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Lady_Rin
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We have talked about religion, war, Isreal and Palestine, dreams, death, clothes pain, strict parents and... Oh yes, relationships.


We have not talked about fantasy or reality. Nor have we talked about the worst most horiffic thing that has ever happened to you. What caused it and how did it affect your life.

I thought about this one pretty hard in lieu of the posts over the last few days so I'll go first.


[quote="Sir W. H. P. Royal Navy -1841" my great-great-grandfather]
"Hate is the most powerful emotion and feeling there is. You cannot hate the sea when it founders your ship. To hate an animal or thing also has no meaning in our realm. Hate is reserved for people, for nations and for a nations enemies. It is that hate that drives the English seaman in their domination of the sea". [/quote]

I had to learn that one very well when I was 12 years old. I have never forgotten nor the punishment that went with it.

I was home for summer vacation and I had asked my mother a question about love and hate and which was stronger. My father overheard and said that hate was stronger. As an example he had me write the above paragraph 100 times. He said it would teach me about hate. When I was finished he took me to my room and destroyed all of my pretty and beautiful things, the dollhouse my grandmother had just given me, my dolls some of them very old, clothes, books, furniture even my bed. everything, all of it. He took me downstairs into the garden and made me watch as he killed my puppies in the most horrible and brutal manner. Looking at me with a blank staring face and said "Hate's stronger" and just walked away leaving me there. That hapened on my 12th birthday, a day that Americans celebrate. The morning of July 4. 1975. The next day I was sent back to school.

Siren said I should wake up to reality. That was reality and as a result I decided that I would never allow hate to take over me. I retreated into a world of fantasy and faerie tales and lived that way until I met Ranger in 1982. I found love and genrousity and decided that was what I wanted to do.
Ironically it was my father who made it possible for me to meet Ranger by ordering me to attend a catillion I didn't want to go to.

My home reflects my love of fantasy, faeries and now anime. I don't have to live in a dark world and I don't have to make believe that I found a prince; I did. I mourn the loss of butterfiles. Revel over snow in my front yard and the simple beauty of a desert sunset. So wake up world, Lady Rin is here spreading happiness and love even though she may not feel that way sometimes. I'm not perfect. I try, I do my best and no one can ask for more than that.

That was difficult to write, I haven't thought about that in a long time. Siren, I could give you a very graphic description if you wish. Is that reality you want me to wake up to? No thank you.

Who's next?
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Heh, I guess I'll share the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

When I was ten, I had a crush on a 13 year old. He was a family friend, still is, actually. Now, remember, I was ten. And all I remember are three of the incidents. There were more, but I can't remember them, no matter how hard I try.

One time he kissed. The other time, he came into my room and undressed me. The third time, he took off my (EDIT: MY shirt, not his. Damn typos.) shirt, and his mouth was everywhere. I don't remember how it led to that, or where we were, what happened before or after. I just remember my confusion and sadness and anger. I had [I]looked up[/I] to this boy, he had been around since I was little. And none of that meant a thing

I was ten, and had nothing a teen or grown girl had, and I didn't even understand anything about what he was doing. I told him to stop, and he just told me it was ok. That what he was doing was nothing bad. Stuff like this, the stuff I can't remember, went on for two years. When I was twelve, he stopped. I began to hate guys, well, I was more afraid of them than anything. I cut off all my hair and made sure a guy wouldn't look at me that way again. I spent three years hiding like that. Over eating, never caring about the way I looked.

I'm a bit better now. Freshman year in high school I let my hair grow out and I've been taking better care of my body. But practically as soon as I did that, two of my guy friends started to sexually harrass me. I went back to my old ways for a little while, bu I was really lonely like that. Even today, I can't stand to be in my room without my door being locked, and I can't stand silence. I seriously have to blast my stereo all night, being able to hear the creaks in the night just freaks me out for some reason. I still get really scared around guys, even my boyfriend, though I hide it best I can.

So, that's my story.

I hate seeing him around my house, but he works here, and my mom treats him like a son.
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[QUOTE=wiccansamurai]Heh, I guess I'll share the worst thing that's ever happened to me.

When I was ten, I had a crush on a 13 year old. He was a family friend, still is, actually. Now, remember, I was ten. And all I remember are three of the incidents. There were more, but I can't remember them, no matter how hard I try.

One time he kissed. The other time, he came into my room and undressed me. The third time, he took off my (EDIT: MY shirt, not his. Damn typos.) shirt, and his mouth was everywhere. I don't remember how it led to that, or where we were, what happened before or after. I just remember my confusion and sadness and anger. I had [I]looked up[/I] to this boy, he had been around since I was little. And none of that meant a thing

I was ten, and had nothing a teen or grown girl had, and I didn't even understand anything about what he was doing. I told him to stop, and he just told me it was ok. That what he was doing was nothing bad. Stuff like this, the stuff I can't remember, went on for two years. When I was twelve, he stopped. I began to hate guys, well, I was more afraid of them than anything. I cut off all my hair and made sure a guy wouldn't look at me that way again. I spent three years hiding like that. Over eating, never caring about the way I looked.

I'm a bit better now. Freshman year in high school I let my hair grow out and I've been taking better care of my body. But practically as soon as I did that, two of my guy friends started to sexually harrass me. I went back to my old ways for a little while, bu I was really lonely like that. Even today, I can't stand to be in my room without my door being locked, and I can't stand silence. I seriously have to blast my stereo all night, being able to hear the creaks in the night just freaks me out for some reason. I still get really scared around guys, even my boyfriend, though I hide it best I can.

So, that's my story.

I hate seeing him around my house, but he works here, and my mom treats him like a son.[/QUOTE]

That's one of the sickest things I've ever heard. Doesn't your mom know about what he did? Why don't you tell her? You know, we have laws against that kind of **** in this country. I say grow your hair out, and if those *******s at school harass you again, you press charges. There is no reason why anyone should have to put up with **** like that.

And get therapy, if you need help to get through the pain resulting from this. No one has to deal with this kind of stuff alone. Call one of the sexual abuse hotlines.

Blech. Y'know, back in the day there was a death penalty for sexual harassment and rape. It's stories like this that make me think it should still be around...
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My scariest moment was the day of Sept. 11th. I was watching the towers fall down... mostly shocked and thought it was some sort of broadcasted joke... like the war of the worlds. But I realized that this thing was forreal, and people were dying. Then my thoughts shifted to the passengers aboard the planes that crashed. And at the moment, I realized my father was flying to New York on a business trip that day, was due to arrive there in the morning (about the same time), and the given flight numbers were very close -- close enough for me to start worrying.

I walked into a corner, and rethought everything, and rationalized that he [i]must[/i] be dead. My vision started to fog up, and people asked what was wrong, but I said nothing. Then, 20 mins later, there was early dismissal. I asked mom if dad was still alive. She laughed at me and said yes, of course. I gave a HUGE sigh of relief. For 20 minutes, my father had been dead.

It turns out that if he had bought his tickets maybe a day ealier, he would've been killed.

I had another scare when my dad got a catscan for his high blood pressure. The doctor decided to do it, just to be safe. It turns out they found a growing cancer tumor somewhere in his gut (either his liver or kidney -- I'm not sure). So they caught that before it was too late. They gave him a small puncture in the skin, and the most skilled doctor in the world for this proceedure operated on him at Johns Hopkins Hospital. For a while, it hurt for him to sit up, laugh, etc (anything involving abdominal muscles). But he lived, and he's healthy now.

Those two events were huge shockers.So maybe my Dad's a cat. 7 Lives to go.

And Rin... whoa. That's insane. What was your father's problem? He sounds like he was really really pissed at the moment, and had SERIOUS anger management problems. Killing puppies? My god. Is he still alive, and if so, how do you treat him now?
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[QUOTE=Xander Harris]That's one of the sickest things I've ever heard. Doesn't your mom know about what he did? Why don't you tell her? You know, we have laws against that kind of **** in this country. I say grow your hair out, and if those *******s at school harass you again, you press charges. There is no reason why anyone should have to put up with **** like that.

And get therapy, if you need help to get through the pain resulting from this. No one has to deal with this kind of stuff alone. Call one of the sexual abuse hotlines.

Blech. Y'know, back in the day there was a death penalty for sexual harassment and rape. It's stories like this that make me think it should still be around...[/QUOTE]
Heh, I could never tell my mom any of this. It would either break her heart or she wouldn't believe me. She's been sick lately, and her back probably will never stop bothering her. It just doesn't seem like a good idea to dump this on her. I'm actually thinking about going to my school's social worker about it. She helps all my friends with their problems.

Siren's kinda right. You can't just hide from it forever.
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[QUOTE=wiccansamurai]Heh, I could never tell my mom any of this. It would either break her heart or she wouldn't believe me. She's been sick lately, and her back probably will never stop bothering her. It just doesn't seem like a good idea to dump this on her. I'm actually thinking about going to my school's social worker about it. She helps all my friends with their problems.

Siren's kinda right. You can't just hide from it forever.[/QUOTE]

Yes. Please. Take it to the social worker. Please.

You can't deal with this level of crap by yourself. No human being can.

Sorry to hear about your mom. I guess so long as this particular boy is no longer harassing you she doesn't need to know. But if he tries it again, there are other higher powers you can appeal to besides your mother. Please, talk to your social worker. She can give you much better advice than I could. But you really need to talk to someone real, not just people on the internet.

It just breaks my heart when I hear about stuff like that. It makes me mad that these harassers are getting away with it.

Talk to your social worker asap. I'll pray for you.

Hope things get better for you.
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[COLOR=Green][SIZE=1]Wiccan, I know where you're coming from when you say that. I'm going to be honest when I say this, I never really talk about it much with anyone, but it happened and there's no use denying it.
When I was around the age of 7, I was friends with a lot of boys and one day I was at my best friend, Nicolas', house for his party. There were loads of school friends and seeing as it was a boys party, it was mostly boys. Back then I was a real girly girl and I was wearing a dress.

These two guys I knew, one I couldn't stand and the other I really liked, starting talking to me which was fine until things got a bit weird. Now you know that when you're little you have no idea what anything of...that nature...means so naturally I just went along with it. It eventually got to the stage of me taking off my underwear with them touching me. I told them to stop because I at least thought that they shouldn't be wanting to do that...but I, like wiccan, was told that it was okay and nothing was wrong with it.

I did go and tell my mum, but only near the end of the party and by then one of the guys had left. She called his mum, they argued and then my mum phoned the school and told them to keep him well away from me. I can still remember it pretty vividly, I guess it's always going to stick with me now.

I too have cut my hair now and I intend to keep it that way, I've also been a tomboy since I was about 10, I never really thought it was because of that, but I don't know, maybe it triggered something in my head *shrugs*

Of course I'm not happy about what happened when I was younger, but something tells me that everything happens for a reason no matter how bad it is and it's because of that and many other incidents that I am who I am today, and for that I am happy.[/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[font=Courier New][size=2][color=blue]My most horrible experiences are actually quite mild.[/color][/size][/font]

[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff]When I was young, I wasn't very social, I was smart, and I wore glasses. This had me branded as a nerd as early as 3rd grade. One occasion I remember quite well was when a new kid joined our class. She happened to look at me, and one of the 'cool' kids turned to her and said, "Leave him alone, he's just a nerd." That sucked enough for me to still want to tear him to pieces with my bare hands. Extreme pain burns memories into my mind, and that memory is crisp and clear. It went on to some extent through my whole time in school, but lessened as people became mature. The end result is that I assume everyone around my age has an unfavorable disposition towards me, with very few exceptions (close friends).[/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff]Another one is even less severe. I helped my mom win a contest, and before we entered it, we agreed that whatever the prize was, we would sell it and split the money 50/50. We ended up winning a new truck worth over 30k, but we had to wait for it to be ready for us to get. Well, it took between 6 months to a year for the day to come, and you might be able to imagine how excited I was. She decided to keep the truck and give me her old car. I was slightly disappointed, as you can imagine. I don't hold it against her, and I'm actually thankful for the car. However, the whole drawn-out event did have an effect. I can't really get excited about anything anymore. The day I moved into college, I felt nothing. It's now less than two weeks until I get to visit the girl I'm in love with for a couple weeks, and I have to force myself to feel even a twinge of excitement.[/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff]I know it's not that bad, but it's what affected me the most.[/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff][/color][/size][/font]
[font=Courier New][size=2][color=#0000ff]As for traumatizing experiences, if it changes you in a way that makes you want to see the good in the world, and no harm comes from it to yourself or those around you, ignorance is bliss.[/color][/size][/font]
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I got a couple I live with in my nightmares. Let's do this One.

Early 1970 on the start of my second tour in Vietnam. I was sitting in a metro truck with the other members of my flight. Chip, Animal, Vlad [size=1]my partnen[/size] and the rest at the end the runway looking north. We had just finished debrief from a misson over Hanoi and had a couple of six packs and a joint and were just watching the days sorties return before the night sorties went out and listened to radio chatter when a bomber variant F-105 called in with a problem. Hung ordinance, major damage and unable to egress as the GIB would not survive the eject and the pilot wouldn't leave. that's a nightmare of it own, but not mine. We watched as they came in from the north trailing smoke, gear and flaps down, really too low, too fast and not much in control. This is a one shot deal, no second chances and it has to be done absotively posloutely perfectly right. It wasn't. They hit the guard tower outside the inner marker and tried to regain control then crossed the threshold headed for a a climbing stall. the pilot over corrected and hit the runway about 1/3 of the way down in a shiitake angle of attack with gear down and that collapsed. Then hell woke up in my front yard. The world turned hot with fire, flames, explosions everywhere. The radio never said or we didn't hear the hung ordi was 500 lbs of napalm and white phosphorus, this is extremely nasty sh_t.[size=1]artistic license[/size] trailing half a mile down the runway behind a plane burning it in it's own jp4 fuel. Flite crews are trained to respond in emergencies and we did; helmets and gloves on, flites suits zipped up, all automatic, fire retardent to 1500 degrees for 60 seconds. 6 or 7 of us ran to the Thud and pulled the egress handles that released the canopy and I reached in to the front started to release the pilots harness. That's automatic too; push turn, its off. Vlad and Chip in back with the GIB doing the same. Then the fire caught up to us. It has a momentum of it's own and was still moving down the runway then we were surround in flames trying to get the crew out. somebody was trying got use a hand fire extuingsher, screw that. according to the book evacuating a crew from a damaged A/C 15-30 seconds or so. I had him in my arms as I lifted him out and was knocked off the plane by a wall of heat and the pilot screaming. I jumped down with Animal behind me carrying the pilot when there was an explosion and Animal dropped the pilot. I picked him up an ran as far as I could finally collapsing and remving my helmet and his. He was black his flite suit burned away his body still burning from the phosphorus when we got hit by co2 t to put the fire out. That doesn't work with phosphorus He died screaming in my arms from the pain and burning and pieces fallin gopff his body. Somebody took a picture and I kept that with several others until Rin found them and threw the one with me holding the burning pilot away. We had a big argument over that. She has said she only looke at it for a minute but she would never forget it. Animal had been cut in half in the explosion, literally by a piece of debris. Vlad got out with second degree burnsthe GIB who made. Chip never even got away from the plane caught in the explosion as he was getting off. Aside from some burns I didn't even get scratched. For that I received a bunch of medals, some nice ones and the memopry of holding a dying pilot in my arms. I never found out what his name was I have still have nightmares that have always scared the sh_t[szie=1] more artistic license.[/size] out of Rin. They still do.

I've told that a lot of times over the years mosty to my therapist and occasionally when telling war stories, where I do tend to embelish it to the young marine officers at the Alamo, [size=1]which is if you haven't figured it out, is the local watering hole, big enough and has a band.[/size]. However I didn't embelish although I did use a bit of artistic license to tell it. I'm entitled. You got it straight. The proof is on my wall in my office with medals and photographs. 12 years ago all of that re-surfaced again after an incident put me in the hospital. So back to square one [size=1] you can stop now the rest is a political statment.[/size] and it now comes back to haunt me as I attend the funerals of my friends children as they die in a dumsh_t [size=1] Pushing the license too far?[/size] war for nothing.

Excuse me the guides call.

[quote="Rin"]
Altron, my father was driven by hate, my entire family has been driven by that since 1841. He lived by the words of Sir William and it was actually much worse than I wrote. He ut their heads off, 8 week old puppies, and I had to watch them until the blood stopped running. I haven't spoken to my family since I got married and my father told me I was dead to them and never to return. The only one I hear from is Gwen, my younger sister, usually by post at this time of year. Several years ago she wrote that I am still dead to my father and my name isstill not allowed in the house. Any pictures of me were destroyed years ago. I have one of her and I send her one of the family every year. My brother Harry wants to kill Ranger and has sworn to do so. Moron! This is because I fell in love with and married Ranger, an American. Talk about hate and bigotry.

Siren it's true. don't think like my brother-in-law; that because you haven't experienced it doesn't exsist.

Imperious statement: I shall continue to live as I wish because it pleases me to. Considering we are wasting our day off here I think I shall make my "pumpkin, wumpkin, ookums, snookums" [size=] do I have to explain sarcasm? you missed it elsewhere.[/size] some dinner before before we go "shopping wopping with my hubby wubby"
[/quote]
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[quote name='Ri--er, Rang--, er, Ri--er...']Siren it's true. don't think like my brother-in-law; that because you haven't experienced it doesn't exsist.[/quote]
I doubt it because I haven't experienced it? No. I doubt it because at this point, there's absolutely no reason for me to actually believe it happened, because as far as I'm concerned, and as far as a few other members here are concerned, we're hearing it from unreliable narrators.
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I used to be involved in lots of street fights, where you got paid if you won. I was rather good myself...made some friends, and some enemies. I knew one girl, who would watch the fights with her boyfriend. I had talked with her before, but never on a personal level. When she told me she may have feelings for me, her boyfriend found out and beat her. She was in a coma. When I heard, all I remember is wanting to hurt him. I wanted to kill him for doing such a thing. I tracked him down, and jumped him in a junkyard. I woke up covered in blood. His blood, to be exact. I put him in the hospital, said he was attacked by a gang, and ran home to clean myself up. I never wanted to feel such anger, such hatred again, so I quit street fighting and tried to put it behind me. The girl moved, and the guy is a vegetable...I wasnt caught, but it haunted me for 3 years, and I've always been ashamed of what I did. I dont think I can ever make amends for it.
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[quote name='SilverCyclone'] the guy is a vegetable...I wasnt caught, but it haunted me for 3 years, and I've always been ashamed of what I did. I dont think I can ever make amends for it.[/quote]

Only 3 years? Wow. I think I would've commited suicide or turned myself in or something if that happened. Too much guilt...

Whoa. Yeah, you definetly can't make amends for that. And on top of that lying to the police/hospital about what happened. His family is probably still wonder to this day what happened to him (if he did have a family).

You shouldn't have ever... ever done that. The fact that he's a vegetable makes things a whole lot worse. If the story's true that is. Sounds odd... street fights? Oh well.
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I never wanted to do something so horrible again, so I quit. I couldnt get it out of my head for three years, and youd be surprised at how such a short amount of time can drag on. I never really felt human after that. So yeah, your right in that I shouldnt have done that, and your right in that I can never make amends, but you shouldve seen what he did to her. In my eyes, he deserved every blow. And the street fights had rules to, so its not that hard to believe actually. We didnt go to extremes or anything. We just fought for the money. Kind of sickening really.
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[color=darkviolet]I have one really bad expericance that I haven't really completely told Lincoln yet about my ex so I really can't explain the whole thing here...let's just say it's nearly as bad as Wiccan's and leave it at that.

Other than that the worst just my family experiance would be last year around this time, my dad decided that he'd go and lose his mind for a bit and started ranting on everyone. Saying he was trying to help my marriage and saying something about how this was Jesus' house (come to think about it he still won't stop bringing up going to church. *sigh*) He then locked my mom out of their bedroom and started going through her things and he took her car keys. My mom called the cops who didn't do anything except talk to them. Then she called her parents and her older sister. My mom and I ended up staying with her older sister that night.

I vaguely remember the same thing happening when I was in third grade except we stayed at my mom's parent's house and it lasted for three days instead of just one.

But compared to Lincoln I don't have anything.[/color]
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[size=1]When I was younger, about 13 or 14, I got in a few fights. I wasn't a brawler by any means, and I didn't go looking for them. I was kind of a jerk, though, so fights found me. One day, while I was walking home with some friends, a few kids decided to jump us. It was four to three, so I was pretty confidant. Suddenly, the guy I had picked to go up against pulled a knife and rushed me. I don't know how, but I somehow managed to evade him (although he did give me a hairline scar on my upper right chest), knock him to the ground, and wrestle the knife from him. At this point, I was so pissed, I rammed the blade into his right ribcage. At this, his friends ditched him. As soon as that happened, I changed inside. All I can remember from that point was holding him in my arms, crying, as my friends called the police. We passed it off as self-defense. He didn't die or anything, but he was in the hospital for a while. I'm 17 now, and ever since I've been a devout pacifist. Whenever someone has a problem with me now, I just tell them to hit me until they don't want to anymore. I can take a punch, and it's much better than the alternative. If I even try to hurt someone now, I get physically nauseous. Needless to say, I go out of my way to avoid violence now.

*EDIT*

Sorry, Rin, but I'm with Siren on this. Something about all your stories just doesn't add up...could I talk to you on aim sometime?

- Dane[/size]
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[SIZE=1]Pfft. Alot of scarey incidents going on here. And alot have been cleared up, and some haven't, so I hope everything clears up for the people. But I think I will tell all you about the scariest thing in my life. Even though it lead to a dead end (thank god), I feel I should tell you anyways.

Well it was only this year actually, just before summer, everything was ok I suppose, I had just began going out with Vix and everything was fine. Then came the night of the party, what a night, hilarious aswell. We got beer and all was fine and fun, even though I did spill beer all over the floor. But me and Vix went upstairs for a while, what happened in that hour or so we were upstairs? Well that was what worried me the most. I got home around midnightish, I think, and talked on the phone to Vix till about 3.

Then came school on Monday, gah, tired, and then the rumours began. An old friend of my Vicki's (she was at the party) told her that she though she heard stuff upstairs. Yeah, corny, I'm only 14 years old, but what really happened, we didn't know. So I was going about the whole day, worried out my socks >.> about this thing going around. I couldn't remember what happened, she couldn't either.

Horrible, but hey, it turned out fine. Turns out I fell asleep, lol, and she was with me, and I kick alot when I'm asleep, so I ended up kicking this massive wall several times. And it echoed around the house, so that's what the noises were. God I didn't know what to do that day, I could barely cope through any of my classes.

Well indeed, everything happens for a reason. Me and Vicki broke up on the Friday after that, for 'undisclosed' reasons. But now we're going out and it's been 3 Months and nearly 3 Weeks. Better than one week, lol.[/SIZE]
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Ok, I'm in no way proud of this, but I'll tell it anyway.

~The scarest moment of my life~

When I was 16 years old, me and my friends wanted to get drunk so bad, and we just couldnt find a way to get beer that night. Well, we ended up getting desperate and we went to the local Stop and Shop for 5 bottles of Robotussin. We all heard about druggies 'robo-tripping', and heard it was like getting drunk....with hallucinations.
We were sitting in my friends back yard, kinda scared at first to do it. We never ever did anything remotely like this, except the occasinal beers in my room. Eventually, we downed the bottles. I killed mine in a good few minutes. To top it off, my friend Tony backed out on half the bottle, so....like an idiot, I killed half that bottle as well. Things were sane for a good, i dunno, 15 minutes. Maybe 10. Well, I noticed the numbers on my digital watch started to look all swimy and I was feeling giddy as Hell. Eventually, we were all laughing and telling our dumb inside jokes. (Really did feel like being drunk)
About two hours after that, I stagger home, go to my room, alone. Party ended. I'm looking at the empty bottle, getting a kick out of the words floating and dancing. Then, I noticed the phrase, "IN CASE OF ACCIDENTAL OVERDOSE, CONTACT A POISON CONTROL CENTER IMMIDIATELY" I got so scared, I cant even describe it. I mean, an accidental overdose of a tablespoon or two? How about chugging a bottle and a half? I convinced my self I was gunna die. Thats it, no backing out now. Suddenly, a panic attack followed, although I didnt know that at the time. I never had anything CLOSE to an anxiety attack before, and since I was tripping on Robo, I figured, my body was shutting down. I had all the classic signs: shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat (and i mean, RAPID AS HELL), mouth going bone dry. I dont remember much after that, just crying and asking any spirit that exists to spare me, trying to walk while knocking my bookcase over. Eventually, I must have passed out, which I'm sure was a mixture of the Robo tripping and the panic attack.
I know now that what I did was dangerous as Hell, and I prob. DID come close to death. I was sick to my stomach for days after that, and my pupils were as small as pinholes. Also, to this day, I get anxiety attacks all the time now. I really think it had some lasting effect on me, psychologically. Being 100% convinced your dying, is the worst feeling alive.

Otaku Boy
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Interesting topic.

My worst moment was hardly painful. Quite the opposite, it was pure bliss. I'll never forget it.

It's a bit sadistic, so if you feel like looking away, now might be a pretty good time, even though it's fairly simple.

I used to live next door to this aging man. He was sixty-three at the time I had just made fourteen, and that's all I really knew about him. We lived in a double, paying him the rent. He mowed the lawn. I took care of most of the outdoor housework, like cleaning the gutters, trimming the tree, and even replaced a section of broken bricks once. He generally kept to himself and his two cats, and didn't say much to either me or my mother. Not that it really bothered us, just that he didn't seem to like many people.

He did have a temper though, especially when it came to Cookie, my dog. She never liked cats for as long as I can remember, and likewise, cats generally didn't like her, either. Twice she had managed to tear up the backyard going after my neighbor's cats. Each time I managed to stop her before she could get her teeth around one of them. I'd bring the cat next door just as this old man stepped outside with a small handgun with a CO2 canister sticking out the handle.

One day I came home from school to find my dog outside in my backyard, whining. She wasn't hungry. Wasn't thristy. She just got up on the couch when I let her back inside and she just stayed there, sighing and very, very slightly whimpering. I was getting a little worried, so I got up from the chair and sat by her. I did this little thing with a towel where I covered her face and pulled it off quickly; she loves that for some reason, and to this day it remains a favorite game between us.

But on this day, she didn't respond like normal. She just looked at me and wagged her tail, but there was something odd about that. She had a slight hitch in the movement when she brought up her tail, and then would let it fall back down, not actually swinging, just raising and dropping. I ran my hand along her back, all the way down her tail while giving her a whispered "shhh" to her slightly more pained whimper.

My hand came back red, with a slight streak of blood.

Immedietly, I changed. Those of you that know me know I am infamous for my rage. But this was something different. I got worried. My face paled, I could tell by the way I started shaking. Cookie was an adopted pet, and the first year of her life was pretty bad. We had taken her in just three months after my first dog, Lacey died. Lacey had been there my entire life, from when I got home after fights, to when my parents divoreced, everything. Cookie filled a gap that I suddenly found when Lacey died. And here she was, bleeding on my couch for some reason.

I did a full inspection. Going over her entire body with my face just a bare inch from her skin. I found the wounds pretty easily, they were on her left hind leg, since the dried blood led me right to three holes. I found three flat-tip pellets in her skin. I know it hurt her, but I got some tweezers and worked them out of her skin. I gave her a Dramamine and after she feel asleep, I put some gauze over her wounds and wrapped it with some bandaging.

I didn't tell my mom until she got home at two in the morning since the wounds barely did anything but make Cookie whine.

But that story was told so I could tell mine.

At ten that night, I walked outside with a lockblade knife and waited. It was a summer night, so I didn't have much trouble finding one of the cats, since they prowled around as they pleased. I grabbed the big white one, named Rico. I worked quick, with my hand over the little bastard's head. For some reason, only Rico was declawed. I never questioned why the Russian Blue, Victor, wasn't, but I didn't care at this point. I was delivering a message.

First I drug the blade across the cat's left hind, trying to sever whatever version of the Achille's tendon a cat would have. Then I made three shallow cuts across the animal's right flank, in the form of a claw mark, going upper right to lower left. Next was the tail. I skinned a good portion of it off, leaving wet muscle to be plainly seen through the blood.

The last part was the best. I tightened my left hand around Rico's neck until he stopped moving. I put my knife down and felt his chest with my right hand. There was a faint beat, but he would live. I left the cat on the doorstep of my neighbor's back porch, nice, defined letters cut into the fur.

"Don't **** with my dog."

We moved out of that house a month later. We never spoke to the old man, not even when paying rent. We'd just leave the check in the mailbox and knock on the door twice. I assume he never called the police or any other form of authority, since we never had any trouble from the incident.

Rico lived. He walked with a slight limp, but other than that, he was fine.

The old man died earlier this year. Lung cancer. I have to say I really felt sorry that he died, as he was survived by two children and three grandchildren, but to be honest, even before this incident, I didn't really like him.

This was all a pretty simple night. It wasn't too life-changing. Wasn't catestrophic. Didn't change my outlooks on life. But I did snap. Out of all the fights, all the arguments, all the issues I had in my life, this one nearly broke me in two. I had been through a considerable amount of trouble that yeah, and the thought of someone hurting my dog was just too much. So I corrected this error.

Oh, you should have heard Rico scream, though. He felt just like I did. Enraged, yet tortured. Just ready to break loose and unleash hell.

I know someone who works for the LASPCA, and I wanted to know whatever happened to Rico and Victor. After the man died, they were put up for adoption, until the man's children came by. They brought them both home. According to the records, they are in Ohio.

Taking a life is one thing, but ruining one is another. I felt somewhat bad until I found this out about what I had done. The two cats are fine. Rico apparently has no problems whatsoever, aside from scars that are consealed by thick fur and a gimpy walk.

But it is as they say; revenge is a dish best served cold.

And I cannot help but say I loved that feeling that night. To be in power. To control this creature's fate. To avenge my Cookie's pain. God help me, I loved it...

So that's my worst experience. Worst, perhaps, because it showed me my limits as a person, and my boundaries as a monster. There is only a thin red line between Earth and Hell, and that night, I think I crossed it.
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[quote name='Chaos']What? You thought that mindless cursing was just for fun?[/quote]

[size=1]I mean what you did was sick. To each their own, I suppose. I apologise for the misunderstanding.

Is that really your worst experience ever?[/size]
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Yeah, I suppose it is because I just snapped. At that point in my life I was in some trouble with the police and on probation and everyday I was catching crap from everyone. And the more I thought about it, I just felt senseless dread knowing that I could actually do that without really caring. I may make a lot of jokes in chats about stabbing AJ, or beating Wehzors over the head with a shovel...but in all honesty, I would not like a life where I could walk up to someone, blow their brains out, and just not care.
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[color=purple]When you put it that way, I can see how it is the worst experience in your life. I could neve do that, my conscience eats me for the smallest of things, e.g. just being late somewhere and people getting annoyed at me for it. Yeah.

Jokes are okay though. :)[/color]
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