Beautiful/Terrible
Psycho
The next day I found myself strewn on top of Lexi’s unconscious body, which was also strewn across Drew’s.
I slowly picked myself off the mess, waking up Lexi in the process. She grumbled and looked up at me.
“Get away from me,” she said to me, suddenly alarmed.
I sighed. So it was one of these moods. Lexi sometimes got these massive waves of paranoia where she thought everyone was plotting against her. They didn’t happen often but they seemed to happen more often when she dropped acid, meaning that back last year when I just met her and she dropped acid twice a week, she was paranoid all the time.
Usually it wasn’t a problem but sometimes things got a little rowdy, and I hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
“Lexi, I’m your friend. I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“If you were trying to hurt me, you wouldn’t admit it!” She raised her voice. Oh dear. Drew and the others were starting to wake up now, woken by her sudden outburst.
“Lexi, did you take any more acid when we went upstairs last night?”
“You were watching me! I knew it! You’re trying to kill me!”
“Lexi, how much did you take?”
“I’m not telling!”
There was only one way I was going to find out when she acted like this, and I really hated doing it.
“Drew, can you hold her arms?”
Lexi looked at me in shock and hatred, while Drew sighed in discontent, obeying. He grabbed her arms while she violently squirmed in his hold. I reached into her bra and pulled out all the cash I could find in there.
“Help! She’s raping me! She’s raping me! Daddy stop!”
I counted the money- 25 dollars. I knew that she came her with 200, and we spent 25 on the acid we got together. That meant that an extra 150 dollars was unaccounted for, and could be spent on 30 hits of acid. This was bad.
I spoke to Lexi again, “Lexi, did you or did you not take 30 hits of acid?”
“Yeah, what’s it to you? Are you some kind of stalker?” she screamed at me.
I sighed and then looked up at Courtney, Drew, and Allen, who had gathered in a semi-circle around us, Drew still holding Lexi.
“We need to get her to Allen’s house. Who’s driving?”
“I’m the one with the minivan, I’ll drive,” said Allen
We all piled into his car, physically forcing Lexi in, and drove off to his house. When we got there we expected Allen’s parents to be chill as they usually were, but instead they insisted on calling Lexi’s parents.
“She is having psychosis right now! She needs medical attention immediately,” Arthur argued. I guess this was one of the few times he remembered that he was a doctor.
After about an hour of bickering and debating whether or not to tell Lexi’s mothers, we decided to call Lexi’s mom. Out of respect for Lexi, however, we told her first.
“Dad, stop talking to me! I don’t want to hear you voice! Leave me alone!” cried Lexi.
“Lexi, we’re going to call your mom, okay?” Shirley spoke softly to Lexi.
“Why?” Lexi demanded, “So you can plot my murder with her?”
“No, sweetie. You need help, and we’re going to get you some.”
“No you’re not! All you want to do is hurt me, but I won’t give you the chance.”
We looked around with worried faces.
“Lexi, what does that mean?” Shirley asked timidly.
Before we could get an answer, Lexi launched herself upwards and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
We all hustled up the stairs to follow her, but it was too late. Fearing for what she might do to herself, it was time to take matters into my own hands.
I ran into the garage where they kept all their tools and took out an axe for chopping firewood. I ran back upstairs and immediately began hurling it into the door, splintering a crack down the middle. I kept swinging and swinging while Lexi kept screaming and screaming. Finally there was a hole large enough for me to reach in and unlock the door from the inside.
I entered and was immediately met with hysterics.
“Daddy!” Lexi screamed over and over. Before I knew it, Arthur was pulling Lexi over his shoulder, to which she responding by slapping his back repeatedly.
He walked with her on his shoulder all the way down the stairs and into his car, strapping her in the back seat and driving off.
The room was silent.
Shirley shook her head sadly and went downstairs. By the clanging of pots and pans I could tell she was baking.
The rest of us just looked at each other in disbelief, before suddenly Drew grew angry.
“Why would you chop down the door?” he yelled at me, “She already thought you were trying to hurt her, no need to go after her with an axe!”
“Well I’m sorry, Drew. What else was I supposed to do? Leave her in there to her own psychotic devices?”
He was silent.
The situation was messy and nobody knew the right answers. The most we could do was hope for the best.
We all sat in the living room in silence, waiting for news. The atmosphere was stony and depressing. Palpable.
It was sadness in a different way. Usually when you felt sadness it was selfish, for yourself. Now it was for someone else and I felt helpless and horrible. Pity was good when it was for yourself, it made you feel better, but when it was for someone else it made you feel worse. You could not do anything and you knew it. That was the whole point.
I couldn’t help the tear that slid down my face. I felt like it was the only contribution I could make to the situation.
This situation might possibly be the best example of something that was both beautiful and terrible. It was terrible for the obvious reasons- her pain, agony, and internal suffering- but it was also beautiful.
It was beautiful because it was the purest form of emotion- the ones that refused to be held back.
Some would probably call Lexi a psycho, but I knew her better than that. Anyone who went through what she did with her abusive father and adoptive history would have to come out a little fucked up- and I loved her.
I loved her to death.
Hopefully it would come to that.
I hadn’t forgotten about my promise, even in the face of tragedy.
I slowly picked myself off the mess, waking up Lexi in the process. She grumbled and looked up at me.
“Get away from me,” she said to me, suddenly alarmed.
I sighed. So it was one of these moods. Lexi sometimes got these massive waves of paranoia where she thought everyone was plotting against her. They didn’t happen often but they seemed to happen more often when she dropped acid, meaning that back last year when I just met her and she dropped acid twice a week, she was paranoid all the time.
Usually it wasn’t a problem but sometimes things got a little rowdy, and I hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
“Lexi, I’m your friend. I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“If you were trying to hurt me, you wouldn’t admit it!” She raised her voice. Oh dear. Drew and the others were starting to wake up now, woken by her sudden outburst.
“Lexi, did you take any more acid when we went upstairs last night?”
“You were watching me! I knew it! You’re trying to kill me!”
“Lexi, how much did you take?”
“I’m not telling!”
There was only one way I was going to find out when she acted like this, and I really hated doing it.
“Drew, can you hold her arms?”
Lexi looked at me in shock and hatred, while Drew sighed in discontent, obeying. He grabbed her arms while she violently squirmed in his hold. I reached into her bra and pulled out all the cash I could find in there.
“Help! She’s raping me! She’s raping me! Daddy stop!”
I counted the money- 25 dollars. I knew that she came her with 200, and we spent 25 on the acid we got together. That meant that an extra 150 dollars was unaccounted for, and could be spent on 30 hits of acid. This was bad.
I spoke to Lexi again, “Lexi, did you or did you not take 30 hits of acid?”
“Yeah, what’s it to you? Are you some kind of stalker?” she screamed at me.
I sighed and then looked up at Courtney, Drew, and Allen, who had gathered in a semi-circle around us, Drew still holding Lexi.
“We need to get her to Allen’s house. Who’s driving?”
“I’m the one with the minivan, I’ll drive,” said Allen
We all piled into his car, physically forcing Lexi in, and drove off to his house. When we got there we expected Allen’s parents to be chill as they usually were, but instead they insisted on calling Lexi’s parents.
“She is having psychosis right now! She needs medical attention immediately,” Arthur argued. I guess this was one of the few times he remembered that he was a doctor.
After about an hour of bickering and debating whether or not to tell Lexi’s mothers, we decided to call Lexi’s mom. Out of respect for Lexi, however, we told her first.
“Dad, stop talking to me! I don’t want to hear you voice! Leave me alone!” cried Lexi.
“Lexi, we’re going to call your mom, okay?” Shirley spoke softly to Lexi.
“Why?” Lexi demanded, “So you can plot my murder with her?”
“No, sweetie. You need help, and we’re going to get you some.”
“No you’re not! All you want to do is hurt me, but I won’t give you the chance.”
We looked around with worried faces.
“Lexi, what does that mean?” Shirley asked timidly.
Before we could get an answer, Lexi launched herself upwards and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
We all hustled up the stairs to follow her, but it was too late. Fearing for what she might do to herself, it was time to take matters into my own hands.
I ran into the garage where they kept all their tools and took out an axe for chopping firewood. I ran back upstairs and immediately began hurling it into the door, splintering a crack down the middle. I kept swinging and swinging while Lexi kept screaming and screaming. Finally there was a hole large enough for me to reach in and unlock the door from the inside.
I entered and was immediately met with hysterics.
“Daddy!” Lexi screamed over and over. Before I knew it, Arthur was pulling Lexi over his shoulder, to which she responding by slapping his back repeatedly.
He walked with her on his shoulder all the way down the stairs and into his car, strapping her in the back seat and driving off.
The room was silent.
Shirley shook her head sadly and went downstairs. By the clanging of pots and pans I could tell she was baking.
The rest of us just looked at each other in disbelief, before suddenly Drew grew angry.
“Why would you chop down the door?” he yelled at me, “She already thought you were trying to hurt her, no need to go after her with an axe!”
“Well I’m sorry, Drew. What else was I supposed to do? Leave her in there to her own psychotic devices?”
He was silent.
The situation was messy and nobody knew the right answers. The most we could do was hope for the best.
We all sat in the living room in silence, waiting for news. The atmosphere was stony and depressing. Palpable.
It was sadness in a different way. Usually when you felt sadness it was selfish, for yourself. Now it was for someone else and I felt helpless and horrible. Pity was good when it was for yourself, it made you feel better, but when it was for someone else it made you feel worse. You could not do anything and you knew it. That was the whole point.
I couldn’t help the tear that slid down my face. I felt like it was the only contribution I could make to the situation.
This situation might possibly be the best example of something that was both beautiful and terrible. It was terrible for the obvious reasons- her pain, agony, and internal suffering- but it was also beautiful.
It was beautiful because it was the purest form of emotion- the ones that refused to be held back.
Some would probably call Lexi a psycho, but I knew her better than that. Anyone who went through what she did with her abusive father and adoptive history would have to come out a little fucked up- and I loved her.
I loved her to death.
Hopefully it would come to that.
I hadn’t forgotten about my promise, even in the face of tragedy.