[Chayden]

She hadn’t realized that she had fallen into sleep, but her dreams were nightmares. In every single one of them - and it repeated itself several times-, she was alone, tiny, insignificant. She needed something, someone,  needed to go somewhere... But when she stepped outside, it was impossibly dark.
She stood in the road regardless, staring up at the sky, trying to find the moon.

[Chayden]

It was gone.
And as soon as she let her neck relax back into its regular position, she was struck. Sent flying.
She landed somewhere on the side of the road, crumpled, broken, bleeding. The thing that had struck her moved on - she heard the growling of its engine.

[Chayden]

Her clouded eyes tried to find the sky again. Why couldn’t she see - where were her glasses - she didn’t need glasses - what was going on...
She couldn’t find it. She died face-down, with one arm pinned beneath her by her own protruding ribs.


As soon as she awoke, the sides of her eyes crusted with tears, she forced herself from bed.

[Chayden]

She left the house mechanically, ignoring the questions that she was asked. She went down the path, her feet still naked, and kicked open the doors to her shed. Sorsje pulled out her bike, wrestling to get its pedals free from the other bikes in there. She mounted it and sped down her endless driveway, feeling panic sour in her throat. Her heart was still misbehaving, palpitating - it was as anxious as she was.

[Chayden]

She went up the road to Niko’s house as fast as she could, trying desperately to remember the directions he had told her. Why was he at my house so early - why was he - he always sleeps so late - what was wrong - what is wrong - what’s happened -

She saw it with her own eyes the second she got there, her breath rasping. The door to Niko’s house was open, and his mother sat on the concrete step, sobbing. She let her bike fall into the ditch out front and moved toward Cassandra, distrustful of the chills that ran up and down her spine.

[Chayden]

If she had cared to look, she would have seen a patch of discolored muck precisely where she had dropped it.
Cassandra did not move as Sorsje slipped past her into the house.
It was absolutely silent. The chills that Sorsje had felt before pressed further into her body, drawing ever closer to the place in her chest that ached so fiercely. The one person that she did see hurried by with his head down, ignoring her just as Niko’s mother had.

[Chayden]

She went on in the direction he had come from, moving up the ornate flight of stairs carefully. Finally, she heard a noise, but it was not one that boded well. It was the sound of deep sadness.
It was a man crying.
Jun was slouched against a door frame, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

[Chayden]

He pointed dismally into the room he stood by.
Sorsje went in.

She couldn’t believe it. What she was seeing was not real. It could not possibly be.

[Chayden]

This was a person too impossibly resilient to fall to such a fate.
Niko... Couldn’t be...
“...dead,” she croaked, falling forward to clutch at the sheets of the bed on which he lay. “Why did they put you on the bed, Niko? They have to know that you don’t like them...”

[Chayden]

When I've finished with this story, it will delight me to come back here.
It will delight me, to be able to return and see just how much of a transformation my words have gone through.
And maybe, in time, some investigative fans will stumble upon this on their own. They will be able to say that they know the old Chayden; they will be able to say that they have read all of her flops and fails, directly from the source.
But you know what?
They'll be proud of the progress I have made, too.

[Chayden]

Oh, what could this be? Not more slash fiction, is it?
Oh, well. Apparently, my strongest genres are horror and homoerotica |D
Hey, I'll work with what I've got! No complaints here!

[Chayden]

Once more, with purpose.

I stared at his profile, at the face that smiled for someone else, and all I could do was slouch lower in my seat.
I thought about what I would give to have him make that face at me... And I could draw no lines. I had nothing material, nothing in this life that wouldn't pale in comparison to his Super Best Friend.

[Chayden]

I don't want to be broken any more, forever looked down upon and pitied, thought of as the one at the bottom of the pile. I wasn't disabled, but it would be a filthy lie if I said that nothing was wrong with me.
My body was fine, but my soul was broken.
I blame it on him.
Stan.

[Chayden]

Ever notice how he's just an A away from Satan?
This life that I played out... It would be just like my fantasies if I could somehow take Stan out of it. Think about it! Me, Cartman and Kyle.

[Chayden]

That's it. Cartman would rag on us a bit, Kyle would get fed up and need someone to cry with... And guess who'd get that job?
Oh, just Kenny fucking McCormick. That's who.