F.L.Y.N.N [ Book no.1 of "The Fouling Damned duo"]

01: 03 | I am no murderer

I press the semiautomatic switch on my AK-47 rifle.

Aim, press, trigger,

The aim, trigger.

Trigger.

BAM!

I am no murderer.

Instead, I'm a lurking creep who just sold his soul to the devil, that's why he resulted in killing off the remains of the devil himself.

Like I told YOU before, you are the light that was creeping out the peak of a cave. That cave, being me and my loneliness.

I wasn't always like this. But I guess the more you seem to try to open yourself up to people that don't give a crap about me and I get cramped: between their judgmental glares and non-consistent texts. It's so weird how even when I try to, be myself since I have been playing the part of "Mr.CreepyGuy" for so long (longer than you can fathom): that no one even knows who I am. Who am I? What is my purpose?

Who's mother was the talk of CNN news ten years ago? Mine.

And that's hardly the point.

*******

" Mom, you'll promise me that when I get to college you'll help me find a part-time job, right?" I pecked a kiss on the top of my mother's head. I was growing that was for sure.

At nine years old I was almost 5'0, and my mother was only 5'4. I was bouncy today. As a nine-year-old one is always bouncing around.

Whether it be on the leather sofas or the dog-poop-stained carpets. My dog, Freddy Jr. was limping in and out of his cage like a mad-dog.

He simply couldn't decide whether or which he should just stay in his cage or get out and play with the tennis balls my child-self was juggling. It was a feat to be able to know how to juggle four tennis balls at age nine. Anything done at age nine would be known as a feat.

It's just not the same once we all get out of the neverland stage.

I remember the day my mother died. It was terror and unstable at the time, but now it seems so fresh in my mind.

The way that the nine-year-old me had a free-for-all at the neighborhood swimming pool. I remembered the way that the chlorine stung at my legs and itched my hair.

My hair at the time was a long and hazy mess: every day was the get-out-of-bed look for nine-year-old me.

After making unsuccessful whirlpools out of the pool water, I lounged at my friend Rory who was gleefully swimming past six feet, bragging like he just "bested" me at my four feet level: and I was walking on the pool.

Besides, when kids start to grow past four feet, they could easily cheat their way past others in the swimming pool. Nine-year-old me sighs, and wonders: Where is mom? Didn't I just see her talking to old lady Ms.Rogers?

My mother was nowhere to be found. It's either she was playing a good game of hide-and-seek or went back home.

Oh, well.

If one thing was for certain, it was that not everything in life lasts.

A hand could reach out and say, "grab my hand. I'll save you from falling." But to fall didn't mean to die. At least not in my case. When the price for revenge was always high on my end. Everyone I ever knew has betrayed me anyway.