The Devil's Monologue Read Online Free PDF

Again, means
to an end, that's all they really were. Just means to an end.
    I stare at those ugly
dirty shoes that never stay clean and think I shouldn't be here.
Not think, know. I know I
shouldn't be here. I don't deserve this shit. He deserves this, not me! I didn't
kill anybody, he did. He did
this to me! And yet, here I rot!
    I fucking hate you, Harvey Carter. I hope
you burn in Hell with me.
No, I hope it's worse. What's worse than
Hell?

 
     
     
11
     
Some days I just want to cry and puke at
the same time. Not a pretty site nor an admirable act, but there
was such a heavy weight of uneasy burden crushing at my chest that
I'm left feeling suffocated and hopeless. It comes on fast and
sudden, washing out every other emotion.
I constantly feel so utterly alone, even
when surrounded by the people who called themselves my “friends”
only to appease my temperamental ego. They weren't my friends. I
used them to get the things I want, and they stuck with me to be
left alone. The world's most fucked up quid pro quo. Only Mike was
the exception. He was the only one I could completely count on. I
was quite sure he'd jump off the London Bridge if I told him to.
Natural born follower if I ever saw one. Yet, even his friendship
just wasn't enough these days.
Nothing was good enough anymore. Football
was a sham. Sex was meaningless. Booze was tasteless. And the Old
Man was fucking around on Ma. Boy would we make a great sitcom! I
desperately needed something more out of life, and soon, or I was
going to snap.
I took in a long deep breath as my heart
began to pound faster.
Thump thump.
Thump thump. Thump thump.
Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump.
The deep thrumming of blood ferociously
racing through my veins echoed loudly in my ears. The pounding was
deafening. I knew the cold sweat would be coming on soon, and I
wasn't sure how many more times I could take this happening. It was
getting so much more frequent, and the little green happy pills
weren't kicking in today like usual. I closed my eyes and tried to
block out the invading thoughts and force them back into their
cage.
    I should just shoot myself
and get it over with, I thought
resentfully. The Old Man always kept a loaded handgun in his
“office” that would be easy enough to sneak out without him
noticing. He said it was for security reasons. Yeah,
sure.
    Deep breath, Jack. Deep
breath. But my body didn't seem to
register any air seeping through my clouded lungs. I already felt
so dead inside that it seemed way to easy to just quit breathing
and let it all disappear. Poof! Gone. Bye, bye, Jacky.
I'm sure my funeral would be a grand event
with the entire town in attendance, no doubt. High school football
heroes always get the best eulogies. Of course, there wouldn't be a
dry eye in the house either. Each attendee filled with overly
dramatic sobbing faces and bullshit tears of remorse. Everyone
pretending they cared. Everyone pretending to be sad, knowing full
well they were overjoyed at my absence. Hell, they'd all probably
break out into song and dance before I even had a chance to rot in
the ground.
Ding dong, the Dick is
dead.
    “You people don't give a
rat's ass what happens to me,” I muttered under my breath watching
the array of “friends” living it up on the school's front lawn, a
trickle of sweat slithering down my temple. Why aren't these goddamn pills working?!
The puny, pathetic little sheep down below
just kept on playing their merry little games while I prayed for my
heart to stop racing, it's pounding causing a symphony of anguish
in my head. I tried thinking about all the grotesque things I could
make each one of them do at my amusement in efforts to distract the
ever growing negativity that clouded my mind. I wasn't sure if
picturing them as my personal flying monkeys excited me or saddened
me. Either way, I wasn't exactly proud of the feeling.
I wasn't proud of a lot of things these
days. Especially after what I did last month that started all