think it’s the best thing that happened to me, but sometimes I kill myself when I think about it. Haha… get it? Kill myself thinking about it…

It’s not funny. I know that.

The second thing I regret. And that’s Dr. Pratt and his damn love. The way I loved him so much. He loved me too. At least that’s what he told me. And I think he meant it. You probably want to know why I regret it? Okay. I regret it because I think it killed him. God, isn’t that rich? What you crave is what kills you. And, boy, did we crave it. I craved him more than I craved chocolate, and that’s saying something. He was my drug and I was addicted. I swear I used to get withdrawals from lack of Pratt. Anyways, it killed him.

Him. Dr. Pratt. William. I knew him as Spike.

I killed him.

Dr. W. T. Pratt. I drove a railroad spike through my Spike. Figuratively.

I never wanted to hurt him. I’d hurt myself before I hurt him. That’s what I planned to do, at least. I guess this goes to shows you just how well my plans turn out.

Maybe that’s the reason why I took those pills that morning. Because our love hurt so badly that I needed to do something to put out the flame.

I don’t even know if I believe in love anymore.

Ain’t life a bitch?

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