Short Stories

An Imperfect World

This world, that of which was imperfect with its people who cared not about others, but themselves. They would use the people who loved them with every bit of them as stepping stones in order to move forward in life. Though that's not the case in all of us humans, it is enough to despise them all. I pray that the humans will die out of their own actions, to whatever it is that they do.

"Should we remove all of it to perfect this world?" Larry would say to me. His whispers emitted each earlobe, they would tinge with my heart. I wanted to listen to his whispers.

"I'd rather not do this, today Larry." I held the knife to my arm, the plethora of cuts already self-completed-- bleeding even. My sharp exhale with a sense of relief with the flick of my wrist. Each one would relieve a bit of the pain, all of the torture that this world had made me endure.

"Garry!" I could hear my sister shouting at me from outside my door. I ignored her presence whatsoever, I didn't care about what they wanted from me... It didn't matter whatsoever what I could provide for them. They would leave me eventually, let me perish whilst they move on with their lives.

"What do you want?" Larry asked.

"I want to be happy!"

"Is that what you really want?"

I stood up from my desk and ran to the mirror, looking upon my reflection. In moments it would begin to move, walking around the room. The cuts on my arm were on the other side within the reflection. Everything about Larry was nearly the opposite of what my appearance once had.

"Yes! What else would I want!?"

"So. How will you obtain it? How will you try to change in order to obtain the happiness you desire?"

I pictured a portrait of my family, my sister, mother, father, and my little brother. All of which were torn about within my imagination, my brother had a bullet in his forehead, my father faded away, and I would soon split from the portrait. I peered at my left arm, the cuts that were there, some were bleeding, some were old scars of what I had done.

"I will try to talk to someone!"

Larry walked around the room once more before he looked at me. "What about Aaren? Didn't he-- oh! I mean she. When she tried to help you out, what did you do, Garry?"

The memories of me telling everyone on social media and the entire school about Aaren being trans, about what she was... How much I had spread about her...

"That's right. You know what you did, Garry. I hope that was enough for you, to make the pain go away; you had to ruin someone else's, hmm?"

I held the knife against my arm again, pressing it onto my skin till it bled. I slit my arm once more, lowering the volume of Larry. "Shut up!"

"No matter how much you inflict wounds upon yourself, I will always be here. You know I will always be here. Now," Larry would sit down on the bed, "what memory do we go back to?"

I slammed my head against the wall. Attempting all I could to make him shut up.

"Do you really think that killing yourself would--"

"Yes!"

"And bring more despair to your sister and mother?"

The image of my mother and sister crying at my corpse, the bleeding corpse that may be. The thought of such brought a dreadful pain within it, the pain would not subside to the amount of force I applied to myself. That of which wouldn't be communicated to the world, only to Larry. Only to him, he would be wary of my situation, of whatever I did, he was there watching it all unfold.