"May the day I met him be damned."
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.
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This is the story of a guy named Mateo. Mateo F. Smith.
His life wasn't out of the ordinary. Nor it was ordinary, either.
His mother wasn't great with him, his father was almost always upsent. He never got a...
Memories from my past haunt me, and the future that awaits me terrifies me. Sometimes I wish I could stop thinking. Specially when I look at him.
"Dave Miller".. William. He... Scares me.
... No. "Scares" is a... strong word. It's not really what I feel. But I can't bear with the memories he brings up. The kids, the screams, the blood, the tests. I just can't.
I promised I would change, and I did. I like to think that. But when I look at him, it's like I'm going back in time, going through every single aspect of my life once again. How I acted in the past, the things he did to us.
...Heck. That bastard. That's who I'm really scared of.
And god, may the day he found me be damned.
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Somewhere near the 1980s. I remember those days. I remember it was summer, I was at least 22 years old. My life back then wasn't great; neither was I. My mother refused to talk to me after knowing what "i had become", and my father... Who knows where he was. I never actually had a long-lasting conversation with him; I just knew both of my parents were dissapointed with who I was. And who wouldn't?
I was a rebel, even if I tried to make things better, I would end up dissobeying them, talking back, making them angry. They hated me for that, and told me to leave their house as soon as I could when I turned 18. It was in my genes, I guess; and I hated that. That was also the reason why I never actually made friends. I'm the only one to blame.
That summer was specially the worst. The rent of the place where I had been staying in went up, and I began to struggle with paying it along with my studies. I was stressed out.
I remember that afternoon. I was coming back from the university, searching for keys in a badly made bag. It wasn't a busy street. Not many people went out of their houses, it was quiet most of the time, and it was maybe the only good thing I had back then. I was approaching my home until I heard someone rush towards me from the back and grab my wrist tightly.
─ Give me everything you've got. Or I'm shootin' ya.
I heard a gun reload near my head. I could have given him the keys, or even better, my whole bag. It's not like I had anything valuable there; But I decided to use force to break free. It worked, or so I thought for 2 seconds before feeling a sharp pain on my chest.
I felt how my body fell down, collapsing onto the sidewalk. Whoever they were took my useless bag and pushed me to an alley, and then ran off. My vision was blurry for multiple minutes; It was clear to me now that I was bleeding out, and heck, it hurt. "This is it", I though, "It's the end."
