[PRP] Marionette. (Hel/Amphi/Lou)

[Sexy Cocaine]

Journal Entry One

Journal,

I’ve started keeping you because I fear this may be my only way of venting my frustrations and insecurities. You see, my parents recently decided to move away from the city and out to the countryside. While I love my family deeply and understand their need for change, it’s hard for a young boil like me to start fresh, especially with my… Shortcomings, I suppose.

In the city, there were many other… Shall we say, nerds? I didn’t have many friends, but those that I did have were always there when I needed them. It seems out here, however, I am one of a kind. Many strive for this kind of difference but, for me it’s just inconvenient. I tried very hard to make new friends already. I’ve introduced myself to every individual who appeared to be my age range, but it seems that my attempts were considered awkward at best, and pathetic at worst.

My sister continues to be a pillar of support, however. Young that she may be, I think she understands, though I couldn’t bear to tell her that my social life cannot center around her alone. She’s such a fragile thing. With a new baby on the way, I know being the middle child must be so difficult. Our parents are always looking to me to succeed. To what extent I’m not sure. Father is always hinting at me to take over the shoe making business, and I don’t want to disappoint him, but what if I want to forge my own path? There are days I feel like a marionette in a fight for control over its strings.

I don’t say anything about it, though. Angelique always looks so sad when they pester me and not her. They don’t pester her for anything, really. I do my best to give her the attention my family fails to provide since they’re busy preparing for the new child, but it can’t be the same. All I can hope is that she has better luck of making friends than I do.



Journal Entry Two

I had my first day of school. I’m sure you’ll have no trouble predicting this… Well, okay. You will because you’re an empty tome of paper, but it didn’t go very well. My morning started with me being shoved in a locker, and at lunch, all of the kids stared at me. None of them, however, would take a seat anywhere near me. I cannot fully understand why I am such an outcast to them, but I imagine it’s because, well… All of them are pleasing to the eye. This is a reaper town. I’ve only seen one or two other creatures, but nobody has issues in the aesthetics department. Nobody except I. Or it could be because I’m exceptionally intelligent. I joined in on one of the quizzes, and since its half way through the semester I was allowed to use a book, but I didn’t need it. The teacher congratulated me in front of the room and all my classmates did was scowl.

I feel so helpless. I told my dad of it but he just called it hazing the new student and patted me on the back. I don’t think… It would be so hard if I could just have one friend. One person to talk to that isn’t obligated to me like my poor sister.

Journal Entry Three

The weeks have not treated me well, journal. I would write more but I’m afraid the only thing I have to say is sad and not unlike the usual teenage struggle of fitting in. It’s a dry, cliché read. As predicted, the ‘hazing’ has not let up. If anything, it has escalated. I’ve identified my main antagonist, and I think he’s the one who pulls the strings. His name is Spencer, but everyone calls him Thrash. I made the mistake of calling him Spencer one day last week. Before this experience, I had only heard of swirlies. The stories do the horror no justice, especially when the janitor has been on vacation.

An interesting situation has developed, however. The vacant house next door has finally been bought, and I noticed the behemoth movers carrying in what appeared to be, for lack of better words, ghouly furniture. It wasn’t dated, so I can only assume a ghoul of my age might be occupying one of those rooms. I suppose I should prepare myself for the inevitable embarrassment when my parents drag me and Angelique over to meet the neighbors.

Journal Entry Four

I just got through with the somewhat torturous, yet equally surprising meeting with the new neighbors. As expected, they were a family of reapers. I paid little attention to the couple themselves, but focused most of my interest on the young ghoul. She’s about my age. Very quiet, but my awkward antics seemed to at least make her giggle. After my third blunder of the night, I finally snagged her name. It was Marie. Make no mistake, the name almost does her angelic presence no justice. Even my sister was pleased, and she’s never been particularly fond of others. Marie starts school tomorrow. I can only hope the cruelty that befalls me lays no hand on her.

Journal Entry Five

I’m a little bewildered, journal. It’s almost as if Marie doesn’t exist to the general populace. Her sweet smile goes unnoticed by the hungry wolves. It’s as if she’s taken some kind of antibody that’s left her immune to bullying. I’d almost think she’s an imaginary friend created by my subconscious loneliness, but considering the rest of my family interacted with her, that would be unlikely. Maybe I’m stuck in a dream. Maybe she’s my moment’s reprieve from the misery; a singular light amongst the crushing darkness. She laughs at my bad jokes. She pays attention when I’m explaining complex concepts, or at least she convincingly acts like it. When I come back wounded or dripping from toilet water, she asks if I’m okay.

This situation I can live with. As long as I have someone to soften the blow of the hard times, I know I’ll be alright.

Journal Entry Six

It’s been a couple weeks since my last entry because, frankly, things have been wonderful. Of course, the bullying is the same. I have a feeling it always will be, and that’s okay. Marie is my pillar. She is my support. Many weekends Angelique and I will come over to visit. We sit in Marie’s back yard, draped over the picnic table staring up at the stars. The last family that lived in the house had a swing set, and sometimes we’ll push Angelique while we talk about our lives. We talk about many different aspects, really. She tells me about where she came from, and how she sometimes feels invisible. I tell her that sometimes I wish I could be. I suppose that’s why we mesh together so well. The old, beaten saying ‘opposites attract’ has some merit. I imagine that’s why it’s old and beaten. Sometimes I just don’t understand though. I don’t understand how a ghoul like her, in all her radiance and beauty, could be so overlooked. Maybe like my sister, she’s afraid to stand out. Maybe she’s just too perfect. The wolves have nothing to pick on and the high class feel dwarfed by her potential. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

Journal Entry Seven

Hah, it’s been about a year since I picked this up. Not much has changed, and maybe that’s for the best. It’s a steady life, and though nothing gets better, nothing gets worse either. Dad suggested I apprentice for him every other weekend, to get a feel for shoemaking. I’ve tried to convince him to drop it, but he’s a demanding man, so I told him yes.

I actually didn’t just do it for him, to be honest. I have a plan, journal, and I had to tell somebody about it. Angelique would probably let the secret slip, and well… I can’t tell Marie because she’s who the secret involves.

Before I tell you the secret, I’d like to mention her and where we stand. We’re such close friends, and though she’s made a select few at school which has taken away her time there, we always get together afterwards. Truth be told, journal, I think I might love her. I love everything about her. I love her smile, the way she blinks, her calm, collected step. I love the way she says my name. I even love her flaws, which are few and far between. The only problem is, like most enamored teenage boils, I haven’t been able to tell her. I wouldn’t even know where to start. Even though she accepts my socially inept ways, I fear that I’d find a way to ******** up my confession so bad that she’d never associate with me again. It’s a fear that eats at the lining of my stomach when I think late at night. My heart starts to beat out of my chest when I imagine how it could go, for both the bad and good. I’d hoped the fear would eventually subside, and that I’d somehow become immune to it through prolonged exposure. No such luck, of course. It just builds up. Like a shaken soda can, the pressure doesn’t go away, and eventually I’ll just explode anyways.

So here’s the plan. I convinced my dad to pay me for my apprenticeship. Obviously it won’t be much, but it will be money I can save up. Money I’ll need to get Marie a dress. We went to the shopping center a couple of days ago. You should have seen the longing in her eyes when she saw this beautiful blue dress in the window. If I would’ve had the money, I swear I would’ve bought it for her on the spot. Maybe this will work out better, though. I’ve done the calculations and should have the money just in time, but that’s just the icing. The cherry on top is that… I’m going to make her shoes. I’m going to make her shoes that go perfectly with the outfit. I’ll make her shoes that compliment her grace, and shoes that enhance her beauty. I’ll make shoes that will wow her, and as I present her with these things, I’ll ask her to the dance. I think it’s a flawless plan, really. The only small hitch I had was getting her clothing size. While she had extracurricular activities one day, I told her parents I’d left something in her room. I suppose I felt… A little dirty sifting through her clothes, but it was nice. I felt like I was surrounded by her without the anxiety of wanting to tell her how much I care. It’s a shame I can’t do that more often. Either way, I got her shoe and dress size, now it’s just a matter of laying down the perfect plan. Wish me luck!

Journal Entry Eight

I finally bought it. I finally saved up enough money to pay off the dress. The shop owner was very kind, and allowed me to make payments little by little. After months of him pestering me about details, I finally told him. It was nice to tell somebody, no offense to you journal. He wished me the best of luck and sent me on my way. The shoes are done too! I asked my dad for advice, but refused to let him lay a finger on them. I wanted them to be my work, and mine alone. I can only hope that they’re satisfactory enough. I put a lot of effort into them. Surely that will count for something, right?

On an unrelated note, all the harsh bullying I usually received has suddenly stopped. I know in the back of my mind I should be grateful, that it’s a sign of good things to come. My future is finally looking bright. There’s a problem though. I passed Thrash in the hall.

The smile he gave me was a promise of something cruel. I can’t say what, but it’s a silence before the storm. I suppose that much doesn’t matter, though. Whatever it is, as long as Marie is there, it won’t matter. Besides, Thrash will be too busy with his fangirls asking him to the dance. Surely that will distract him long enough for my own plan to fall into place.

Journal Entry Nine

She… Already had a date.

I don’t understand how this could’ve happened, but at the same time I suppose I was blind to not process the idea of a third party. It was so embarrassing, journal. I told her. I told her how I felt about her. The whole time she was trying to stop me but I just needed to get it out. I’d been holding back so much for so long, and all she could say was…

“Oh.”

Oh? Oh what? Oh could mean anything. It could be a mild exclamation at the intricacy with which I explained my true affections. It could be an ‘oh’ of disgust, that I’d kept such passions left locked in to build up a blizzard when it was finally released. It could mean anything… But her poker face was too well-crafted for me to see around, even with having known her all these years. The only emotion I could see for certain was pity when she had seen all the time and money I spent pining over her.

I didn’t want her pity. I wanted her love.

I left promptly after she told me I could probably still get a refund on the dress… And the shoes.

Journal Entry 10

Spencer.

She went with Spencer. I understand everything now. I watched him pick her up. I watched him place the corsage on her arm. I watched as they walked down the street towards the school. I watched as he looked toward my window and wink. I knew he had done this on purpose. I know how he knew too. The dress was the exact same one I had purchased for her. The kindly dress maker must have been a relative. His uncle, I’d imagine. He couldn’t have fathered such depravity.

I hope she has a good time. I hope she savors every last minute of this, and I hope he does nothing to hurt her. Maybe I can still salvage this. Maybe I can still save us. I won’t give up. Even after being denied… I still love her.

Journal Entry 11

Marie smacked me.

I had explained to her the day after that all of it had been because of me. I explained that Spencer was setting her up, that his intentions were only foul. I told her the only reason Spencer had anything to do with her was because of his unexplained hatred for me… And she smacked me.

She said that my jealousy was disgusting and unfounded. That it wasn’t fair for me to always expect her to be a loser and a nobody. She said that this was her chance to be noticed.

Spencer cornered me later that day in the bathroom and asked me how it felt. He said that people like me didn’t deserve to be happier than anyone else. I was just some disgusting suck-up who pretended to put the needs of others in front of mine.

That’s apparently why he’s had it out for me this whole time. After I wouldn’t answer (because I was holding back my agony and tears), He slammed my head against the sink and walked out with a laugh.

I walked home alone that evening.

Journal Entry 12

I keep trying to talk to Marie, but she won’t listen. I call her, but she won’t pick up. I knock on her door, but her parents tell me she’s not there when it’s quite obvious that she is. I’ve noticed. I keep watching her. She dresses more promiscuously now. She wears more makeup than a clown, and yet I still love her. All I can do is stare when I catch glimpses of her. I watch her in secret when I can afford to. I’ve even used some of the extra money I’ve made working for dad to buy a camera. I stare a lot at her pictures when it’s too late to see her through her window. I’m not obvious about it, you know. I switch off all my lights, turn the blinds down, and peek out the bottom. She doesn’t notice me. At least, she hasn’t yet.

My parents, I think, have noticed. They see that I’m coming home alone. They’ve asked me if ‘the honeymoon is over’, and I simply don’t respond. Dad suggests that I stop going to school, but it’s the only place I can see her unhindered.

Angelique asks me what’s wrong. I tell her nothing. She knows it’s not true, but it’s enough to get her off my back until the next day. I still have the dress I bought for Marie. It hangs in my closet. Some nights I sleep with it, but I don’t do it too much. Just in case. For when Spencer finally dumps her after he gets tired of his games. For when her spirits are crushed and she has no one to turn to, I’ll be there. I’ll be waiting, and then she can finally wear the shoes I made for her.

Journal Entry 13

I can’t help but think that maybe I could expedite the process. Perhaps waiting is a death sentence. What if Spencer falls in love with her too? It would be hard not to. Marie is such a good person, I’m sure she could melt even the darkest heart. That doesn’t matter, though. He’s no good for her. I know. I know Marie better than even her parents. I have to save her from this. I stayed home from school one day to test a theory.

The lock on Marie’s window is broken. I snuck in without much of an issue. What if I snuck in one day and stayed there until she fell asleep and… No. No, that wouldn’t work. She might scream, and that would wake her parents. Maybe I could find some kind of sleep potion to knock her out. I wonder if I have the upper body strength to haul her out a window, though… Probably not.

Okay, well. Maybe I could find a transmogrification potion and temporarily take the form of Spencer. Tell her how ugly I think she is..

No, I could never call Marie ugly. She’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Maybe I could pay someone to do it for me. Yeah, I’ll look into that.

Journal Entry 14
(A clipping out of a book is glued into the journal, scribbling out another name and replacing it with ‘Marie’)
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Marie;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
I and my Marie—
With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Marie;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Marie.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we—
Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in Heaven above
Nor the demons down under the sea
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Marie;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Marie;
And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Marie;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the sounding sea.


Journal Entry 15

Angelique found my journal and read it.

She questioned me. She yelled at me. She told me I was insane.

I told her I hated her. I told her I hated her and never wanted to see her face again for as long as I lived. At this point, I thought she’d told our parents about it. About my secret. My dirty little secret.

Yes, it’s a dirty secret. I suppose I realize that now. I pine, and I obsess, and I have more than two hundred pictures of Marie in the shoebox from the shoes I made for her, which now hide in the closet.

I can’t do this anymore. I realized that when my sister ran out crying. I’ve spent so much time being cautious not to step on the toes of others.

I want to be selfish. I don’t want to care anymore, but I do care. My dreams are filled with her. My daydreams are filled with her, and if I don’t do something soon, I may lose the last of my sanity to her. I can’t admit that I’ve been struggling with this. I’m already a freak at school, and my parents are so well-established in this place, to leave would be the suicide of their business.

No. You know what?

There’s only one thing left to do, and I’m going to do it for myself.
 

[Sexy Cocaine]

To one Loucious Cedrick Ferre:

How dare you. How dare you defile all the hard work I set in motion. I did my best to cover all my tracks, and yet here you are. I hope that nobody ever receives this letter, to be truthful. I don’t want future incarnations of myself to suffer this heinous fate, yet I cannot imagine you staying satisfied with an empty past forever.

I created you. I created you and I did it for me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done for me. Were you happy? Were you happy before you stumbled upon this journal? I hope you were, because I don’t know where you’re going to be now. You’re nothing more than a puppet with a dead puppeteer, Loucious.

Who’s gonna pull your strings now?

Sincerely,

Gabriel