Thoughts Of The Past

{MICAH P.O.V}

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Holy fuck!” I yelled as I went to turn the annoyingly loud alarm clock off. In my tired state, I begun flailing like an idiot as I completely missed the nightstand on the left of my bed and fell to the floor. My head slammed against the nightstand on the way down, knocking the whole thing over and sending the damn clock crashing into my face. I groaned, fumbling around with the power cord in an attempt to shut the damn thing off. I yanked the power cord out of the outlet set behind the bed, finally silencing the harsh blaring in my ears. Thank God.

I climbed back up on my bed, taking a few minutes to collect my thoughts. Not like there was much else running through my mind these days but them, anyways. I mean, it's been six years. I knew they weren't coming back. No matter how hard I prayed to whatever fucked-up being that had watched over me for these long years, It couldn't bring them back. I should be grateful I'm still alive.

I've lived on my own ever since the assholes at BL/ind killed my only family when I was only ten. I had to grow up pretty fast, it's not like there was anyone else around to raise me. It's just been me these last six years. I couldn't just join another group of Killjoy's, it wouldn't feel right. It'd be like I'd betrayed them, moved on and forgotten about them, and I couldn't do that.

Those people that tried to save me after it happened, they blamed me. It was all my fault: If I hadn't gotten kidnapped, they wouldn't have had to save my "sorry ass" and they wouldn't have died. That's all they did those first few hours was make me feel like they died because I wasn't strong enough, I wasn't good enough. They would still be here if it weren't for me.

The blonde lady had an mental breakdown after she saw Kobra die. She wouldn't even look at me. I remember we stopped at a rest stop to get some food and use the bathroom. I mean I was a big girl; I could go by myself. I hopped out of the car and slid the door shut, just to turn and watch in horror as Crazed Angel locked the doors behind me and began to drive. The van was driving faster than I ever possibly imagined it could go, and it kept on going. The only thing I could do, was nothing. I was frozen in fear, confused and beyond emotionally damaged as to why she would just abandon me like that.

My body refused to move, and I was forced to watch Crazed Angel as she drove herself and the other Killjoy's who had saved me into a gas pump across the road. The whole thing consumed in a big dome of smoke and flame as the whole vehicle exploded. I heard their screams of agony as they were all burned alive inside the obliterated hunk of metal. It took until the screams died away that I could finally move again, and then I just started to run. And that's what I've done for the past six years. I've just kept running.

Hm. Killjoys.

I haven't used my name since they died. All it did was bring up the painful memories of that night. I would never forget that night, it's haunted my dreams ever since. The deaths of my four fellow Killjoy's, the only 'family' I'd ever remembered. I don't remember my parents, what they looked like, how they treated me. My memory only travels so far back, my first memories are still with the Killjoy Gang.

I quickly glanced down at the four angry red slits on my right wrist. One for each of the four I'd killed.

Jet Starr. I'd always felt a special bond with him because we both had big curly afros. He was such a sweetheart. I just wanted to run up and hold his body close to mine the instant I saw it fall like a rag doll onto the hood of our car. After everything happened, I'd situated myself in an abandoned household. I stayed there for a couple months, there was still everything there; plenty of food, water, tv, and toiletries. It's like the family had left everything but themselves. I'd used the bright pink hair straightener and straightened my curls until they were frayed and split, before cutting it all off. I couldn't look at myself without being reminded of him. As it grew back I trained it out of it's poofy ways, letting it curl and cascade down my back like a normal persons.

Fun Ghoul. He told me and Jet Starr to keep running. He was going to hold them back. I begged him to come with me but he wouldn't budge. He said he'd catch up with us later, but instead he boldly walked back into the line of fire, and I saw multiple lasers beam through his heart. He smiled as he collapsed on the floor.

Kobra Kid. He sure wasn't a kid anymore. He was like how I am now, he never slept. Or at least he used to stay up really late. Sometimes, when I couldn't sleep, he would read me a story or just comfort me. He always listened to me, no matter how silly my questions or fears were, he never judged me. He may have never smiled, but he was always in a cheery mood. It scared me, watching him fly into such an uncontrollable rage and start pointing his gun, firing lasers aimlessly all around him at every drac he could see. He was blinded with grief and fury, all amounting to his ultimate demise in the center of the battle field. He was the second to die.

Party Poison. My first memory that I can recall is Party singing 'The Light Behind Your Eyes' to me one night, after my five year old self had been frightened by God knows what, probably something stupid though. I still sang it to myself before I went to sleep every night- if I even got to sleep that night. I always loved his name, Party Poison. It fit him nicely. The name itself was bittersweet, almost ironic. Maybe that's why I enjoyed it so much. He was the first to be killed, and by Korse himself. I saw Party get distracted after he'd ripped off a Drac's mask, one that he had just killed, and saw just a normal human being, just like he was. He didn't see a monster- just a person. Korse then grabbed him by the neck and fried his brain with the laser. I crushed my eyes tightly, screaming at the top of my lungs to try and block it out, but it was no use. The emotional damage had been done.

I always found the first gash in my wrist to be the deepest, after refreshing the lines over and over again, I would just run over that first one multiple times over. Party was more than a friend; he was my caretaker, like a father. The only father I'd ever known.

I shoved my thoughts to the back of my mind . Stop thinking, Micah. It'll only make it worse.

'Too late.' My depression sneered, and I could feel a few tears roll down my cheek. Not that it was anything new, it's not like I had to stay strong for anybody. There was no one hear to judge me and criticize me for crying my eyes out.

I slowly stood up, wiping the tears from my dark, swollen eyes looked up at the wall beside me. Each of the four boy's symbols were carved into the wall multiple times over, along with other Killjoy's tags we'd met along the way, by a large piece of glass I had collected through my travels. I mean it was a Killjoy safe house, after all. I was glad I found the sharp tool; for a simple object it had so many uses. I turned my head, forbidding myself from reveling in their deaths again, and started to slowly peek though the heavy curtains that covered the only window in my room. I wish I had more, this one window gave me a very limited view of the deserted landscape that surrounded me, and I could easily be caught off guard by someone sneaking up behind me if I wasn't careful.

I caught my reflection in the window. I looked awful: I haven't gotten a good night sleep in what felt like weeks. The nightmares and flashbacks were getting worse with each passing day, and now I couldn't even get an hour of sleep without waking up in a cold sweat and shaking so much, you'd think I was having a seizure.

I did my morning check for any signs of life, Draculoids, Killjoys, animals, Party... Kobra...

Anything.

I was grateful to see nothing after staring for almost ten minutes. At least I didn't have to kill anything this morning. I usually have to kill about ten dracs a day just to survive; and I regretted every single one. Each kill, each murder only fueled my depression. Even if it was necessary for survival, it still made me feel like shit every time I was forced to pull the trigger.

At this point I stopped looking through the window and just sank to the ground. I began to sob uncontrollably, another common occurrence.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A pair of knuckles began to rap against the door.

I turned my head violently towards the door and held my breath. I waited in silence for another sound, another knock, just to make sure I wasn't crazy.

Tap. Tap. Tap.Tap.

The knocking came again. I slowly stood up and darted to my bedside, grabbing my gun from under my pillow and pointing it towards the door. Only four other people knew about this place, and they died long ago.

That could only mean one thing. BL/ind.

Fuck. They found me.

Notes

ok so credit for this goes to hazel_highlight, she'll be my wonderful co author, and this is a newer and better version of the other thoughts of the past, sso subscribe, and be sure to leave feed back


xoxo-ashlee


Boo guys! It's me again! Haha so yeah, I'll be here too now, you guys just can't get rid of me, huh? So like she said, this is a revised/re-edited version on Thoughts Of The Past, and were hoping you'll like this better

Comment, Rate, Subscribe, Criticize. You know what to do~

Xoxo
-Hazel