Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

Over the next week, Samantha continued to persuade me, trying to
convince both of us, I think, that things between us weren’t really “all
that bad.” Well, she nearly had me convinced by the time we decided to
go to Virginia beach during spring vacation.
I had caught a fever of 103 two days before, and was still very sick
when we headed onto the road in Jay’s Volkswagen van. Truthfully, I
didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t trust Samantha and Jay going together.
I knew, deep down, that it was ridiculous, having such a lack of trust in
any relationship and expecting it to work. Despite my rationalizations, I
had to go.
I remember little of the ride down, just the uneasy swaying of the
vehicle and the horribly piercing sound of their laughter. The delirium
was a thick cloud that enveloped me in the back, lying wrapped in a
blanket, shivering on a wooden plank. Less than one hour on the road, I
realized that I never should have come. They danced about and listened
to music. Occasionally they turned to talk to me, their voices all seemed
slowed down and distorted. It seemed that they were taunting me with
their nonsense intentionally, laughing at my inability to do or say anything.
I felt absolutely forgotten and useless.
We rented a hotel to stay for the night. When I went to the bathroom
to wash my face, I found a washcloth that read “THE ABYSS HAS
COME: prepare to meet your maker!” in bold, black print. It made
absolutely no sense to me, so I decided not to wash my face. I slept that
night next to Samantha. However, she insisted on rolling as far away
from me as possible on the double bed. I tried to sleep, but could not. I
must have spent an hour or more in that bed, looking over at her familiar
face. I felt as if I was looking back at this time, this time right now, from
some distant point in the future, remembering what she looked like,
reminiscing. Her face had been permanently engraved upon my memory,
it may as well have been my own face. Eventually, I was granted the purgatory
of sleep.
All of this agony was setting me up for the events of the next day,
although I couldn’t have known it then. We set off to the shore, and
Samantha was right on Jay’s heels the entire way. I tried to explain it to
him. He thought I was crazy. I tried to beg her to tell him. She held firm
to her silence. I went so far as to try to scare her into it. But both of us
knew that I couldn’t do a thing, my validity slowly whittled away to
nothing over the past month. It wasn’t jealousy that consumed me
though, but the fact that my quickly erected self-identity, dependent on
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