Screwed Up Life

Gruesome. Whacked out. Horrific. Crazy. Mental. Disturbing. Tragic.

Those words basically summed up my short story below, which took me about an hour to complete, with minimum pausing. I did not do any planning – I just wrote whatever that popped into my head. This totally whacked out story is what I ended up with.

Pretty satisfying to me though. If you can never ever read a story this disturbing, spare yourself the pain from reading this. I make no apologies for writing something as demented as this. I’ve already warned you, so don’t say that I didn’t warn you. Comments appreciated though. ^_^


“Where did you get that jacket from?”, – asks mother, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the jacket worn by her daughter, who is now about to make her way up the stairs.

“None of your business, mother, why don’t you go bother someone else” – retorted the daughter, anger boiling inside of her as she feels that it’s not her mother’s right to know who’s jacket she was wearing.

“Don’t you freaking talk to me like that young lady, I’m your god-damn fucking mother and you’ll do well to respect me!” – mother’s temper flared.

“Since when did you give a damn about anything in my life, mother? You know what, I shouldn’t even be calling you mother, fat load of mothering you ever did for me and Jonah” – she fumes.

Sigh, my sister has just got to drag me into one of their mother-daughter catfights. I don’t know about you, but I’ve grown quite accustomed by watching from the sidelines. I’ve learnt the hard way not to get in their way the last time there was a big fight in the house.

Shouldn’t blame mother, she’s already looking like a worn out shoe, no freaking way she’s gonna pick up any guys at the bar tonight. Heck, why does she even bother with dear old sis anyway? What’s it to her if she has a few boyfriends of her own?

You must be thinking what kind of a mess up world a 12 year old like me is living in, don’tcha? I don’t blame you, and I don’t blame God for having a really bad sense of humour in putting me in this family.

Oh, did I ever introduced myself? My name’s Jonah. I’m, like I just mentioned (hate repeating myself you know), 12 and about to enter seconary school this coming year. I’m finishing my primary education now, of course – I consider myself a full fledge adult now, regardless of whatever people think. I got a mind of my own and if you’re big enough to use it, I’m big enough to look on my own.

Right now, I’m slipping out the back door of my house. Whenever sis mentions my name, I take it as a cue to just zip away like a prancing zebra, for want of a better metaphor.

Told you I’m smart – metaphor, big word for a 12 year old kid.

“JONAH!!!! Oh for crying out loud, where’s that bloody boy when you need him!” – I heard my mother shout, followed by an incorrigible retort from my sis and another loud bang of the door, which I take it as the front door slamming but I’m not hanging around to find out.

When there’s a storm raging under your own roof, it’s best to take off and seek shelter. And I know just the place.


Cough, cough! – ugh, it’s my favourite hangout, refuge, shelter whatever you wanna call it. But I just damn wish Lemuel would just stop those prats from chain-smoking. Sure they wanna die early, but spare the rest of us who wanna live, for Christ sake’s.

“Yo, Jonah, my boy! How’s it coming? – Lemuel, greeted from behind the counter, his eyes not taking off the front of the computer screen, which I know it’ll probably be another porn show on.

“Hmph, the usual, Lemuel. What you got on in there?” – I asked and leaned over trying to peep at what Lemuel was so engrossed in.

“Hey, Jonah, watch it, you’re gonna get me into fat load of trouble if anyone caught you watching it” – said a flustered Lemuel who had quickly closed the window screen, but not before my eyes popped out of its sockets at what I managed a glimpse of. Let’s just say it involves eating a hot dog with white cream oozing out of the lady’s mouth.

I shrugged, sure it did make my eyes pop, but I kinda know what it’s all about anyways. Heck, when you’re the only guy in house of two bitches on constant heat, you just learn…

“Just get me a comp, need to get my gaming fix” – and Lemuel directs me to a half-crowded room at the back to computer NO. 55.

Great, at least the air in here’s better than the foul-smelling smoky air outside, I said to myself. I settled into my seat and booted up the computer and keyed in the password that Lemuel had trusted me with. That show’s you how long I’d been here.

Practically half my life since six, mother used to leave me here with Lemuel when she goes off to hook in some big fishes in the club a few blocks away. Lemuel’s a pretty good guy, can tell he looks out for me like my mom asked, just that he got fix his porn problem. I figured that he probably had a crush on my mother. He wouldn’t be so willing to help her if it wan’t that. Bet he’d bed her before, but it’s not my place to ask. It’ll be a laugh though to see Lemual choke on his coffee and spew it in front of his screen.

Anyways, went to the C-drive, looked for my saved games – Warcraft III – and in no time, i’m commanding a bunch of orcs to raid a nearby human camp. Ah, life’s never been sweeter than this, watching the slaying of a bunch of 3D humans by a bunch of ruthless, equally 3D ugly green orcs.

Thank gawd for computer games, at least it transports me out of my screwed up life, even if its just for a moment. CAn’t understand why the government all up in arms about places like this – it’s better than being out on the streets, isn’t it? It’s not our fault we want to be in here, tell that to our ‘rents. If the home wasn’t such a mess and so totally screwed, kids like me and the rest in here wouldn’t even be here.

The screen’s clear enough to see that there’s quite a group of people watching me from behind, as won a campaign game after another. When you’re around computers since the age of six, you get pretty fast and furious with the mouse and keyboards. I could see some of the other kids whose faces looked almost in awe at my skills, as my hand and fingers performed impossibly acrobatic moves and at high speeds.

I don’t know how you would feel to have people crowding round you cheering you on. But for me, it feels so much better than smoking pot (yes, I had smoked pot before, never in high quantities mind you, read about what those kind of stuff do to you in the long run) better than any drug you could ever wish for.

In less than an hour, I finished the game and figured that home ought to be a bit calm now. Skies already darkening and I better make it back home before mother brings in anymore guys to her room. Always hated seeing that. Hmph, you can’t change a hooker, once you’re one, you’re forever one.

The crowd dispersed and I high-fived a couple of people I knew before heading back out. Oh, oh… what’s SHE doing here??

Dear old sister was standing at the front of Lemuel’s counter, seemingly engaging in some sort of pleasant conversation to me. If I knew my sis, it’s probably “pleasant” in another sense.

She got the same jacket that was the cause of the fight earlier on. She lit a fag and took a long drag, puffing out the smoke through her nose – crazy bitch, she actually sucked those freaking tar into her lungs! Ugh! Now I know what to tape to her mirror, a picture of a blackened lung with the sign saying “This’ how your lung looks like now!”

I hung back, curious to see if there’s any further development between sis and Lemuel. That sly old dog, I don’t believe he got the guts to sleep with sis! Man, he must blowing quite a load on her monetarily and bodily.

Lemuel and sis chatted for a while more before he got up from his seat and called over to another high schooler to man the station. He’s taking off loooks like, with my sister in tow. I shook my head.

I waited till they left before I approach the high schooler manning the station that Lemuel just left.

“Hey there, where’d Lemuel go?” – I asked the stoned out high schooler.

He just looks at me and shrugs – “Probably off fucking with that hot chick again upstairs.”

“Oh? Really? They did it before?” – not at all surprised by this revelation, but couldn’t help feeling a little riled by this.

The high schooler obviously was high cause he gave me a weird, “you’re dumb!” look and didn’t know that I’m a 12 year old kid.

“Heck of course, he’s been banging her since this month, the last time they did it was just last night and you know what that bastard gave her – that seriously cool denim jacket. Man, I could only dream…”

Didn’t wait around to hear the last sentence. Don’t know what tripped inside me. I like Lemuel, he’s a cool guy. But somehow, a guy who’s cool to the kid shouldn’t be banging the sister of the kid. That’s just so wrong. And you know what? My sister’s wrong too. Lemuel’s MY friend. She got her own, why she’d have to take Lemuel too??

I marched out of the dingy shop, and wrest open the metal grill next to it, revealing the stairs leading up. It was poorly lit, but I know my way around enough. Lemuel sleeps on first floor. That’s probably where he’s taken her.

Sure enough, all manner of oohs, sighs, ahs and grunts with the creaking of the bed. Now THAT really got my temper rising.

There I stood for what it felt like eternity. Feelings of rage, anger and betrayal wells up in me. Slowly and quietly, I took my yellow Nike T-shirt off and folded them neatly on the torn sofa couch. Squating down, I untied my shoe laces and took off my shoes. The socks came off after that. Next, I pulled down my white nylon soccer shorts and there i stood, proud and naked as the day i was born.

I headed into the kitchen and got me a wicked looking steak knife. I set in on the table. I could still hear the lovemaking go on and on. Lemuel’s got a good stamina for a man his age, i know that for a fact.

Full of rage, like a possessed monster, I marched towards the room, which was unlock, very careless of Lemuel I noted, it’ll be the last thing he’ll worry about. I stood there, looking at the two sinfully unclad bodies – live porn on full show. More manic rage and it was all I could do to contain it.

My sister let out a little scream, tinged with pleasure. Lemuel too, groaned, crying like an animal. Both gasping and breathing heavily.

It’s obvious to me that both had just reached the heights of orgasmic heaven, seen that wispy look on Lemuel’s face before when HE was banging my backdoor.

With one quick swipe, i ensured that look stays on his face, warm blood spraying into my sister’s body, soaking the bed pretty quick.

My sister’s eye flew open, and the look of horror on her face when she felt and saw all the blood on her. She turned and saw me standing there, the bloodied knife positioned inches away from her heart.

Scream. I dare you. – I whispered calmly, my wicked, gleaming eyes bore into her soul as I snatched her pitiful existence from this life.

“JO…” The moment she did scream, I could feel the knife’s sinking deep into her ruptured heart. I added a couple more stabs for good measure. Then, I let go.

Painless, it must be. For them to be so silent about it. I grinned to myself. At the blood soaked bed. At the two lifeless bodies who will no longer wrong me. I grasped my own little buddy and with a quick pump or two, reached my own nirvana.

I sank onto the floor, sapped of my energy. I looked down at my naked form, awashed with my sister’s blood. I looked over to the bodies. The knife was still embedded in my sister. Evidence. I got up, and prepapared myself for a geyser of blood as I pulled the knife out of her at arms length.


I turned on the shower. I’ve used it here many times. Together with Lemuel. Now I’m all on my own. With that hooker witch of a mother. I sighed. Life goes on, no matter how screwed up it may be.

Felt that warm sprays of water washing over my skin. Washing the filth away. For a long time, I just stood there, motionless, under the shower. Then, I took the soap and began to lather it on my body, giving myself a body scrub. Rinsed myself under the water once more. Cleansed, I turned the water off and stepped out, still dripping wet, still unclothed.

I went back into the room, careful not to step on any blood puddles. Found myself a couple of towels which I used to dry myself and proceeded to retrace my steps and wiped away all the surfaces I had touched.

On the floor was the denim jacket. I felt a sudden sense of loathing for the jacket. Can’t explain it. Picked it up, flapped it and used it to cover my sister’s face, with an expression of shock and horror still etched on her face.
Then, I got dressed and left, careful not to touch anymore surfaces. In less than hour after my morbid deed was done, I slipped away unnoticed, unrepentant, remorseless. The people in that dingy cybercafe played on, smoked on, partied on…oblivious to the events that transpired above.

With a last look at the 1st floor shop, I turned my back on it and made my lonely journey home. Wherever it is now.

Screwed up? I guess I am. It’s what you’d get too if you had someone screwing you and your mind.

****The End****


  1. Samster

    Aiyee!!! My eyes are burning from all the lack of punctuation to discern the difference!!!

    Phil, honestly, I can’t help being disturbed…

    Especially since there are more than enough self-destructive characters to read from without adding to the mix.

    Still, it is a creative work. I only wish that such stories may never have to be again in real life.

  2. Sora

    This is the freewriting excercise you were talking about in the other post? Wow, you’ve a bit of a dark side, I see. Very easy to pick up on Jonah’s angst; not sure if you have considered such a path, but you have the makings of a fine horror story here. Continue to develop along that line and people may be referring to you as the Malaysian version of Stephen King.

  3. Thanks for the compliment for Sora! I guess I do find myself leaning towards stories that are very dark, angsty and disturbing. I just don’t feel any positiveness in writing false stories of hope, because, in reality…how many children do find that salvation they needed.

    Better to write a shocking story to wake people up to the stark reality of the world rather than painting a false picture of hope…. no matter what my friend Sam says.

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