Viscious

Cult of Kellan.

            *Long final chapter ahead!!! We are finally here! 💚💚💚*

The past few months have been a roller coaster. It has been nothing but stress and anguish. Physical and mental pain. I've had to endure so much therapy and so much attention that I can't hardly stand to leave this house anymore. I can't really even say my house, as it belongs to Dallas. It is no longer mine. My home is on the market. It was in terrible shape after the community rummaged it, investigations were conducted, and horror enthusiasts from all over broke in to take photos and party.

          That being said, lack of my own hone, confidence and privacy have lead me into a violent depression. One minute I am low, and the next I am literally ready to fight on short notice. My therapist threw a bunch of large terms out there, but I couldn't focus. I tire of being scrutinized and the entire time he inspected me I longed to jab an ink pen between his teeth to remove thst insufferable bit of kale. He became 'especially concerned' when I switched my follow up care to a different doctor in another hospital and clinic. I was not about to suffer through one more second of Mr. Keenan Kegley. The man made my skin crawl.

         I am having trouble adjusting to life now. I look different. I feel different. People treat me different and despite my strong disposition in public, alone I fall apart...or I would if I could ever just be alone. Dallas and Cheryl follow me, strangers follow me. Police follow me. Reporters still follow me. Even now that court is over, the town is split. Some still follow and harass me, convinced that I am guilty. Others follow to be nosey.

         After lots of therapy, and lots of accidents and heartache, I have gotten the hang of my prosthetic leg. I can now move fluidly, and with decent speed. Dallas has always enjoyed staying fit and he loves to run. It was something we once would do together, until he pulled away. Now that I am back in his house again, he has bullied me restlessly to run and workout with him. I know his intentions were good, but several times I had stumbled and my leg had came loose causing me to hit my face roughly. He pushed too hard, for the longest time until I yanked the emergency stop on his and sent him flying.

        I can also drive now, though rarely alone. Dallas or his mom always accompany me. They drive me up the wall with lack of personal space, but they also have became my best friends in ways. They are all I have, as I have denied all contact with the rest of my family for cynical remarks and general shittiness. I refused to speak to my old friends for the same reason. They ditched me during my separation from Dallas, and to me they need not try to use me for attention now.

        The chilly air blows in through the slightly cracked window. Creature rides, in our new ride, a rusty old square body truck that's as much rust as it is peeling green paint. I bought it cheap, and with money I had acquired on my own. I had dabbled more into writing and my artwork, not being safe to go back into a normal workplace. I am now a liability, nobody will hire the lady who attracts all the crazy groupies.

          I had been approached to sell my story too, but I turned the opportunity down. I do not want to profit from my tragedy or that of those other girls. Or even the real Trevor. I only want to put this entire nightmare as far behind me as possible, which is why I am on my way to meet a potential buyer to sell my little house. In case you were wondering, no real estate agency would touch the pitiful thing, and I cannot blame them in the slightest. Dallas abd I had attempted to repair it, and give it added curb appeal, but each time we would go out to it we would encounter a whole new set of freaks.

          Apparently, in my absence, it had housed a cult for about two weeks. A cult who became violent when I put them on the road. A cult who now is the reason I went to paperless billing, and I set fire to all my mail. I don't read anything anymore. I got sick of receiving Kellan's fan mail. Mail from those pretending to be Kellan, and fan from those wanting to be me. I don't even want to be me. Despite everything though, I still decided to sell the house. I want my own money and independence. I pay my own way, and my part of the bills from what I had saved back. From selling the house I could at least put that money back for hard times, and be free of the burden of this once charming cottage.