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It was a brisk autumn morning, the first day of the Allen's residing at their newly purchased estate in Richmond. It was a marvel of architecture with twenty foot columns to welcome guests at the exterior and a entrance-way of marble that looked like a middle eastern pallace. The house was bought at an exceptionally low price due to it being on the market for so long; the reason being the disturbing homicide fifteen years ago. A father apparently gone berserk, murdering his son and wife and killing himself in the act. 1

Despite this, the Allen's put everything they had into this house. The father, John, had spent everything short of his life savings renovating the house into the dream that he had imagined before he became an interior designer. Katie, his wife, loved the neighborhood and quickly fell in love with the newfound space and old-fashioned town that accompanied it. Their fifteen year old son, Trevor, was the only one who hated moving their. 2

For fifteen years, they had lived in a town that Trevor had become accustomed to. He had made friends, had fun, and just enjoyed life; when their moving was announced, he was not his usual self, and hated his parents for making the decision to move to Richmond. This was not the only reason that he desiped moving though; in the following weeks, Trevor became deeply saddened and depressed due to losing all of his friends, including his girlfriend who broke up with him after he announced he was moving. Katie and John did not know what to do, even at one point taking Trevor to a psychiatrist in which he refused to say a word. This began to worsten as the weeks passed; soon, Trevor was complaining of voices and nightmares that deeply disturbed him, but his parents dismissed it as a lie to move back to their old town. Friendless and with parents that did not believe his cries for help, the dreams continued to worsten, with one night standing out. 3

Trevor woke up in a sweat. He could hear his heart pounding, but could not remember what had frightened him. He felt the same prescence though of someone that he had felt for the last couple of weeks though. Like every other night, he told himself it was not anybody and that he was safe, but his thoughts were not comfort enough; soon, paranoia began to take its toll. 4

Working up enough courage for fifteen minutes in the silent and dreadful night, Trevor finally whispered, "Hello?". Nothing came but the October wind outside and the leaves falling, Trevor listening to every single one. 5

He's under my bed... I can feel him. I need to turn on the light just to see what is there. What am i saying though? I'm out of my fucking mind. No, but what if this this is like one of those ghost stories on the SciFi channel? God, i need to turn on the light just to see if anything is there. 1...2...6

He jumped off his bed and raced for the light like a five year old running to his parents bedroom to seek comfort after a bad dream. Nothing was there. 7

"Trevor!", exclaimed his mother. It was time to get up, and with his lack of sleep the night before, he had no interest in getting up for a long time. What was the point? He had nothing to look forward to at school; no friends, nothing but thinking about old times in his classed and eating lunch by himself with barely appetite enough to put down a cracker. 8

Like clockwork, Trevor thought about nothing but the nighmares he had and the feeling of someone else being with him in his room. The day was a fade and he doezed through it like a machine with barely enough energy to raise his head when the teacher told him to stop sleeping. 9

He said nothing during dinner, his parents perplexed; they were becoming all to familiar with Trevor's depleting happiness, and they knew not what to do. He refused therapy, did not make any new friends, and when asked what was wrong did not reply. 10

By midnight, he heard the call that he dreaded every day; his mother telling him that it was time for bed. He had reserved to drinking coffee all day long to stay awake in class and in front of his parents, but by midnight he was completely crashing. 11

"Are you okay? You have seemed awfully quiet for the past few weeks. Anything you would like to talk about?", inquired his mother as he was walking up the steps.12

"No mom, i'm okay." He replied, completely lost in thought.13

By two o'clock that morning, he was in a cold sweat. 'Just five more hours' he thought, 'and i can get out of here and the sun will be up'. He was not even asleep, nor had be been, and the voice began to flood his mind again. It sounded like any other John Doe, and that was what was so horrifying to Trevor; it was not even scary sounding, and it sounded like his father or the passer-by on the street, and that was what made it so normal in his mind. He began to cry as it flooded his mind.14

"Trevor, nobody cares about you. Even your parents don't believe you. No one will miss you when you are gone, you will just be one less mouth to feed. Why not do your parents a favor huh?" With that trevor saw the sun rise in the corner of his eye, and he preceded downstairs at six o'clock that morning, well before he was normally up. He was filled with energy for some reason even though he had not slept an hour that night. That day Trevor was removed from school due to falling asleep in class and shaking his desk and talking enought to disturb the teacher. 15

He was allowed back to school the next day, becoming more of an outcast that he already was. The voice rang in Trevor's ear through the week, and it was getting to him; he had no thoughts but that anymore and he was drifting through the day doing nothing but following the crowd from class to class. Everything was foggy and he could barely remember the events of that day when he got home, but it was better than falling asleep. It was becoming harder and harder to go through each day, sleepless, with no point of Trevor rising from his bed.16

Trevor's parents could ignore this no longer. One look at him and one would have thought he lived in a concetration camp, being abused and malnourished. His father talked to him one night about what was happening, but Trevor easily deceived him citing tests and how hard school was getting. One look in the mirror though, and Trevor new that he needed help; bags were under his eyes, his eyelids half shut when they felt completely open; his hair had become oily and ruffled and his skin pale. His reflection in the mirror only frightened him more, a feeling that he had known to live with.17

Laying in bed, sleep far away, the voice came again, right on schedule. 'Trevor, you are causing your family's misery. Can you not hear your mother crying every night not knowing what is wrong with you? Your parents think it is their fault, and you just keep degrading every day, looking like a heroin junkie. You just need to go so they can be happy.' 18

Trevor had stopped trying to talk to the voice a long time ago, because he was starting to believe that it was right. He was miserable, his parents had no idea why, and he could not fake happiness and give his parents joy. He did not know what to do, but the voice was starting to make sense. Trevor played sick the next day, hardly having to do much since he looked like he had the flu. He did not get out of his bed once, pondering what his mind was telling him. 19

One day, the voice disappered. It had left Trevor in shambles though, with barely any will to do anything. He began to think, 'Maybe i am destroying my family. Maybe no body would notice if i was gone. One less mouth to feed...no more dreams...only everlasting oblivion.' 20

Trevor went to school, drifting from class to class, and skipping the last five periods to get home before his parents. He arrived home, dropped his bags, and went up to his fathers bathroom. Removing a single razor blade from his father's medicine cabinet, he went into his room and locked the door. 21

"Trevor, i am glad you have made the right choice, at least someone will be happy now." said the voice as Trevor sat on his carpet contemplating his final actions. That was all he needed to hear, and he was reminded of why he was doing this, along with giving his parents the hapiness he hoped would come after he was gone. 22

As Trevor moved the razor blade vertically across his wrists, laughter began to fill his head. There was no darkness, no serenity, and the laughter continued as the room began to spin. Holding onto his last ounce of life, he realized what he had done. No matter how many tears he shed though, there was no turning back.23

By the time John returned home from work, Trevor was long gone. John eventually kicked down Trevor's door finding his lifeless son laying on the carpet, with tear marks rolled down Trevor's t-shirt. The rest of their life, John and Katie had no idea what caused Trevor to do what he had done or what they had done wrong; this haunted them until they finally passed as well. 24

randyfan01 Uploaded 07/22/2008
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