The 1-2-3 Kid

The 1-2-3 Kid

Ch. 00: Introduction

            Life is a circle. It’s not a square, or a triangle, or a trapezoid, or a rhombus, or any of the other irrelevant shapes that were first introduced in a dusty old math textbook, courtesy of our first grade teacher. No – life is a circle. There’s no definite start or end. But I’m fairly certain that my circle started when we moved to 192 West Baker Street, exactly two-hundred feet from the town cemetery. Or, to be more exact, two-hundred feet from the property line of Estella Constantine.

            On nights as clear as this, I remember our first – and only – conversation. It only took a few seconds for her to hate me. No, hate isn’t the right word. Loathed, perhaps? Yes, loathed sounds much better. I’m still a little hazy on the details, and the words that she spat in my face still aren’t clear, but when I looked in the mirror later I knew that they were a curse. In a matter of seconds, for no reason that I could fathom, she had sunk her venomous claws into my flesh and turned me into a monster.

            But I’m getting ahead of myself. The name’s Edric. Edric Acry. I won’t bore you with my whole life story, but only with what you need to know: I’m innocent. That witch, Estella-fucking-Constantine, had it out for me. Hell, for all I know, she had it out for the world. At least, that’s what I thought. That’s the illusion she uses, the mask that she hides behind. I don’t know much about her, save from what I overhear, but I do know that every night, she sits out on her windowsill and cries. I know she’s broken.

            It’s a wonder that after the universe created Estella Constantine, they broke the mold.