Explain Yourself at the Help (skit 3) tw//

"Explain Yourself at the Help" skit, part 3.

** Big trigger warning! **

 I'm putting some new thoughts about my characters into skit form. Maybe that'll make it more pleasant to read over. 

Viewer discretion is advised. 

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To be honest, I don't like this skit arc that much. I don't like how I structured it. 

The 'Help' is supposed to be a place for mental health services. It's a place where people receive therapy/counseling. But since all my skits are wild and cursed, something has to be 'off' about it. 

I'm not that focused on making these skits be good in quality. I actually feel terrible, so I don't know why I'm writing them. 

I'm such a failure. I feel.. wrong. 

I mean, this story? Haha, I'm so dumb. Can I turn it into something that makes sense? There are so many problems in the story that I don't know how to even begin editing it.

It's frustrating. I want to make this thing an actual legit story. But I don't know where to begin. 

I started it in 2014, and I would write and post chapters on school nights. Back then, I treated the story like an afterschool activity. I can't believe I once said that I wouldn't post about anything else until I finished the story. Haha yeah, sure, barely 14 year old me. Sure thing, kiddo. 

I've been making so many story-related posts because, in a way, it's in order for me to understand the story. Wow, Cutepups, you don't understand your own story? Yeah, that's right. I don't. 

I've been thinking about Duke's past a lot recently. And I realized something. How Duke describes his past in the chapters isn't exactly reliable. I want to rewrite most of it, so it'll have some structure (?) to it. 

But at the same time, Duke describing his past in a way that's not completely accurate makes sense to me. His memories are far from perfect. 

I'm thinking about Duke too much, ugh, I love this disaster boy. 

I don't know how to structure this skit. I just want to have Duke talk about some heavy shit. 

I'm not adding any introductory context to this one, sorry. Well, except that Duke is talking to the same Help person that was at the end of the last skit. Duke talks a lot; he has a lot to say. 

Not sure why he's saying this stuff. Not sure what led to this point. 

I just want to write about his past and how he's a tragic disaster. It hurts thinking about it, to be honest. This guy goes through so much shit. It's pretty heartbreaking. 

So, that's it really. Yeah. 

;~; </3 ;~; 

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[tw: self-harm, suicide, abuse, harassment/assault, alcohol/drugs.. uh, might be forgetting something. explicit language too.]

[. . . .] 

[Duke is sitting rather comfortably in a chair. That's pretty ironic, considering the subject he is talking about. He puts one arm behind his head to act as a headrest, and he stares at the ceiling.] 

Duke: So, what else do you want to know about me? 

Help person: Say anything that comes to mind. 

Duke: Like what? 

Help person: Anything. 

Duke: *sighs* This is stupid. 

Help person: What is stupid? 

Duke: This is. I'm not an idiot. I already know I'm severely mentally ill. Everyone knows it. 

Help person: I want to know you, Duke. How about you describe yourself to me? 

Duke: *smirks* Describe myself? Am I just a joke to you? 

Help person: No, of course not! I just want to know--

Duke: *raises his other arm in front of his face, swings it back and forth, stares at it* I'm wary of therapists, by the way. But I really don't give a fuck. I'll talk about my past. Will that shut you up? 

Help person: If you think that'll help you, then go for it. 

Duke: *stops swinging his arm, looks at the Help person* You've been staring. I know you have. 

Help person: Well, you've been moving your arm, so--

Duke: *looks back at the ceiling, speaks quietly* I'm covered in scars. My arms, my neck.. I know you can see them. 

Help person: Uh.. yes. 

Duke: You're probably wondering how I have so many. 

Help person: Not necessarily--

Duke: You're probably wondering how I'm still alive. Well, here's a fact for you. It's very, very hard for me to die. Let me show you something. 

Help person: Duke, I don't--

Duke: *takes off his shirt and throws it on the floor*

[Duke has a fairly thin body frame. There are some scars scattered over his body, but the overwhelming majority are on the left side of his chest. It's hard to look at.] 

Help person: *turns away from Duke, says under his breath* Wow, uh.. damn. 

Duke: It's hard to look at, right? 

Help person: *turns back around* How do you have so many? How.. how are you alive? 

Duke: It's nearly impossible for me to die. And yet, I still managed to. *presses a finger to where the center of his heart would be, what looks like a hole has been patched up there* I got stabbed in the heart. That's the only way I can physically die. 

[...] 

Duke: How did I know I couldn't die any other way? Well, I.. I... *stares intensely at the ceiling* tried. 

Help person: *finally decides to sit down in another chair* 

Duke: There were these two men called Risak and Taurel. Risak used a gun to shoot me in the head several times. He must have used a few rounds. *pushes his hair out of his face* I still have bullets in my skull because no one can take them out. 

Help person: *winces* 

Duke: Well, that didn't kill me. 

Help person: *stutters* Wh-What are you? 

Duke: *moves his hand so his hair falls back down* I don't know. 

Help person: Oh. 

Duke: *leans back in his chair, breathes deeply* A few of my scars-- the physical ones, anyway-- are from Taurel. He's the guy who tortured me. 

Help person: Well, you say that casually. 

[A minute long pause.]

Duke: *lightly traces over the scars on the upper left part of his chest (that's where the edges of the purple flame mark were)* I was nine. I was nine years old when I did this to myself. *pauses* The majority of these scars are ones I inflicted on myself. I grew up and learned to be hated and punished. I did bad things, so I punished myself. *pauses* Only recently have I come to terms with it. That night wasn't just the first time I self-harmed, it..-

Help person: *nods* And very close to your heart too!

Duke: Uh yeah, I know. A few years later, I fucked up the skin on my arms and neck. *pauses* Shit.. what was I going to say? 

[Short pause.] 

Duke: I guess, considering how close I was to killing myself that night, it could count as my first suicide attempt. *repeats himself* I was nine. *suddenly shivers* I was fucking nine! I would've done anything to take out my heart. I don't think I would've really cared if I ended up killing myself in that bathroom. That would have made them relieved, anyway. *pauses, tries to stop shaking* God, I am so fucked up. They said I caused someone to drown, so of course I'm the monster. Who gives a damn that those sick fucks-- I mean kids a few years older than me, but whatever it doesn't matter-- were pretty much sexually harassing me? Not any of them, obviously! *shakes head* Why the hell were they so obsessed with me? Why the hell did they want me to take all my shirts off when I repeatedly told them how that made me uncomfortable? I was a pre-pubescent child, for crying out loud! I was a little kid! *lowers voice* In addition to having one of them try to rip my undershirt off, I swear I.. *suddenly pauses without meaning to* 

Help person: *is obviously very concerned* Duke... 

Duke: I tripped into the pool. They wouldn't let me leave. They could see my chest, so I didn't want to leave either. I wanted to sit at the bottom of the swimming pool. I wish I would've drowned. Not just drown. I was so sick of life at that point; I didn't want to live anymore. All I wanted to do at that moment was die. *pauses* I swear they were close to pulling down my shorts too. *is angry* Who the fuck does that shit to a child? Why did they want to see my naked body? I didn't have anything; I was fucking nine! What is with people older than me being happy to see a child get terrorized? Why were people my entire life so happy to traumatize me? Does seeing a child with fear in his eyes turn people on? Is there some beauty I'm not seeing in seeing my body get covered in cuts and bruises? 

[Longer pause.] 

Help person: *is hesitant* So, Duke, were you--?

Duke: *says it like a statement, speaks flatly* What. 

Help person: You don't have to keep up with this. You can stop at any point you like. 

Duke: It's fine. I can continue. 

Help person: It's okay. You don't have to--

Duke: *snaps* I said it's fine! Do you Help people ever listen? 

Help person: Yes, I'm listening.

Duke: *speaks with no emotion to his words* Not counting Taurel, my mother abused me. I thought I was only emotionally and physically abused because that's what she did to me. But.. *pauses* I guess I was sexually harassed and assaulted too. *pauses again* I mean.. fuck, I don't know. 

[...]

Duke: I thought we could be friends. I guess I was wrong! I swear she was obsessed with my body. Me, being 'popular' and 'good-looking' huh? Yeah, that's what the rest of them thought. What is it? Is my face nice? Are my eyes beautiful? What the fuck is it! I wasn't the ruler of the pack. That old high school was hell. I fucking hated that place. *pauses* I'm 17; she's 16. I'm older than her. It was a girl. And I'm.. I'm a guy. *pauses again* I don't think I could have attacked her to get away from me, even if I wanted to. 

Help person: You don't have to go into detail. Please remember that. I don't have to know. It's okay, Duke, it's okay. 

Duke: She wanted to date me, even though I told her I wasn't interested in her. I didn't have any girl crushes in general. Admiral, that's the girl, didn't get the message. *lifts his back and butt from the chair* I'm sexual material. People and life love to fuck me up. Harass me; violate my body. Do whatever the fuck you want with my body because it's not mine. *pauses, shakes head* Oh wait, I'm going into Taurel. Admiral just invaded my personal bubble and quickly kissed me hard on the mouth. Because hey, it's fine to do things to my body without my goddamn consent! And of course it's my fault for getting mad about it. *laughs bitterly then says* Fuck it all. I didn't touch her. She touched me, but of course she doesn't get punished for it. Those fuckers loved her. Screw them all. *pauses* A few weeks earlier, she threatened me that she would get what she wanted. Well, she did. Congratu-fucking-lations, bitch. 

Help person: Sorry to interrupt, but your pants are starting to fall down. 

Duke: *changes his position so now he sits up with a large gap between his legs, smirks* Is that better? Are you comfortable? *sighs* I used to have bad dreams that she.. *hands shake* that she had her hand on me lower than I remembered. That maybe she didn't only want to kiss my lips. Maybe I'm just making this up. I might be imagining that she also put-- or at least thought about it, but whatever-- one of her hands between my legs. So.. so she could touch-- *suddenly stops talking, becomes frozen* 

Help person: *writes down notes on a notepad* 

Duke: *is suddenly crying and laughing* Why the flying fuck am I even telling you this? What the hell is wrong with me? *stops laughing* Damn it, make it stop! *screams* Stop it, stop it, stop it! *squirms in his chair like he's held down by something even though there's nothing holding him back* 

[Another long pause.] 

Duke: I tried to act fine for so long. People thought I was happy. They just didn't get the chance to know me. 

Help person: Duke, please... 

Duke: I hallucinate sometimes. I guess I should've brought that up earlier. I haven't for a while though. I'm that cursed 'psycho' everyone is afraid of. I was pretty damn homicidal at one point too, so.. yeah, I'm a fuck up. *sighs* I don't know what's real anymore. I can't ever relax. People are always chasing me. I murdered someone. They're after me. They want their revenge. *stares at Help person* They want to tear apart my brain. They have to behead me first. *points a finger at his own left eye* My left eye turned black. Taurel stabbed my eyes. I can't see! I can't fucking see! *points at Help person's right eye* So I stabbed him in the eye. It's karma, asshole. 

[Some amount of time later.] 

Duke: *is strangely calm* My father hated me more than my mother did. He was planning on trying to murder me for.. for quite a long time, actually. But my mother sent him to his death. I used to love my father. I don't anymore, don't worry. *smiles sadly* I thought I had at least one parent who loved me. I guess Fierdan is that parent for me. 

Help person: *is just oh so lost and confused, somebody save him* 

Duke: I thought my memories of my father fighting my mother were because he didn't want her to.. I don't know, abuse me? Well, I was wrong yet again! He didn't give a damn about me. He just let her abuse me. He was a fucking bystander. *pauses* I think he knew all along what I am. Because I sure as hell am not a human being. I'm a demon. I was created in hell. *faces Help person* I can show you my wings of fiery hell if you'd like, sir. 

[Duke does not reveal any of his flames. He gets up to grab his shirt though. He sits back in the chair; the shirt lies in his lap. His fingers dig into the dark gray fabric.] 

[...]

Duke: I lost count on how many times I attempted suicide. I'm thinking the number is between five and six. Between the ages of 14 and 17. Or 16. I don't know. Sorry. 

Duke: My new group of friends like to poke fun at me. I'm a joke to them. I tell them to kill me, but they won't. I clearly can't succeed in killing myself. 

Duke: I really want to die. I always wanted to die. I don't know how I came back to life. 

Help person: I'm gonna call--

Duke: *smiles, looks oddly cheerful* Don't worry, I'm not going to actually die! There's no need to lock me up. I'm not homicidal anymore either, I promise. 

[...] 

Duke: I was 12 years old when I started sneaking out at night. I would go sit on the roofs of the skyscrapers in my birth city. I would also hang out with this guy who was a few years older than me. I liked him.

Duke: I moved to another town when I was 14. I then lived in another family member's house. That only made it easier for me to sneak out at night. 

Duke: When I was 14 and still lived with my parents, I started stealing their alcohol. I stole so much from them, right under their noses. 

Duke: That guy also introduced me to drugs. We would smoke them together. 

Duke: After the move, I felt no need to smoke.. anything. I continued to steal alcohol and spend nights on rooptops. But now-- I'm 15, 16, 17-- I would drink it by myself. Cans and bottles. Most of the time it was beer. Occasionally, I got drunk on hard liquor. That shit hit hard. 

Duke: I have a friend called Brock. Dumb name, I know. But like, here's the thing. He would jokingly call me 'drunkie' even though I don't think I ever was seriously drunk around him. *laughs* If he knew how many times I got drunk and high.. oh boy. 

Duke: One time, I tried to slice my arms open. That was the most painful thing I ever did to myself, I swear. 

Duke: I'm so used to feeling suicidal and wanting to act on it that I would visit the local hospital in order for me to temporarily stop the thoughts. I did that when I was 17. Honestly, I'm so impulsive. I'm the very definition of self-destruction. 

[...]

Duke: *puts on his shirt* Okay, now I'm done. *gets up* What have you got for me, doc? 

Help person: Umm... 

Duke: Thanks for hearing me ramble about my past. You're a real one, man. *waves goodbye and leaves the room*

Help person: *has been shocked for the past half hour* Wait, Duke, you can't just walk out of a session! 

Duke: *looks behind him* This is all a joke. Maybe you can help Fierdan, and the rest of them. But me? Oh, I'm too damned to be saved. *walks away*

Help person: *mutters to himself* Geez, there's a lot to work with. 

[One hour later. Fierdan is in the car with Duke.] 

Fierdan: *is slightly worried* Duke... 

Duke: Yeah? 

Fierdan: They told me what happened. 

Duke: Huh? 

Fierdan: Were you telling the truth? 

Duke: Of course. 

Fierdan: You.. you spoke the truth?

Duke: *sighs* That's what I just said. 

Fierdan: *shakes head* I'm sorry. What? Why didn't you tell me? 

Duke: Tell you what? 

Fierdan: Or anyone for that matter.

Duke: Tell you what? 

Fierdan: Everything you mentioned about your life before knowing me. 

Duke: Oh, sorry. 

Fierdan: *sighs* Let's just go home. 

Duke: Okay. *looks down at the jacket, sweater, scarf, and gloves by his feet* 

[There's a red light. Fierdan hugs Duke until the traffic light turns green. When the car pulls into the driveway and the car is parked, Duke tells Fierdan to hug him again. They are all on their own. They don't know how to be united with the rest of the skit characters. They've been separated from them for a month. Duke violently sobs into Fierdan's shoulders. Eventually, Fierdan cries too.] 

[Around 15 minutes later.]

Duke: I'm sorry. 

Fierdan: No, I'm sorry. I feel so awful that I didn't know all that about you. 

Duke: Well, now you know. 

Fierdan: I just..-

Duke: Don't worry yourself over it. 

Fierdan: I don't get it. Why did you tell him all that? 

Duke: I felt like I had to let out all my personal stuff.

Fierdan: I really do care about you, Duke. 

Duke: Well, thanks. 

Fierdan: A lot of people care about you. If you're struggling or anything, please reach out. 

Duke: What is with you? When was the last time I hurt myself? 

Fierdan: I don't know. 

Duke: Then don't worry about it! Come on, I'm going inside. 

Fierdan: If you ever feel the need to vent, I won't judge. 

Duke: *frowns* Don't treat me like I'm fragile all of a sudden. I'm the same person as I was before. 

Fierdan: Well, I can't help but to look at you differently. 

Duke: Yeah, whatever you say. *pauses* But like. I want to say. Thank you for everything, Fierdan. *smiles with tears still shining in his eyes*

[Duke and Fierdan enter the house. They, as expected, are the only ones in the house.] 

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:'( 

(damn it, cutepups. wtf is this skit?)

Alright! I got my new thoughts about Duke out in skit form. 

hahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaa-----

The End.