Hope you enjoy!

I sit down in the confessional and greet the old priest kindly. It has been years since I have seen him and he doesn’t seem to recognize me. The years have been kind in the transition from middle-aged deacon to wizened old priest and he sits there with the air of some one who cares. The wood lattice separating him from me seems as if to protect him from my sins past and present, but gives me no reassurance that I am as well guarded from him. He talks vaguely about a bad circumstance that the lord saved him from because of his faith just to put me at ease. But instead I tense up refusing to believe his divine intervention. Soon we move on and I am telling my deepest secret to this man I hardly know but fear so much. I slip deep into my memory as I relive my tale for the umpteenth time.

It all started when I was little. I guess I was a pretty normal kid. I had loving parents and three siblings. I got picked on by my older brothers but got along well with my younger sister. My parents were normal Catholics, and by that I mean that they observed the rules and practiced the rituals but never really believed it. They went to mass because that’s just what you do. That’s how they were raised, and how they raised us. By the time I was 12 I was volunteering in my parish regularly my parents never told me they didn’t actually believe what was being taught and I never caught on that that’s how it was. I soaked up everything that was said and believed it with all of my heart. I wanted to show up my brothers by being the perfect catholic kid while they terrorized the rest of the church. This is why I joined the choir even though I hated singing. I wanted to make a joyful noise to the lord, but more importantly I wanted to excel at the one thing my brothers had never flunked out of so that I could truly say I was better than them on every level. Despite my crooked intentions I was a helpful kid and would often help the deacons set up for the many activities that went on in the chapel. and so when the deacon let us out of choir practice a generous  before the customary four o’clock rehearsal end on a hot and sticky summer day, I did not run with the rest of the boys out to the park but found myself carrying a stack of hymnals to the closet for deacon timothy. We walked though the hallways to the storage room as my classmates’ footfalls echoed on the granite floor on their way out. Deacon Timothy opened the door and helped me put my stack of music on the shelf at the back of the room. There was a faint click as the door eased itself closed. The deacon’s eyes lingered on me, clearly impressed. “I wish there were more boys like you” he said. I could understand why. Although I did not like to sing, I was quite good at it. I was easily the best in my section if not in the whole choir. He stepped forward and touched my neck. “Such a lovely voice” he said. As he slipped his hands to my shoulders he added. “And shoulders strong from doing the lords work.” I could see why he would say that, my arms were getting quite strong from all the work I had done around the church. But my thoughts switched gears as he dropped his hands to my waist. What was he doing? This was not normal, not right! I had to leave. I had to get out. I started to make an excuse but nothing came out. Oh god what was happening? I wanted to scream but still, I couldn’t make my mouth move. He started to slide his hands around my waist and into my pants. I still couldn’t open my mouth, but I had to do something so I yelled “STOP*!” Completely inaudibly. The deacon froze. I finally found my courage and lashed out, kicking as hard as I could up between his legs. But he still looked down on me with those hungry eyes unmoving. I slapped his hands away and backed into the corner were I slouched to the ground in disbelief. What was he doing? Why had he not moved? Why had my kick done nothing to him? He still stood there looking longingly at the spot were I had been. I wanted to leave but he was between me and the door and I didn’t know how he would react if I moved. I sat there against the wall for what seemed like forever. My heart raced like a purebred greyhound. After a while I started counting hear beats to try to relax a little. 1, 2, 3. Still he looked at the spot were I had been and didn’t even glance at me. 56, 57, 58.he didn’t attack but he didn’t retreat. 139, 140, 141. I kept counting heart beats as I started once again to panic. 456, 457, 458. And still he didn’t move, it must have been nearly twenty minutes by now. I gave up on counting as my thoughts grew louder in my head. “I need to leave, I need to get out, this isn’t right, he shouldn’t have done that, I need to get out, I NEED TO GO* HOME.” As I finished my thought the deacon fell to the floor with a loud huff and a pained groan. He looked up clutching his stomach and genitals, clearly confused. “H-how did you get over…what happened?” he sat there in stunned silence for a moment before his eyes snapped wide and his face drained of color. “Oh, dear God! Oh lord!” he stood still clutching his belly. “That’s all, my child” he said in a shaky voice as he opened the door. I stood and walked cautiously toward it, keeping as far from him as possible. He mumbled “Oh lord have mercy” and then shut himself in the small room. As I stood there stunned I could here him weeping on the other side of the door. I regained control of my legs and ran from the chapel. I caught up with the other boys’ just outside the big cathedral doors and followed them to the park with fake enthusiasm. I was trying so hard not to think of what just happened that I missed the strong tolls of the Cathedral bells announcing four o’clock.

As I finish my story I sense my audience getting jumpy. He doesn’t like hearing this story again. Especially after all the time he spent trying to hide it. He starts to say something in his defence but I cut him off. I tell him to examine the difference between his story and mine. And after a few seconds I know that he has figured it out. “The time.” he says. “I was wrong. God didn’t stop me, you did.” “Your right” I reply. “But I didn’t know how to use my talent then. Now I do.” A moment of silence passes and I know that he has realized it is futile to run. He knows the power I wield. “Is that it?” he says. Apparently frozen with fear. “Yes.” I reply as I stand to leave. “It’s been nice to see you again Brother Timothy. I’ve been waiting for so long.” Stop*. I go wild. Snapping and tearing, ripping and stabbing. With no thought of his well being just like he had none for mine the years before. GO*. I leave in a hurry using my powers to evade cameras and people just like I did on the way in. When a deacon finds blood leaking from the confessional five minutes later, I am sitting on my couch 45 minutes away, just in time to watch the story break from the comfort of my own house. I am good at what I do. And what I do is revenge.

Jason Wallace

Jay for short.

Physical description.

I don’t really like to talk about myself al that much but whatever, here goes. I guess the first think that I should say is that I have black hair. Very black hair. My friends in elementary school would call me “the black cat” for very obvious reasons. I also have green eyes which I am quite fond of. There not just green like most peoples but they almost sparkle because they are so vibrant. Although I would not usually say that to anyone, or admit it. When people give me complements on my eyes I usually take it graciously and pretend to shrug it off, but really I eat that stuff up. I think my eyes are probably the coolest part of me. Other than that I am pretty average. My skin is darker than most but I would definitely still be described as Caucasian. its kind of cool I guess because I can hang out with the white kids and fit in, or but I am dark enough to stand out from the white kids if I want to, so the darker kids will see me as something more and still kind of relate to me as well. They both accept me, so I guess it’s kind of like the best of both worlds. I’m not all that tall; I’m sort of in the middle at 5’10″. I used to be really small though, I didn’t hit my growth spurt until grade eleven, so I got picked on quite a bit in my early years of high school. I think that it toughened my up a little so I don’t really mind. It also taught me what I think is a very important lesson. If you have a problem with somebody, use the upper hand while you have it. You can not afford to let an opportunity by because letting them go now might just bight you in the ass later. For example there was this guy at school that bullied me from grade 7 until 10. Josh McDonald was his name. We had some run-ins and I knew we were enemies. But when I found out that He was going to ask some loser girl to the schools valentine dance just to embarrass her on the dance floor, I realized I could warn her and get her to humiliate him first, I had the upper hand on him. But I didn’t tell her. I knew that I didn’t usually talk to the girl so I didn’t need to stick up for her, and Josh had been picking on other people lately so I didn’t need to bring his attention back to me. So I let my chance pass me by thinking that I didn’t need to start the fight with him again. The dance came, he humiliated her, and life went on. Soon after, he stole my bike. I saw him do it, out the window of the school, but couldn’t get to him in time to stop him. I had given up my chance and now I was down because of it. My bike wasn’t gone for long. It soon turned up on my front lawn hacked to bits. Somebody had taken a blow torch to it. I knew it was Josh and he kept smiling at me in class and taunting me about it. Everyone knew it was him, but there was nothing I could do. The year ended with him treating me badly and soon summer came. I came back from the break almost a foot taller. As soon as I saw him again I beat the living snot out of him, thinking that this would deter him from attacking me this year. I was wrong. He got a little gang together and beat me twice as bad as I had beaten him. I realized that the people that threatened me would not leave me alone until someone ended the conflict for good. Until this time I had never used my powers in a way that could be noticed at all. I had never even cheated on a test. But I knew what I had to do so I came up with a plan. When exams came around I found out every one of his classes, and with my powers stole and copied every one of his exams. I planted them all in his locker and put some weed that I had stolen from a druggie in there too. When I had finished laying my plans I called the cops and gave an anonymous tip that there were drugs in the locker next to his. The K9 unit soon showed up and while the cops went to the wrong locker, the dog didn’t. Josh McDonald was expelled before anyone even knew what happened. And that was the end of my troubles with him. Basically the bottom line is this. Only have mercy on people you don’t have history with. Because others will lie dormant for years waiting for the upper hand so they can strike you. Finish it when you can. Finish it with exact revenge.

Oh damn. that’s kind of off topic…well then back to me…um actually that’s all there really is to say, I never really paid attention to the way I looked except when I was trying to Impress Emily, My girlfriend. But now that we’ve been dating for almost a year and a half, I don’t really have to do much. Just were what she says, stand were she says and shave when she says. Having her makes everything a lot easier.

Psychological profile

Well I know I’m a little messed up psychologically, because I do have a psychologist (her name is Anne.) I was all into church and God when I was little, and I really was the perfect catholic kid. But when I was 12 I was sexually assaulted by a member of the church and that threw my whole life off. I have not been into a church since the incident except for very recently to pay my respects for a little boy that died there. Of course Anne doesn’t know the details of what happened because she would have to report it and that would just bring stuff up that I have been working very hard to forget, But I have talked to her very vaguely and she said something along the lines of “you show signs of PTSD from whatever it was that happened. And it would probably really help to get it off your chest.” After that she started asking to many questions about it so I won’t talk to her about it any more. Because really I just finished dealing with that problem and I don’t think everyone needs to drag their skeletons out of the closet (or the ground for that matter) for a reunion any time soon.

I guess you’d think that it changed me a whole lot from who I used to be and who I am now. But I don’t think I really changed all that much, I mean yeah, sure I did quit church, But none of my family believed the stuff I was getting into so that probably would have happened anyway right? My mom would have explained it all to me that it’s just something that we do as a tradition but it really means nothing. That the baby in the feed trough really can’t help me out and his momma won’t answer my prayers at all. And sooner or later I would have learned what I know now, That my life is up to me and that most of the people that say there on my team (like the church did) really aren’t. That I have to take care of my self because no one else will. And that I have to get rid of my enemies before they do the same to me.

Oh, actually there is one way that that circumstance changed me. For A while I was totally afraid of human contact, you know, like I didn’t want to be touched again. But once I got into grade 11 and my testosterone started pumping, I realized that I needed to get over the whole human touch thing or it was seriously going to impend my progress with the ladies. So I forced my self to get over it, and move on. Some may say that it worked a little to well, because now I am “super sexual” well that’s what Emily says anyway. (But between you and me, let’s just say I don’t think she views that as a negative)

Family history

My family consists of my mom and dad, two older brothers and one younger sister. My dad is 56 years old and his name is Michel. He owns a big construction business that is really a family affair. A bunch of my cousins and uncles work for him too and I guess I could draw similarities between it and the mafia. Well except for the violence and organized crime that is, it’s just a construction business. My mothers name is Jaime and she is 53. When I was younger she was the best mom ever. I guess that she kind of favoured me and Samantha, because dad favoured my brothers. Now that the three of us boys have moved out she apparently seems not to care about being a good role model for Sam. I think she is bored with her affluent life that my father has provided her with, because after years of being a mother full time she has kind of turned into this desperate house wives kind of lady and has a minor gambling addiction. But she’s mom, so I still love her. Sam is my younger sister and she is 17 years old, she’s in grade 11 and honestly a pretty cool kid. She’s into computers and fashion which I guess is a pretty weird combination, she also likes sports and plays a lot of soccer. My brothers Tom and Luke are both 27, this is because they are twins. Not Identical twins but they may as well be. They have pretty much done everything together since they were little and now they even work together for my dad. They both have girlfriends that they want to marry but still they both live together in the house they got during there collage years. I have two roommates that technically aren’t family but really I consider them to be, their names are Mike and Kan. Mike is a short black guy with a passion for medicine, he’s studying to be a doctor. And Kan is a Singaporean guy that’s about 6’2″ and wants to a psychologist. We all met during frosh week in first year and became friends but it was all the Drama classes that brought us together see although we all have different majors and must seem pretty different, we all had one thing in common, and that was that we all minored in Drama. There we became really good friends and in second year we all got an apartment together and we’ve all been brothers since. Emily is my girlfriend and while not really family yet, I do suspect that we will get married eventually. She is of Chinese decent and short, only reaching about 5’5″ she also has jet black hair, but with purple highlights. We met in second year law classes and have been dating ever since. Obviously she also is in law, but unlike me law is her passion. She wants to be a human rights lawyer and save the world from injustice.

Hobbies, Age and interests.

I Am 21 years old and stand about 5’10″. I am in-between third and fourth year at the University of Watterloo studying law, but Drama is my real passion. I major in law because my dad told me that there’s no money in acting so I needed a really job as well. I don’t really care about that because I don’t need money, with my talent I can live without a job at all if I want to. I guess I better tell you what that is huh? My talent I mean. Well here goes…I can stop time. I don’t know how or the science behind it. But ever since I was around twelve I knew I could do it. I kind of found out by accident and didn’t really know how to use it, but then I started practicing it and now I can do it whenever I want. I just think the key words “STOP” and “GO” as if I were yelling them in my head and the world just freezes solid. I can do what ever I want while I have put the world on hold; Walk around, move things, or even move people. That’s why I don’t really need money. I can just walk into any store I want wait for an employee to open the cash, then take the money. I have done this quite regularly, and it’s pretty impossible to get caught. Some times I even buy stuff in the same store with the money I just stole. It’s also great in a fight, once in first year I saw these three guys stealing a girl’s purse on campus so I fought them. I just waited until each one got close, stopped time and punched them a couple times and then started time again. Any one watching would have just seen me one punch each guy as he came up to me. Needless to say I got that girls purse back for her. Mike and Kan still don’t know about my power, well for that matter no one does. they just think I’m a really excellent thief because sometimes Ill use it too snag something while their there, but Ill always make sure that it looks like I just have a quick hand cause I don’t want them to think anything weird is up. Right now, with it being in between school I mean, I don’t really do all that much I’ve just been going out with Emily or the guys a lot. Mike and Kan both have jobs at a painting company and I had one there too, before I got fired. I guess they aren’t very happy that I don’t work with them anymore and keep bugging me to try to get my job back. I don’t really want to so I have been entertaining the Idea of telling them about the time thing. Because then they could quit too and we could live without any restraints. That would be great, I don’t know if I will though cause it’s kind of a lot to share. And I don’t want to freak them out.

So yea that’s me, hope you like it. I don’t really know how long this was supposed to be, but whatever. Hopefully it’s enough to let you see a glimpse of me. But now I’ve got other things to do. So, Peace out!

-Jay W.

Dear Arnold, Why are you so epic? Why are you able to do anything you want? I think you are a very good role model. This is because you went from being a famous body builder to being a famous actor to being the governor of California. I think this shows that as long as you have drive and determination you can succeed in almost anything. Either that or money can buy anything. I still think that that is a very important lesson to learn. Thank you for teaching it. I would also like to thank you for being such a good terminator in T2. I thought it was especially moving when you sacrificed yourself to stop Armageddon. Although it didn’t work. It was still a nice sentiment. Plus I like your accent, and kind of wish I could have it. But only at select times. It would be fun to score a goal at hockey and then look the goalie in the eye and say “Ill be back”. I think it would just raise my standard of living. Thank you for being in “Jingle all the way” because it is my favourite Christmas movie and it would not be nearly as good without you. I wish you luck for your time in office and hope you get back into the movie industry.

To: My Xbox

Dear Xbox, I apologise if I am not spending enough time with you. I know that we used to be the bestest friends in the whole world. But times chance and people grow up. Even me. Although it seems to happen really slowly. I do kind of have a girlfriend that I want to pay attention to and so that means that I have less time to spend with you. Again I am really sorry if this sounds like I am saying that she’s more important than you, and that not really how I want it to come across, because I don’t want to be mean. But she is. I’m really sorry baby, but she has intelligent conversations with me and is really smart. She may not be able to do physics and figure out the trajectories of bullets like you but she gives a hell of a lot better hug than you. Also she is a sentient being. That really helps. I would like to say that it’s me and not you, but that would be a lie. Lately I have been noticing your lack of effort in the commitment area, because you got turned on when my sister pushed your buttons. I mean come on! My sister! As far as I can tell you don’t even love me anymore. You never just light up when I walk into the room. I always have to get you started manually to play with me. not that your performance has disappointed, your still amazingly agile, even when you’ve been going for a long time you never just shut down on me.

But still I have found your lack of effort disappointing. And this is why I am saying that I think we need to take a break. Although I still think we can be good friends, I need to focus my time and energy on Emma. And who knows? Maybe Ill brings her over and we can all play together some time? We have had good times, and they don’t need to end. I just need some space. Thanks for understanding.

To: Bush

I know a lot of people don’t like you. I do. I think you made a lot of mistakes I would have. War? cool! Let’s go! Maybe when I was in the first grade. Oh, well. At leapt you got to retire wealthy. I hope you skimmed money of the Americans while you were in power. I also liked your stance on Kim jong Ill.

To: My computer

I hope you die. I hate you so Fricken much. You never did me any good. You always crashed as soon as I finished my work and just before I saved. You were the new frontier of technology but with all your restraints you held me back. I could have been great, like mafia boy, or like Bill, but you kept me down, and for this I hate you.

To: My Chinese school bus driver

I like the way you say good morning to me everyday. I know its not nice and really I’m making fun of you but It really does brighten my day. Your warm smile and goofy glasses are so great. Although you’re driving sucks. But I will forgive you for that minor transgression. Because you’re funny.

To: myself

I am sorry you have failed me. You had potential, and you wasted it. Giving a bad excuse of “oh I’m depressed” we both know you’re just a weak shit that can’t hack it. That too fucking lazy to try to better himself or his life. Often I hate you and just wish you would die. But now I know that you have another chance, don’t fuck it up. And this girl that you’ve got? She’s the best thing that ever happened to you, don’t you dare fucking hurt her. You better make an effort this time. Because really she deserves better than you and if you don’t does this right you’re going to lose her. And with this university thing? Your dad worked hard to get you into that shit. And if you fuck this up I can’t be held responsible for what I’m going to do to you. Tread softly bitch.

To: John 117

Thank you for saving the universe. I think you are my hero. Although you don’t really exist. That too bad. You’re really cool. And I like your voice. Oh, did you and Cortana have a thing? I always kind of thought you did. Although I guess thats kind of messed up. Whatever she has a nice voice too. And you both don’t exist. So go for it.

To: My thoughts

I think you are deep and profound. However, I am not the definitive decider on things like this. So I shall attempt to get you out of my head and put you onto paper, so I can show you off and inquire as to other people’s opinion of you. Why can t you figure out the universe? That would be helpful.

To: Ho’s

Whets the deal with you? What is your motivation? Why do you do what you do? I don’t understand. Do you need to feel needed? Because we don’t really need you. So you’re not really helping your case. When you figure out what your deal is can you tell my friend Chris@ho.research.com? He really wants to know. He doesn’t understand you, and quite frankly it’s pissing him off. And he is pissing me off in turn. He wants all the secret hoes to have to wear Ho name tags so he doesn’t get mixed up with the wrong girls. Apparently it’s a big problem with him. Poor guy.

To: Dr. Noble

I just wanted to give you a shout out. I don’t think you get enough credit for what you do. Actually I don’t know how much credit you do get. But I haven’t heard you complain about not getting credit. So you must be pretty worthy of credit. Good on ya Doctor Nobes! I applaud you and your enthusiasm for your job. I thank you for putting up with the freaky teens and the wackos that you must have in your profession and for the professionalism you offer along with it. Although I guess the cash doesn’t hurt either? Ah whatever! Good Job! See ya Tuesday!

To: My Depressed friend that has it worse than me

Hang in there friend! I know you can do it! Rah, go get that life you want! Things are looked up! Just stay on the meds and everything will be fine! Remember that Jesus loves you (If he exists, I’m sure he does love you cause he sounds like a good guy) and so do I and we can talk anytime! Just FB me telling me you want to talk and Ill send you my number! I don’t want to put it on here because there are creepers on the interweb! But otherwise I’m here for ya sister!

The following are letters to Ex-girlfriends. You will notice that there are more letters than I have had girlfriends. This may be because I have written two to one person, or because I have made fictional ones up. Good luck guessing which ones you.

To: an ex-girlfriend

Remember that time I said I love you? I lied. I am very sorry. It was selfish and not very nice. But I think that you will realize that it did not really matter in the long run because you were board of me anyway. So I guess it wisent all that big of a deal. And after I did that I felt really bad so now I don’t say that to anyone. Except If I know for sure and have checked and meditated on it to know for sure. I am very careful. Because of your sacrifice that mistake will never happen again. So I thank you, for teaching me the power of words. And how they are a dangerous thing to wield.

To: an ex-girlfriend

You were a good girlfriend. You made second grade rock. Now you’re a gross ho. funny how that worked out.

To: an ex-girlfriend

I don’t know what I was thinking dating you. From now on I will remember not to date people as a personal favour to my friend that was sympathetic to your cause. That was a bad Idea. Now you hate me. And I am definitely not all that fond of you. Oh, and I always thought you were ugly.

To: an ex-girlfriend

I am sorry for hurting you. I take responsibility for that. But we always made better friends. And now we are friends. So I guess that worked out pretty well, huh?

P.S. your broskis is really cool. I want to be his friend too. But he is too cool for me. So I will just stay away I think.

To: an ex-girlfriend

Wow. That went well. Not. Oh, well. I don’t really care. We also made better friends than we did a couple. I really have nothing to say to you. Not in a mean way. But so long and thanks for all the fish, have a good life. Although I will miss hanging out with your family. They were nice. Peace.

To: an ex-girlfriend

You were gross. You spit in my hair and you kicked dust in my eyes. I’m glad that we lasted little over a day.

To: an ex-girlfriend

I never really liked the whole arranged marriage thing myself. I didn’t want to marry you. It really is tragic you couldn’t talk your dad out of it. Although I don’t think it was as bad as you reacted. I mean living your life married to me would still be better than taking a bath with the toaster right? I would have thought so. Apparently you didn’t.

To: an ex-girlfriend

I’m glad you’re dead. I just wish we had tied the knot so I could have gotten some of that cash.

To: an ex-girlfriend

Good thing we found out we were related before we did anything too bad huh? That could have sucked.

To: an ex-girlfriend

You made last summer really fun. We had a good run and it came to a close. And things are better for it. Good times were had by all. Except dusty. He did not have fun. We harassed him. He had hissy fits almost every day. Ha. 30 year old baby.

To: an ex-girlfriend

Why did you have to do it so nicely, like we would still be cool, and then shun me? I thought that was a little weird. But I thank you. For getting me out of a relationship that was never all that constructive from the start. I like how it all turned out eventually.

To: The Reader

I hope you have liked these random letters. I spent a while on them so please comment what you think of them. Or don’t because no one ever does, which is kind of a piss off. Whatever. I just hoped you liked them and that you will refresh this page a bunch to make my page hits go up, and make me feel better about my self. Just kidding, don’t do that that would be dishonest. Your an alright kid you know that?

Peace out:

The mad\hatterstyle

This is a fact of life. We don’t matter. As you said, you are irrelevant. But only to the universe. Not to me. I am equally irrelevant, and therefore see the predicament you face. We are not needed by our world. In our brief time we spend here we will grasp and hold onto the things that we love. Not this world or the stars but the people in our lives that are drowning in inevitability just as much as we are. The people around us that matter to us. And that is why you are relevant; you are significant, maybe not to this giant ball of shit that we orbit the sun on, but to me. Friends are the only thing to give us meaning. For what impact do we have on this universe and world other than that we have on the lives of friends and the people around us? I will never be as important as pharaoh or Buddha or bush. But it doesn’t matter, because they don’t matter. They will all be forgotten, as will I. just because we don’t change the big picture doesn’t mean we should pretend that we don’t matter to anyone or that we don’t touch other peoples lives. Just don’t look at the big picture, enjoy the small eccentricities of your part of the picture, your life, and realise that you matter to someone, you brighten someone’s day, and you shouldn’t overlook that or play it down. Because to the world you may be nobody, but you should realize that your the world to somebody.

It is called “Outlet”. So without further adoo…..here it is….

They’re on their way. I know it. I can hear the sirens though the trees. From were I sit I can barley see the chipped red paint of the mailbox thought the greenery and foliage that conceals me. My hands shake as I pluck a flower from the ground. It’s white with a bright red stain. It’s a trillium. My mother used to plant them in the backyard garden.  She never really liked gardening. Not until dad got laid off, but in the months after he lost his job the flowers seemed to pop up everywhere. Mom must be getting a green thumb, she had told me that once. It didn’t occur to me that her green thumb and her yellow green bruises that had started popping up as frequently as her flowers had any thing to do with each other. I never saw the correlation between the time she spent outside and the time dad spent home. Not until September 13^rd. I walked home from school as usual after another boring day. I never thought it odd that dads truck wasn’t in the driveway, I thought he had probably gone to get more beer, as those trips had become more frequent. I came in the house to find my mother packing. Right away I saw the trickle of blood in the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away and told me she was leaving. I asked why, hoping that it was for business but knowing that it was for good. On that day I had a choice, but I made the wrong one. In the months after mom left she sent me money and called often. She asked me to come live with her but I declined. I couldn’t, as much as I hated taking the brunt of dad’s frustration, I knew that he needed me. He needed an outlet. He would yell at me and curse and I would take it. But gradually I grew tired of it. I needed to get on with my life, I couldn’t do this forever. I would graduate soon, and I would need to start taking care of myself. It made sence to move into the city with mom, and get a job before life caught up with me.

I waited till he came home and told him I was leaving. He yelled and screamed and told me I was a quitter, that I was quitting on family and that I owed him. I owed him for all the stuff he had given me. I owed him for 18 years of rent, and for supporting me by himself after mom left. He blamed her! He blamed her for all his problems. He went on yelling as my ears grew hot and my nails bit into my palms. “Shut up!” I yelled. “Mom was the best thing that ever happened to you!” Anger flashed in his eyes. “No! She abandoned me! And now you are too! You’re ungrateful and useless! I gave you everything!” the heat in my ears had spread though my body, fuelling me, empowering me. I snatched the antique rifle off the mantle and aimed for his head. His eyes showed of terror as I pulled the trigger. Click. “You Idiot!” He laughed. “You think it’s loaded?” Now my face burning from anger and embarrassment I stepped in close and brought the butt of the rifle down on his head. I felt the rifle shudder and heard him scream and I hit him again with the same response. I hit him a third time but this time instead of the thud of the rifle hitting hard bone there was a wet crack and he fell to the floor. As I inspected the dots of hot blood on my hands and forearms I realized his screaming had stopped, leaving me in silence. Dead silence. What have I done? I flung the door open and ran from the house. Someone yelled a question but I offered no response. I ran across the road and into the trees, until I slowed to a stop. In a moment of clarity amidst madness I realized I couldn’t get away with it. There was a witness. They would know it was me. And now here I sit. Waiting for the police. Alone and wanted, ironically for the first time in a long time, with only my thoughts and a blood stained flower for company.

hope you liked.

-Hatterstyle