Deadly Roots

I ran into the old shed in the backyard. My arm wasn’t losing too much blood, the cut wasn’t that deep. Still, I needed a place to rest and catch my breath. It felt like I’d been running for miles. An axe was mounted on the wall, so I picked it up and held it tight. It felt good to know we at least had protection now. I sat down on the cold, wooden floor of the shed, when I heard a noise about 10 feet away from me. I wasn’t alone in there. I guess he caught up to me.

Let’s rewind for a minute. My name is Hal, and I thought I was just going on vacation with some of my friends. Unfortunately, things don’t always turn out the way we plan. I was going to my friend Ryan’s parents’ house in Pennsylvania. On the trip, there was Ryan, my sister, Jessie, Brandon, Eric, Lacy, and I. We were on winter break for our senior year in college, so we decided to take a trip to unwind, maybe ski, or snowboard a bit. Sadly, we would actually have to spend this time trying to help each other survive.

When we arrived, we were mesmerized by the size of this house. It was a log cabin, two stories tall, with about 7 rooms, a huge kitchen, and a fire place in the living room. Everyone was in the living room decorating a Christmas tree. I went down to the cellar to get some drinks. I was grabbing an armful of glasses and a bottle of wine, when I heard snow crunching from outside. I saw a black blob through the window. I couldn’t make out what it was because of the storm, but it was rummaging through the shed in the backyard. I thought it was an animal, so I felt like I should tell Ryan something was in his shed. I put the glasses down, closed the cabinet, and went upstairs.
As I was heading up the stairs, the power went out. I heard a high pitched scream, so I rushed to the living room. The moonlight coming through the window allowed me to see Lacy, covered in blood lying on the floor. Jessie and Eric were gone. The only people left alive in the room were Ryan, Brandon, and I staring at our lifeless friend. We had to find the others, so we decided to split up and search the place. I met up with Jessie in the backyard. She ran out there after seeing Lacy’s body on the floor. She said she was looking for me. She said she didn’t know where anyone else was, but at least I knew my sister was safe, at least for the time being.

Brandon caught up with us as we were looking around the yard. He said everyone had gathered in the house and they were at each other’s throats. We met up with everyone in the house. They had moved the body. There was only a pool of blood on the floor where we found Lacy. Everyone was in a panic, yelling at each other and placing blame. I was the only one that seemed calm enough to notice a knife, not far away from where we found the body. We searched the house for another person who might be doing this. I didn’t see who, but someone strayed from the pack while we were going down a hallway. I thought they were doing a more thorough search of a room for the murderer, so I let them go. I should’ve said something.
Everyone took different rooms in the hallway. As I was opening the closet in one of the bedrooms, I heard a shrill scream in the next room. It made me think someone was coming out of the closet when I opened it, which scared me half to death. It seemed to get more distant before it stopped. We all rushed to see what happened. The window was opened, so we took a look outside. I saw Eric, sprawled on the ground below, dead.
I decided enough was enough. We all had to find something to protect ourselves with. Everyone had a pool cue, a broom handle, little things like that. Jessie even got a small pistol we found in one of the cabinets, but I was still empty handed. We looked pathetic, trying to guard ourselves with what were basically sticks against someone carrying a large knife. I told the group I wanted to take a look out in the shed, to see if there were weapons better than pool cues in there. Brandon and Eric decided to go with me, leaving Jessie with the gun in the top floor. I guess that made me feel better. We walked outside.
Halfway into the backyard, I heard Brandon yell, and then his body got punctured, which was followed by a gurgling sound that came from him. I looked behind me to see Brandon with a knife in his back, the same knife I found in the living room, being held by Ryan. He tossed him to the floor. He gave me an evil smile, not his usual one, and took a jab at me with the knife. I dodged to the left, but the blade still caught my arm. It stung a little, but it was far from fatal. In fact, I could still move it if I shook off the pain. I punched him in the stomach with my injured arm, which both caused him to stumble a little, and caused my cut to hurt a lot. This gave me a short time to get away, so I took the chance while I had it.
I ran into the old shed in the backyard. My arm wasn’t losing too much blood, the cut wasn’t that deep. Still, I needed a place to rest and catch my breath. An axe was mounted on the wall, so I picked it up. I sat down on the cold, wooden floor of the shed, when I heard a noise about 10 feet away from me. I wasn’t alone in there. I guess he caught up to me.
I took off out of the shed at lightning speed, the axe still in my hands. Ryan was behind me, not even 2 feet away, so I took a risk and swung the axe. He dodged backward, and came at me with his knife. I dodged soon enough to evade being cut, but I could hear the knife slice through the air. He stumbled with his swing, so I was going to make a downward cut toward him, but while I had the axe raised over my head, he kicked me in the solar plexus. The wind was knocked out of me. I hit the floor with a loud thud. Ryan picked up the axe when I dropped it. He started walking slowly toward me. He held the axe with both hands. He smiled wider than I’ve ever seen him smile. “I’m only trying to help you, Hal.” He raised the axe to swing down. I closed my eyes. I held my breath. I waited.
Just then, I heard a gunshot. Ryan fell to the ground, hard. The axe dropped from his hands. Jessie came from the house, out to the backyard, where I was looking at Ryan, lying dead in front of me. “I came when I heard you guys fighting. Are you okay?” Jessie asked.
I became disheartened. In the aftermath of the situation, I found out Ryan had been receiving psychiatric help for a few years now. I was in his room, going through things at his mother’s request, when I came across a journal. The last date in it, 12-10-11, was exactly one year before the murders.
12-7-11

I’m starting to lose control of what the voices in my head say. I used to be the only voice, but now, I can hardly tell the difference between mine and theirs. I don’t want to deal with them anymore. I’d rather be in a coma or brain dead then have to listen to them go on and on one more day. The only time the voices stop is when my friends are around. It’s nice to have a distraction, but lately, the voices try to yell over what my friends outside of my head are saying to me.

12-8-11

They keep speaking to me louder and louder. Not even by the day, their voices grow every second. Sometimes, it’s a loud ringing in both of my ears. The only voice I can hear over the imaginary ones is Hal’s. Everyone else gets tuned out. Sometimes, I get tuned out. I think he’s going to be the last person I’ll hear clearly. You know that awkward moment of silence that comes over the room sometimes? I desperately wish that would happen for even five seconds with the people inside my mind.
If I would’ve known he needed help, I would’ve done anything to help him out. I kept reading and found out he thought we were the ones in need of help.

12-9-11

I started writing this journal as a way of treating myself. God knows the therapists I’ve seen didn’t help. I don’t think anyone can help. So, I’m going to do what I was trying to keep myself from doing by writing in this journal. I don’t want to live here anymore. I don’t want to live period. I’ve come to realize the voices in my head always have been my own. No one else was trying to tell me to follow through with these unspeakable ideas of mine, just me. It’s hard to think I could come up with all these thoughts of violent acts, but it’s the truth. I’m not healthy up top. I don’t think I ever will be.

12-10-12

This world makes me absolutely sick. If there is a hell, then why would God bother sending people there when he could send them back here? I’d think that would be a sufficient punishment. I guess I‘m going to do the deed after all. The idea has been floating around in my head for some time now. The only reason I haven’t gone through with it is because I didn’t want to leave my friends behind. Now I realize that’s actually a selfish thought. If I kill myself, why should I leave them behind? That wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one free and my friends were left trapped in a cold world like this. I don’t think they realize it yet, but they will eventually see they need my help. I know that it can’t happen all at once, though. In fact, I’m going to stick around for a while, and try to gain some positive memories before we go. I don’t want to hurt my friends, but I think it’s a small price to pay to get rid of the problems life has to offer them. It’s going to take some time to plan out, but I think this is something I have to do. The pistol is going to be tucked away somewhere in a safe place until it’s my time to go, after I help my friends out by helping them leave this world. After all, what are friends for?