Terror Firsthand #30: One Way Out

 ©Terror Firsthand is a fictional blog series that was created in 2024. It is for entertainment purposes only, and I wrote it from the top of my head. Photos are reenactments and dramatization. The following story is for mature audiences only. Please, do not try any thing dangerous at home. 

Warning: extreme terror

Terror Firsthand: One Way Out 

After I told Macc Blicc that I'm not selling the weed, he handed me a lethal Fentanyl pill and told me to take it. 

"Nigga I'm not swallowing that either!" 

I didn't like Macc Blicc anymore and I didn't like those funky lesbian guards at the door. 

"Look just get out. Don't call my phone anymore." Said Macc Blicc. "Oh yeah, give me that 10K back since you don't want me and want to waste my time!"

I pulled out the 10K and gave it back to his funky ass and then I left out of his stinky square trap house and went back to The Grande Bougie Hotel. Macc Blicc was lame to me, and I didn't want s*it from him anymore.

After I got to the hotel, I ordered my favorite meal. Lobster tail, steak, and broccoli. Then I drank Dom Perignom and listened to my new music. I didn't bother cutting on the TV. None of the people on there respected me either. I went downstairs to the gym and exercised. I avoided as many gay queers and jealous incestuous gay men for as long as I possibly could. I stayed in the hotel for another week and then I checked out and went back to LP Casa in Virginia. I hid in the house for 7 weeks. I avoided all those stank predators and those Marcus Goldmans and Big Skis and Macc Bliccs.

One day, I went outside to smoke and GD6 was standing on the lawn with six other funky ass women. They all started kicking me and hitting me and jumping me.

"Yeah that's what you get for not wanting our p*ssy!" One of the f*ggot women said. 

"Hoe you think you better than us! You ain't no better than us! If we wanted to we could rape yo retarded ass right here! You ain't going to do nothing!" Said another one of the jealous, gross, stinky, lesbian sluts. 

"You f*ggots ain't going to do anything to me!" I yelled.

"If I tell these hoes to rape you they will." Said GD6.

After they beat me and kicked me for six minutes, they stopped. I was bleeding and my eye was once again black. I didn't even think I was going to survive it. I thought they were going to murder me. People are sickening to me every minute of the day in America. After they finished beating me, they left. 

I got up and walked into the house. Tracia asked me a question.

"What happened to your eye and your face?" 

"I was beat up. Right outside in the back yard." I replied.

"Who beat you?" She asked. I hated talking to her. She was a rat and a hater like the rest of the fa*gots that don't believe anything I say. 

"A bunch of gang members beat me." I told the fake lady. 

"Obviously they didn't want your funky tail. Now don't tell me anything else because I don't care." She said.

I walked right past her and went to my room and cried. I sat in the room for 4 more weeks until my face healed. I didn't go anywhere or speak to anyone about what happened. I knew people were funky and horny and racist and they never believe anything I say and they don't want me. I get it! 

After my face healed, I left LP Casa and went to a public land facility about 2 hours away. I set up my tent and stayed there for several days. On the third day, I saw a black bear climbing up a tree. I packed up my stuff and moved to another facility about 1 hour away and the same thing happened. I saw three bears that time. A mama bear and two cubs. The bears starting sniffing around the campsite. The mama bear started getting too close so I sprayed her with bear spray and her and the cubs ran away. I immediately packed up my stuff and moved to another campground called Bear Country Wilderness Campground. 

In the Virginia wilderness camping alone 

It was the most peaceful and serene campground I had ever been to. There was no one else around and it was complete silence. I drove to a nearby market and purchased a bear fence, a cell phone booster, a satellite phone, and a solar generator with the last bit of money I had. On the second day, I saw a bear from a distance but it did not come near me. I also received a text.

Don't come back this way unless you want the same thing to happen tard 

I don't know who it was, but I assumed it was someone from the GD'S. I didn't want to go near their funky sickening asses anymore so I stayed in the wilderness alone for months. I kept hearing voices in my head. The opps just kept biting everything I said and did. I couldn't make them stop. They were too narcissistic, horny, greedy, selfish, abusive, ugly, stank, and racist. I then regretted killing myself. 

After being in the wilderness all spring and summer, I realized that I should've just taken the lethal Fentanyl that Macc Blicc offered. He was only trying to help. He couldn't stand seeing me in misery. I could've put myself out of it before I even got jumped by those close knit dykes.

One day, my solar panel broke and I needed to fix it. I was forced to go to a nearby hostel. I checked into a hostel called The Bear Country Wilderness Hostel. I didn't want to be there. People are so cruel and sadistic towards me, it doesn't make no sense. Why I am still alive? Why don't they just murder me and get over with? What's taking those funky ass abusive predators so long to end me? 

When I got into the Hostel, I hated it. I was the only black person there. Everyone was nice to me when I first checked in. They all spoke and smiled. After I got to the room, it was a different story. I went to the bathroom and before I walked in, I heard two women talking. 

"What the f*ck is that black tard doing in here?!" One of the white girls said.

"Yeah, who told somebody that black and unloved that they could stay in our hostel!?" The other one said. It felt like slavery all over again. I walked in.

"Y'all gay f*ggots should put a sign on the door that says no coloreds allowed, you white neo nazi looking b*tches! Now move the fu*k out of my way! I don't have time to beef with you! I ain't do nothing to you white trash hoes!" I yelled.

"Yeah that's why your black ass will never be anything! You'll never have what it takes to survive our world!" Said one of the crackers.

"Look here you white ass bi*ches. You better get your pale asses out my face and go be with them dirty gay feces colored men y'all keep stealing from me. I don't want those feces colored racist niggers! They all for y'all!" I said. 

"Go back to your mama house. We don't want you here!" Said one of the pale bullies.

"Oh wait, she can't go back over there because those black people going to kick her retarded ass again!" The other one said. Then they both let out a loud hysterical laugh. 

Then the two white bi*ches left. Luckily they weren't in my room. I stayed at the hostel for one night and then left the area the next morning. I was really s*icidal by that point. I didn't know where to go to stay safe. I wasn't safe in Georgia, Louisiana, Florida, Illinois, Iowa, Montana, California, Mexico, Tennessee, Alabama, Missouri, Mexico, Oregon, Alaska, Nevada, or Virginia. They all hated me, and I got sick and tired of knowing. 

I'm basically just living to die. I don't think I'm going to die naturally either. There's nothing natural about my life. I'm infested with too many narcissistic predators. The predators are extremely unsanitary like rats and mice. Being infested with gross narcissistic predators is like living in a house full of rodents. It's like having 100 different incurable diseases. It's like eating vomit and drinking piss. It's unclean and unsurvivable!

I decided to go to Mississippi. I figured no one would bother me there. I stayed at a campground not too far from Jackson. I didn't go anywhere or speak to anyone. Same ol cycle. I started to hang myself, but my dog started barking and biting me so I took the rope down and threw it away. I wrote a new book about living around deadly human predators again and published it for sale online. No one brought it, so I just read it myself. Most people in their 30's have their whole life ahead of them. I don't.

After staying at the campground for two nights, the next day someone set up a campsite right beside me. I knew that is was time to bounce. I started packing when the person spoke.

"Hi, what's your name, I'm Big Rutabaga." 

I ignored him. My selective mustism kicked in because of all the physical and sexual abuse I had suffered. I didn't want to hear anymore voices either.

"Hello, I'm Big Rutabaga." He said again. I continued to ignore him and packed up my property. 

I ignored Big Rutabaga and left the campground in Mississippi and drove to a campground in Kentucky. I sat there for two nights unbothered. On the third night, someone called my phone and hung up. I have no idea who it was. The phone calls continued and then I changed my number again. I left the campground in Kentucky and then went back to Mississippi to where I was. Big Rutabaga was still there.

"Hi Big Rutabaga. I'm sorry for not speaking." I said.

"Oh it's okay. I'm not tripping about that." He replied. 

"So what brings you to Mississippi?" He asked.

"Just wanted to see the area that's all." I said. 

I avoided telling him that I was running from incestuous people. Most people either don't believe me, or are incestuous people themselves, and want me to get molested by my relatives. People are extremely unnatural and nasty towards me. The pain never stops. Those kind of dangerous predators never stop stalking me and pestering me and forcing their mental retardation, gross negligence, and ignorance upon me. The pain is forever. They don't have any remorse. 

Big Rutabaga had a nice tent. It was a nice size. He also had a nice puppy with him.

"You're a nice looking young woman. How bout I take you to the grocery store and you can pick out anything you like and I'll grill it for you." Offered Big Rutabaga. 

"Um I don't know, I just met you." I replied.

"Come on, I was born in Mississippi. I know you're not from around here because you have out of state license plates." Said Big Rutabaga.

"Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?" I asked.

"Oh no dear. I'm as single as a dollar bill." He said.

"Oh I'll ride with you. Do you think your dog will get along with my dog?" I asked.

"Oh certainly! My dog likes other dogs! She won't hurt him." He replied.

I hopped in the back of Big Rutabaga's truck with Big C and went to a grocery store. It was a Ledals, just like on the east coast. Once at the store, I picked out the most expensive bottle of Rose, lobster tail, filet mignon, and asparagus. Big Rutabaga picked out the traditional hotdogs and hamburgers, buns, a six pack of Modelo, and potato chips. I didn't want to drink all that Rose by myself. I hate hangovers. They are the worst! 

Back at the campsite, Big Rutabaga grilled the food and then I had dinner with the stranger at a picnic table, and got to know him better.

"So do you have a man?" He asked.

"No I do not have a man." I replied.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because I'm being bullied by a bunch of lesbians and people think I'm gay. I've never been gay." I replied. 

"Ain't nobody bullying you." He said. 

I stopped eating my food and got up from the table. Then he grabbed me by the arm.

"Look. I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you." He said. 

"Nigga I lost my appetite." I said. "And I don't want that bottle of Rose. I'll pay you back for the food." 

I reached into my purse and handed him $40. 

"I don't want your money it's okay. Just sit back down." He said. 

"No thank you. I'll just go." I said. I walked back towards my tent and he followed me. 

"Come on. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to treat you like that." Said Big Rutabaga.

I was already disgusted with him because he didn't take my side. That's a sign of negligence and I'm tired of people being off towards me. Yuck! 

"I really want you to spend the evening with me. No strings attached. I just want conversation." He said.

I was ready to pack up and never return. I did not want to communicate with anymore gross, abusive, predators. Now I know why I didn't respond the first time. I hate petty niggas like him! 

"No. I am not your type. You are for those stinky ass women that treat me like that. " I said, and went inside the tent. Big Rutabaga was a hater, and he looked like it from the jump.