I Danced With the Devil.

I Danced with the Devil. This is just basically an outline of the story im writing.

I saved my self once, I refused help. I didn’t need drugs to save me. Sometimes the feelings come back though. The feelings of bugs crawling under my skin making me want to rip it off. Slice into it and bleed it out. She was never as strong as me.
Sydney was different. She fueled her self on sticking out, and being away from the crowd. Sydney made me different, molded me into her perfect friend, “Melodramatic Max.”
When I met Sydney I was soft, and delicate. My understanding of the world was limited to my online friends and christian school I attended. I practically begged her to change me. Leaving all my real friends behind.
I never believed in Christ the way they said I should. It may sound cliche, but he has always been fake to me. A being so great he over powers all beings? He so loving and merciful, has righteous anger? They seem like excuses to me. I never relied on god. Going to a Christian school was and has always been my parents doing. Sydney had only landed there because her mom believed that her old school created the devil in her.
Sydney thought she was strong. She thought she would never cry, she thought throwing her self against a wall would help prove a point. I can’t explain how she came to be that way, but she never looked week, and she never broke character. Convincing her self she never needed any one, but they needed her to survive, is what she did best.
It was in December and we were dancing in P.E.( Physical Education which is a joke.) Something, no one, but the country girls enjoyed. Sydney was new, I was chosen to show her around my school, so I felt I should be her partner in dancing as well. A secret sprung from her lips as we were pretending to dance. A secret that sparked a doomed friendship. A secret I knew all to well. “I cut.” she whispered.
My history with cutting wasn’t brief. I had a fling with it in 5th grade, but that was only child’s play. Through sixth grade I did it rarely, and hadn’t touched a razor my entire seventh grade year till Sydney showed up. Everyone thought that depressed phase of my life had passed, but who knew it would be back and worse then ever.
Bonding over cutting is really what brought us together. I was afraid if I didn’t cut she wouldn’t be my friend. Sydney and I became dangerously close, she always had been addicted to tragedy. Everyday she pulled me down until some how I had fallen farther then her. We sat by our self, and glared at the ignorant souls that dare looked at us. We only accepted those who were “cool”. Which in Sydney’s opinion was those who had been through something tragic. We hid in stalls with razors and cut up our legs.( If we cut our arms some one would notice. )
A demon was created in me. I no longer cared about things that were my life before Sydney. I pushed all my friends away until Sydney and I were isolated.
The cuts left scars, and the scars were covered with fresh cuts. My world became gray. A razor always in my pocket and blood stains on my skinny jeans. None of the people seemed to care what I had become. All they cared about was Sydney, they thought I turned her into a monster. But who cares what they thought ?
She would lay her head on my chest, and comment on how my heart would beat. She handed me my first cigarette and told me to smoke it. She only watched as I pressed the cigarette against my abused skin. My best friend was my poison.
We helped one another for a while... made sure each other’s cuts didn’t become infected or get seen. It wasn’t as hard for her, since she barely bled. My raw flesh was exposed to the world.
It wasn’t till summer when I crashed. At first it was amazing, we would talk every day and email one another. Until one day I went on Yahoo to check my email, and only one was in my inbox. Titled, “Sorry to do this over email.” although she would of never been able to do it to my face. The email contained endless accusations that I had forced Sydney to whom she had always been. She blamed me for problems with in her family and friendships.
We fought, and the friendship went up in flames. Only days after my parents found about my cutting. My mom tried to get me to go on anti-depressants, and see a councilor but I refused.
I became so depressed some weeks I was barely ever awake and other I never slept. It went on into the school year, and I was slowly recovering from it. Sydney went back to her old school. My best friend before Sydney left as well, and I was alone. I never talked to any one, even the old friends who used to be my best friends.
As school went on I heard the rumors. The bitch had planned to hurt me after she had already killed me. Every where I went the looks were like daggers piercing me.
The rumors can all be summed up into a list:
-Slept with 5 guys.
-Give people razors!?
-Did drugs and forced Sydney to too!
-Made Sydney cut.
-Made Sydney smoke.
-Made Sydney drink alcohol.
-Sydney and I were lesbians together.
They spread like wildfire. Every one believed them too. It didn’t matter that I had gone to the same school for 9 years and everyone knew me. No one believed me. Not even my family.
Sydney ended up emailing me and pleading for forgiveness. She thought I hadn’t heard the lies that hurt me everyday.
I saved my self once, I refused help. I didn’t need drugs to save me. Sometimes the feelings come back though. The feelings of bugs crawling under my skin making me want to rip it off. Slice into it and bleed it out. She was never as strong as me.

I liked this, it was very nice.

It was in December and we were dancing in P.E. Something, no one, but the country girls enjoyed.

I didn't quite understand this sentence, could you rewrite it?
Or are you saying the P.E something as in the narrator doesn't know what room he's in?

Everyone thought that depressed phase of my life had passed, but who knew it would be back and worse then than ever.

We hid in stalls with razors and cut up our legs.

Kids these days cut their legs too? :O I just learned something new.

She would lay her head on my chest, and comment on how my heart would beet beat.

We helped one another for a while... made sure each other’s cuts didn’t become infected or getseen. It wasn’t as hard for her, since she barely bled. My raw flesh was exposed to the world.

She barely bled? THAT LIAR! SHE'S BEEN TAKING IT EASY!! D:<

Titled, “Sorry to do this over email[.] (,)” although she would of never been able to do it to my face.

I became so depressed for someweeks that I was barely ever awake and other I never slept.

Like I said, I liked this very much. It tells a lot how a friend can destroy your whole life and somewhat get away with it. Good things I don't have friends

Hai!

The best thing about this was the title. That was what drew me in. It's like in the Tim Burton Batman film, you know, "Have you ever danced with the devil in pale moonlight?"

As to the rest of it, I'm not sure what you were trying to say. What are you trying to say about the guy's experience? What did he get out of it? How did it affect him, emotionally, spiritually and everything? You mention early on about him going to a Christian school, but you don't say if he had any faith that was disturbed by the cutting. There's very little sense of character here either; you could try putting the narrator through the Character Answer Game in Writing Activities. I find it very helpful for getting a bit of dimension.

Linked to this is the feeling that not a lot of what you said actually made much sense, and some of the sentences seemed kind of filler-y. You know, they sound good and look good but they didn't really mean much.

Like here:

I became so depressed some weeks I was barely ever awake and other I never slept. It went on into the school year, and I was slowly recovering from it. Sydney went back to her old school. My best friend before Sydney left as well, and I was alone. I never talked to any one, even the old friends who used to be my best friends.

I saved my self once, I refused help. I didn’t need drugs to save me. Sometimes the feelings come back though. The feelings of bugs crawling under my skin making me want to rip it off. Slice into it and bleed it out. She was never as strong as me.

The first paragraph seems to leave the narrator in depression, friendless and alone, basically in pieces. The second paragraph... I'm not sure what it means. You have it as bookends, at the beginning and at the end, so it seems like it would hold the main idea of the piece, the theme, but I don't understand what you're trying to say here. Does it mean that he managed to stop cutting without help or therapy or whatever, but he sometimes still want to cut? "She was never as strong as me" seems tacked on at the end, a non sequitur, a randomosity.

I know this sounds rather negative, and I'm sorry. You do write well, but you bog down the meaning of your story with too many phrases that don't have enough meaning, so I get confused about what's really happening.

PM me if you have any questions, and again, I'm sorry if this sounds harsh, but it's only meant to help.

-twit

Hi there.

This is really good. If you are making a novel of this I'd love to read it.

For starters, your characters are perfectly formed and really well fleshed out. All the sentences about the characters sum them up really well.

And the whole thing flows very well.

My only problem is it is difficult to understand in places. I had to read it a few times to understand it.

Besides that good job.