Madness or Purpose
Read Madness or Purpose Online
Authors: Megan Perry
MADNESS
OR PURPOSE
By: M.
R. P.
Maddness or Purpose : Part One {
Hidden Beginnings}
Copyright © 2013 by M.R.P.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All people, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or people, is coincidental.
If I were to thank you all I could write another entire book. So, know that if it wasn’t for you this book wouldn’t ever have come into existence.
Thank You.
Part One
Hidden Beginnings
Zoe is almost 21 with no living family and her best friend Gavin may be the only hope she has to unravel all the hidden secrets of a life she doesn't even know she is a part of. She hears voices but swears she is not insane even though she has slit her own wrists and is constantly having accidents. Everyone pegs her as a freak and if only Gavin could tell her the truth then maybe she would finally believe she wasn't as alone as she appears. Maybe he could tell her he's loved her since age nine. We are all meant for something and we often spend our entire lives trying to figure it out. What if our choices were made for us at least some of them? Zoe is about to find out that some things are beyond our control and yet in all the chaos we may find ourselves immersed in we have the power to change our course and re-write the rules of existence themselves. Abandoned and terrified we find a strength we never imagined.
Table of Contents
An Incomplete Lifetime of Knowledge
Charred Mattresses, Candles, and Liquor
Closet Nightmare s
All I can hear is loud scratching like nails on a cheap wood door sending sharp stabbing pains through my head. My back is twisted in an unnatural shape and my arms and legs are tangled around strange objects. As I try to open my eyes I see absolutely nothing, it is pitch black and the scratching gets louder as I groan and try to feel my surroundings with my finger tips. I realize my right arm is numb from the weight of my body. Do I feel a shoe? Is that a basketball? What the hell? As I rotate I feel something hard and pointed gouge my left shoulder and feel my skin slice open. It feels like a huge paper cut. Holy hell, am I in the hall closet?
The horrible scratching quickly stops and the sharp pain in my head turns to a dull throbbing. The source of the scratching starts whining in a high pathetic pitch that only my dog could make. I am definitely in the closet which is full of boxes, shoes and random junk. But how did I get in here, and in such a twisted position? I know I sleep walk, but seriously? “Shut up dog, unless you’re going to grow opposable thumbs and open the fucking door!” I shout. She runs away, I think, all the annoying noises cease. With my left leg I manage to feel for the doorknob. But I realize I’m still wearing my socks and the door knob is round and slick. Dam it! I wrench my dead right arm out from under me as I hear my phone alarm start going off in my bedroom. “Aw fuck”, I moan I have to be at work in just over an hour. My arm is still too useless for me to get myself up off the floor in this position. So I use my right toes to pull the sock on my left foot off so I can feel the door knob. The dog comes back and starts whining and barking at the door. “Shut up” I scream at her as I use the toes on my left foot like a hand and slowly twist the door knob and hear the latch click. I have freakish toes I can sometimes use like monkeys use theirs. It doesn’t open any further. I thrust both feet against the door and hear a high pitched yip and the dog limps away. “Lard ass”, I mumble at her.
Now that the door is open the light from the window clarifies my suspicions, I am in the hall closet. My arm has begun to sting with pins and needles, but I don’t have time to wait I am finally able to see enough to lift myself up and crawl out of the closet. Relic starts licking my face slobbering all over it and making my already hellish morning worse. After using the door to pull myself to my feet I flick on the hall light without thinking and blind myself. I quickly turn it off, but it’s no use I am already seeing spots everywhere. I feel my way to the bathroom, tripping over a chew toy and a pair of pants. As I turn the faucet on to heat up the water, someone taps me on the shoulder! I scream bloody murder and jump a foot in the air. As I come back down I slip on the rug and fall into the tub banging my already pounding head on the tile wall. In agony, I look up to see my roommate Gavin grinning at me sheepishly in a pair of sleeping pants and no shirt. “I’m sorry, did I scare you? Oops, are you planning on turning that annoying alarm on your phone off anytime soon, and why is your shoulder covered in blood? Oh and, did I just see you crawl out of the hall closet?”
“Ugh, can you shut it off for me and start the coffee pot?” I asked as I check the back of my head for blood. I am soaked from the shower so it’s really pointless in the dim light of the bathroom. Frowning, I look up and Gavin is still starring at me with a questioning look on his face but the corners of his mouth are twitching as he holds back a full blown grin. “Yes, I was in the closet, and no I don’t know how I got there. Yes, my shoulder is bleeding; I think the box from your X-box took its revenge on me for chucking it in there.” He spins around and jogs out of the bathroom trying to stifle his laughter. A few moments later he returns shaking his head at me. “What am I supposed to do with you” he asks.
He leans into the shower turning off the water while gingerly picking my bruised body up and lifting me out of the tub. “What are you doing? I have to get ready for work!” “Ha, you are in no shape for work, you look like you were beaten up, thrown in a closet and then tossed into the shower while someone tried to drown you,” he shakes his head at me while stating the obvious .
“But, if I don’t show up for work Mr. Dussiani is definitely going to fire me!” “You’re really not going to be any good at work, anyhow. You probably need stitches in your arm and maybe even your head. Dussiani can mix the bread dough by himself. Besides, you hate your job and my dad can float us your half of the rent if I ask him.”
“And by float you mean he will never let me pay him back if could.” “Most likely” he grins. “My parents love you and they wouldn’t dream of making you owe them a dime.” “I know. It bugs the hell out of me!” “Oh face it! There are some people out there who actually care for your well being and could care less if you’re “messed up” and have “mental issues”. “I hate you” I hiss. Gavin laughs and starts moving.
He lays me down on our futon couch which doubles as his bed. I groan and give him my best puppy dog eyes. “Coffee,” I question, grinning from ear to ear. “Stay here” he says and he retreats into the darkness of the kitchen. I hear the coffee pot click on and the light flips on illuminating the rest of the apartment in a warm glow and I can smell the delicious aroma of my morning caffeine. He stretches his six foot frame and makes his way into the bathroom where I hear him rummaging in the cupboards and cussing at the dog under his breath. Relic is an 85 pound bloodhound and probably doesn’t really belong in a one bedroom apartment, but she was the only thing my father ever gave me and when he was murdered I just couldn’t give her up. Gavin loves her as much as I do and an extra hundred bucks in cash a month keeps the landlord off our backs. I whistle to the dog and she comes running. I pat her head and scratch behind her ears remembering how cute she was as a puppy. She was the perfect birthday present at age twelve all wrinkles and floppy ears.
I know what you’re thinking, if his parents can just float your rent why do you live in a one bedroom apartment? It was Gavin’s choice to live here and all of the things that most people would see as a reason not to live here, he seems to like. I could really care less. I have never lived anywhere fancy so, frills don’t really interest me. I sort of found it odd that he picked this part of town (the not so friendly or safe part of town), but his defense was that the people here have more character and he’d be closer to the bar he tended. He may have had other reasons, but he was my best friend and I’d just take him at his word.
Just as I finish reminiscing, Gavin puts two cups of steaming coffee on our coffee table, which is made out of two thick cardboard boxes taped together and covered with an old blanket. He then dumps the entire contents of our medicine cabinet next to the cups. See another odd thing. I tried to buy a used coffee table once, but he tracked the guy I bought it from down and forced him to take his table back. Gavin gave me my money back even though I refused, but somehow I doubt the guy was the type to give refunds. It is a rather fond memory my refusal to take the money back from him ended in a wrestling match where I tried to stuff the money down his pants and he ended up pinning me down and shoving the money into my bra. I turned bright red because he put his whole hand in there and he had no idea what that did to me. I was embarrassed but pretended to be mad Gavin probably gave me a chunk of his tips. Some might say it was gentlemanly, but I just told him he was a stubborn idiot! What is so special about cardboard boxes anyway? Maybe if I told him I found the table in the dumpster outback he would have let me keep it. Oh well, I don’t really get attached to anything anymore
“Got enough supplies doc?” I question. “Nope, be right back ZZ!” he exclaims as he jumps up and runs into the kitchen again. ZZ is a nick name he gave me because my name is Zoe Zeta Jones. Yeah, I know someone should have slapped my mother for naming me Zeta, but I don’t even know her, she left me at the hospital and my father was the one who raised me. ZZ Jones is just easier I guess. Gavin’s middle name is so much better, Camren. He also has two parents who love him and spoil the hell out of him. If I hadn’t met him when I was nine I might be homeless and living in a cardboard box in the city park right now.
Everyone I love either dies or leaves me, except for Gavin and the only things that have ever really been mine are Relic and the two headed Celtic hound hanging around my neck. I’ve had the necklace as long as I can remember. I think it may be the one thing my mother ever gave me. I really wish I knew what she looked like, but my father never had any pictures of her, he said he never own a camera until he brought me home from the hospital. Ironically enough all the pictures of he and I were burned in the fire shortly after his murder. I shiver at the thought and Gavin returns with a bowl of warm water and a rag. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, but it works for him. His sandy blonde hair gives him an angelic look, and his dark hazel eyes always seem to see right through my bullshit. I lift my hand up and brush the hair from his eyes. What the hell am I doing? What am I thinking? I must have really hit my head!
He looks at me with a quizzical look and he shakes his head at me. “You must have hit your head pretty hard ZZ. Stop trying to seduce me. Besides, you’re not very good at it”
he snickers. I look away blushing as I feel him gently wipe the blood from my left shoulder and wince at the pain. “This is pretty deep you definitely need stitches.” I groan and mumble a mix of profanities under my breath. I hate needles and doctors and hospitals. I have spent too much time in the psych ward to feel anything but extreme hate for such establishments. He grabs me by the chin and looks me in the eyes, “I am going to pay for it and you are going to let me ZZ because I promised to take care of you.” For an instant trapped in his hold I think his eyes flash to a brilliant gold and he leans in just I slightly like the guy does in the movies right before he kisses the girl but he doesn’t. I don’t try to fight him, my head is still throbbing and my vision is getting blurry. “I know you don’t like going to the ER, but I promise I won’t let them admit you. You didn’t do this to yourself. I’m not stupid enough to think you would hurt yourself anymore.” “Thanks” I mutter. I had stupidly taken a few too many pain killers with a bottle of vodka on one occasion and tried the whole cutting thing after my dad was murdered in our house, but that wasn’t me. The cutting was one of those things that it was more the explanation of what happened that got me institutionalized rather than the action so much. It only happened one time and never again. I had promised Gavin and myself I would come to him first if things get crazy like that again.
