"Unforgotten Outrages"
From Interdex, the community-edited guide to the local internet.
"Unforgotten Outrages" is a story written by Musophobic's former roommate concerning life. It is best read with either Slipknot or Linkin Park playing loudly in the background.
Contents |
[edit] General Grievances
Today I observed a horrific injustice. I actually was able to watch a policeman take a measure of not only pride but joy in costing over 20 individuals roughly $45 dollars in fees for parking their bikes along the handicap access for those of you doing the math that equates to over $900. Just a mere observation but doesn’t anybody realize that either: A. we pay them millions of dollars each year in tuition expenses and you think they could move the handicap railing over 4 inches on either side to allow for the bikes to sit comfortably on the railing and the wheelchairs to pass by, B. it would only take a couple minutes tops to go the long way, and lastly am I the only one who is becoming slightly disgusted with the way we are starting to allow anyone with any form of dysfunction to cost us hundreds of billions of dollars throughout the country per year. Baring all this in mind I will unload some of my general grievances, and would like to dually note that while I am moderately displeased with the possibility of you hating my views I still am under the opinion that I could really not care less.
First I will attack the foremost issue and then I will branch out and distribute even more hatred. Like I said the handicap cost us millions and we consider ourselves to be saints because we can take care of little Jimmy who because of either genetic defect or his parents smoking to much cocaine cannot seem to stop humping those around him, drooling constantly, and displaying his avocado sized brain to the best of his ability. Folks I would just like to say if this were 1940’s Germany we would not be having this problem. Honestly look at the word humanitarian, sense any flaws, it only applies to humans, and if we portray this sentiment to everything else you know what would happen? We would fucking stave, like I said if you save everything that isn’t stupid enough to run away from the man wearing the plaid sweatshirt and carrying a magical stick that already killed your father from 100 yards away it deserves to fucking die in the first place. I suggest that you take all the kids in the world right from birth you take them away from their whiney sentimental parents and put them into camps in central Africa give them basic supplies such as bows and arrows introduce the idea of cannibalism while giving them the information that if you feed something a lot and it grows fat not only can it not run as fast but it provides more nourishment. I don’t want you to get the diluted idea I am a cannibal, because frankly if I knew that the prey I stalked consisted of clogged arteries because of sitting on his mothers couch eating Cheato’s all day I wouldn’t fucking touch that thing. People get heart attacks for a reason, and that reason is themselves sure I am guilty to, but when you can no longer move because you weigh 700 pounds and you collect Medicare because of your self given disability, well all I can say is that I can save the government a couple more million anybody who tries to claim that they are to fat to make a living and think they deserve a check to arrive every month for their poor souls. I suggest that they will be put on a 2 month program if you cant loose enough weight to function and pay back every cent the state provided you with for the duration of your stay at fat camp you will be unceremoniously removed from society we have guns for a reason and it is definitely time to start fucking using them.
Upon saying this I would also like to state another of my general grievances that you probably will try to turn back in my face and that grievance is idiots. Carlin put it best when he stated, “Whatever happened to Darwinism the kid who ate to much glue in school didn’t grow up to have more kids. Plain and simple we are saving to many people these days. Would you rather have a completely productive society or would you like to have half your population be disabled by age, weight, mental capability, and finally all out physical misfortune. Not to be a hard ass but if I was sequestered to anything that didn’t allow me to go anywhere I wanted any time I wanted without special privileges being awarded I would want someone to kill me. Don’t worry, those who are incapacitated but are smart enough to be a productive member I am not targeting you. However, if you think that you afford special treatment because of your misfortune then I have 2 words for you FUCK OFF. I take no pity in you at all, and I go further by saying I take the emotional stock of a fruit bat as to whether or not you draw breath in the next fifteen minutes. When I have an obstacle put in front of me I find a way around it god help you maybe plan for an inconvenience and take an extra ten minutes in order to assure that you will get to class on time. After all if everyone rolled over and died when faced with adversity, or even better got on the phone and complained about how the world is unfair and they had to navigate through the mass of bicycles on the sides of their wheelchair ramp. Quite frankly adversity makes a person grow, you know if Darwinism applied to humans which lucky for you it doesn’t we would have a lot less people but I guarantee the people that are alive would know what to do with a simple obstacle thrown in their way.
Well now that I am done attacking 2 minority groups, even though obesity is clearly coming to a majority problem, I will take care of anyone who feels left out. First off is anyone who believes in a god figure Christians, Catholics, Mormons, and Jehovah Witness are the worst offenders. Honestly when has someone been shaken down by a Buddhist either asking for money or handing out their religious documents on private property. Has anyone because I sure as hell haven’t. It must be the Christian thing to do. When political parties are using religion as a platform I tend to draw the line. Here is something a smart person can do, carry around a big wooden cane and precede to beat someone over the head with it every time they try to feed you their religious line of bullshit. I refuse to state what I believe in because to me I choose to let people think of me how they will and not let something fucking petty such as religious belief influence what those around me perceive me to be. Plain and simple if you believe in god wonderful, and if you think I need to know what denomination you are well I have one word for you RUN. I will admit it saddens me when people just execute each other in the name of religion. Why should people need to die simply because they believe in an alternate sacred entity. Why is it that religion is the leading unnatural causes of death, and if you don’t believe me look at the World Trade Center, the Crusades, and pretty much every war that ever involved the English, Aztecs, Mayans, Scottish, Hungarian, Germans, French, Egyptians, Mesopotamians, Carthage, Greeks, Spanish, Danish, and yes even the pathetic Italians. Throughout history the only thing that has ever successfully whipped out hundreds of millions of people at any given time is religious differences. Remember Carlin illustrates this battle perfectly by making the statement that religious people believe, “My God has a bigger dick than your God.”
Next group I am going to target are suffrage groups. Wow something traumatic happened to you? You were hurt by society. That is horrible but don’t think for a single second that I appreciate that cockbite president of ours distributing part of the money that I worked for to pay for college so that the Indians can go out and by a car on their sixteenth birthday that is later turned into a lawn ornament. Or that because of some natural disaster we all have to open our wallets and help them out, and don’t think for a single minute that I care about the betterment of man, nature functions for a reason its reason is to maintain a good predator prey ratio. Quite simple really too many humans we need to kill a couple now other things can flourish. We should not be a plague to beings that are better than us. Honestly when was the last time you ever heard of another animal hooking up another animal’s testicles to an electric fence? When were the last time you heard of an animal putting concrete shoes on another animal and pushing them into a lake? It doesn’t happen because animals have not only more morals but also understand the balance of things. They eat the weak and proceed right on with life. I will admit we pay for the Indians because of our initial treatment to them but they should be thankful. How many Aztecs and Incans do you think are receiving Spanish government money because of the execution of their race? Count your lucky stars that we are sympathetic otherwise you would really have something to worry about. As for people who are sad for loosing people in the many needless wars that America engages in well I know one person you should be pissed at. Let me give you a hint he has a mid ninety IQ and looks like a chimpanzee. Yes that’s right George Bush. Until he starts paying the suffrage bills himself, he should stay the fuck away from my money.
These are just a handful of things that irritate me rest assured the list is far from over, and all I am waiting for is the time when another person so pisses me off to incur my wrath. Be prepared government I am watching you and I will have no problem pointing out your moronic mishaps to anything with ears. Remember be nice to animals after all you should be a non-primatarian, isn’t that catchy? Pity it will never catch on due to the fact that we live in an arrogant self serving society of cockbites.
[edit] Westwood Application
The reason I would like to go to Westwood College of Technology is for the opportunity it will give me to fulfill my dream. I have always dreamed of being involved in the design or creation of video games, and your wonderful school has given me that chance. I have loved video games ever since I picked up my first Nintendo Entertainment System. I fell in love with the ability to momentarily leave all my eight-year-old troubles, such as chores and cleaning my room, behind me. Later on, I fell in love with the rich storyline offered by the final fantasy series, and ever since then I have thought of nothing other than improving the games that have shaped my enjoyment for years. This is where Westwood comes into play; your wonderful establishment will provide me with a means to achieve my dream. I had searched long and hard but unfortunately I had never found a college which offers the video game centered education and degree that I require to break into the video game industry. I was simply going to sign up for a branch of the armed forces until I heard from my sister about your college. I was excited to learn about how you provide the educational opportunity that I desperately want. This college will provide me with a valuable solution to help me achieve my dreams of being a video game designer. This scholarship will make it possible for me to attend your school this year. Thank you.
Obviously he didnt get in, and has told me he absolutely loathes the military.
[edit] Guilty Conscience
Side note: these names are made up, but Damian is what he's supposedly changing his name to.
A young boy enters and starts pacing back and forth as if thinking hard about something. He’s wearing clothes that make him look like the boy next door. He’s talking as if talking to himself.
But they deserve it they really do. I mean what do they think they have been putting me through lately. Pulls his hair.
My parents always told me that I shouldn’t hurt anybody. Come to think of it they told me never to think about suicide, and that you should treat others like yourself. Yea my great parents who also told me not to disappoint them everywhere they went. They give me all this great advice. They don’t really care about me they are just worried about their image and what our idiot neighbors think. If it weren’t for the best girl in my life, “Mary Jane,” I would never be able to deal with them.
[edit] Guilty Conscience By Drake Ganner
I used to be a straight A student, but that only gets you teased for being smart, and you know what? If you decide you are just going to let your grades slip then they make a big scene in front of everyone, “Look at this, I beat the smart kid! Ha! Ha! You’re just as dumb as the rest of us!” Well let them think that.
They deserve this; I have been planning it forever. Ever since Columbine. They made those boys out as martyrs. In my eyes, they were 2 people who really believed it was time to set things straight. They made history! Looks away wistfully. Boys if you are watching please give me the strength to go through with this. You would not believe the horrible things that these kids have done to me. They are monsters, just monsters, and I honestly believe the world will be better without them. LOOK AT ME. What have I made myself into?
Mimics a girl’s voice. “Yeah, right, try losing some weight and then maybe I’ll go out with you.”
Well do you think 40 pounds was enough, in a month nonetheless?
“Cut your hair, and look half decent. No son of mine is going to be some long haired bum.”
Well, Dad, I cut it. Don’t I look swell?
“Do you always have to wear black? People think you’re strange.”
Are you happy now that I look like a preppy geek?
“Why can’t you quit fighting and get along with the other kids?”
Well, Mrs. Jones, I guess you have never seen the way they treated me.
All I ever wanted was one of you to really care about me. Did anybody care for good old’ Charlie, or Kazinski, and how about Bundy? At least they fought back. I mean they did something about how they were treated. They were feared, and giants among men.
Suddenly, as if in a change of heart. I realize that I have never really let anyone get to know me. But if they had really wanted to, THEY COULD HAVE! I left enough hints. The clothes, the drugs, the fights, the ridiculous statements in class; I kept hoping that someday I’d walk up to someone to say hi and they would do something other than say “Shut up, Damian.” That’s all I hear anymore, and it hurts.
I needed the drugs to keep me from going off the deep end, and it was nice to feel good every once an awhile. But even drugs didn’t last forever. I wound up overdosing on pills just trying to escape the hurt and anger that raged inside my head. It is sad, but I now know that I can never truly love anyone or anything because my heart has long since gone black and cold. But I have pride, and I will be damned if anyone is going to take my last shred of dignity from me.
Tell me have you ever seen the glow of life escape a person’s eyes? I have. He was my best friend, and I thought he’d help me out, but he said he didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger.
I am so sorry, friend, I wish it were different, but I couldn’t have you warning them. I loved you like a brother, but in the end I suppose even a brother can let you down. Don’t worry, though, I left a note on your chest telling of your valiant struggle against me. How you tried to stop me, and how I surprised you when I slid that knife between your ribs, and into your lung. You didn’t have to scream that way. You’ll be remembered as a hero, my friend.
As for the rest of them. Why did you feel like you had to keep my face pushed in the dirt? You deserve what you’re getting. I just hope your god saves you. Puts on the duster, and with a solemn look to the sky he says the last words anyone hears from him. Please forgive me. I really was a good child.
[edit] NOVEL
[edit] Preface
Dedication
This dedication goes to everyone who ever was picked on, don’t let these bullies get in front of your dreams, and don’t take the easy way out, suicide may seem a good choice but the dear friends and family I have lost to it number to many so read this and realize you life could be worse and make the best out of what you have.
[edit] Chaper 1: Beginnings
“My whole life I have been in constant pain wondering if I should be here. Believing that the world would have been much better off if my mother who sacrificed her life to give birth to me, and living with the constant truth of my mothers appeal to kill me at birth being placed on my shoulders.”
* * *
This is where my story starts, death was attributed to an ailment only heard of in tales, the doctors referred to it a spontaneous human combustion, and that meant that they were burned from the inside out. My mothers started from her womb, and the doctors seemed to burn forth from his crucifix. I was brought into life with death and I have an idea as to what the future for me holds, but then again I will have to see how it plays out.
Well enough with the wrap up, I am Damian Nilix, and I am a 4’2 and 87 lbs. I have dark black hair and eyes that stay a reflexive shade of silver and a thin medium length face. I am extremely athletic; in fact I cannot remember a time where I have not taken first in anything. I also am considered very bright; I have been transferred into the 3rd grade and am at the top of my class. With all this aside I would like to bring you up on the rest of my life.
Since the first day of my birth my dad has been preparing me for something I do not know what though. Every day of my life I have been doing a strict workout schedule with him as well as studying with him. When I was 3 I was able to read chapter books including many of the classics written by Charles Dickens and the like. I was also an able lifter and believe it or not I could keep up with my dad. Every day we would run between five to eight miles. There is just something about a good jog you know to really get your blood flowing and your brain thinking. But I doubt you are here to learn about how much I can lift or how far I can run the story you probably want to hear is why I became who I am.
I used to be a happy child I really did. My best friend and the love of my life Mara Christianson and I met when I was five. We do everything together, and it used to drive my dad nuts when I skived of to go pal around with her. Now I am currently in the 3rd grade and nothing has changed she is still the greatest friend I have ever had. I don’t know what I would do without her, I really don’t. I mean one day she was sick from school and I was sick with worry hoping that she would walk into class and we could take up where we left off. You see when I was bumped up a grade she had to follow me so I helped her kind of cheat her way into the higher grade. I really do not know what I would do without Mara to keep my sanity in check and my temper.
Boy what a temper I have too. There was this one kid David Carson he made the mistake of knocking her off the swings next thing I know everything turned red and it was like I woke up and I saw David crumpled on the ground with a pool of blood collecting around his body where his many cuts and abrasions on his body gently issuing a constant stream of blood. What also amazed me was the fact that his 2 friends who tried to help him were also in a heap by him with similar wounds. They were rushed off to the hospital, and I was wondering what happened but no one could tell me. They said when it all happened whatever happened to them happened to fast for anyone to see what had been done. The fight had lasted five seconds and in those five seconds the three boys had been given severe enough injuries to land them in ICU. They had to get over 3 liters of blood put back into their bodies because of the severity of the cuts. I don’t know how I did it or what had happened all that I know is that when I came to Mara was there crying and holding me trying to keep me from inflicting any further damage on them.
I scared myself that day and I promised myself that I would never do that again but I just have gotten teased and ridiculed all the time. You never would believe that a six-year-old 3rd grader would get teased but I suppose those are just what happen. Once more you think I would be behind as far as muscle development and just strength period being so far behind in my class as far as age goes but that isn’t the case. I am way ahead of them in almost every way. I am captain of all our little 3rd grade teams and that adds to the animosity with which the children direct towards me. I am the strongest kid in my class as well as the smartest also. It is extremely sad when I have to not only not read the core books but to also try and not get everything perfect. I was accused of plagiarism when I wrote my last essay in class. They had to cross-reference all the files, and even send it into a specialized company to look as to where I had gained my perfect essay. When it came back that my essay was not only grammatically perfect but was written in a style not seen by any English teacher on the west coast. What can I say I am 1 of a kind.
In our small city of Baalend is where I am from, and I can safely say I am the most interesting thing to come from our town in a long time. People in our small town look at my father and I like we are abnormalities and that we don’t belong there. We are constantly being looked at and having little remarks made about us behind our backs. I will admit we do look weird I am constantly in saggy loose fitting clothing that my father says helps out me in my athletics, and I will admit that allows me tremendous mobility but it also weighs close to fifty pounds. I remember when I was three I wore a similar outfit but it only weighed twenty five pounds. But then again wearing weighted clothing was always a norm for me, and I came to soon realize that when I took my clothes all off or changed into a different outfit, one that my father hadn’t weighed down, I could move faster than I deemed was possible. It was hard though in athletic events my father made me hold back and wear my weighted outfit and slow down a little as to not seem too abnormal, but there were those who did know about it.
Mara is one who seems to know almost all my secrets she knows about my weighted clothing and about what goes on at my house. I really don’t have a terrific home life, and I constantly am trying to convince myself that my father really cares for me but sometimes I really don’t know. I was at Mara’s house one evening and I was spending the night there, and I took off my shirt to change into some more comfortable clothing. Well Mara saw my back and chest, I have an astonishing amount of scars covering my chest and back, You need to understand whenever I do something wrong or do not meet my fathers expectations I get fifty lashes with his whip. It’s a long length of black leather that is studded with many bits and pieces of metal. It hurts so bad, and I have only let him down once but the scars are everywhere they just seem to come from no where, I get cuts without even knowing where they are coming from or why they are there in the first place. I just don’t know why I seem to gain these scars but for a while now they have been starting to take shape. It is almost as if my body is being sculpted this way for a purpose, and I have yet to find out what that purpose is. Mara couldn’t handle seeing my body like that she started sobbing onto my naked shoulder, and all I could do was wrap my arms around her and wonder what was wrong.
When she finally got the courage to speak she asked me, “Damian why are you so scarred. I have not once seen you fall or anything what is going on with you to hurt you so badly,” and the only feeble excuse I could give her was that I don’t know where they come from I just seem to get them, and in a way it was the truth, but then again, I cannot help thinking either my wounds are self inflicted or they are because of my father. My scars on the outside though are nothing compared to the inside of me, and what torments my soul must go through.
[edit] Chapter 2: The Big Meet
“I have complete faith that I can win the tournament, and I hope I will not disappoint my father like I seem to always to do. Or even worse the only person who seems to stick by me, and understand my pain and troubles.”
* * *
Like I said since birth my adoptive father has been raising me to be something. Raising me for something that was chosen for me even before I was born. I cannot understand his motives but whatever they may be I might as well train hard for it you never know maybe if I do my best I might get out of the scars that seem to be creeping over my body like some sort of mangled vegetation. But now I think I should need to bring you up to speed on what’s going on we have just finished our Thanksgiving vacation and we heard some interesting news, a new program started by our current president Travis Stanton to influence athletic excellence. This program was put in place so that the nation might select the superior students from around the globe and place them in head to head competitions. Today was when the national monitors would come and gauge our talent and see if we would go to the next step. I told my father about it and he told me that I would have to try for it and that he would take care to make sure that my young age would not be a problem so there I was in the midst of a statewide athletic event.
I was just getting ready to do my short distance sprint when Mara came to me practically bouncing. She looked shyly to her friends and blushed, “Well Damian I hope that you do great in your run,” as she stared down at her feet. Whatever courage she seemed to need to gather she found. We both were looking deep into each others eyes and she smiled and said, “Good luck Damian. I will see you at the finish line,” and with that she looked into my eyes with a look of longing and cocked her head. The next part happened so fast that I didn’t even realize what had happened before it was finally over. Wow, my first kiss what can I say other than it was something a long time coming and after making fun of so many cheesy romance films that she loved. Well she finally acted on what she had been threatening to do since she turned 5 and watched Casa Blanca.
After she delivered that faithful kiss she looked back to her friends and giggled, and I was honestly thinking that there must be some crime that should cover giggling in our countries book of punishable offences. I must admit though it filled me with feelings I just couldn’t explain. I felt like I could do anything, and yet I was slightly scared of letting her down with my performance. Up until then I only cared for her as a friend but now, now I am starting to think I care for her more than that but I don’t have any other words strong enough to describe this growing feeling other than family.
But I doubt you want to hear me drag on about how I cared for her and what I was planning with her later on in life. I only had 1 thing in mind, and that was winning the race. My father gave me shoes that weighed 35lbs, and told me that, “I will not accept anything but first from you, and I hope you know how to make it believable how fast you are.” I put on my shoes and took off my robes for some odd reason my body felt lighter, I did some quick springs, and watched as those around me gaped at the height I could spring into the air. I saw their gaping faces and quickly made adjustments to make my jumps believable. When I was positive that I was able to handle the shoes my father gave me I took my position in the blocks.
I saw the announcer raise his gun high into the air and all 18 lanes of people got in their respected spots and I felt the chamber of the gun shift and saw the muscles ripple in his hand, and when I felt the tiniest bit of heat turn the barrel a cherry red I ran.
So far so good I had a massive head start over everyone, and in fact no one could believe it that I got out of my blocks in .001 seconds. Not bad, but my instincts told me to go on to the statewide rounds I would need to speed up. It was a 200-meter dash to gauge top speed and how well we kept it. I was bolting around my corner on the first lane, and I saw the body of those ahead of me in the blocks flash by. Some of the kids were fast I had to give them that but alas their effort was futile. I passed them and got about 20 meters ahead and just stayed there to the finish.
After we passed the finish line I stopped and waited for the others to do so I didn’t even care to look at my time. As the people shuffled through to their kids to offer their congratulations, I heard the laughable sentiments of the parents of the child who took 2nd tell their son, that he would have won because I seemed to wear out and couldn’t handle the speed that I was going, and I couldn’t help it I let out a short burst of laughter. One thing that you need to know about me is that the only way to describe my laughter is hateful. I could see the parents of that child grimace at me and skulk away. I was the smallest person there, and in their eyes but a child, and they all were asking what child is able to easily beat the best athletes of the county and perhaps even the state.
When everyone finally filtered out of the area I saw a little black haired blur fly towards me. I just smiled and pretended not to notice her moving towards me. I turned and let a smile slip past the sides of my lips and right at the last second I swept her up in my arms. I could feel the pride just gleam off of her as she wrapped her arms tightly around me, and I did the same to her. I kept her up in the air for what seemed like mere seconds, when it was in fact around the neighborhood of 15 minuets.
After a while I started to notice that my next event was coming close to time for me to start prepping for my 2-mile run, and following that the jumping as well as strength events. I did a warm up jog, and followed it up with 50 pushups then headed over toward the locker rooms. On my way back Mara jogged into my view, and quickly delivered a gentle hug and a kiss.
I got into the locker room, and quickly changed into my un-weighted gear of the same design of my other clothes. When I was just preparing to leave I was confronted from 3 of the previous athletes that I had previously beaten. The tallest of the three slammed me up into the locker, and glared while the other two circled around me. The one who had picked me up stared into my eyes and with a maniacal glint in his eyes said, “What the hell do you think you’re up to. I am the fastest kid in my school, and the best athlete out of all the 8 year olds in the country according to the tests our school was given.” I merely smiled and said, “You know you may be right, among 8 year olds yes, be that as it may I am about 6 and a quarter years old.” Then I added, “You better drop me unless you want hurt.”
The child looked at me and looked at his flunkies, and said, “Grab his shit and toss it into the shower I think the tough guy could use a wash himself.” The first to reach my clothing tried to pick it up, and said, “What the hell is going on check it out Mike,” he gestured toward the guy holding me, “You can barely pick this bloody thing up. Get a hold of this,” as he barely lifted up the clothes I just shed moments before. “Bring it here,” Mike said.
The nearest of his pals tipped my gear into his hands, and he almost toppled over, and as he battled to regain his balance he let go of me with both hands, and that was all the time I needed.
With myself released from his grasp, I dropped down, and punched the closest of his friends in the lower part of his right ribcage. I was satisfied to feel a crunch as I rolled out of the way. I did a tight somersault that placed me right in front of the friend who had my gear, and I kicked him right in his exposed kidneys. The kick was enough to pick him up and slam him right into the lockers.
The whole time this was taking place Mike watched in horror as both his friends were completely leveled. I took a time to store into my memory the shocked look of complete unbelief on his face. I then brushed off my shoulder, and walked right out of the locker room to the dumbfounded astonishment of the fool who tried to pick a fight with me.
* * *
I took some time to tell the officer about what had happened, and expressed my apologies at giving the kids injuries that they would need medical attention for. After I was done he stared at me in complete disbelief. After he heard the whole story and then made the statement I was waiting for, “If you did what you said you did then I will personally will take responsibility for the 3 kids you supposedly beat up.”
When I was done, and after the officer had confirmed that I wasn’t lying out of my teeth, like he thought I was. I went back down to the track to do my warm-ups. Our events were to take place on 2 separate days running events were one day, and the throwing and jumping events were to take place the next.
* * *
I went down to the warm-up track and started to do a couple warm-up jogs, some pushups sit-ups, and then I did my stretches. I did all these full speed not really caring much if they thought I was inhuman or something more creative. As I was running, I spotted Mara sitting on the sideline staring attentively at me, and for once in my life I can honestly say that I felt loved, she had always cared for me, but I never realized just how much until just now. I stopped my routine and just stared back at her for what seemed like seconds which actually turned out to be in the neighborhood of 10 minuets and I was nearly late for my event. As I took 1 last look back at the girl who loved me for the monster I was, and loved her for the angel that I saw her to be.
I took my position in the center of the pack; why not give these kids all the advantage that they needed. The Starter raised his gun, and waited for what seemed like an eternity then we were off. I then broke into what seemed to me a slow job but turned out that in only half a lap had passed 2/3 of the competition, and the other third was breaking into a slower pace that was meant to last the whole race. I passed all of them but one, and tried to make it look like I was struggling to keep up with him.
Our first 2 laps rolled bye, and we were on course for a low five-minuet mile if not a high four. Finally I decided to kick it in, and ran the next two laps in 43 seconds each to gain me a four minuets and thirty seven second total mile that put me in first place yet again.
I waited for them to take my participant number as well as let the final group of individuals finish off the race, and when they were all done I turned to try and find Mara in the crowd. After about a minuet or two of searching I realized that she had left, and so I skulked back into the shower room to put back on my weighted clothes.
* * *
I looked all around for the girl who I felt the world for but I could not find her anywhere. But I found someone who I really did not care to see at all. My father walked into view a towering specimen of raw power. He looked deep into my eyes and instantly I knew I displeased him. I obediently went to his side and waited for him to speak. He took his time to smile at members of the clergy, and the other members of our church as well, and then we went to our bikes. My father never liked cars or anything that ran off of the earth, and felt the only thing one could truly count on in life were a persons strength, and a persons creativity. Our house was nearly 2 miles away but we made it back in about 10 minuets because of everyone being at the track tournaments waiting for the qualifying times of all the other contestants. Finally we were at our door to our house, and with the competition behind me the only thing I could count was my fathers wrath.
[edit] Chapter 3: Home Sweet Home
“Most people picture their home as a safe haven where they can go to get away from all their problems, but as I have come to know its just yet another world where I can constantly be reminded of how much of a disappointment I am to anyone unlucky enough to know me.”
* * *
The second I stepped in the door the verbal assault from my father started. Throughout the whole time I had to sit through him calling me useless, that I would gain attention, how I was a disgrace to everything that he stood for, and finally that I was not worth the breath that was given to me when I was birthed. After he was all done making me feel as worthless as possible he sent me to my room.
* * *
I entered my rather large room, and put on my heavier training cloths and started my perpetual training. My room is a massive open space with no decoration what so ever. It only has posters to show the proper way to life the weights, or walk me through the martial arts exercises that have become my entire life. If you look inside my room you see the staircase that leads from the upstairs, which is where my dad stays, and the three rooms that I call mine. The first room is roughly a ten by ten space painted black and covered with little trimmings. In the far left corner I have a small bedroll that serves as a mattress and a means of keeping warm. Then, you see perhaps the only truly excellent things that I have ever owned in my life; a top of the line computer placed on a simple computer desk, and right next to it another top of the line laptop. I am somewhat of a whiz when it comes to computers, and I was able to win the recently in a C++ competition at the college. Finally, you see a window right above my bedroll. This one window keeps my sanity every day I can look at it and realize that there is life outside these walls and that eventually maybe I will find someone who will love me and not consider me a disappointment. I often stare out the window and wonder what its like to be accepted for who I am and what I portray but as I stare into my other rooms I realize that I am meant to be stepped on and continuously called the disappointment I represent. Yet I still hope to one day find the freedom that my window represents.
After my bedroom you find my gym. This is where I train for anything, and everything that supposedly defines my life. The room is also painted black and covered with mats that are black as well. The darkness of the room was supposedly meant to make me learn to use my other senses but sight to lean how to fight, it also doubled as another tool for my father to break my spirit as well. In the corner you would find a large chest filled with pretty much any hand held weapon you could think of under the size of a broadsword, and the walls were covered in all the other weapons you could possibly deem conceivable. The room also had practice dummies scattered across the area, many of which were adorned with battle scars delivered by my father or me. And you also could find two outfits of training armor made of weighted plastic and used to deflect sword attacks, and the like. Let me assure you the armor did little and more often than not I found myself getting into the medical cabinet to stop the wounds my father managed to slip through my defenses. This had to be one of my most hated rooms. My father almost ritually used it to prove what a disappointment I was, and basically that I would never be better than him no matter how hard I tried. I just want one day to be more than his equal on this proving ground maybe then I will earn the love and trust I so longed for.
The last room was the weight room, and the only white and well lit room in my basement. This room was covered in posters with proper lifting techniques, and weight equipment. This is where my father considered I should spend the majority of my time. It is also where I struggled every day to better myself continuously. If maybe I could become stronger then maybe I could tear free my emotional bonds and perhaps even prove a match for my fathers blinding blade.
* * *
Today was not unlike any other day when I was home from school early. My father gave me my caffeine pills that kept me up throughout the day. After so many years living this life I have no idea when the last time it was that I had over 4 hours of sleep. After I took the pills, and then ate a small meal consisting of a multivitamin, turkey sandwich without any toppings, and a small drink of water. To many it may seem like not a lot but to me it was perfectly acceptable.
I then went down to my bedroom, and started my training for whatever it was that my father already seemed to have planned out for me. At 4:00 P.M. till 6:00 P.M. I had a strict weight regiment of weightlifting starting with hand stand pushups, to sit-ups, and then weight stations. After I am done with that I take a fifteen-minuet break, and then my father and me go through hand-to-hand combat
* * *
Today when I walked into the melee combat area it was different. My father was wearing no armor and wielding a butterfly knife in 1 hand and a small club in the other. I went next to him and grabbed my favored weapons out of the box a boomerang shaped blade called a karuki and a short sword.
I took my position at the far side, and my father took opposite side. Then we started the fight. My father came in fast and high as he always did the clunk of wood, and the clang of steel rang throughout the room. I quickly gained the advantage with a thrust low to find that my father was waiting for it, he pinned 1 of my blades under his foot and gave a vicious shot to the back with his club. I felt my back almost buckle and I looked for mercy into my father’s eyes. He then started in on me, “Why are you so useless Damian?” He sneered as we locked blades and club again. “You always were a disappointment, and to think your mother died for you,” He added his every word dripped in an icy cruelety that was trademark to him. “You know Mara just pities you,” as he took a short lunge with his butterfly knife hand. “I could see it in her eyes, she wants you for the fame that follows you, and to think you’re falling into that skanks trap,” My father added with apparent relish.
I yelled, “liar” as I entered a blind rage, and charged with both blades spinning in a blinding blur. I was always excellent with those two blades, and my ambidexterity only heightened my abilities with a blade. I watched him smirk as I threw everything I could at him. He took everything I could throw at him. I watched him smile as I was giving him every shot I could. Finally, I found a seam in his defense, and I shot my razor sharp Kuruki like a flash of lightning right past my fathers defenses. I then smiled in satisfaction when I saw a smooth slit open up on the side of his cheek.
He brushed the speckle of blood from his cheek. I could see how deep the wound was and that it would probably need medical attention, and perhaps even stitches. I could hear him utter some stranger guttural sound, and then I knew where my error was. He came at me with speed slightly greater than my own. I was doing all I could to stay alive, and then in a blur I found him almost disappear from my view. I felt heat on my back and slowly the realization hit me. He was behind me.
“Oh No,” was all I could mutter as the darkness overtook me.
* * *
I woke up some hours later on my bedroll with my head expertly taken care of. I know even though my father is notoriously harsh he is a good healer, and fair when he deals out punishment. Maybe I was wrong in everything I did today. I shouldn’t have tried to hard, and I suppose I did draw attention to myself. Well in the end I suppose he was right. I know hitting your offspring over the head with a club seems harsh but I think his reasons were right, and so this is how countless other instance with my fathers abuse ended. The pain he caused me always overlooked, and me thinking as I always did that my inferiority was what had caused everything.
I was already done with all of the day’s chores so I decided some free time would be in order. By this time it was 3:00 A.M. the next day’s events started in four hours. I believe there is no use going to sleep now being knocked out for around eight hours meaning I had received more than my share of rest and relaxation. It was time for me to get on my computer and see what has happened since I have left.
My friend Skyler made sure that I had all the newest video game titles, which is as long as I could do my hacking duty and crack the game key codes, and copyright software. He had a new MMORPG that he wanted me to see if I could gain free access to, and so I agreed to give it a shot. It took me little to no time for my C++ compiler to create a program to give me complete unhindered access to all of the net. I already knew my friend was on due to the cookie I implanted into my pals computer so I could locate his whereabouts whenever I deemed.
What can I say I am pretty talented, and my father only tries to foster this particular talent. He was the 1 who said I should apply for the competition to win the computers. He had no idea I would win them both, and was what I assumed to be thoroughly pleased with me. He doesn’t try to take away my computers but I do know 1 thing, odd cookies keep appearing and disappearing on my computer, and it seems to me no matter how many firewalls I construct and activate a hacker with a constantly changing IP address keeps cracking my system scanning the data, and then leaving without a trace. I know 1 thing about this particular hacker, and he operates under 4 aliases that are; Plague, Famine, Pestilence, and War. I know it’s not my father because he is a strong member of the church, and these 4 names are of the apocalyptic horsemen of the book Revelations.
I just don’t know what to think anymore, and I find my self more and more uncertain of my abilities. I mean what if I am just not good enough. Could it be that my father has been right all along, and I am just nothing more than merely a bane of life, and unworthy to even breath the air that has taken space in my lungs.
I want to believe I am needed but in retrospect I suppose that not even Mara believes that I am worthwhile. She left me, and I can’t help but let some thought in my father’s words. The more and more I let those final words play through my mind out of that duel the more and more miserable I felt. Finally I lay by my computer curled up in a ball and unable to breath because of self-loathing.
Questions like, “why cant I be good enough,” “Am I going to die the same way as my mother hopeless and alone, without anyone for comfort or help,” “Who could love someone as pitiful as myself,” and, “I wonder if anything would have been different if my mom would have lived, and I would have died would the world be a better place.” You cannot imagine how much I hate the fact that I am breathing and so many others are six feet under.
* * *
I just lay there convulsing until I finally realized that I should probably do something to get my mind off the topic of my apparent mistake in breathing. I realized that it was getting close to the time when I should start up my mourning workouts. I just instead started doing warm-up workouts, and various Yoga positions till I was good and loosened up.
When my father yelled for me to walk upstairs at the brisk and casual time of 4:00 A.M. I was up ten minuets later as was acceptable. I was fed another usual meal of water, and a multivitamin. I then set off for my chores. My chores consisted of another weight training regiment, as well as practicing various martial arts meditative techniques, and of coarse sparring with my father. The whole mourning workout I worked as hard as I could, feeling somehow I might earn Mara’s love, and honestly believing in the advent of the impossible maybe even my fathers respect.
After I was done with everything, I dressed from my heavy training clothes into my heavier daily clothes, and prepared to go to the competition, and who knows turn some heads. I just hope that this time I wont disappoint anyone.
[edit] Chapter 4: Final Events
“In everybody’s life they search for a feeling of safety and control. You see the little kid in the grocery store fighting for a box of cereal all the time, and when I look at that picture I envy the kid for no matter how immature that child may be in committing that act of defiance I find myself jealous of the child. For what I may ask? Then a voice inside my head tells me the answer, because he has the courage to scream out the question but why?”
* * *
I grabbed my pack that held all of the gear I would need for that day, a light change of clothes, my jumping gear that only weighed 40lbds instead of the norm of 50, and my shot put and disk that each were made to not go as far as a normal shot and disk would, and to many it wouldn’t, but it seemed they barely made a difference. With my normal gear I brought a second pack that held clothes that I would change into before I stayed the night at Mara’s. After I made sure everything was in there I took off for the track meet.
I was twenty-four minutes early for my first event. My event schedule started with the long jump, then was shortly followed by the high jump, and then the weight events, which were shot put and discuss. I knew hands down I could win all the events but I was just worried whether or not I would draw to much attention to myself in the process. I took a minuet to compose myself then I started off toward the long jump area
I arrived there to find out I was the first person on the event managers chart. I took my marks, and wondered how far I would have to jump. I did all 3 of my jumps that gave me a final of twenty feet four inches that would be good enough to gain a first place position for that event. I didn’t really mean to jump that far but even with the weights I just could not really control my muscles when I set them in motion. I just hoped that that far of a distance would not draw to much attention unto myself.
Next I was off to the high jump pit. They started the meet off at a measly three feet, and I told the coordinator of the event to not bother me until the bar hit at least four foot six. He looked at me dumbfounded knowing that most the kids could not even get that high.
He merely scoffed at me and said, “Well if you are that cocky you get 1 scratch, and if you don’t get it you scratch.”
I merely nodded and said, “Point taken, just do your job and remind me when I am up.”
Surprisingly four kids made it to that 4’6 mark, and I knew I might need to loose some of the weight. I squared up for my first jump, and as I took off I looked over to the corner and noticed the very kid I beat the hell out of the day before was one of the people in charge of putting the pole back in place. My body knew what it was to do before my mind had time to react. As the creep went to knock the bar loose I let fly a 2 lb weight aimed for his hand. In an instant my wrist shot the weighted projectile flawlessly at his hand right, as he would have ruined my perfect run. As I arched my back over the bar I looked in satisfaction at the fact that nobody seemed to notice the lightning fast flick of the wrist that sent the kids hand into a white hot brilliance of pain. I slowly got off the mat and nodded my satisfaction that the bar was still in its place, and then took off to go wait for the other competitors to get done with that height so I could go again. The scorer was a little bit distracted with the child who was supposed to help out with the event having a broken hand. When he asked how it happened, and the child said I did it the scorer nearly fell over in disbelief. After all how many people could pull off a jump while throwing a projectile, and the whole while with everyone watching and have no one notice the fatal flick of the wrist. I smiled in satisfaction for the rest of the afternoon watching no one able to get past my final mark of five feet even.
* * *
I made my way to the shot put area fully aware that my trip to the elite school was secured. I told the judge to scratch all my throws but one. As I stepped up for my final throw I realized that my father was in attendance. I knew then that I had to make my events quick and successful. My father wanted me to get into the school that allowed only eight males, and eight females were allowed to go to. I had to get into it, if only to not have to put up with my father for nine months straight. If only I knew that this school was going to be just as bad if not worse than my father had ever been.
I stepped into the ring and let go an awesome throw of 42 feet and 5 inches. That would secure my spot into the school, and all I had to do is compete in the disc.
* * *
As the discus area loomed ahead I took little or no interest in the group of people that were starting to mill around me. I caught brief whispers of, “Did you hear of the marks this child is getting,” and, “Anybody hear what he did to those poor boys in the locker room?” With all the continual talk it was starting to become obvious at how much attention I was truly gaining.
When I stepped into the ring I settled into my throwing position. I then sent my body into the whirling spin that was the common technique for many of the nations best throwers. As I was ¾ of the way through my throw I saw Mara out of the corner of my eye! With that brief moment of hesitation I stumbled out of the ring, and was thus disqualified for that throw.
I soon found that I could not concentrate so my next throw was off as well, and I was disqualified for that throw as well. Finally I decided to take the strait lob approach and hope that my mark didn’t get me last. I put everything into that toss and wound up with a whopping hundred and fifteen feet throw.
I walked out of the ring, and instantly strode toward Mara. I could see that beaming smile of hers that seemed to instantly blow away all the anger and hate of her abandoning me, and seemed to just slip away in that smile. I felt for some odd reason that I should not forgive, and that I should only hate. I couldn’t do it and reflecting on that weakness I realized how much my father was right about my perpetual weakness.
She continued her beaming smile while I strode to her. I started to say something but she just put her fingers up to my lips and kissed me again. Looking at her slightly blushing while she began to talk to me. She said, “My parents want to know if you can stay over at my house tonight, we are having a party for you winning the tournament.”
I stood there for a couple minuets, and then I noticed my father coming over towards me. He smiled as he greeted Mara with a casual, “Hello.” He then told me that he thought it would be nice for me to stay at Mara’s that night. I should have been suspicious that day but instead I could think of nothing more than how nice it would be to spend a night with a women that I thought cared the world for. Why do I always walk right into these nightmares?
[edit] Chapter 5: The Board Game
“Am I the only person who has ever longed for a greater meaning in my meager existence? I know that it is not necessarily wrong to want to make something out of your life, but is it wrong to want to spite everyone who mercilessly convinced you that you would amount to nothing?”
* * *
I went up to the podium and accepted the award along with a certificate allowing me entrance into the new government elite academy called Cunnings School For the Elite. I was so excited to go with Mara that I really didn’t care about anything to do with the school. Simply put all I could think about was hanging out with Mara. So as I was coming off the award stand I merely dumped all my clothes into my father’s arms, and started off to where Mara’s mom had left her car.
When I reached the car I noticed that a couple of Mara’s other friends were there. I slipped into the back seat next to her best friends Melissa and Rachel. Mara then sat in the front of the car. They talked about their normal girl talk, which consisted of mainly singers they thought were good, places they would like to go, and what school was going to be like next fall when everyone found out that I was going to a private school. I politely sat back and answered the questions whenever they asked them, and made a point not to act to interested in the girl stuff while at the same time listening intently. This all went on for about ten minuets until her mom finally showed up and drove us to her house.
Mara house is approximately 10 miles away from what anyone could deem civilization. It is a fairly large house two stories tall and built into a solid granite slab that covers the back of the house, and part of the sides as well. It was built to literally be able to weather any storm. When the people that first decided to build this house they laid out the structural plans so that they could enjoy safety from storms, to even, quite possible in the fifties, bombings. This added to the feeling of solitude surrounding the place, but her parents did a lot of things to counteract this feeling.
The outside looked like a normal house with an off white siding while the inside was heavily insulated against the cold with concrete in the middle with sheetrock on the inside. The inside was well lit with color of any kind you could think of sprayed across everything to give it a sunny atmosphere. Mara’s Room was located in the basement but was no different from the sunny interior of her house. She had a purple waterbed lying in the corner with pillows, and bean cushions littering the floor around her desk, she also had a mini fridge in the corner of her room. While her walls were decorated with pictures of fairies, a couple bands, and various drawings, most of which were pretty interesting. Next to her room and beside the stairs was a lounge area with a 36-inch T.V. and a surround sound DVD player. To the opposite side of her room was a utility room that housed most of the junk that they don’t use anymore. Across from the utility room under the stairs was the rest room of the bottom floor.
We had all been to her house before, and her mom was familiar with my father’s policies. When I was, what her mom deemed, four miles outside the house her mother dropped me off so I could get my daily running in. I waited for the car to get out of sight and I quickly dropped down and finished my sit-ups and pushups. When I was done with my core workouts I did my sprints, and then finished up with my stretching. I checked my watch and realized that her mom had been gone for six minuets and was likely already home.
I set off at a leisurely pace of about ten miles per hour, and was able to make it back before Mara’s friends were even finished unpacking their sleeping gear. As I strolled into their lot I noted with satisfaction the looks of disbelief on Mara’s friends faces at the time I made, and the pride showing in Mara’s. As we headed into the house her mother announced that it was going to be twenty minuets till dinner. I headed downstairs and into the restroom to change my clothes. As I just finished putting on a pair of blue jeans I noticed someone watching me. As I turned around I notice Mara smiling beside me. I blushed a deep shade of crimson as I tried to quickly get my black t-shirt on.
She just kept smiling as she walked up to me, and before I knew what was happening we were kissing again for the second time this week.