Overdone_The Loss of Reason

by Paloma Meir

  The lab was one of those long free standing bungalows that looked more like trailer than an actual classroom. On a positive note, the structure was new and a blast of air-conditioning hit me when I walked in the door. It was welcome. Los Angeles was hot in a way I had never experienced before and the high school was sprawling across the flat treeless campus; too much walking. I understood why the students always carried a bottle of water in their hands.

  I sat down at a long desk in the back and surveyed the students. A nerdy group— no surprise there. I was sure it was the same across the whole country. They would be shy, witty and fun in their own peculiar way but not interesting — too earnest in their emotions. Too easy to twist and besides, I generally liked their company. Not everything needed to be harmed.

  I looked to the front of the room as the students quieted down and took their seats. A boy stood at the front by the chalkboard. The president of the club I assumed. He was not like the others.

  He stared at me and I stared back. He wasn’t dressed like the other students and he did not have the sun-starved look of the indoor crowd of kids that would join a Physics Club.

  I recognized him as one of the boys I had walked behind after lunch. He wasn’t in his Nike gear anymore. He wore vintage looking jeans with the selvage showing on the cuffed bottoms and a button down navy short sleeve shirt, much more Seattle than Los Angeles.

  But it wasn’t so much his outfit that drew my attention but him. He had olive toned skin, dark lustrous hair that he wore in a tousled way with the front being a little longer. He ran his fingers through it as he watched me with his large dark deep-set eyes.

  I looked down at my desk and did not look up again as he ran through the schedule of the club. The plan was intensive. This would not be a club for those who only wanted to mark it on their college applications. In fact some of the experiments he described sounded better suited for graduate students. I was amused.

  I heard him but did not see him at the end of the meeting when I was picking my bag up off the floor.

  “Hello, I’m Serge. Are you new here?”

  “Yes,” I looked up at him from my crouched position and couldn’t formulate another word in my mind.

  “Well…Welcome…Here’s the list of activities,” He handed me a stack of papers as I sat back up in the chair and stared at him. I hoped with my mouth closed.

  “Thank you.” I took the papers but he did not move. I felt a little happy about that even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold up my end of the conversation with all the blood rushing through my body at light speed.

  “You should sign-in.” He looked through the pile of papers and pulled out a blank one that was definitely not a sign-in sheet.

  I realized he wanted to know my name and I could not hold back my smile. I looked down at the floor as I took the paper from his hand.

  “You should put all your contact information on it…So I can keep you updated.” He said as I scribbled all of the information out on the paper.

  “Okay.” I handed him back the paper and stared. I didn’t want to but I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Okay.” He said and I laughed, stood up and walked out of the room glancing back over my shoulder to see him frozen in place, still looking at me.

  I managed to squeak out a goodbye before running across the campus to my mother’s waiting car.

  …

  “Celena,” My Mother yelled as I ran up the stairs to my room. “Would you like to help me with my project? I’m a little stuck on getting the numbers on recidivism…and you’re so…good at research.” Her voice trailed off.

  My computer skills were something that scared her since the incident. My laptop had been installed with tracking software after the girl had harmed herself by agreement of all the involved parties when the police were called in.

  I bypassed them all within an hour of getting it back after the month long punishment of having all my technology, even my guitar and art supplies, taken away.

  “Maybe later, lots of homework.” I didn’t have any homework. It was the first day of school.

  I did like assisting her. She directed documentaries my father produced. The one she was working at that time was about the turnstile-like nature of the prison system.

  It was all very fascinating but left me with a sick feeling. I knew that if I didn’t watch myself carefully I too could end up in the loop of being in and out of the system.

  “Okay, maybe later.” Her voice cheerful for her part in the game we played where I was the sane daughter and she was the doting mother.

  She was the doting mother and my father did the best he could. This is not a story of neglect or abuse.

  I ran upstairs, not to avoid anything but to embrace my inner workings.

  I slammed the door to my box-filled room that would stay that way until my mother gave up and put everything away for me and opened my computer to the secret world where I could be myself or at the very least make an attempt to know the truth.

  I logged on to my account at sociopathicworld, with my username selenaslinks. Not my proper name spelling, but the forum appreciated alliteration.

  I bypassed the board and went straight to my private messages. I had quite a following after what had happened with the girl. In fact the board had egged me on in my attacks on her.

  I don’t think I would have gone quite so far if they hadn’t pushed me but I take full responsibility. The board’s manipulations weren’t lost on me. Whether I was truly one of them or not, I did understand their mindset and could play them harder than they could ever play me if I wanted to.

  I ignored the messages from my legion of fans. I always did, except when I was live-blogging my one-sided game with the girl who cracked. I seldom commented on the forum, always more of a lurker.

  But I had made a friendship with the woman who ran the website, known only as Q. She had started the website a few years before with hopes of enlightening society about the benign nature of most sociopaths. She was smart to have made the forum of her website locked and invitation-only because it proved the opposite of the message she was trying to deliver.

  selenaslinks: I met a boy.

  q: Boring don’t message me again until you make something interesting happen.

  selenaslinks: Maybe I’m not one of you. Maybe the sun does make a difference. Maybe I’m just crazy.

  q: Go ask that girl what you are.

  selenaslinks: Fair

  q: I don’t have any answers for you but whatever you are be careful, you’re my star pupil. Stay off the boards.

  selenaslinks: Why don’t you just take them down if you don’t approve of them?

  q: Like you they make my life more amusing.

  selenaslinks: Thank you.

  q: Okay Selena I know you want to do this tell me about your day I’ll pretend I’m interested.

  selenaslinks: I know you are its funny how you’re the only one that really knows me.

  We chatted for about an hour, normal talk. Q would lower her veil of being the Queen of regulated evilness and just be human. The relationship we had was an odd one but in retrospect not harmful.

  She was a good person for someone lacking a soul.

  I would have spent longer talking to her but my phone beeped with a text. The first in months. The fall-out from the incident in Seattle had rightfully turned me into a social pariah.

  It was Serge asking if I received the club’s papers. I replied that I had, that he had handed them to me. I giggled while texting, not something I was used to doing.

  For a moment I had hope that maybe I was okay, maybe my dark moods had stayed in the grey city far north of where I sat. I had experienced mellow periods before but never one as long as this one had been. For the previous two months I had felt even.

  It would not last and the crash from the hopefulness would make it even harder but sitting on the floor of my room that day, anything seemed possible.

  A few minutes later he texted me a
physics joke. I texted him back a silly knock-knock joke. Back and forth we traded very bad jokes. His were all science related. I began to wonder if he were on the Autism Spectrum.

  It wouldn’t have made a difference. I liked his attention, even if the jokes never extended into conversation.

  I put my computer and technology away after he ran out of jokes, picked up my guitar and gently played until my mind melded with the melodies. Meditative, my mother had been right about that. My guitar was worth all the vitamins, good diet and regular exercise my parents plied me with.

  Chapter Four

  On a Saturday a month later, I was sitting on my bed, my guitar in hand, summoning the energy to play it. The feelings had come back, sneaking up on me. I felt a little low, my thoughts beginning to race around my head, tumbling into negativity. A heaviness filled my body as if any movement would be too much.

  The sunlight I loved, an annoyance. The fresh start in the new school, dull. People were the same everywhere. These ones a little prettier, a little worldlier but still the same with their cloying desire to fit in.

  I hated being able to see past the facades, almost jealous of the way everyone else accepted each other at face value. Why had I been born without that ability?

  My phone beeped. I knew it was Serge, even though I had made other friends. He texted me at least once a day, always with a science joke. At school he would wave to me, sometimes he would look like he was coming my way to talk but he wouldn’t follow through.

  I watched him not understanding, which was a change of pace for me. The others were like robots, so easy to predict their every movement. He seemed comfortable with others. In fact he was quite popular with all the different groups of kids liking him.

  What wasn’t there to like? From everything I heard and I listened to everything everyone said like a spy in their house of love, Serge excelled at everything he did and was called straight edged at the time. A dream boy, really.

  He did have his demons, as I would come to know but he hid them from all, wanting to keep up appearances. His family was very top tier East Coast. I assumed that’s where the reserved quality came from.

  But I didn’t know any of that the day I sat on my bed panicked that my period of calm was coming to an end. I looked at my phone to see that he was saying that he was standing in front of my home and wanted to come inside.

  He lived down the canyon from me and I would see him running up and down the street with his two best friends, Danny and Brendan. I knew that on the weekend he would continue his run alone to the end of the cul-de-sac and stand in front of my house as if he were resting.

  I had thought of inviting him a few times before but his shyness with me was interesting to observe. I enjoyed watching it play out, seeing him try to build his courage.

  I never thought anything would come from it. There were more beautiful girls than myself all around the school throwing themselves at him. If it was intelligence he was after, there were a few other girls at my level or higher.

  Yet there he was in front of my home, his confidence found, wanting to see me on my very worst day.

  I texted back telling him to come upstairs, the front door was open. I looked around my room at the mess I lived in, everything spread out, my breakfast and lunch plates on the floor.

  I thought of tidying up but it was hopeless like my mood. Better for him to see me as I actually was, end all this before my feelings for him grew real.

  “Do you need help cleaning up your room?” He laughed as he bounded into my room glowing with health and sat down beside me on my bed.

  I felt my mood perk up but not enough.

  “I need chaos to understand chaos.” I said and wanted to slap myself. I willed myself to be lighthearted.

  “Are you a butterfly, Celena?” He said, but I had enough of science jokes. My situation in no way resembled the Chaos Theory.

  “I didn’t mean that in a scientific way. Is that all you talk about?” He was so silly that I smiled and my mood did lighten.

  “No.” He said which lead to a long awkward silence.

  “Okay…Why are you here, Serge?” I almost laughed.

  “I don’t know.” He stood up as if he were going to leave. That was not something I wanted to happen.

  “Stay.” I took his hand and looked up at him.

  He sat back down beside me, stared at me for a moment and then put his hand on the back of my head, running his fingers through my short hair and then we were kissing.

  I had kissed boys before. I had gone on dates, all the things girls my age did but never before had I felt anything for anyone.

  The kiss went on and on with him pulling away looking deeply into my eyes, pecking my lips and then the deep kisses that made me understand the melting feeling people talked about.

  So light I felt with him, with his tender hands that he ran over my back, over the sides of my breasts. All my thoughts calm, living in the moments of the sensation of his touch.

  The kissing stopped and our breath was heavy as we sat for a moment unmoving, not knowing the next step. He took the lead lifting my t-shirt off me, unlatching my bra. His hands lightly touching me, nobody would ever have such gentle hands as Serge.

  His eyes met mine and I nodded instinctively knowing where we were headed although it was all foreign to me.

  He took off his clothes. I had never been in proximity to a nude man before and I stared at his erection wanting to touch it but I didn’t, instead slipping off my skirt and underwear.

  We were quiet as we lay down together on my bed. I wished I had made earlier in the day. He kissed me again, kissed my body as I lay underneath him.

  “I want to be with you, Celena.” He said

  “I want that too.”

  And it happened and it didn’t hurt. He was so gentle with me, watching my face, protecting me from any pain. I winced with a thrust and he slowed down, kissing me again. And then it was done and I was at peace. My hungry destructive mood from earlier satiated.

  “I love you Celena.”

  “I like that you say my name all the time.” The C of my name rolled so softly off his tongue, making me feel delicate, loved.

  “Celena, Celena, Celena.” He said and kissed the tip of my nose and rolled off of me to lay on his side.

  “I have to go home now. I’ll be back later, okay? We can go out somewhere, anything you want.” He stood up to get dressed.

  “We can just stay in.” I desperately wanted to try sex again.

  “You’ll have to clean the ’chaos’ of your room. I have bread crumbs on my back.” He smiled and kissed me on the lips before leaving.

  I private messaged Q as soon as he left.

  selenaslinks: I’m in love.

  q: Is it love or do you want to possess him?

  She had written many posts on sociopaths and love claiming that our form of love was about dominance and thrills. I hadn’t cared before but in that moment it annoyed me. So I wrote back what only a fifteen year old would write.

  selenaslinks: Shut up.

  I logged off and cleaned my room. I practically scrubbed it.

  He came back a few hours later with a bouquet of flowers he had picked from his garden and a very large box of condoms. The condoms annoyed me but he was militant about their use. Looking back, I’m happy he was that way. I could never have handled the responsibility of birth control.

  He wasn’t shy with me anymore either. In fact he was a motor mouth.

  Chapter Five

  The happiness and mental peace lasted a little over three weeks, and to this day I still remember it as the happiest time of my life.

  Serge was very social, very academic, and very athletic. The athleticism surprised me the most. I went everywhere with him. He always wanted me by his side.

  I watched him at his Lacrosse practice after school. His friend Brendan was a maniac, a real show-off knocking everyone down. I noticed as I slowly learned the rules of the game that Serge was lethal, sw
inging his stick into his opponents as if he were trying to kill them.

  I was shocked that nobody else noticed, that he wasn’t pulled out of the games. He was so well liked by those around him and it probably helped that his other best friend, Danny, was the captain of the team. They would make excuses for him, jokingly tell him to slow down.

  Brendan spent a good part of every game sidelined but not Serge.

  Then it would be like we were starring in some from movie from the 50s. There was a diner on Sunset not far from where we lived and we would actually go there after the games. Filling up the little restaurant with the players and their girlfriends.