"He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him...." -- Isaiah 53:2
"Hey, you!" -- a high-pitched voice. I call him Screech, but that's not his name.
"Get your ass up!" -- a lower voice. I call him Bubba. That's not his name either.
"You listening, boy? You better get up!" -- Screech again.
"Get your sorry ass up! Feeding time!" -- Bubba again.
These two, Screech and Bubba. They're mad as hell. Probably hate me too. So much hate in the world. Too much. It needs to go away. I wish I could take that on me, but I can't. There's only so much I can bear, and all the hate in the world, that's too much for me. I know why they talk to me this way. I don't think I deserve it, but they sure do. It wasn't even three days ago, I put my hands around their friends' necks and squeezed. You should've heard the screams. It was like music at midnight. Killed six or seven of them. But I only remember bits and pieces. Everything went black. Now I'm here in this jail cell. Maybe if it were seven instead of six that would give me good luck. I don't want it to be six. That's not a good number. They taught us that at Sunday school. Not that I ever really paid attention in church...
SCREECH
He never listens. I bet this ugly son of a bitch is deaf.
No. I'm not deaf. But ugly, yes you're right. I've always been ugly. Inside and out. Like these rats. Like these centipedes. Even they don't want to be near me. I don't blame them. I'd have no problem grabbing one of those fat rats and twisting it in half. And the centipedes. Just stomp on them. They don't even stand a chance. This is what it's like to be a killer. Part of me enjoys it. Part of me is scared. I still don't know how or why this happened. Just know that you'll be next. And your friend. Sometimes I feel bad about it, but then you open your ignorant white trash mouth and I change my mind.
BUBBA
He's a freak. Touched in the head. Maybe deaf too. I wouldn't be surprised.
I'm not deaf. But fine. Call me a freak. Call me crazy. Fine. We'll see.
SCREECH
I'd put money on him being a deaf mute! Poor bastard can't even talk.
BUBBA
Don't go feeling sorry for him like he's a whipped dog. He killed nine of our guys. To hell with him! I'd beat him myself if I wasn't afraid he'd snap my neck the minute I get in that cell.
Nine. It was nine. That's better than six. Well, only if you look at it my way. If you look at it from their perspective, I guess they'd want it to be zero. But see, I was taught that zero wasn't a good thing. Just like six. But that was in school, not church. I didn't pay much attention in school either. I didn't need to. They were all idiots.
SCREECH
How you figure a loser like this can kill nine men?
BUBBA
I don't know, man. Just push the plate into the cell, and let's get the hell outta here.
SCREECH
Oh, right. Yeah. Food. Can't believe we're still feeding this lowlife.
BUBBA
Right. Because that's what the boss tells us to do.
SCREECH
You know, I was thinking. Maybe he's one of them mutants.
BUBBA
Who? The boss?... or this guy?...
SCREECH
This guy, of course! Look what he did! We couldn't even find a weapon anywhere near him. All our guys were just strangled and everything was ripped to shr --
BUBBA
Enough! This isn't the X-Men, you dumbass. This is real life.
Real life. Are you sure? For me, the world is not the world anymore. Not after it went black. Maybe I was always a killer and I just can't remember. Or maybe this was the first time I killed nine men with my bare hands, and I should feel bad about it. I don't know. Is this real? Is it a bad dream? I get those urges. They come out of nowhere. Did you ever feel the urge to kill? Believe me, you don't want to. It's like when you're hungry and haven't eaten for days. And you have to eat something. Just bite right into it like a juice cheeseburger....
SCREECH
My favorite part of the X-Men movies is when --
BUBBA
I don't give a damn what your favorite part of some dumb movie is.
SCREECH
You don't hafta to be so mean, you know.
BUBBA
With freaks like him around, you gotta stay tough. None of that baby st -- Awww, damn! Look at this son of a bitch, he's drooling down the front of himself! Eyes wide open!
SCREECH
My god, look at those eyes! It's like he's not even there. Just staring right through everything. Glad he's behind those bars!... Hello! Hey ugly! You there? You hear me? You there?
It's happening again. I can't think straight. I can't control it. Or maybe I can but I just let it happen. The anger rises up and explodes like a bomb inside me. Is it anger? Is it something else? I don't know. This is what happens. It's like the stories. Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde. Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk. Human into.... something else... something more than human.... something better than human. Screech said I'm a mutant. Maybe he's right. I don't know. My body feels like it's on fire. Like I've been thrown into a furnace. Why is this happening? Feels like my skin is tearing off of me. I hear myself growling like an animal. My eyes are watering. Everything will go black again soon. That's what happens every time. I enjoy it thought. I really do. No matter how much it hurts. The weak part is gone. I never liked that part anyway. Yes, Screech. I am here. But soon you won't be here....
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2 of 5!
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Man of Sorrows
Short StoryEugene Fulmerford was a good man once, or at least he thinks he was. Then came the night when everything went black. He can't remember why he did it. Their necks broke so easily in his grasp. Sometime he's sorry for what he did; sometimes not. The o...
