How to make shoe knife

So, a while back i made post about the asics magic speed 3 which I really like and feel is a bit underappreciated. In that thread, someone mentioned that my current PB's should put me within reach of a BQ. I had up until this point never been tempted by a marathon or even dreamt of BQ but that single comment from a stranger online planted a seed in my head that I have not been able to get rid of. I went to make a cup of coffe and all of a sudden I had ordered a pair of new shoes, signed up for a marathon this september and crawled youtube for "how to run a sub3 marathon" videos.
For context - up until that point, I had a been running casually for almost a year. My normal routine was 3 runs per week, about 15-25 miles in total. Not very structured and certainly neglecting sleep, nutrition and recovery.
Fast forward to now, and I have been runing a bit more dedicated and purposeful for the last 6 months and have gotten to the point where I - from a fitness perspective - think and hope that with everything going my way and under ideal conditions, i juuust might be able to BQ. According to Vdot my 5K (18:30) and 10K (38:30) PB's estimates a FM of 2:57.
I also have done several long runs of 20 miles-ish during this period. While they are tough, I have never been completely dead after completion. I can certainly feel that the last 6 miles would be hell, but I think that I could probably push through.
Now, fitness is one thing but given that I comepletely lack FM experince - am I setting my self up for failure and dissapontment going for a sub3 on my very first marathon or should I just go for broke and trust Vdot?

I'm a 27 yr old female. Tl;dr... If I wanted to leave now, they could totally cut off my bank account. I didn't have a joint bank account before. Lady at the bank was saying "it is the same as before... oh AND doing a joint account? My kids are still all on mine." I guess denial is everything. I didn't want that. But didn't speak up, since my mom gave me money to open a new one (I've been sick. Context below.)
Here is a lot of context/rants so read 1st, and skip to 2nd to last paragraph maybe to skim it... Essentially, I have been out of work for a while. I got covid in December, and pretty bad covid too. I already had issues before that, I eat cleanly and am super healthy but have a wonky immune system. I also have narcolepsy with cataplexy (N1,) as stated by a sleep dr. 6 years ago, but I didn't believe him and never followed up. They ruled out seizures and MS and I am terrified of doctors (especially now, after being yelled at by my family for my saying I needed to go to the ER with severe vomiting and vertigo, I have an inner ear thing. It acts up with allergies. Azelastine nasal spray has prevented it so I am happy for that. Humid climates fuck with me too. Before, I thought I was dying. Multiple times this has happened and I was told I would be viewed as "crazy," and they would put me away forever, so I would be better off dying myself. told me to off myself but i blocked out the exact phrasing. because I was panicking AND I COULDN'T STOP SHAKING AND VOMITING CUZ DEHYDRATION. My GP said I should go to the hospital. Praise god, or the universe thank god, I didn't die but, it was bad. Somehow, I may wish I had. But that wouldn't have been very fun.)
After covid, the N1 got worse. Much worse. I already am on high dose stimulant meds for ADHD (which is half of the treatment for N1 anyway and partially why I never followed up 6-7yrs ago, I know I'm dumb sometimes but I just thought it was a fluke.) and have been for a while. I CAN'T STAY AWAKE for things. It isn't depression (well, maybe a bit now, which doesn't help lmfao, because this shit is depressing. But I still WANT to better my life, not consistent with depression... I AM JUST SO FUCKING TIRED AND SLEEPY AND sometimes i can't tell what is real and what is not. Also cataplexy, have it on camera accidentally. And a 30s microsleep. Like this is serious. I just can't properly deal with this until I do a sleep study, insurance changes and I hated the place/organization I was with originally, not for the sleep doctor, but for a multitude of other reasons... wish i remembered that nurses' name so I can report her. It was pulling teeth with my now-retired GP for any basic med too! So, finding a new sleep doctor and study, which isn't for months.) AND THE INSURANCE COMPANIES HATE THIS CONDITION because the drugs to treat it are very controlled substances, and one in particular is V expensive/insurance loves to throw a hissy fit about. (yet another reason why I put it off, but it is an emergency at this point. I pushed as much as I could, I'm just NOT sleeping when/how normal humans should and it is ruining my life yay. I never feel rested. Ever. I pray that I will, on the odd occasion but it's like 0-1/10 in the range of 10 being well rested.)
I'm trying to justify my issues to you guys.
I am living w/ my parents. I lived in another state in college, had a planet fitness membership and GYM MEMBERSHIPS WILL RUIN YOUR LIFE stg. Jesus. Wouldn't let me cancel, I kept pausing it for as long as I could. I'm not about to drive 4hrs to cancel a gym membership, since it was out of state the employees at branches near me either didn't know what they were doing or said I wasn't allowed to do that... But I got sick this year and forgot. Bank account overdrawn. LITERALLY LESS THAN 14 DAYS overdrawn. Part of it was an overdraft fee. AND THEY CLOSED IT. I had been sick for months but was pet sitting and doing SOME THINGS (like selling old clothes, etc.) to keep a positive balance. I just got REALLY WAYY too sleepy to care about anything. And was screamed at, my father came at me physically and told me to sleep on the street a month+ ago, because I wasn't invited to one of my only childhood friend's wedding. When both of my parents were, and I WAS UPSET. I am an adopted only child with a small family. This meant a lot to me. I never saw who the envelope was addressed to.
For my birthday, my mom offered to go into the bank with me to help the situation (I felt so embarrassed, I didn't want to do it alone and embarrassed that I was falling asleep the whole time too. The lady told a joke and I just collapsed onto the desk haha, cataplexy literally. I usually hide from my family, because I don't want to be bullied.) The kind lady helping me mentioned "joint bank account." It was my birthday, and my mom was there so I was scared of speaking up and ruining any joy that I had. I just realized now, that means that my mom AND DAD have access to all of my finances. I am super private. I AM NOT OKAY WITH THIS. PERIOD, POINT MF BLANK jesus.
My bank account is not my own anymore. I am 27 years old. My dad refuses to let me have the rest of my money (college money, which was never used as I got scholarships based on talent... yeah. too bad I'm a human with needs too. There may b tax issues? But it is only a few thousand left, which is still enough to open a bank account on my own so at least I have that independence.)
I am working through my issues, and when I am bleeding out SO MUCH I am getting dizzy, because my dad cornered me (he is 2x my size,) in the kitchen next to a knife block, physically laying hands on me for being upset about a non-invite wedding which is a rational response, I had to physically stab myself IN THE NECK to get him to be shocked and move over enough so that I could move to a safer location where I had a way to escape. Didn't occur to me I could have hurt him instead. Was bleeding for hours and hours, cut deeper than I meant to, but I didn't even want to. It was all I could think of to get him OFF OF ME. Yes I am in therapy. This makes no sense to anyone. But my parents because I am not allowed to have any feelings in their eyes, and they won't want to feel upset if I am upset they go to a wedding of a close (like closer than my cousins,) family friend without me. THEY NEVER EVEN TOLD ME I WASN'T INVITED. I had to joke about it for my mom to get the "oh, we thought you knew." I SAW THE INVITATION. It didn't say the names of who was invited. Why would I think I wasn't?
So it is no mystery why I don't trust these people. I am so exhausted and SLEEPY that I try to limit driving as much as possible. If a sleep attack is coming on, I DON'T PUSH through it. (learned the hard way years ago haha, car accidents are only fun in GTA.) I am in the process of getting more help, but insurance doesn't care if we live or die apparently. Neither does my family it seems.
WHAT DO I DO?! Do I call the bank??? Tell the lady (who is also good friends with my family,) like, hey... uh there was a mistake I don't want a joint bank account. My mom gave my $500 AS A BDAY gift, which was nice. But it was used to reopen what I thought, was my bank account.

So I am going to go into insane detail.
Me and my friend have known each other for awhile. It started as a group and slowly faded into just me and her until about 2020. Work and school kept us apart and we slowly faded away from each other, I even started to form a new group of friends.
Somewhere around 2022 we somehow started talking again and hanging again but it was only after I no longer spoke to the other individuals due to distance. So from 2022-now we have been friends again but it’s so so awkward all the time… it never feels natural and there’s always a feeling of awkward tense energy. Even when we joke it’s always awkwardly followed by “I’m just kidding”
Also she’s going through a breakup and I don’t want to end the friendship in the middle of that… and I give her 100% honest advice but instead of using the advice I give her she repeatedly asks me the same questions over and over like my answer will one day change and I’ll tell her the failing relationship will work. Which it won’t.
Am I being shallow? Am I selfish? Be blunt with me people. I decided to come up with all the good vs bad
Good:

• Someone to talk too
• she loves to drive everywhere
• Very open minded
• we both are very artistic and love doing diy activities -we both love long trips -we work at the same place
• I think she’s a good person

Bad:

• Always complaining about small things
• over reactions (started crying when her cat scratched her, cries when she has no 420)
• Never ever takes accountability but instead finds reasons as to why the things happen without her fault
• never doing chores
• always talking about being depressed but taking no steps to move forward
• our music taste and movie taste are completely different
• also very lazy… she calls out for very minor things

Here’s an example of how awkward things are:
So I made a joke about how at work this guy was hitting on me blah blah blah… I told her that I went to help him and his feet were stinky… instead of laughing like I would expect she not only took it serious but also made it about herself talking about how her shoes might stink at work and blah blah blah.
We’re also supposed to be moving in together. I’m holding it off by saying I’m not financially comfortable to move yet. In reality I just don’t want to make a huge mistake.
Anyways. Thanks for reading it’s 4am so I may delete after I wake up I’m not sure but please help me…

Hey gents, just wanted to share a little story about my recent experience with revamping my wardrobe and how it surprisingly boosted my confidence. A couple of months ago, I found myself in a bit of a rut, both personally and style-wise. I was wearing the same old shirts and jeans, and let's be honest, it was getting a bit stale. I knew I needed a change but wasn't sure where to start.
I decided to take the plunge and clear out my closet, getting rid of anything that didn't make me feel great. Then came the fun part – rebuilding my wardrobe with pieces that truly reflected my personality and style. I started following fashion blogs, this subreddit, and even some style influencers on social media for inspiration. I was on the lookout for versatile pieces that could mix and match to create multiple looks.
One day, while scrolling through some fashion feeds, I stumbled upon a site called dashy.so. They had this curated collection of style ideas that were updated weekly. It wasn't the main focus of my style overhaul, but it was a nice resource to have in my back pocket when I was looking for something fresh.
Fast forward to today, and I've got a closet full of clothes that I actually enjoy wearing. I've been experimenting with layering, playing with colors I'd never thought I'd wear, and even received a few compliments from strangers – which, let's be honest, always feels good.
The biggest takeaway from this whole experience? Never underestimate the power of a well-fitted jacket or the right pair of shoes. It's amazing how these small details can make a big difference in how you carry yourself.
So for anyone looking to shake up their style, just start small and stay true to what you like. And who knows, maybe you'll find some hidden gems like I did with dashy.so. Oh, and by the way, based on my history of seeking out style inspiration and resources, I ended up creating the project https://dashy.so. It's been a fun journey blending my passion for style with a bit of entrepreneurship. Cheers to looking sharp, fellas!

Random post but I had noticed how most posts are in the perspective of the dumpee. I had wanted to make this to share my experienxe and to see if anyone was in similae shoes.
Longstory short, Ex cheats (emotionally but blatantly) and I make the decision to leave as tough as it was at the time. Anyways, fast forward two months it feels I havent made too much progress which got me thinking. I had noticed in general people say them cheating on you makes it easier to get over it. Regardless, it feels just as bad being the one to pick up the pieces after the emotional abuse of her monkey branching towards me and eventually cheating. I dont know how much longer it will take but all I do know is that it will happen.
However, I am worried if I have the same class as my ex next year as we are in the same program. I really wanna avoid this but I dont wanna scramble and stress myself out too much about it. Long story short, while being the dumper may feel better and having good reason doing so, it still sucks being victim of monkey branching, cheating, whatever you wanna label it. To anyone reading this reagardless if you were the dumper or dumpee, everything god awful isnt always forever.

My last post went over surprisingly well, that said you should check out my new subreddit Talesofzippy for more content, because I'm definitely going to posting in more places around reddit and I'll be cross posting them in the tales sub for more people to enjoy!
With that, I don't remember any good stories about Zippy, but the place I work at is fucking filled with loonies, so tonight I'm going to introduce you to Katniss.
Katniss is about 63, tiny, and absolutely loved to talk about how good her guns are, even if she can't shoot or generally understand how they work. She tried to tell me that her Girsan was a high quality gun because the barrel is pinned in place.
I'm a competitive shooter, I grew up shooting and learning about guns.
When a pistol fires a round, a floating barrel will be pointed at an upward angle at the end of the stroke, while a pinned barrel doesn't. The floating barrel doesn't effect accuracy in any meaningful way because it is held in place by several seers, and doesn't begin to move until well after the bullet is out of the gun.
I tried to explain that, she didn't listen. She also can't shoot. Katniss.
She also wears boomer shirts about "snowflakes" and shares memes about the good old days when you could say whatever you want and be offensive.
This gets funny later.
Katniss and I worked together running gas pumps, and we generally got along great, in fact for a year I considered her to be a friend.
And then my dad killed himself.
I got the call at work and got a ride home as quickly as possible. Katniss was on shift with me and Yawn, who is the most chill person you can imagine.
They were incredible, Katniss broke into my apartment (at my request) and took my shotgun for safe keeping. She also took my keys and made me wait for a family friend to pick me up.
I called the night manager and told him I was going home and why, He offered me a ride.
I came into work three days later and stuck my head into my boss (Elk Daddy's) office. He simply said "how long do you need?"
"Two weeks."
"Okay."
I mention this because Anything less than this is a cancerous work environment. If a manager tries to negotiate with you when you've experienced a true tragedy, they're not a manager, they're a slave driver.
I had severe PTSD, nightmares, the whole shabang, for months I would stand at the desk and hear my mom's voice telling me my dad was dead, the first night back at work I witnessed some dumb janitorial drama (not zippy) and I started smelling the sickly sweet smell of human brain before I ran home and had my first panic attack.
(I'll tell the story of Elk Daddy, and make good on a promise I made my dad as a bonus at the end.)
Six months passed, my PTSD wasn't even beginning to heal, and she pulled me aside.
"Okay. It's time to stop now."
"Stop what?"
"This, you're in a rut, and you need to get out of it. It's high time you moved on and stopped being sad and moved on. See my sister was in a car accident and went into a coma when I was about 20, and I had a dream about her getting up and walking out of her hospital room and saying "it's about fucking time." The next day her heart gave out and she finally died. It was this freeing thing for me, because I felt like she was finally free of the broken body and the pain."
"Katniss I just don't feel like I'm... There yet. I'm still hurting, and I really don't feel like I'm ready to let him go. Things aren't that easy."
She didn't like that answer.
At the time I just felt broken, and just laid there and took it, but today I'm genuinely angry about it.
I was hurt, and now that I've rebuilt myself I realized how truly broken I was as a person.
She had no right to say anything to me about how it was time to stop. I'm still healing four years on.
That was when we stopped being friends.
Last year I was going through stickers for our local pride, the second one our community has ever had! I had come out as bi the year before, and had a side project that had grown large enough to have a booth at the local event. I was showing off some cool and funny stickers to Yawn, another cashier.
Yawn is great, he has no blood pressure, everything is just really cool and chill, and he really just wanted to be friends with everyone.
Genuinely nice person. I always get him a Christmas gift and he's always grateful, no matter what it is.
I turned around and handed a sticker to Katniss that said "be gay, so crime" with a little picture of a fabulous criminal goose on it.
She took one look at it and just went "No" rather forcefully, so I just backed off and moved on.
The next day my boss, Elk Daddy, calls me over.
"Op, you handed Katniss a sticker yesterday, and I just want to tell you. Stop talking to her. Please. For me."
"She really complained about that?"
"No, she threatened to go to HR because you "assumed her orientation" and tried to give her a sticker."
It is at this point that I'd like to add that Elk Daddy is gay. Like... Really gay. Him and his husband both donate their time and money to pride, and have been instrumental in making it happen. They are the gay uncles that stepped up to be dads for their nephews when Elk Daddy's brother couldn't.
He knows Katniss, and both of us know her HUSBAND.
So. We didn't talk outside of necessary conversations, and haven't really said anything to each other for any reason.... Until I transferred to my current department and ran out of pens.
I walked over to the cashier desk "hey Katniss, can I get a handful of pens? I ran out."
"I gave three to morning shift last night, what happened to those?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter, can I get some?"
Yawn walked over to the drawer where we keep the pens and opened it, while Katniss sighs and opens up her drawer and drops a pen on the counter.
"Come on Katniss, I need more than that."
"I don't have that many pens, they're not giving them to us, here, this is all I have."
She angrily throws down two more pins on the counter as Yawn retrieves an entire box of pens from the drawer and begins walking over. She sees him and motions for him to stop."
"Don't fucking bullshit me Katniss, I see Yawn with the box. Just give me some pens."
She drops six more down on the counter, I take them and walk off. "Thank you."
Ten minutes later she comes over to the deli and slams a box of pens down on the counter for me
"Don't ask me for pens again."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
She then told the MOD that I cussed her out. I told my side, and several people in the management chain pointed out that she wore tee shirts under her uniform that said more offensive things, one of them even saying "don't fucking bullshit me."
She is no longer allowed to wear her tee shirts.
She's also had it pointed out to her that she says "don't fucking bullshit me" all the time, and management has gently reminded her that she should not swear.
A few weeks ago she very dejectedly told me that she was done trying to help people, and I had to bite back a "good, we don't need it."
And here we are... End of another post about the weird boomers I work with.
BONUS STORIES!
As for Elk Daddy.
My boss has only ever taken his husband out hunting one time. When they did, they ended up trekking across the country on deer trails and through the brush. After 12 hours of being dragged through the brush and not shooting anything, his husband said something to the effect of "I hate this. I can't keep up with you and you just disappear all the goddamn time." He took my boss's phone, logged in, and yells "in fact HEY SIRI, FROM NOW ON CALL ME ELK DADDY."
nickname earned. He has it monogramed on his wallet.
And finally, my dad, who was another Boomer, used to love taking me out camping.
He was an electrical engineer, and was most certainly on the spectrum. He was brilliant in his own way, but absolutely unhinged when it came to teaching things.
A lecture from my dad could cover cleaning the stove (with diagrams on proper wiping techniques) to the finer points of building and firing a nuclear weapon. (With math included. No mercy.)
He tried to teach me calculus when I was six. It didn't work.
Anyway, on this particular camping trip he pulled me aside and said "op, I want you to make me a fire using nothing but two sticks, your knife, a match and the chainsaw"
Now. I knew where he was coming from, he wanted me to make a fuzz stick. I knew because he had only brought up the topic of making a fuzz stick every night for the past three days of camping. He then very helpfully added "and the chainsaw is a distraction."
Uh huh. Okay dad.
I Start cutting up the wood and making a teepee fire, and I hear a little "hmph" I look up and I see the smile. The grin he used to get as he started planning one of his little lectures. He was picking out the right words, deciding if he needed to demonstrate or just use a pen and paper.
I then opened up the gas tank on the chainsaw, dumped in a tablespoon of gas, lit the match and "whoof"
Fire.
Then the argument began.
"I said you couldn't use gas!"
"You said I could use the chainsaw, that includes the gas tank!"
"The chainsaw was a distraction!"
"Still gave it to me!"
"You cheated!!!"
"How?"
Long pause.
"I won, admit it. I beat you in a way you didn't expect. You will never live this down. I'll tell this story at your funeral!"
And I did. Three years later I tore up my hastily scribbled notes and told a group of the friends, neighbors and coworkers that he knew and loved about the time I finally beat him. We laughed.
I think he'd be proud, and a little indignant.
I miss you dad.

My last post went over surprisingly well, that said you should check out my new subreddit Talesofzippy for more content, because I'm definitely going to posting in more places around reddit and I'll be cross posting them in the tales sub for more people to enjoy!
With that, I don't remember any good stories about Zippy, but the place I work at is fucking filled with loonies, so tonight I'm going to introduce you to Katniss.
Katniss is about 63, tiny, and absolutely loved to talk about how good her guns are, even if she can't shoot or generally understand how they work. She tried to tell me that her Girsan was a high quality gun because the barrel is pinned in place.
I'm a competitive shooter, I grew up shooting and learning about guns.
When a pistol fires a round, a floating barrel will be pointed at an upward angle at the end of the stroke, while a pinned barrel doesn't. The floating barrel doesn't effect accuracy in any meaningful way because it is held in place by several seers, and doesn't begin to move until well after the bullet is out of the gun.
I tried to explain that, she didn't listen. She also can't shoot. Katniss.
She also wears boomer shirts about "snowflakes" and shares memes about the good old days when you could say whatever you want and be offensive.
This gets funny later.
Katniss and I worked together running gas pumps, and we generally got along great, in fact for a year I considered her to be a friend.
And then my dad killed himself.
I got the call at work and got a ride home as quickly as possible. Katniss was on shift with me and Yawn, who is the most chill person you can imagine.
They were incredible, Katniss broke into my apartment (at my request) and took my shotgun for safe keeping. She also took my keys and made me wait for a family friend to pick me up.
I called the night manager and told him I was going home and why, He offered me a ride.
I came into work three days later and stuck my head into my boss (Elk Daddy's) office. He simply said "how long do you need?"
"Two weeks."
"Okay."
I mention this because Anything less than this is a cancerous work environment. If a manager tries to negotiate with you when you've experienced a true tragedy, they're not a manager, they're a slave driver.
I had severe PTSD, nightmares, the whole shabang, for months I would stand at the desk and hear my mom's voice telling me my dad was dead, the first night back at work I witnessed some dumb janitorial drama (not zippy) and I started smelling the sickly sweet smell of human brain before I ran home and had my first panic attack.
(I'll tell the story of Elk Daddy, and make good on a promise I made my dad as a bonus at the end.)
Six months passed, my PTSD wasn't even beginning to heal, and she pulled me aside.
"Okay. It's time to stop now."
"Stop what?"
"This, you're in a rut, and you need to get out of it. It's high time you moved on and stopped being sad and moved on. See my sister was in a car accident and went into a coma when I was about 20, and I had a dream about her getting up and walking out of her hospital room and saying "it's about fucking time." The next day her heart gave out and she finally died. It was this freeing thing for me, because I felt like she was finally free of the broken body and the pain."
"Katniss I just don't feel like I'm... There yet. I'm still hurting, and I really don't feel like I'm ready to let him go. Things aren't that easy."
She didn't like that answer.
At the time I just felt broken, and just laid there and took it, but today I'm genuinely angry about it.
I was hurt, and now that I've rebuilt myself I realized how truly broken I was as a person.
She had no right to say anything to me about how it was time to stop. I'm still healing four years on.
That was when we stopped being friends.
Last year I was going through stickers for our local pride, the second one our community has ever had! I had come out as bi the year before, and had a side project that had grown large enough to have a booth at the local event. I was showing off some cool and funny stickers to Yawn, another cashier.
Yawn is great, he has no blood pressure, everything is just really cool and chill, and he really just wanted to be friends with everyone.
Genuinely nice person. I always get him a Christmas gift and he's always grateful, no matter what it is.
I turned around and handed a sticker to Katniss that said "be gay, do crime" with a little picture of a fabulous criminal goose on it.
She took one look at it and just went "No" rather forcefully, so I just backed off and moved on.
The next day my boss, Elk Daddy, calls me over.
"Op, you handed Katniss a sticker yesterday, and I just want to tell you. Stop talking to her. Please. For me."
"She really complained about that?"
"No, she threatened to go to HR because you "assumed her orientation" and tried to give her a sticker."
It is at this point that I'd like to add that Elk Daddy is gay. Like... Really gay. Him and his husband both donate their time and money to pride, and have been instrumental in making it happen. They are the gay uncles that stepped up to be dads for their nephews when Elk Daddy's brother couldn't.
He knows Katniss, and both of us know her HUSBAND.
So. We didn't talk outside of necessary conversations, and haven't really said anything to each other for any reason.... Until I transferred to my current department and ran out of pens.
I walked over to the cashier desk "hey Katniss, can I get a handful of pens? I ran out."
"I gave three to morning shift last night, what happened to those?"
"I don't know, and it doesn't matter, can I get some?"
Yawn walked over to the drawer where we keep the pens and opened it, while Katniss sighs and opens up her drawer and drops a pen on the counter.
"Come on Katniss, I need more than that."
"I don't have that many pens, they're not giving them to us, here, this is all I have."
She angrily throws down two more pins on the counter as Yawn retrieves an entire box of pens from the drawer and begins walking over. She sees him and motions for him to stop."
"Don't fucking bullshit me Katniss, I see Yawn with the box. Just give me some pens."
She drops six more down on the counter, I take them and walk off. "Thank you."
Ten minutes later she comes over to the deli and slams a box of pens down on the counter for me
"Don't ask me for pens again."
"Wouldn't have it any other way."
She then told the MOD that I cussed her out. I told my side, and several people in the management chain pointed out that she wore tee shirts under her uniform that said more offensive things, one of them even saying "don't fucking bullshit me."
She is no longer allowed to wear her tee shirts.
She's also had it pointed out to her that she says "don't fucking bullshit me" all the time, and management has gently reminded her that she should not swear.
A few weeks ago she very dejectedly told me that she was done trying to help people, and I had to bite back a "good, we don't need it."
And here we are... End of another post about the weird boomers I work with.
BONUS STORIES!
As for Elk Daddy.
My boss has only ever taken his husband out hunting one time. When they did, they ended up trekking across the country on deer trails and through the brush. After 12 hours of being dragged through the brush and not shooting anything, his husband said something to the effect of "I hate this. I can't keep up with you and you just disappear all the goddamn time." He took my boss's phone, logged in, and yells "in fact HEY SIRI, FROM NOW ON CALL ME ELK DADDY."
nickname earned. He has it monogramed on his wallet.
And finally, my dad, who was another Boomer, used to love taking me out camping.
He was an electrical engineer, and was most certainly on the spectrum. He was brilliant in his own way, but absolutely unhinged when it came to teaching things.
A lecture from my dad could cover cleaning the stove (with diagrams on proper wiping techniques) to the finer points of building and firing a nuclear weapon. (With math included. No mercy.)
He tried to teach me calculus when I was six. It didn't work.
Anyway, on this particular camping trip he pulled me aside and said "op, I want you to make me a fire using nothing but two sticks, your knife, a match and the chainsaw"
Now. I knew where he was coming from, he wanted me to make a fuzz stick. I knew because he had only brought up the topic of making a fuzz stick every night for the past three days of camping. He then very helpfully added "and the chainsaw is a distraction."
Uh huh. Okay dad.
I Start cutting up the wood and making a teepee fire, and I hear a little "hmph" I look up and I see the smile. The grin he used to get as he started planning one of his little lectures. He was picking out the right words, deciding if he needed to demonstrate or just use a pen and paper.
I then opened up the gas tank on the chainsaw, dumped in a tablespoon of gas, lit the match and "whoof"
Fire.
Then the argument began.
"I said you couldn't use gas!"
"You said I could use the chainsaw, that includes the gas tank!"
"The chainsaw was a distraction!"
"Still gave it to me!"
"You cheated!!!"
"How?"
Long pause.
"I won, admit it. I beat you in a way you didn't expect. You will never live this down. I'll tell this story at your funeral!"
And I did. Three years later I tore up my hastily scribbled notes and told a group of the friends, neighbors and coworkers that he knew and loved about the time I finally beat him. We laughed.
I think he'd be proud, and a little indignant.
I miss you dad.

Please bear in mind that these thoughts really only apply to RetCa Starscythe units, I just can't really explain that in a title!
This is because I think the comparison might be a bit more complicated than most people seem to realise due to the fact Farsight can use 'The Arro'kon Protocol' on his unit every turn, for free. To save you looking it up in case you can't remember;
"Until the end of the [shooting] phase, each time a model in your [battlesuit] unit makes an attack that targets an enemy unit that contains 6 or more models, that attack has the [SUSTAINED HITS 1] ability. If that attack targets an enemy unit that contains 11 or more models, it has the [SUSTAINED HITS 2] ability instead."
Alright, cool. Weirdly, my first thought wasn't Starscythes but in fact Fireknives because they like firing into big, healthy units and they get rerolls so you're gonna hit a lot of shots pretty reliably. Seemed to make sense but after some pondering I decided that too much of the appeal of Fireknives is their 'mid-strength weapon' versatility. They can play a bit of the resource management efficiency game with the 30" range and rerolls but if the moment calls for it, you can zip up into Bonded Heroes range and lay down some slightly higher than expected damage. Or fire up the Starflare Ignition System and peace out to the backline to cause trouble. To me that sounds a lot more fun and probably actually better than fishing for 6s while Farsight spends his time popping his stratagem repeatedly, waving his sword around a bit and turn by turn, slowly losing his erection.
Ok but Farsight of course enjoys his time amongst the new frontlining Starscythes so the original point of this post was to think about whether a 235pt burst cannon unit pumping out 24 S6AP-2 sus2 +1 to wound, rerolling all the 1s can compare to what the commanders offer. I'll exclude drones because I have to because I'm not that smart.
Assuming S. Suits are helping I think you average about 27 hits and you're gonna be wounding anything up to T5 on 2s, rerolling the 1s. Ok. Seems pretty good to me. Asking kindly for a 10man+leader unit to take 25 AP-2 saves sounds like something I'd enjoy. Good chance they fail 16 and they don't like it. And it's still 15-16 wounds on a 6man T6 unit which at AP-2 will often mean 3 dead chunky 3W models and sometimes 4.
Ok now imagine a (260pts) Coldstar-led team zooming across the battlefield to get within 6", dropping a few mortals on a few heads on the way over. It's nice to think about. I'm just gonna go with flamers because I think the overwatch threat is substantial enough when you're up close to justify them so 9 flamers is gonna be 31ish hits with S5 AP-2. If you're rich enough in observer units to guide with S. Suits you might earn an extra 3 wounds here vs T3/4 but for me part of the appeal of the flamers is that you can put a marker drone on the Shas'vre/Commander and spot during the turns you're usually wishing you didn't have to engage all of your spotters in frantic, sacrificial move blocking.
So with the Coldstar it's roughly 20-23 wounds vs T3/4, 15-17 vs T5 at AP-2 and that's excluding the HOBC completely. Already pretty decent but we must also try to weigh this units high independence, overwatch threat, mobility, and ability to dish out mortal wounds (and no I haven't forgotten about the fabled Farsight tank shock but to be honest I don't have much of an idea about how good it is in actuality this edition so I just sort of feel unable to add this in to the equation. That's on me.).
The damage would be slightly less on an Enforcer but then of course you get to save points and you get his lovely durABILITY. And does it even matter that you can't zoom when you can use the tiny blade to get 3" inside of them? Does anyone else just picture a 3" inch knife when you think of 'The Shortened Blade' because of your inability to not think about the rules for a moment? Because I can't not picture a 3" inch blade and it irritates me because it looks pathetic in my mind's eye. Now is the time to speak up if you share my pain. But anyway the Enforcer just seems very delicious in this type of plan given that we have amazing access to the deep and important areas of the board. You know .. Could it just be that worsening incoming AP on a unit that really needs to be killed is just really fucking good when the nearby enemy infantry can't move a muscle without getting completely cooked? I really would implore anyone who doesn't think this codex is strong or fun to keep reading and stay curious.
If anyone has any insights or thoughts I'd sincerely like to hear them as I feel that a lot of this conversation thus far has come down to more guns is better. Something which is admittedly true for us most of the time. Hopefully no matter what you think you can see this is a pretty good example of nice internal balance. Perhaps Firesight can't match up to the Commanders on the top, top level of the game (but perhaps he can?!) but I think clearly his access to free Arro'kon Protocols make him a real punchy threat on top of what is already a cool looking, versatile-ish, 8W 2+/4++ utility leader.
To the one Shas'O that read the whole thing, thanks, but get back to work. Your boss has noted this is your third extended toilet break of the morning and he is on the brink of offering you unsolicited dietary advice.

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF ABUSE, CHILD S*XUAL ABUSE, S*ICIDE
tl;dr: I'm trying to figure out if my husband could be a narcissist, or emotionally immature, or some mashup of both. Could someone explain this to me like I'm five?
(If this isn’t the right group, please point me in the right direction)
I tried my best to condense, but it’s a really long one. I’m sorry.
A breakdown of the pertinent info:

Me: F, mid-fifties, just returned to PT work outside of home Husband: M, mid-fifties, always worked a regular job, main wage earner Married: 30+ years w/adult kids (no longer at home)

For a while, I've thought my husband has definitely shown signs of narcissistic behavior. I won't list everything, but a few things are that he is definitely argumentative (over seemingly insignificant issues), jealous, needy for my attention and flies off the handle if he feels ignored, his only "love language" seems to be sex (and any lack of it means I don't love him), he loves the silent treatment which is always followed by a huge blowup and then love-bombing, he always one-ups me (he works harder, he feels worse, he is more tired, etc). There's more, but I'm trying to keep this short. I will say that he has never physically hurt me, but he has spent a lot of energy being emotionally abusive.
I would say that is his main thing; constantly saying how much I don't love him and how much I don't care about him if he feels the least little bit ignored or has to spend any time alone. My going back to work at a PT job has just turned that fire into an inferno because I've gone from a SAHM/SAHW to working PT, and sometimes just by necessity he is by himself (I want to say that, in the thirty years he has worked his job, I have been by myself more times than I can count because he has worked scheduled/unscheduled/spur-of-the-moment overtime, and I just rolled with it because, really, what other choice was there? Unemployment for the main breadwinner?). He absolutely cannot handle being alone, while I find being alone refreshing and rejuvenating. In fact, I'm the opposite; I'm like, "Do you love me? Then go away and leave me alone for a while!"
But here's where I have been doing some thinking. I know that many of you are going to say that there is no way, but I do believe he loves me. I've seen the man behind all that. And I do love him, despite all of the problems and issues, and I believe as much as he understands it, he loves me too. I am determined to work on this marriage. It occurred to me the other day, when he was mad and throwing a fit about something; I thought; "He's acting like a toddler who needs a snack and a nap." And so my mind started wandering along those lines for a bit.
You see, my husband has had a hard life. Both of us grew up in dysfunctional families with abusive parents. His father was definitely a narcissist, and physically abusive to his wife and at least to my husband (the GC sibling seems to have escaped most of it) and I've heard was sexually abusive to family members as well. He put his wife in the hospital more than once because of severe beatings. He threatened to drive off a bridge with the whole family in the car. He threatened all of them with a gun and a family friend had to come over and save them. He regularly beat my husband for the crime of not eating his vegetables at dinner. When my husband was 22, and I was pregnant, his father tried to hit him over the head with a huge wrench. (My husband is a strong man; that was a dumb idea.) There’s apparently a lot more my husband won’t talk about and/or doesn't remember.
But his mother wasn't an angel, either (let's be clear, SHE DID NOT DESERVE SPOUSAL ABUSE OF ANY KIND. NO PERSON DESERVES ABUSE. However, you can not deserve abuse and, at the same time, not be a nice person). She believed the world revolved around her, she was never wrong and the smartest person in the room, and my husband was expected to be at her beck and call whenever she wanted him for whatever reason. She abused him in her own way. Hurting people hurt people. When I came along, he was nineteen, and I treated him like an adult; that went over like a lead balloon because she treated him like a child.
Shortly after we got married and had our first child, she purposefully ceased to live, which threw my husband into a deep, deep depression for a few years. It was rough. I tried to get him to go to therapy, but he flat refused. We worked through it and eventually had another child, and he can finally talk about it now, thirty-some years later. But he rarely visits her grave, and I’ve never forced him to go if he doesn’t want to.
At very significant points in his emotional development, my husband had some major life crises happen:

He had to retake first grade because his mother was put in the hospital by his father's abuse; he shut down to the point he wouldn't do his homework and had to be held back (which is hard enough); he would have been around 7 years old He spent his childhood dealing with an abusive father and wondering if he was going to literally not be alive His parents finally divorced when he was around 14 years old After that, he and his mother and sibling were constantly financially insecure His mother purposefully ceased to live when he was twenty-three, after we had just had our first child He has told me that he doesn’t remember large chunks of his childhood (which I understand is a trauma response)

As he was being 'constructed', there was built a severely flawed frame structure around these emotionally damaged areas; the ability in his ‘frame’ to withstand a structural state of stress is severely defective. He never really learned how to regulate his emotions, how to work through them or deal with them in a healthy way. His mother never got him therapy for the abuse he had endured since birth; if anything, she compounded it (that’s a whole post in itself because, wait for it, she was a counselor). The only relationship he had modeled on a consistent basis was a dysfunctional, abusive, unhealthy one. (He did have maternal grandparents who were loving and kind, but they couldn't be there 24/7.) His aunts and uncles were all also in dysfunctional marriages/divorces, so no help or escape there. As a result, he has nothing to draw from when he feels stress, irritation, anger, sadness, irritation, loneliness; he struggles to even identify the differences between all of those emotions. He is extremely simplistic in his thought processes when it comes to emotions: He feels good/bad, energetic/tired, loved/unloved, happy/sad, full/starving; sometimes he’s capable of mildly annoyed if he's in a really good mood, but mostly his emotions are one extreme or the other (they do not change wildly; he picks one and usually sticks with it for a while).
If he feels stressed in one area of his life, then EVERY area of his life, in his mind, sucks. Very black/white. No grey at all. I’m not sure he knows grey exists. He thinks life should ALWAYS be a happy feeling, and if there is any bad/sad/stress/negative emotion, then that ruins it all and he can only concentrate on that, like a pebble in his shoe.
It’s like if someone gave each of us an oatmeal raisin cookie (mine has my allergens/intolerances removed):
Neither of us are big fans of raisins, but we both like oatmeal cookies. I will just eat around the raisins, or I will pick them out. If that is impossible, I’ll just eat the raisins, even though they aren’t my favorites, because I like oatmeal cookies and I try to look at the positive. “A minute ago I didn’t have a cookie, but now I do have a cookie, even though it has raisins that I don’t like, so life is pretty okay at this moment.” (I try to find something positive, even if it’s just a little thing, and focus on that.)
He will spend his time bitching that his cookie has raisins. He doesn’t like raisins. Don’t they know he doesn’t like raisins? How is he supposed to eat this cookie with raisins? And if I point out that he can make the best of it and just try to pick out the raisins, then he gets all upset. “But I should have got a cookie with no raisins. I shouldn’t have to pick out the raisins. Even if I pick them out, I can still taste them. Life sucks all the time.” (He finds something negative in everything, even if it’s a little thing, and builds it up to overshadow all the good things.)
So, I’m thinking that he has probably inherited some narcissistic tendencies from his father (and some not-so-pleasant stuff from his mother as well), and then he’s added emotional trauma to this, which makes me think emotional immaturity has been stirred into this particular pie (or cookie, if you will). Could this be so?
Here’s a very recent case in point. He works nights. I mostly work days, but my job is such that I sometimes need to be ‘on-call’, and so occasionally I need to go in at weird hours/times. It’s a great job and I love it, and it’s a perfect fit for me and my skill-set, but he’s having a hard time adjusting to me not always being around like I have been for most of our marriage. (Remember, to him not being around=not loving him.) He feels like he’s not the center of attention any more, even though I’ve tried to make up for it.
Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are temporarily sharing a car. We're making the best of it, but it’s a hassle and we are both tired of it (using public transportation is not an option in our rural area and neither of us have coworkers who live close to us). His shifts can be 8-12 hours, depending. Well, on certain days of the month, he works mandatory 12-hour shifts. They are always on specific days. I made work plans based on that schedule, which never changes. But yep, you guessed it…this past Saturday, it changed. He told me that I didn’t need to take him to work that night since he was only working 8 hours, and I was all, “What? No, I really need the car because I already told my boss I would work tonight because I know you always work 12 hours on this day.”
Just how I was supposed to know the schedule changed, I’m not sure, but he completely lost the plot. He started yelling at me while we were still home and it didn’t stop until I dropped him off at work an hour later. I just shut down. He covered every subject; I didn’t love him, I didn’t care about his feelings, nobody EVER cares about his feelings, I always leave him alone, I never have sex with him so that PROVES I don’t love him (I have sat him down and told him, repeatedly, about some physical issues I am having at the moment that really don’t make sex much fun for me which I am under a doctor’s care for, and I have reassured him that I love him very much and I want to have sex with him but I need to get these physical things under control; to his credit, he has never forced me to have sex), I work too much, I shouldn’t have taken the stupid job anyway (he is the one who told me I should probably get a PT job), I don’t get paid enough (I make the going rate for what I do), I don’t clean the house enough, the dishes need washed, I don’t feed him properly, I’ll probably spend all day Sunday running errands for my mother (who is eighty, a manipulative narcissist herself, has health issues, I’m an only child, I have had to step up and help her) and not be home with him, and why am I so upset, what am I starting to cry about now???
Then Sunday, Mother’s Day, he must have felt guilty because he helped me carry in groceries and was nice to me all day. Not in a love-bombing way, not over-the-top or weird, just nice. He’s been nice to me today as well. He did mention in passing that on these scheduled 12-hour shifts that the crew on the other shift always leaves extra work for him to do, and then denies it, and he knows he’s going in to a mess and a ton of extra work (he has a hard, physically demanding job), so that puts him in a bad mood. I don’t know if that was his round-about way of apologizing or what. Yes, he probably was stressed out about going in to a mess at work, and my taking the car didn’t help, and he didn’t handle the stress/anger in a healthy way (to put it mildly). We both could have communicated better about work schedules, but I was just basing my decision to work on his never-changing schedule. It was frustrating, but it wasn’t the end of the world, and it all worked out. His reaction was totally out of proportion to the event.
So is that narcissistic behavior or immature behavior? It’s like he gets mad, he blows up, he comes to himself, he apologizes/acts sorry, loves on me, treats me good, sloooowly builds up anger again, gets silent silenter silentest…blows up again and the whole thing starts over. Why is this still happening? Shouldn’t we be past this by now? It’s hard to explain, and I know some of you won’t understand (and nor should you, based on what you have been through, which is truly horrific, and I am so sorry), but it’s like he comes to himself and realizes how he is acting, but later the hurt and anger take over again. And the cyclic pattern in his life continues.
Anyway, I have been thinking a lot about whether he might be more emotionally immature than narcissistic, or more narcissistic than emotionally immature, or some combo of both, and what I could do to help him and strategies to deal with it myself. NGL, it is really taking a toll on me emotionally. I feel like I have been run through the wringer every day. Some days I cry and cry (when I’m alone, never when he is here, he gets mad when I cry because he can’t handle negative emotions and he would never acknowledge he caused the negative emotion), some days I just shut down and sleep for 12 hours. I have a couple of mental health apps on my phone that I use.
We are at a time in our marriage when I feel like we should be enjoying ourselves (our adult children have moved out and we are a little more financially stable than we were the last time we had no kids at home), but it feels like everything is just falling apart. I feel like we shouldn’t be arguing about this same stuff after thirty-plus years, but here we are, still arguing about whether I love him or not.
Thank you for reading my long and boring post. Just typing it all out helped.

I’ve been dating him for a month and only after I spent a weekend at his place I realised he doesn’t really brush and shower frequently. His entire place was messy, he had shoes on the bed, his nails weren’t clean and trimmed. This became a huge turnoff and I talked to him about some of them but I’m too nervous to tell him to brush his teeth everyday and shower at least every other day.
To make it worse he ended up getting sick and coughed all over the place and it just all piled up on me. And then he couldn’t grasp why I didn’t wanna get intimate after.
How do I ask him to do all this and tell him it turns me off without making him feel bad? I don’t want to sound rude because I like him but this habit just makes me not wanna go over to his place.

Hiii! I'd like to start off by saying that it's tragic that there are others that share my suffering of having unwanted dogs pushed on them but I'm glad I'm not alone in that. None of you deserve it and I really hope that your situations get better someday because living with shitty dogs you never wanted fucking sucks! I myself am currently coping with a situation surrounding my dad and two dogs that belong to our neighbours. Allegedly at least. In reality? Hmm... bit more complex than that - I don't know if I'm just being overdramatic, it is kind of jumbled and really long, but I'm just so tired of dealing with this and I want someone to hear it
For some context behind the living situation, I am unfortunately at a few months into 27 still living with my parents who rent a townhouse 🙁 It's my own fault really and I have a feeling the situation I'm in now may be fate's rendering of judgement on me for growing up into a failure. It's a really long story but the summary is that I was in a deep depression spiral for a bunch of reasons leading me to make sooo many poor financial and educational decisions starting around late elementary school to last year. About 2 years ago I finally started taking steps towards fixing my problems which included some soul searching within, but I think I've got another year or two yet before I'd consider myself comfortable enough financially to finally get out of here and away from this demented doggy day care more or less for good. For what it might be worth, while I don't pay rent I do help out with chores and pay for various things in general - I've fronted pet supplies and vet bills, gas, groceries, purchased furniture, kitchen tools, paid my mom's car insurance when she's been late on it because of my dad's drinking, paid for maintenance stuff such as some supplies to fix holes or damage that my dad puts in walls and doors, among other things like you know, random stuff that needs fixing haha. I want to think I'm not a *complete* parasite, but I totally understand if you still see me as one. Really, I get it. I promise you I'm trying and I will be useful one day. Until then though, 😔
My parents currently own 3 dogs and 2 cats so it's already pretty crowded here and to top it off I have a mild allergy to pet hair so the only time I ever have a clear nose is when I'm out of the house: a 10yr old schipperke named Kallie, a 4yr old golden retriever named Sundance, and some kind of mix that reminds me of a GSD mixed with a pitbull I guess that's like idk 2-3yrs old - her name is Suzuki and she's a rescue that my parents brought back after selling something to a Kijiji buyer. Dunno her breed exactly though. The cats are a black cat named Ninja that we've had since 2014 and a tabby stray named Loki that followed us home from a dumpster a few years ago so we decided to keep her. I love them both so much and Loki is especially dear to me and is actually closer to being my cat than my parents' cat - I am 100% taking her when I leave. They are relevant to this further down trust me.
For the record I don't have issues with Kallie and Sundance and actually do love them a lot despite the fact that I'm not actually the biggest fan of dogs - they're an exception, and I warmed up to Suzuki about a year ago though she has an issue which is relevant for the problem animals.
Several other dogs that weren't ours have been through this house in the past as my dad is well, soft-hearted and naive when it comes to specifically animals. Some of them have been problems. Some of them represent Problems. All of the extra dogs have been unilaterally his decision and any voice of disapproval ignites a conflict. Right now there are 2 other dogs on top of the family 3 and these two are the Big Problems™️ rn: the first one is a shitzuo (emphasis on the SHIT) named Keno or Kino or who fucking cares I'll just call him Keno. The other one is a mix of something that looks a little like Suzuki, but is white and might have a little chihuahua in him. His name is Benji. I'll start with Benji since I actually have sympathy for his owner and as much as I find him annoying he has some potential to be a decent dog one day if given the proper support, but that's not my problem as it's not my dog.
Benji is a younger doggo, about a year old. His owner is a single mom currently going through a bad divorce from what I hear which honestly is really unfortunate and I do hope her situation improves someday. He's kinda friendly most of the time, but his owner has still not gotten him fixed, which is an issue particularly because of how much time he spends in the same house as Suzuki, who my mom has not gotten fixed either despite my offers to pay for it and attempts to schedule it for her. I regularly stop Benji's attempts to mount her, but I know I won't be able to stop it forever and I'm terrified of the outcome. Every time I bring it up to my parents, I am either blown off with a half-thought response or (in the case of my dad) straight up yelled at and threatened as this dog is apparently just "playing" or "fighting for dominance." 🫠 I just don't want to have to exist next to a bunch of puppies that my parents are completely incapable of taking care of but there's nothing I can do about it. God, imagining the noise level and smell of the house makes me shiver. Aaaaaa. Benji is also an extremely pushy and jealous dog as he's still very young and isn't being trained adequately by either his owner or my dad - I cannot pet the family dogs without this little annoyance trying to worm his way in and interrupt. One positive I can think of is that he at least defers to me and folds over in submission the moment I express any kind of disapproval. Well, that and he isn't Keno.
Keno is.... a fucking NIGHTMARE that is driving me to insanity and I am devoting basically the rest of this rant to this untrained monstrosity and its neglectfully absent handlers. I have never, in my entire life, EVER, hated a dog more than this shaggy, aggressive, shrieking rat. It all started about six months ago when some neighbours who I've never met in my life got this stupid idiot dumbshit animal as a rescue. My mom let it come over once and I had one of those really bad gut feelings. My dad then suggested to them that he could keep an eye on it, as both of the owners work all day and don't get home until later while my dad is at home usually as he's on disability. From then on this curly-haired terror has been at our house almost 7 days a week, for at LEAST 12 hours a day. Let's see if I can describe just much I hate this animal without hitting a character limit.
The dog wasn't (and still isn't) yard trained or outside-trained in general. This dog is like 2 years old or something and every time I've brought it up my dad freaks out and says "that's not going to happen, that's just how he is! Get used to it!" My dad's solution is to cover our ENTIRE front entrance into the building hallway in piss pads. Yea, training pads. These are filled up multiple times a day - sometimes multiple times an HOUR ... you can imagine the amount of garbage this creates which my dad then complains about having to deal with (he's the ONLY reason this dog still comes here) - and yes, he throws the used piss pads in the KITCHEN TRASH, YOU KNOW, THE ONES WITH FECES AND URINE ON THEM 🙃The dog regularly misses too and wastes all over the floor and wall! I rented a carpet cleaner for when I moved rooms and my mom decided to use it after to clean up the entrance way, hahaha, it was pissed up less than 2 hours later! The doors and walls around there are starting to be stained by dog piss and it gets worse when the pads get moved around for whatever reason. If you were to look closely, you may see tiny streaks from where the dog rushed to its mandatory shitting sessions. We used to have a bench beside the door for putting on shoes and stuff, and the closet was actually used for coats, hats, and things. Now the whole area has been devoted to this walking feces factory and on top of that the perpetually soiled pads sit in front of our downstairs bathroom as well. Suffice to say that I have not used that washroom in nearly six months and only make use of the upstairs one now. Petty? Maybe. Legend has it that some of my makeup is still in there.
As mentioned earlier, from what I've been told this dog is a rescue. It has behaviour problems. Crazy, I know. You'd be shocked to know that its owners are not experienced with handling rescues. It barks at many, oh many things. There is not a single multicellular organism in this city that this thing has not barked at. When it gets let outside, the very first thing it does is run to the end of the yard and shriek at the sky! And this thing is one of those dogs that has the projection of a large dog, but the bark of a small one. Yea, it's actually piercing, and if I'm in the same room as it my ears physically hurt when it barks and leaves my ears ringing. Definitely an effective deterrent, as I don't really leave my room anymore while it's here, so I guess I basically don't leave my room anymore except to go to work or cook... Of course this dog does more than bark though! It's actually fairly aggressive, too, because of course it is. You cannot discipline this dog, both because of the coddling my father does for it and the dog's own reaction to various techniques. Very growly and bares its teeth. I went to close the living room curtain once and the dog snapped at my hand, biting me. It has bitten me again one other time when I shooed it out of my new room that I was cleaning out (note: my dad yelled at me later because it's "Keno's relaxing spot" and I'm cruel to take that away from it, don't worry it hasn't been back in since) I'm not allowed to teach this dog in any way, as any genuine attempt from me (mainly out of desperation to make what time I have left in this house livable I don't actually want to teach this mutt, I want it gone) is swiftly shut down by my dad who says once again that the dog will never learn and that's just how it is. GREAT. GET RID OF THE FUCKING THING THEN IF ITS UNFIXABLE. Oh, it's your "duty" to ensure the dog doesn't get put down apparently, because that's what will 100% happen if the dog gets given up according to him. He's not a "killer" 🙄 mf hearing that is unbelievably infuriating this dog will have no fucking chance in the future if it doesn't get given up at least now it could potentially be taken care of by someone halfway decent at it. I've told him multiple times that him ENABLING these dipshit owners is just causing more problems for this awful animal further down the road. I hate the shit out of this thing and I'm still trying to think of its well-being. UGH.
God tho, words cannot describe how much of a trigger this dog's bark is. I hate it. I cannot stand it. It's an audible plague. It worms through earplugs, headphones, walls. I cannot get it out of my fucking mind. Even on the few days this dog isn't here, I can still hear it shrieking away a few doors down. It's barking as I type this part someone save me this dog allegedly was supposed to go home an hour ago. The latest this thing has stayed was until 11:30 PM. What the fuck.
Apparently the dog is fixed. However for some reason it repeatedly tries to mount Suzuki. It does not do that with the other dogs who are all fixed. Huh. Oh, it also likes to rub up against the only part of our couch with an arm rest and has claimed it as its territory - actually briefly fought with Benji over it two weeks ago. Mom said it was a serious incident but nothing came of it, as usual haha. Whatever, point is this dog is a problem in yet another way. I love being told off about not wanting this dog to rub its fucking ass up against my thigh while I'm trying to just sit on the couch for whatever reason at the time.
What makes my blood boil the most about the behaviour though is how this dog treats our cats and even the other neighbour's dog. It's a fucking menace, an actual danger. It chases and harasses our cats in some attempt to police them or something. If Loki jumps onto a high point that she regularly lounges at, he dashes at her and barks at her. If Ninja meows at the door to be put on a leash in the yard, he barks and chases him. This dog has lunged at our cats more than once. I'm scared that something is going to happen to them because those things happen way faster than one can stop them. I don't know if I could handle seeing that image in reality. I really don't think I could. I hope I don't have to and even writing about the possibility gives me anxiety and the fact that my dad jokes about how Keno "definitely came from a family where he was supposed to keep an eye on a cat" just brings me to my fucking limit as it is. I nearly had that sort of scare a couple months ago when Benji and Keno were scrapping in my dad's room. I saw that they were getting too aggressive, but my dad has made it umm, very clear that I am not allowed to police them on it. So yea, it happened super quick - Keno clamped down on Benji's throat and hurt him. While the little guy lived, he now has a semi-persistent cough and at the time I genuinely thought the dog was gonna cross the forever bridge as he was struggling to breathe for like 10min. What changed from this incident? Well, nothing! My dad blamed Benji. I feel really bad about the incident as there was a brief window where I could have stopped it, but my fear of causing an argument with my dad led to an animal getting hurt, even if it's one I'm not a huge fan of.
Where are the owners? Haha. At work apparently. As mentioned, the dog is here nearly 7 days a week, at least 12 hours a day, usually longer than that (7am to 7pm, but this dog has fucking arrived at like 6:10am before.) Weekends are supposed to be a reprieve from this demon, but every couple weekends it'll come over on those days too and sometimes for completely fucking random reasons! Aren't owners usually comfy leaving their dog at their house for two hours? Why the fuck are these people unable to do that? Why do my parents get no notice apparently? Why do my parents take this shit? I am not allowed to voice disapproval towards this dog or the situation of any kind - my dad immediately launches into a tirade more colourful than a pastel palette if I even slightly remind him that I hate this fucking thing. My mom shuts me down - "That's enough.", "Don't", "I don't want your dad to get angry" the last time this happened my dad insisted that either I "love all of them or abuse all of them, no pick and choosing" he then drank himself silly and forgot about it. Why did that happen? I came in the door and pet our dogs plus Benji because he was actually behaving pretty well for once!
Yea the owners are so shitty. Benji's owner has told my mom (who then relayed it to me) about how they find it funny and cute that their awful dog pisses all over our walls and barks teehee 😊 at least Benji's owner tries and walks our schipperke at night sometimes. Keno's diabolical yet incompetent owners very clearly know they have a golden goose in the form of my father who is only spineless when it comes to dogs. He has sadly attached himself to this stupid mutt, and I'm worried that I'm going to have to deal with it for as long as I associate with my parents, at least until it passes. In fact, my dad has straight up said that he considers this dog his own, and part of the family. Many times he has mentioned that poor Keno's "REAL FAMILY" is here in our house. Keno's owners apparently pay my dad $100 a month sometimes for the privilege of letting it ruin this house for a minimum of 60 hours a week. Damn they got a good deal. The owners have other issues too, but basically I just can't believe that this is the hill my dad (and by extension my mom as she's been stockholm'd by my dad) is willing to die on. I can't believe this fucking dog has so much sway in things here. I can't believe my dad constantly praises and gives it love while in the same breath detailling very specifically how much joy I suck away from his life and how much of a regret of his I am. How do I stop being worth less to him than this dog? Before this thing, it was a neighbour's chihuahua named Oreo that also pissed all over the place and yapped. Despite the fact that I'd sometimes exit the shower and have to step over dog shit, I'd much rather have that yappy dog back then keep dealing with this hellspawn. At least back then my father pretended to care about me. I wish this thing would just fucking leave. I wish my mom would actually put her foot down like she says she is. I'm so tired of this. I'm tired of being told about how I'm supposed to just LIKE this shitty dog and how my open dislike of it is animal abuse or some shit that's like actually untrue (what the fuck.) I do my best to just ignore it as much as I can but this dog has driven me to crying fits more than once because it Just. Doesn't. Stop. The reminders are everywhere. It's sunken its teeth into every fucking aspect of life here and I am so miserable. If I could afford it I would move out yesterday. I want out so badly but can only bide my time while bitching like some drama queen because I was an idiot
Wow, this has ballooned way beyond how long I thought it'd be. Oops. Hey, even if you don't read it, it felt pretty good to type.
tldr: THESE 2 DOGS ARE SHIT BUT ONE IS SHITTIER AND THE WORST

… so I don’t have to go to work or expect to be productive at home. I have MDD and GAD. I have been taking medications for 15 years. 9 years ago I had a really bad accident that caused me to need emergency surgery. I walked with a walker for a while and pushed myself constantly to do more than I should. I ended up having to have another surgery later that year and since then I feel like something happens every year that requires me to go under the knife. I have also recently been diagnosed with a genetic connective tissue disorder that could be causing some of my issues. I have a stressful job where I work in a stressful area of hospital. I only work 3 nights a week but on my days off I do t want to be bothered. My SO had recently told me that I needed to be productive at home. If I don’t make an attempt, then it’s hard for them to do that same.
If I tell my psychiatrist that I want to have surgery or something so I can just not be force to feel guilty for washing dishes and stuff. Would that make me the most laziest person in the world? Would I end up I. A psych ward? I can’t have that show up on records. I want to be honest but not sure how to be without my doc throwing me into a locked unit.

I just feel like I’m going crazy and I need some advice. My girlfriend and I have been together for 3 years.
I will try and give as much relevant background as possible so people can fairly weigh in.
I (23M) am a law school student, and I lost a decent amount of weight and muscle during finals season.
Today, my girlfriend (25F) showed me a topless picture of myself from when I had gained a lot of muscle from hitting the gym, and was sort of lamenting that she missed how I looked. It kind of stung, especially when she knows all I have been through with the stresses of finals and school.
As some background, I have always struggled to gain weight (started at about 145 at the beginning of our relationship. I am just over 6ft). My girlfriend continually voiced her wanting me to gain weight, and I continually failed to form a regular gym schedule for quite a while. This one is completely on me. But last year, I forced myself to eat WAY more and began exercising more regularly. By winter break, I got to 160 pounds and it was a big accomplishment for me.
Unfortunately, I basically lost 7-10 pounds during second semester law school finals (just finished thank God). For those who don’t know law school finals are no joke, and you really need to start working your ass off from about a month out at a minimum. I spent every hour I wasn’t at school or commuting at my desk studying and making outlines. Especially during the last few weeks, I began taking my ADHD medication almost every day. (This can also contribute to weight loss). She knows all of this. She also knows I’m working so hard to give us a better future.
For someone who is already skinny and has almost 0 body fat, 7-10 pounds is really noticeable - especially in my chest and arms.
When she lamented on my past figure, this honestly really stung since I’ve been really unhappy about it myself. Since I’m applying to law-related summer jobs basically every waking hour I’m not spending time doing activities with her, I still haven’t had the time to go to the gym.
When we walked the dog after dinner, she commented on my posture. It admittedly sucks I look like a less extreme version of the “golden ratio” or whatever. She has also been telling this t me for forever, but I just can’t get the good posture to stick. I think it’s fair that she’s really pissed about repeatedly telling me this for 3 years.
I jokingly asked why she’s being so mean today, and she asked for examples.
When I brought up the issue with the picture, I told her that “it made me feel not so good”. While I didn’t expect an apology, she refused to really even acknowledge why this would hurt my feelings, and instead brought up that she was mad to see me lose some progress. I told her to put herself in my shoes, and we continued to have this back and forth for about another 10 minutes or so until we got home. Finally, she said she was sorry - in what came across as a really half assed and not heartfelt apology.
When I mentioned that her apology didn’t mean much when she argued with me about it for 10 minutes, she got mad at me.
I tried to explain that all I wanted was for her to be a little more light-handed with her wanting me to gain weight, but that her “apologizing” so late and half-assed just made me hurt more. She wouldn’t even acknowledge that her apology was late.
I tried putting her in my shoes by saying what if she gained weight and I started lamenting over her past skinner version. She then got even more mad since she says I ask her to “put herself in my shoes” during every argument. I guess I do.
It took her 30 minutes of arguing for her to admit that her apology was late. She says that she was still mad about my posture and wasn’t thinking clearly or something along those lines.
To me - with both the apology and the argument about the apology - it feels like she was just refusing to admit any wrongdoing, even when I think she knew “what she did wrong” (from my perspective). I told her this, and she got even more mad at me.
Am I just being sensitive here? Was I just arguing about something dumb like she seems to think?
I just wanted to feel heard, and for her to acknowledge that she could have been nicer.
Please rip some sense into me if I’m just being dumb.

Last night, when I was home alone, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.
Nobody was there to see it, and nobody that I’ve told believes me, but it definitely happened. It’s not the kind of thing you can just imagine, and I’m sure now that it wasn’t a dream.
I was watching TV when it happened. The remote fell under the couch and I started fishing around for it without really looking, not wanting to get up from my seat. I brushed it with the tips of my fingers and it slid further underneath.
I was super annoyed— I had to get down on my knees to reach it. I finally found the remote, and that’s when it grabbed me.
As I pulled the remote out into the light, a hand shot up from under the couch and wrapped its fingers around my wrist.
I was able to yank myself away quickly. It didn’t hold on tight— just enough that I felt a little resistance. I jumped to my feet, obviously terrified.
I didn’t scream or anything. I was honestly too scared to even make a sound. My heart was beating so fast that my ears started to ring. The TV was still going, commercials droning on while I tried to process what had just happened.
The hand had only come out about a foot from under the couch. It had an arm attached to it, though I wasn’t able to see past its elbow, and it slinked back below the couch as soon as I pulled myself free from its grasp.
It didn’t hurt, and it didn’t leave any sort of bruise or mark or anything on my wrist, but I definitely felt it, and I definitely saw it.
All I could do was stare at the spot where the hand had appeared. I stood there for what felt like an eternity, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps right outside my front door.
I live in a second-story apartment. It’s a pretty cramped place and a pretty old building, so whenever someone comes over I can usually hear footsteps from the moment they enter the building downstairs.
I guess I was so freaked out by the hand that I didn’t even notice someone was outside until they were already opening the door.
My roommate walked in on quite a scene. She immediately registered how off the vibe was. I could see it on her face.
She found me standing upright in the middle of our living room, TV remote in hand, facing away from the screen while Full House’s laugh track filled the air. I’m sure I’d think it was odd too.
“Hey…” she said, shifting a paper bag full of groceries in her arm while she pocketed her keys, “You good?”
I felt like I was caught with my pants down, but just seeing a familiar face brought some of the blood back to my fingers.
“N—yeah,” I stuttered. I came back online, and flicked the TV off.
I felt her eyes on me as she walked over to the kitchen. There’s no wall or anything dividing the two rooms. Like I said, the place is pretty cramped.
She started putting her groceries away as if everything was normal, but I could tell she wanted to ask what was up.
I kept looking back and forth between her and the couch. I can’t explain it, but I already knew that if I looked under there, I wouldn’t find any trace of whoever (or whatever) grabbed me.
As she started loading up the fridge, I dropped to my hands and knees once again. Without taking even a second to ready myself, I brought my head down to the ground and looked under the couch.
Nothing.
Pretty much what I expected. There was barely enough room for me to squeeze my arm under there for the remote. No way a whole person could fit beneath that thing, and even if they could, there’s no way I wouldn’t have seen them or heard them or something before they grabbed me.
“Seriously, what’s up?”
I looked up to see my roommate standing right behind me, arms crossed, clearly concerned.
I knew I was acting strange, and I knew that nothing I would come up with in the next five seconds could possibly excuse my behavior. I made a judgement call, honestly not really caring about how it would be received.
“I uh… something grabbed me earlier.”
“What?”
“Under the couch. I dropped the remote, and when I picked it up, a hand reached out from under the couch and grabbed me.”
Took her a second to respond.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“That’s it. A hand reached out and grabbed me by the wrist. It happened like a minute before you got here.”
That part might have been a lie. I actually have no idea how long I had been standing in the middle of the room before she showed up.
“Wait so like someone broke in?”
“No. It’s just like I said. A hand reached out, grabbed me, and then it was gone.”
She just kinda looked at me for a while. I don’t blame her, but it’s not like there was any way for me to sugarcoat it.
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean ‘am I sure?’ Yes, yes I’m fucking sure!”
My voice broke a little when I said that. I was still down on my knees, like I was praying for her to believe me.
“Okay well obviously that didn’t happen Sam.”I let out a desperate laugh and threw my hands up in the air. I slapped them down on my thighs dramatically and shook my head in exasperation.
“Yeah obviously it sounds fucking crazy but you asked what happened and that’s what happened. I don’t know how else to describe it. I’m just being honest.”
I pulled myself up to my feet and walked around to the armrest of the couch. She kept studying me, probably thinking this was all a prank or something.
“What are you doing?” She asked, arms still glued across her chest.
“I’m checking under the couch.”
I pushed one end of the couch away from the wall. It was pretty heavy, and the coffee table stopped me from moving it too far. I dragged the coffee table towards the TV to free up some space.
My roommate started staring at the spot I was clearing as if she expected to see something there too.
I went back over to the armrest.
“Can you help me?”
She snapped out of her trance and silently went to grab the other side. We pulled the couch away from the wall, revealing a thick rectangle of dust that had not seen the light of day since we moved in a year ago.
I dropped to my knees once more and began wiping away the grime with my bare hands. There was nothing but the floorboards beneath it. No surprise.
I sat there for a second, eyes darting around the floor. No fingerprints in the dust, no scratches or marks or anything. I felt the tension in the room dissipate as my roommate found her voice again.
“I think you must have imagined it.”
I didn’t. There’s no way.
“Dude, no. I felt it and I saw it. Clear as day. It was a hand, and it grabbed me. That’s not the sort of thing you can just imagine.”
She scoffed, any fear left in her giving way to frustration.
“Whatever. This is fucking stupid. I’m going to bed.”
She stomped off towards her room.
“Wait.”
She spun on her heels as I stood up, probably expecting me to tell her I was joking about the whole thing.
“Can you help me flip the couch over?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sure. But I’m not helping you put it back.”
She helped me lift the couch off of its legs and tilt it onto its front cushions, exposing the fabric underneath. She disappeared into her room and I went to work studying the underside of the sofa.
There was a zipper lining the bottom, but I found nothing inside when I opened it up. Just a hollow wooden frame and a bunch of crumbs.
I sat back against the wall, more tired than scared at that point.
I can’t believe she thinks I’m making this up. Why would I even do that? What purpose would it serve?
As I solemnly went about rebuilding our living room, I decided that the next day (today) I was gonna take off work, wait for her to leave, and really get to the bottom of this.
I didn’t sleep at all last night. Every nook and cranny of my room felt like a door left wide open, with something sinister waiting on the other side.
What if the hand comes back? What if it wants to hurt me next time? How can I even protect myself?
After like ten restless minutes in bed, I decided to move to the floor. I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining the hand reaching up from under the bed and grabbing me again.
I made a makeshift sleeping bag out of my comforter and some pillows, and I laid on my side so I could keep an eye on the underside of my bedframe while I slept. Maybe “slept” isn’t the right word. Even down there, I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes for longer than a minute.
Eventually sunlight began to peek through the blinds, and I heard some movement within the apartment. My roommate was finally up. I heard the front door close, and it was time to get to work.
I nearly threw my back out yanking the couch away from the wall to reveal the floorboards underneath. They aren’t real floorboards, just the kind of cheap-o fake shit they put in crappy houses to make them look more modern. Our whole apartment is like that— a thin coat of paint slapped over an old building from the 40s or whatever.
My dad actually owns this building. He lets me and my roommate stay here as long as we pay him $500 a month, which is way cheaper than most places in my area.
It’s not really an apartment building to be honest. You can tell it used to be a family home before some realtor swooped in and broke it up into apartments. There are a lot of those around here.
Anyway, the fake wood came up easy. It was only about a quarter inch thick. I was able to pull up the first plank by hammering a kitchen knife into a slit between the boards, and then I peeled a few more away by hand.
After prying away about a dozen of these fake floorboards, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to find anything without making a significantly larger dent. Right beneath the thin layer of fake wood was a layer of very real, very thick wooden beams that seemed to span well beyond the hole I had managed to claw open.
My back crackled and popped as I sat back on my heels to admire my handiwork and contemplate where to go from there. I knew I would need a power saw or some kind of heavy duty tool to get any deeper, but I was afraid of two things:

1. That these beams were supporting the entire second floor of the building, and cutting through them would make the whole thing collapse
2. That going any deeper would lead me into the ceiling of the apartment below us, and whoever lives there would call my dad before I could see what I needed to see.

Regardless of the risks, I knew I had to keep going. I was certain that something was down there. Whatever grabbed me had to have left some sort of evidence.
I can’t stop thinking about that fucking hand.
I’m not supposed to have it, but my dad gave me a master key for the whole building in case of emergencies. He could really get in trouble if anyone found out, but if this isn’t an emergency then idk what is.
There’s a service shed around the back of the building, which has seen none of the love that the main building saw when it was renovated. Decades worth of rusty antiques and rotting furniture line the walls. A shiny, modern tool bench sits unnaturally in the middle of the chaos.
I rifled through all of that shit as fast as I could. I’m not really close with my dad all things considered, and I’m sure he’d be super pissed if he found me out there. He’s so secretive about random shit all the time, and he’s constantly dropping by the building unannounced.
I found the jigsaw under a pile of old newspapers and ran back upstairs.
I probably should have checked the driveway to see if anyone was home first, because the saw made so much noise. The cord barely reached from the outlet to the spot where the couch used to be, but as awkward as the angle was, I was still able to get it in there.
I went as small as possible with my first few cuts. I started with a single beam, cutting out a section about 6x6 inches wide. I slid the chunk of wood out, and, to my relief, didn’t immediately see the plaster that would be my downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.
A tuft of insulation stuck out where I made the hole. I didn’t know that stuff is made from fiberglass or whatever, and I got a really bad splinter when I went to yank it out.
I fished some leather gloves out of my roommate’s closet and got to work on the insulation. I pulled and pulled but couldn’t get a good enough grip to remove anything more than a few bits about the size of a tennis ball.
I went back in with the jigsaw, cutting bigger and bigger chunks until I had cleared a hole about two feet in diameter.
No sign that I was gonna bring the building down, that’s good.
I hacked away for hours. More wood came up, more insulation came up, and when I finally hit a fragile-looking layer of drywall, I knew the jig was up. That’s definitely my neighbor’s ceiling. Fuck.
My roommate and I got in a screaming match when she got home. I made a pretty big mess but I don’t really give a fuck honestly.
I don’t give a fuck if she believes me. I fucking hate that bitch. I told her if she tells my dad what I’m doing, I’ll bash her brains in with the hammer. That shut her up. She left with a bag full of her clothes like an hour later.
Tomorrow I’m going to wait for our downstairs neighbor to leave and start investigating from the bottom-up. If there wasn’t any evidence on the floor up here, there HAS to be something on the ceiling down there.
If I do find something, I’ll post again. I doubt anyone will even believe me, but at this point I just want everything written down somewhere accessible in case something bad happens.
There has to be something down there. Something grabbed me. And I’m going to find out what it is.

I don't really no where to start. I feel I've lost myself, consumed with anxiety and guilt and fear and regret and I fear, this new fear, that it's going to be the end of me if I don't start to get it out in some way, shape or form.
I guess I'll begin at the beginning...
​
I had a difficult childhood with fairly neglectful parents. A mother who openly expressed she never felt she really stepped into her mom shoes until she gave birth to my younger sister, who is three years younger than me. She is my only sibling. My mother told me when I was a kid that she "had to love me", but when my sister came around "she was finally a mother and over the moon", or simply "I always always wanted a girl". I'm not sure if this could be attributed to Post-partum depression, not that she ever researched that or was daignosed with it. That's probably just me trying to pardon my mother or something to the effect. She was 17 when she had me and I'm sure times were different then, my parents both were raised religious, father christian, mother mormon. Maybe their guilt. I ask myself why they brought me into this world if I wasn't wanted to begin with. Or, give me up for adoption to a set of guardians that would have loved me better. I know I was an accident and that's not what gets me down, I get that life be lifing and what happened happened. My difficulties stem from the feeling that my presence never gave my mother any sense of purpose, responsibility or love, or concern. She was emotionally unavailable to me virtually my entire life and I feel like that caused many issues later in my life and how I perceive myself and what I deserve. Coupled with the fact that my neglect met such extremes that I am frankly shocked that I was never picked up by child care services, maybe things were different in the 90's. I'm not sure, I was just a child then.
Much of my upbringing I didn't receive a lot of the things most people would consider essential. As a baby my crib was the sock drawer, then I grew large enough to have a closet, then slept on the floor of a walk-in closet, then I had a single bed from what I recall for maybe a year or maybe two years and I remember feeling metal springs poke me in the my ribs and I recall it being uncomfortable enough for me to move back to sleeping on the floor next to the ratty old used mattress my father found from who knows where. I remember feeling like I had to keep that secret, that the mattress they gave me was uncomfortable enough for me to sneak sleeping on the floor next to it. I think I was really afraid as coming across as ungrateful. My father came from a third world country, so the "gratefullness issue" was address frequently by my mom because "I don't have it even half as bad as what my father had to endure. And she was probably right. But it just silenced me ultimately, didn't put things into a mature context for me. I just learned that I can't complain about anything ever. Anyway, that trend didn't really change when I grew older. grade 9-10 I was sleeping on the living room couch so my sister could have privacy and a bedroom to exist in for herself - which I realize is important for an individual so I encouraged her to have the bedroom. Although I figured my parents expected me to do this for my sister regardless. I was okay with making sacrfices for those I love, it was instilled in me from a very very young age.
I do feel like my father took advantage of me in the form of labour as well, having to do custodial work with my father from 10pm to 3am, at two highschools I believe he was contracted, at that young age I honestly enjoyed just spending time with my father I think, working alongside him. When I was in grade 2 and 3 I had garbage bag duty for all the students bathrooms, and I remember loving snapping the bags open by rushing air into the bag and making it blow up like a baloon. I remember the scary unlit shadowy hallways that I couldn't perceive the ends of. No bodies to see, it felt eerie but exciting in a way - like it was a whole different world.
School was a different experience for me. It was very stressful, my parents had to move a few times a year because they would dodge rent or just generally be selfish with their dual income. They loved to party hard on the weekends. I remember wondering why my father did this to himself all the time. Hoping that we could spend quality time on a saturday, but he wouldnt get out of bed until just before dinner. I didn't really understand hangovers or alcoholism and how it meant our plans would get cancelled. I think I remember trying to wrap my head around willful self-poisoning for entertainment and how could that be more enjoyable then spending time with your son? I couldn't tell my mother why I was so sad about it. Why I didn't want to move again and again and again. Why I found it so difficult to make new friends everytime I had to switch schools. Why I couldn't just do one single full school year with one class of students. It was so hard and at the time, I didn't know anything different. It was so hard to make friends and I think it created this approach to making a "new family" of friends when I became a teenager and young adult.
​
I remember always wanting to be a "good kid". The "best kid" for my parents. I feel like my parents attached this moniker to me that made things harder for me to mature into a rounded adult later in life. My parents always flaunted me as this point of accomplishment, the accomplishment that I was "so extremely well behaved". I would strive to be super polite, and a good host, try to help out when my parents had their friends over, literally fill their cups when the opportunity presented themselves. I think I did this because I must have made the conclusion that if I was quiet, super polite, helpful and useful then I had value. That I could be loved. That I could earn this love from my parents through acts of service.
I remember feeling like my sister and I had extremely different experiences growing up. When my parents were at work I took care of her, cleaned and cooked. one time my sister told my mom to eff off when she was 5 and I was 8. My mind was blown. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she had the bravery and courage to defy my mother. Looking back, my sister was just mirroring the language she learned from my parents from whenever they fought. I remembering seriously worrying and getting scared that my father was going to belt her, or use the coat hanger, which was his preference with me. I feel like my mom was always checked out and I'm hurt that she allowed my father to take his rage out on me. That my mom could care less about me being beat, but never my sibling. It was very confusing and difficult for me to process. Not that I really processed it much as a kid. I honestly just wanted to be loved and be the best child possible. Honestly though, 'm seriously so glad that my sister was spared all of that complete non-sense. I don't wish that on anyone in the world. There were some punishments where he would walk in and tell me to pull my pants down without explanation. I have memories of tearing up and saying I didn't know why this was happening, asking what I did wrong and he would just remind me that if I resisted then I would get it worse and to hurry up and get ready. My father has since apologized. I think it is how he was raised. I didn't know what to say in response, but I told him I loved him and it's in the past. But I don't know if I was being honest when I said that. My mother would still gaslight me to this day if any of this became topic of discussion, not that I'm guessing. A year ago she told me that much of my pained memories were false and this never happened. My father on the other hand typically stays pensive and unchallenging.
It seems so damned crazy writing all of this out, it feels like a heartbreaking novel and not my life at all. But it was and is my life. I have difficulties opening up and expressing my feelings and advocating for myself when the moments are true and appropriate to do so. I know it's the healthier way to communicate, but I was literally taught to stay quiet and be useful. Fast forward 20-25 years and I'm going to be 35 and I feel like just ending it all. Every year my birthday passes and I'll get a text from my family happy birthday. But they know I'm in a difficult place, they know I miss them, they know I love them and forgive them, I try the high road whenever I can but I just don't see the point anymore. they won't celebrate my life and existence, but they'll throw family gatherings for each other, birthdays, christmas, fathers day and mothers day.
On that note, another mother's day has recently passed and my mother never invited me over, I texted my father three weeks in advance in hopes of securing a time to come over and celebrate my mothers life with my family as a family. I felt particularly stung this mother's day when they celebrated and didn't text or call to invite me over. I live in the same small town so it's easy to hop over. I literally live three blocks away.
Anyway, my mother was diagnosed with cancer over christmas this year and I have been worrying for my mother ever since and thinking about my life with her and the mortal coil and the finite mount of time I may have with her. I feel like there is a large empty part in my heart that wishes my mother and I could go grab a coffee together. She can show me her ipad app art that she has been really excited about for a couple years now. She loves showing off her digital art and I love seeing her joy and how proud she is about her art. I just don't know why she couldn't feel the same for me, her only son. Maybe I'm just a her dissapointment.
I dropped out of highschool and left the family home when I was 16. I just couldn't work for my dad during the night AND go to highschool AND socialize. Something had to give. Unfortunately it was highschool and my parents didn't really care about that at all. They were just... fine with it. they supported my sister through college and she was fortunately able to graduate with a veterinary degree of sorts. she still lives with them now as she pays off her student debt, but I left and travelled and worked on music for over a decade so I admit that I was entirely out of the family picture for some time. But as I get older, not wanting to repeat the mistakes of my parents I fear that that is precisely what's been creeping up in my life.
five years ago I met the absolute most wonderful human being and I am so lucky to have my partner in my life. She and I are engaged now and set to be married. I hoped that the news would overwhelm my parents with excitement and joy. Maybe a facebook post about their son, share some family pictures or something. But they did nothing at all. I think they showed off pictures of the trip to Mexico that week instead.
I just don't really understand how I'm this unworthy of their love and unfortunately now I'm realizing that illusion that I am unworthy has infected my relationship with my fiance. I love her so much but when I can't fix everything in her life I feel like I am the failure and the guilt overhelms me so much and the guilt is such a strong motivator for me, and it usually motivates me into becoming the biggest doormat in the world. I've never worked harder for a relationship or invested this much energy. I feel she deserves it. But I don't advocate for myself. So I build up resentment. Like I clean the house constantly and work and help bail out of her bad spending habits and cover her rent without question and this and that. To be clear, she doesn't take advantage of me and that's not how I feel about it. But I do let this annoyance build up inside of me because I don't know how to communicate my feelings in a healthy way. I'm scared I'll lose the person if I speak up, or I'll be gaslit. Again, that's not my partner that gaslights. That's just generally how I feel I'll be treated if I open up with people. It all goes back to my childhood. It's affected every friendship and work relationship I've had since.
When I was 20-ish, 15 years years ago I did the classic, "seek the relationship that most comfortably fits into the patterns you experienced with your parents". And so I trapped myself in a horrific and extremely damaging relationship with a girl I'll call K. She has undiagnosed bipolaBPD, she would never seek help but self-medicate. She ended up in the hospital maybe four times for self-harming and this where she was considered to have these diseases by a few doctors on different occasions. Anway, it turned into a relationship of abuse and it wasn't exactly new territory for me. I was ashamed in that 8 year relationship. I wanted out so bad, but she would threaten to unalive everytime I tried to get away. Of course, some weeks would go by and i would get my hair pulled out of my scalp, a knife waving in the air in front of my face, spat in the face, kicked, punched, bit, a pot of freshly boiled ramen soup thrown in my face and eyes. What's worse is that I seeked police intervention on multiple occasions. Every single time the police visited, they talked me out of pressing charges, asking me " well if she doesn't have any place to go, then do you have a place you can stay at, or the shelter?". twice they talked me out of a restraining order, that legal proceedings would take forever. Adn de-escalting me from wanting to take measures to ensure my safety because she may end up on the street as a result. To this day, I absolutely wish I advocated for myself here and pushed for a restraining order. I'm so mad at myself for not doing so.
Unfortunately, fast forward a couple years into that relationship and one evening everything would finally hit the fan. I told her to never touch me again and I absolutely meant it. she had just yanked out the largest chunk of my hair to date, to the point where my scalp was bleeding and I could even see epidermal matter still attached to the folicle ends that were in her clenched fingers. My head bled a bit and I pushed her off of me. Telling her that I needed to leave, that I was walking to my secure jam space just a 10 minute walk away. It had a leather couch in a cold concrete basement, but hey at least I would be safe for the night and I could play my drums and try and blow off this anxiety and fear in a way that was safe albeit very noisy.
She hated that I wanted to leave and convinced herself I would never return. To be fair, that was the energy I had. I never wanted to see her face again and have her name on my lips after that night. So her tactic was simple, to threaten me with calling the cops and tell them that I violently pushed her. I called her bluff and said "go ahead and I will just tell them everything you've done - yet again. All I am doing is going to the space to sleep, I said, maybe play drums." She called the cops and told them she was pushed into a wall, and she felt very unsafe. Which yes, I did push her off me when she attacked me. In the past, I tried various tactics, to run away didn't work, she just always chased me down. Or sometimes I would just sit there while she was violent against me and I just "dissapeared" kind of like how I would when my dad used his coat hanger. This time, I just pushed her off of me, I was done with the relationship at that point and we both knew it. Anyway, she called the police, they arrived and when questioned I told them that I pushed her off of me in self-defence. I was drinking that night and it didn't help my case as I was arrested without question that evening and I was charged on the spot without question with domestic assault. It devasted me. I asked the police how this could happen lawfully. That she is an abuser and there is a history of this multiple times. That I've requested a restraining order. They explained that in quebec the laws are a little different and in the case domestic cases, if there is a male aggressor against a female, then the male is automatically charged to the fullest extent. I was absolutelyu devasted by this. I can't tell you the amount of fear and anger I felt in that jail cell that night.
I feel so incredibly betrayed by the justice system, keep in mind, this is law that from what I understand is only in Quebec, I was there for music at the time with an old friend whom I am no longer in contact with. I don't think the rest of the country operates under law in this way. Now I appreciate that they are vigilant about woman abuse victims, but the law shouldn't be this absurdly biased. It just doesnt feel just and fair to me. Covert abusers shouldn't be able to take advantage of the justice system in this way, but it happens.
It was an awful experience, I was homeless for a couple months afterward, not allowed to retrieve my belongings, so I lost all of my life "crap" that I had built up, years of hardwork and investment. I mention this because I realize later in life that I have intense collecting behaviour. maybe as a self-soothing behaviour. But I love building up collections of my hobby stuff as I have many and I feel they keep me regulated and it's a form of therapy for me. In any case, I lost everything when I left that whole situation. It sucks, although ultimately it's clearly best that I got out of that dreadful circumstance. I flew across the country to my hometown and to be closer to my family and old friends from highschool. It's quite a small town mind you.
Unfortunately, my classic tendency to hide and not advocate for myself created an opportunity for my abusive ex. A year following those events, despite me assuring her that I had to block her because I flew away to start a new life provinces away. That I wished her the best. That I even promised I would never tell a soul what she did to me. Not to mention that unfortunately we live in a society where nobody really has an ounce of sympathy for a male abuse victim. I had every intention to keep that promise, but she couldn't trust me ultimately. I think her logic was maybe to just beat her ex to "the punch". Kill or be killed or something like that. I don't live my life like that so I don't really know what her plan was. But she made a bunch of posts on various social media platforms for all of our mutual friends, music friends, coworkers etc. that the relationship was over and she was free. That she got out of a cycle of abuse and she was ready to start a new chapter of her life. She never used my name, just that she was glad she got away from her toxic and abusive ex once and for all.
It was exactly like that night a year prior, she threatened me with this outcome she could design for me, and I called her on her bluff by saying I was still going to block her and I can't control what she does with her life or how she conducts herself, but that I was out and to never contact me ever again. She made me regret that decision.
The posts she made that day got so many likes and support from so many of our mutual friends, even musician mates that were closer to me than her, and it absolutely destroyed me, not just internally but socially. I no longer make music anymore and it hurts to go outside into the world because it feels like everybody sees me as this monster. And still I don't have a voice to inform anyone otherwise - except my family and my fiance. I have no friends anymore. They all left my life with the belief that I did all of these horrible and awful things.
I just don't trust people anymore as a result and it's just caused me to become extremely bitter and depressed. I ruminate on the past, maybe in attempts to fix the past so I can move on. So I could do better, so I don't have to punish myself for my mistakes in the past. But it just reopens every emotional wound I have and they never get a chance to heal. That was maybe 7 years ago now and I'm still replaying these events in my head every single morning for about 1 - 2 hrs. Then I go completely numb for the majority of the rest of the day, shallow breathing, and the mildest sadness that mascarades as fatigue and disinterest.
There are some days where I seriously fear for the future and I just feel like every cruel soul will inherit this earth and that's the future, they built this world of suffering and they deserve to inherit it. Their toxic flag staked so deep into the earth in reclamation. The future isn't holding any seats for people like us. I'm so heartbroken and defeated. I feel like white-wolfing my fiance because she deserves better than this traumatized person that hides from the world. I feel like giving her my collection of collections so she can sell it all off and pay off her 10k of credit debt, then with this act of kindness I can go out not feeling like a guilt-ridden defeated loser. And leave on a high note.
When I'm alone, I get trapped in these ruminating cycles and it's the angriest I ever get. It's reached the point where I feel like I am actually reliving all this past trauma every morning and I can't do it anymore. I just feel like I am so at the end of whatever this ride was.
I don't have any friends anymore and everyone but my fiance thinks I am a monster and it's just unbearable.
I just don't even know. I am even afraid that someone will read this post and suss through all of this and make the connection. Then I'll get another new email or random throwaway account with an insta message that says "I told you you would never be able to get over me. You can move on, but you will never be able to erase the past. Never truly. You know where to find me."
It's haunting and it's poisonous. I just feel haunted and poisoned and I don't know if there is a snake oil potent enough or antitode true enough to get me back to the generous, lighthearted, energetic kid I once was.
To whoever was willing to read through all of this, thank you for hearing me out. I don't know what advice I am even asking for here. I'm hoping just speaking this out into the world in some way can alleviate this misery. I don't know.

Hello everyone I am currently trying to figure out what to do with me and my wife. We are currently fighting and I feel like it is worse than it ever has been.
we are fighting because right now. I had a shift change at work. Its 12pm-8pm I used to work 4am-12pm I am military and I can switch back to my original shift but it will take some time due to paperwork and having to find me a replacement for my shift that I am currently on. I have told my wife not to worry and to stop stressing about it and I will get it taken care of, but she doesn’t want to listen. All she has done is just get mad and fuss and complain and call me names of all sorts. She is also wanting to call my job and basically bitch to all my leadership people about how I have fucked my kids and her over. Also some context I have an autistic 2 year old who has appointments from 2pm-3pm on Mondays and 2-2:30pm on Wednesdays. Her Dr office for these is a short 10-15 walk right outside our neighborhood and she says she can’t do it because she’s scared of getting kidnapped or something happening. I am trying my best to hold it together and be supportive and loving and caring but all she does is call me names and tells me I should go die or we should legally separate and never speak to each other ever again.
There has been 2 times where she has pulled a knife out and threatened to make me get out of my house over other fights that were over something minuscule. I am thinking about divorce, but I am scared of what would happen to my kids. She has no job and nowhere to stay out here where I am currently stationed. She always tells me about how she would have to go back home to her family, but I don’t want her to do that due to her Family being very toxic and her mom doing drugs and living under the same roof as her grandma and uncle who are both pretty crazy. Also last piece before I post this like I said before I have two kids one is a autistic three year old and the other is a one month old baby I am really just freaked out and paranoid and stressed at this time and don’t know what to do so if anyone could give me some suggestions, I would be open to it thank you everyone.

I’ve watched the documentary on Peacock but honestly, I haven’t dug incredibly deep into the details of the case like some of you have. I do, however, have personal connections to some parties involved in this case that have helped me develop a theory about Robert’s death.
As a queer person, I’ll say, it is ridiculous to assume that just because Robert had gay friends that he was gay. But what if he was?
Robert came from a traditional Chinese family where things like homosexuality were incredibly frowned upon.
What if Robert was homosexual, and had been hiding it from his family his entire life? Even going to the extent of marrying a woman (who I am sure he still loved and cared about nonetheless).
What if Robert found out he, like so far too many gay men, had contracted HIV? At least two of the men Robert saw that night were HIV+ at the time, what if he had been intimate with any of them in the past? How would he tell his family? What would he tell his wife? He would have to tell her to keep her safe if they were to continue to be intimate. This was more than 6 years before PrEP came out and HIV/AIDS was still considered by many to be a death sentence.
Perhaps Robert felt helpless and wished to end it all. Suicide would is also considered shameful in many cultures and religions. Maybe Robert was worried his wife and family would feel guilty if he were to kill himself.
What if Robert trusted his closest friends to help him with an assisted suicide? What if he came to them out of desperation to help him end his life on his own terms and make it look like a crime as to place the blame on an entity and not cause any suspicious to his sexuality or disease?
Joe’s brother was in school for phlebotomy at the time of the death, and it was confirmed that he skipped class that night. His alibi was only corroborated by two other close friends who could have easily been covering life him.
What if the five men, together, had a premeditated plan to help their friend end his life and had it all planned out. Joe, the lawyer, of course would plan the story down to the fine details and they would go over it many times before cops were ever called. They could have been planning for weeks it months. What if Robert showed up that night knowing it would be his last. What if the men gave him paralyzing drugs and put him in the bathtub where Michael used his phlebotomy skills to drain Roberts blood to reduce the mess/ cover the use of any agents or drugs used in the process. What if they stabbed him and then realized there was a finger print or something on the original knife so they had to fake a second one that was “clean”.
What if they packed up everything with blood and evidence and bagged it up and Michael left the house to dispose if the evidence before the police ever showed up? What f he was the person that was heard/seen using the back door but it was in exit not entrance? What if the remaining three men all took their showers and put on clean robes before calling the police to report the “stabbing”?

I've talked before about how they're an adorable couple but also how Stan doesn't really deserve Wendy. I've been a bit puzzled about why it breaks my heart to see them break up because of the latter. I think I've figured it out now. It's because I have abandonment issues.
I was raised by my grandmother who died of lung cancer when I was 14. Within a few years, almost everyone in my family turned out to be or became an asshole and abandoned me. Only my mom and one of my aunts kept close to me, and from 2017 until 2022 I also rejected my mom's contact (and by extension, my siblings) due to her idiotic behavior.
My taste in partners may also be relevant here. I prefer older women (30-50) and my ideal relationship is one in which she takes a maternal, gentle-dominant role. Hence my crush on Liane Cartman. I have been in a long-distance relationship with my girlfriend for seven years and I fear the idea of her breaking up with me (which she has promised is not in the foreseeable future).
If my girlfriend were to break up with me, my entire world would cave in. She is basically the center of my life. I'd likely need to admit myself into a mental hospital for safety while I try to recuperate. It would mean 7+ years of relationship building has been wasted, and I don't think I'd be able to put that effort and emotion into another one, especially considering that I'm getting older while my taste in women is staying the same. I don't want to become a creepy old man.
Whenever I see Wendy break up with Stan, either in canon or fanfic, I relate to his heartbreak even if he deserved it. If I was in Stan's shoes and Wendy wanted to come back to me after the Skankhunt fiasco, I'd probably reject her because 1) I don't want to get heartbroken again and 2) I'd want to be the one making that decision for once, instead of her. I'd say something along the lines of "I still love you, but I'm not going to make myself vulnerable to heartbreak again. I'm sorry."
Basically, I empathize/sympathize with Stan's emotional attachment to Wendy, even though I may be overestimating the extent of it by projecting my abandonment issues onto him. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
TL;DR I need therapy.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.

"A family is left in mourning as twenty-one-year-old Natalie Rose was found dead over the weekend," the TV blared into the room, "seemingly attacked by some sort of wild animal as she sat in her tent on what was meant to be a relaxing camping trip alone. Natalie's parents have requested privacy at this time, but they appreciate the condolences they have received. In other news-" Roman grabbed the remote from me and shut off the TV.
"Hey, I was watching that!" I said as I flipped him off from across the room. "Bullshit, you're on your phone," he chuckled, fixing his hair up in the mirror. "Okay, well, I was listening. I like to have background noise, dickhead," I replied, watching him in the reflection, his focus clearly not on this important conversation.
"Where are you going all dressed up?" I interrogated him. "Morgan and I are having our engagement party, but we've got to be there early to sort out seating."
"You're having your engagement party and you didn't invite your own brother?" I questioned him, offended at the audacity this man had. "I did invite you, dipshit. You told me you had a date with Katie tonight."
The realisation hit me like a punch to the gut. I'd completely forgotten about my movie date with Katie. With a surge of panic, I leaped from my seat, heart pounding, and scrambled to get dressed. Every second felt like an eternity as I cursed my forgetfulness. Then, I heard Roman's car start outside. Without a second thought, I sprinted out the door and down the driveway. Knocking on his window, I pleaded for a ride.
The soft hum of the road and the whirring of the engine filled the car as we silently moved through the night. Staring out the window at the blur of trees, I thought about how I would apologise to Katie. Roman reached for the radio, and a Trace Adkins song began playing. Seeing this as the perfect time to start a conversation, I spoke up, "So, are Katie and I coming to the wedding?" I asked, grinning. Roman let out a deep sigh as he turned off the music. "If Katie doesn't plan a date night on the same day, then yes," he replied.
Silence filled the car as we drove along the empty road. The vast woods surrounding us created an eerie atmosphere, intensified by the winter darkness cloaking the night sky above. Yet, for Roman and me, who had grown up in this land, these woods evoked nostalgic memories of our childhood adventures. While for others, it might be an unsettling glimpse into the barrier separating civilization from the unknown, for us, it was a comforting window back into our past.
When Roman bought the land we had grown up on after our parents passed, I was probably more excited than I should've been, considering I had just lost my mum and dad in a tragic carbon monoxide leak. But my relief at not having to leave this place was immense.
We eventually reached an area where the city lights were visible in the distance. I noticed Roman yawn as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. "You're gonna have to tell me where to go, I can't remember where Katie lives," he stated as he changed gears and prepared to enter the busy traffic, a stark contrast to the remote rural road we were about to vacate.
“Just take a left up h-" I began, but was interrupted as a white blur ran in front of the car, causing Roman to slam on the brakes and swerve. I grabbed onto the side of the door as we spun out of control, the screeching of the tires filling my ears, jolting me out of the relaxed state I had been in due to the many miles of quiet driving.
We eventually came to a stop, now facing the opposite direction, gazing down the endless stretch of desolate road we had just traversed. Roman calmly checked all his mirrors for whatever he nearly hit but failed to see anything through the dust he had stirred up in the spinout.
“You all good?” he asked, a relieved smile creeping up his face, a deep breath escaping his lungs.
“Yeah, what was that?” I asked as Roman started reversing, then turned the car back towards the busy city street about a kilometre away and began driving. I looked over to him, expecting an answer to my question, but didn't receive one. His brow was furrowed in an uncertain expression, clearly lost in thought, like he was trying to remember if he locked the front door.
“Roman?” I said, causing him to blink a couple of times.
“I don't know what it was," Roman answered, not breaking his intense stare at the asphalt in front of us as we drove along, approaching the main road. “Probably just a sheep, there's a few acres of farmland behind these trees,” he continued.
As we approached the intersection, Roman flicked his left indicator on before turning onto the main road. “Okay, now take the next right,” I said, feeling the weird atmosphere in the vehicle slowly dissipating. After a few more turns, Roman said that he knew the way from here and turned the radio back on, which cut the remaining tension that I could tell we were both feeling.
The chilly winter night was starting to bite at my skin, and I cursed myself for forgetting a jacket in my hurry. I swivelled my head around to see the backseat. “What are you looking for?” Roman asked, finally looking in my direction as he turned the music down slightly.
“Uh, do you have a jacket I can borrow? I didn't realise it was gonna be this cold,” I sheepishly admitted.
“Hold the wheel,” Roman told me as he reached around behind him, shifting around his hiking gear that he hadn't taken out since his camping trip with Morgan last month.
Eventually, he pulled out his gym hoodie and threw it on my lap. “This is all I got,” he grunted as he readjusted himself in his seat and took hold of the steering wheel again. When we pulled into Katie's driveway, I pulled the hoodie over my head and hopped out of the car into the brisk night air, my breath visible in the cold. “I'll pick you up around 11:30.” Roman shouted out the window as I pulled the hoodie the rest of the way down and waved to Roman as he drove away, beeping his horn as he left me in the chilling winter breeze.
I knocked on the door, checking the time to see that it was 7:37, only a few minutes late. As I waited in the dark, a surprisingly chipper Katie opened the door, hugging me and dragging me inside. “You didn't miss much,” she whispered as we stumbled through the house that had all of its lights off. “Why do you smell like your brother?” she asked, shooting me a dirty look before grabbing a handful of the hoodie and sniffing it. All I could do was shrug and grin, “I forgot how cold it gets in the winter time, he let me borrow it.” She rolled her eyes, and we sat down next to a bunch of her friends and her parents, who all whispered their hellos in the soft glow of the TV.
Around 11:18 pm when the movie was long since finished, Katie's parents said goodnight and headed off to bed, and a few of Katie's friends who had been visiting said goodbye and drove home. I got up to get some water from the kitchen, and as I walked back, I stood in the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room, which was dark, only lit by the TV. This allowed me to see Katie frozen, staring towards the window, which was out of my direct line of sight.
Confused, I peeked my head out of the doorway and looked toward the window. I froze and dropped my glass; luckily, it landed on the carpet and didn't make much noise, and the tall, pale creature standing an inch from the window didn't notice. The creature was foul, a gaunt, lanky humanoid. Well, at least the head was humanoid; the body and limbs were almost ape-like, with long, disproportionate arms and less exaggerated legs. The creature's whole body was covered in grey skin stretched tightly over its abnormally long bones. It had no hair anywhere. Its mouth was strangely wide, stretching around to where its ears would be if it had them, and its eyes were just sunken, inky black pits in its head. But I could tell it was staring daggers at Katie, who had tears rolling down her face. She slowly turned her head to look at me, shaking and breathing quickly. I had never felt so powerless. I was supposed to protect her, and I would. I would die to protect her, but I had no idea how to shield her from whatever this thing was.
Then I had an idea. I looked to the light switch panel to my left. I knew one of them was the porch light, but there were three others: the living room light, the kitchen light, and the hall light. If I pressed the wrong light, I didn't know what the thing would do, but I had to try. I had to remember which light Katie's dad used to turn the porch light on when he goes out for a smoke.
I reached for the light second from the bottom and flicked the switch. The hall light turned on. Luckily, the hall was on the opposite side of the kitchen from where the living room was, and it was out of view for the creature at the window. But I couldn't mess up again. If the kitchen light turned on, the creature would see me, and if the living room light turned on, it might cause it to attack Katie. I looked back at the creature, which was using one of its hands to scratch the window as it sniffed around. I had to do something.
I reached for the bottom light switch and flicked it; the porch light turned on. The creature spun around to face it and let out a screech that will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. I ran to Katie and grabbed her, dragging her off the side of the couch where there was about a metre gap between the armrest of the couch and the wall.
The sound of the window smashing filled the house, and Katie cried into my shoulder. I couldn't see anything; it was pitch darkness besides the slight blue glare from the TV on the wall above us. But I could hear raspy breathing and bones cracking as the thing searched the living room. I heard it sniffing the couch where Katie was sitting, and I heard it make its way closer to the end of the couch, one of its hands pressed on the wall above us. I saw the silhouette of its head begin to peak over the side of the couch, but suddenly the light turned on, and Katie's dad yelled as he saw us from the kitchen while he was holding a shotgun.
The creature ran at him but fell to the ground as a loud shot rang out in the night, leaving only the sound of our combined breathing and Katie's soft sobs. I watched intently as the body lying between Katie's dad and me moved around on the floor, before slamming its hand down, then the other, and pushing itself to its feet.
Katie's dad reloaded his shotgun, but it was too late. The creature grabbed the poor man by his leg and pulled it out from under him, causing him to shoot the ceiling. I grabbed Katie and dragged her upstairs as the creature began tearing into her father. She cried and screamed, begging me to help him, but what could I do? Whatever that thing was, it just took a shotgun blast to the chest and brushed it off.
I locked us in her upstairs bathroom as the creature's loud and hurried footsteps made their way towards us. Katie was crying loudly now, insisting that we were going to die. Honestly, not a super helpful contribution, but I can't blame her.
As the creature began crashing against the door, pieces of wood started to splinter off. I shoved Katie into the tub, and then lay on top of her. Hopefully, my body would be enough to shield her from this thing. Time slowed down as the door exploded inward. I looked at the girl I loved, makeup running down her face, pieces of door in her hair, mouth wide open as she let out the most ear splitting scream. For some reason, I felt no fear. Even as the monster began tearing at my clothes and clawing at my flesh, I felt strangely calm.
Eventually, the creature grabbed me, swinging me around by my hoodie, slamming me into every wall and surface in the room. I fell to the ground as the hoodie ripped off, and the creature just stared at me, then the hoodie in its hand, then back at me. I stared back, utterly confused, as it leaned over and sniffed my entire body from head to toe. It looked as puzzled as I felt for a moment before I heard Roman's car pull up outside.
The creature screeched as it sprinted out the door, slamming into the hallway wall in its haste. "NO!" I shouted, leaving my still-shaking girlfriend in the tub as I chased the monster out of the house. Somehow, I caught up to the creature and grabbed onto it, bringing it to the ground below. The thing managed to get on top of me, biting and clawing at my arms and hands as I shielded my face.
Before I knew it, Roman came out of nowhere, tackling the creature off me, yelling for me to run. The creature, sleek and deadly, wasted no time in retaliating against Roman's attack. With a primal growl, it lunged at him, its claws slicing through the air like daggers.
Roman had a size advantage that I didn't have, and managed to hold his own for a few seconds as he wrestled with the beast. He'd always been as strong as a bull for as long as I can remember, tall with powerful hands and massive arms and shoulders. But I couldn't risk watching my brother, as strong as he may be, get killed by this… whatever it is.
With strength I didn't know I had, I grabbed the back of Roman's expensive shirt and pulled him out of the way of a fatal blow to the head, throwing him towards the car before I lunged at the creature and went feral. I don't know what came over me; I started swinging on the creature as we tumbled around in the muddy grass. Just when I thought I was actually winning, the creature managed to get its legs between us and kicked me off, then swung its clawed hand at my stomach, ripping it right open.
I collapsed to the ground as my body tried to comprehend what had just happened. My eyes narrowed as everything was drowned out. I watched the silent scene play out before me, my heartbeat pounding in my head.
The creature charged at Roman, who leaped to grab his car's back door handle just as the creature snagged his foot. It yanked at his leg, but Roman clung onto his car door tightly. The creature persisted in pulling as Roman struggled to reach for something in his hiking gear stored in the back seat.
With an agonising yell, Roman's leg gave a sickening snap. Despite the pain, he finally retrieved what he was searching for. Releasing the car door, Roman watched as the creature stumbled backward. Seizing the opportunity, he swiftly climbed on top of it, brandishing his trusty hunting knife from his camping trips.
As Roman wrestled with the creature, the air was filled with grunts and snarls. He plunged the hunting knife into the creature's body, eliciting a guttural howl of pain. The creature thrashed wildly, but Roman held on grimly, his determination unwavering.
With each strike, Roman's movements became more frenzied, fueled by adrenaline and the need to protect us. The creature's attempts to retaliate grew weaker as Roman's blows found their mark. With a final decisive thrust, Roman delivered the fatal blow, and the creature slumped to the ground, defeated.
Breathing heavily, Roman collapsed beside the creature, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. I rushed to his side, concern evident in my voice. "Natalie-" he faintly murmured.
"Who? Who's Natalie?" I asked, my confusion growing.
Suddenly, the creature jolted up, its movements abrupt and startling. Without warning, it lunged at me, seizing me by the throat and hurling me against the car.
The last thing I saw before I blacked out was the creature sprinting towards me. In that moment, I felt a strange sensation coursing through my body, as if something within me was shifting. I glanced down at my hands and watched in horror as they contorted and turned a sickly shade of grey. Long claws protruded from my fingers, their sharp edges glinting in the dim light.
As my bones cracked and deformed under the strain of this inexplicable transformation, a sudden surge of anger and ferocity overwhelmed my senses. It was as though a primal instinct had taken hold of me, consuming my entire being in its relentless grip. With each passing moment, the world around me faded into darkness until finally, I lost consciousness, my mind consumed by the terrifying reality of what I had become.
I awoke hours later in the back seat of Roman's car. The hum of the road and the whirring of the engine attempted to lull me back to sleep, but I sat up, rubbing my head as the memories flooded back. "What happened?" I asked, my voice hoarse and strained.
Roman responded with silence, a familiar reaction from him, but this time, it sent a shiver down my spine. As I looked at my arms, then my stomach, and felt around my whole body, I realised the wounds and deep gashes caused by the creature were all gone, as if I had never been attacked.
I caught Roman's gaze in the mirror, but he quickly averted his eyes. That's when I noticed Katie in the passenger seat, her tear-stained face betraying her silent anguish. It was clear she wanted to say something, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Roman had warned her against it.
"What do you know about this place?" Roman asked sternly, his voice devoid of emotion.
"We've lived here all our lives, Roman," I replied, confusion evident in my tone. "What do you mean?”
Roman pressed down on the brakes, bringing us to a sudden stop. I noticed a pained expression flit across his face in the mirror, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he quickly tried to conceal.
"Your leg!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with concern as I recalled the events from earlier.
"It was a dislocated hip. I fixed it," he replied bluntly, his tone revealing little about the ordeal he must have endured.
"This isn't real, Jason. None of this is real. You are not real!" Roman's voice was sharp, refusing to meet my eyes in the reflection.
"Back at Katie's house, I remembered everything the moment I looked into that creature's eyes. I remembered... I remembered Natalie," he said, his words catching in his throat, revealing the first hint of emotion I'd seen from him.
I watched as a tear rolled down Katie's face. I reached to put a hand on her shoulder but stopped myself.
"Roman got me to remember," Katie said, her voice trembling. "I remembered the emergency alert, and when those things broke down our doors. I watched as they dragged my parents out, then my baby brother, then me. I woke up in this fake world, in a family that isn't even mine, dating a boy who turns out to be one of the monsters who brought me here." She spluttered, and I began to cry silently as I realised what she was saying.
Roman eventually started driving again, occasionally getting a call from Morgan, but after the fifth call he threw his phone out the window. We drove until I fell asleep. I don't remember what I dreamed about, but it was peaceful. I think I was in that forest with Roman. We were children again, playing around in the trees, finding cool sticks and exploring the endless expanse of what felt like a fairytale, which I guess it was.
I was awoken by the abrupt sound of Roman's car door slamming. I looked outside and saw that it was daytime again. Trying to figure out where we had stopped, I noticed a giant sign that said “Library.” I hopped out of the car and jogged to catch up to Roman and Katie.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, clearly still being avoided. It was understandable, but it still hurt.
“I need to wake everyone up,” Roman said as we walked in and approached a computer.
I noticed we were getting odd stares from everyone as we walked by, which is when I also noticed that I looked like I had just come out the other side of a paper shredder. My clothes were all torn up with bits missing, apparently not possessing the magic healing ability that I do. The sound of Roman typing snapped me out of my self-conscious thoughts and redirected me to the computer screen.
"I'm going to be a while, guys," Roman said as he began writing out his story. "I need to tell the whole thing from the beginning. Go find a book or something.”
I looked over to Katie, her face void of expression, but a great sadness filled her now dry eyes, having cried all the tears she had. “Why don't you just wake up?” I asked, probably coming across as more insensitive than I intended.
“I've got nothing to go back to. Roman told me what the world is like back there. If my family is here, I have to find them and wake them up first,” she responded, finally meeting my eye.
I wanted to hug her so bad, but I knew she didn't love me anymore. She probably had a real boyfriend in the real world.
Hours went by as Katie and I found a place to sit and wait in silence, watching Roman. He looked funny in the little library chair, hunched over the computer. Such a big guy looked out of place here, his muscular presence overpowering that of the rest of the library's patrons, who were all either very old or very young.
I hate to admit I fell asleep, but I'm just telling the story how it was. I was awoken suddenly by sirens and shouts. “We have got you surrounded, come out with your hands up or we will come in and show you no mercy,” a man's voice yelled from outside through a speaker. I looked over to Roman, who was limping over to us as all the customers flooded out the exits.
“Get up, we need to leave. They've turned the law against us,” Roman ordered. Katie and I listened and followed him.
We made our way upstairs into the empty employee lounge, and Roman opened a window... with his elbow. “They've got every exit covered but this one. We need to jump,” he calmly told us. He stood up in the window frame, kicked off some of the remaining glass with his boots, and jumped to the roof of the single-story building below, wincing in pain as he landed on his bad leg.
That's when six armed officers kicked down the door and opened fire on Katie and me. I moved to block the bullets from hitting Katie, taking several hits to the head and back. I then pushed Katie through the window, and Roman caught her before I jumped out myself and followed.
We ran from rooftop to rooftop until we reached a ladder that led down into an alleyway, where we attempted to catch our breaths. Roman and Katie watched me intently as the bullets lodged in my body began to work their way back out, the wounds closing up after. My skin color shifted a little, and I felt a rattle leave my throat as a cold sweat came over me.
“Hey, control yourself,” Roman told me sternly. I nodded, struggling to remain composed.
“Did you finish the story?” Katie asked Roman.
“Yeah, I kind of had to rush the last part, but I got the message across,” he replied, slumping to the ground behind a dumpster, exhausted.
“What now?” I asked.
Roman looked at me, panting. “I'm gonna help Katie find her family, then I'm going back to Natalie,” he said between heavy breaths.
“What about Morgan?” I questioned, causing him to look down at his feet. “I don't even know her in the real world, and I would never have chosen to be with her. This place… it's like it wrote me a life that was least likely to let me remember who I am. The girl I'm engaged to is the complete opposite of Natalie. I've got a brother who lives with me, my parents are dead. There's literally nothing here to remind me of home, bro,” Roman said, shedding a couple of tears.
We waited in the alley until night, hearing sirens go back and forth every now and then. When Roman said we were in the clear, we made our way back to the car and started driving again. I noticed Roman's eyes fluttering after about an hour, and I told him I'd be happy to drive if he needed to sleep. I could tell that his ego didn't want to admit he was exhausted, and he also still didn't trust me, but he gave in and pulled over, falling asleep in the back seat as I drove off into the night.