Conceited. A terrible word to be described as. Thinking of no one but yourself. I hate it. I also hate making anything about me. But this is. This is about all the “shit” I’ve gone through. But honestly…it wasn’t shit at all. It was my life. It was what happened that made me what I am as I write this. My name is Marvick and this is my shit.
Everything went wrong when I was 6 years old. I was a really happy kid, and my future looked as normal and happy as anyone else’s. Until that one night.
I was in my bed, at the point in the falling asleep system when you’re eyes are about to close for 8 hours. But I was jerked awake by a crash that sounded like my front door just caved in. I threw the covers off me and opened my bedroom door to the railing of the stairs. I looked down and there was this ginormous, ripped guy looking around. The blood drained from my face as my parents came out of their room to see what was going on. They went paler than I was when they saw who was downstairs.
“Son, son listen to me very carefully.” My father said to me in an urgent whisper. “You need to run. If he catches you, he will do very bad things to you. Go through the window in our room and hide until he leaves. Do you understand?”
I shook my head, tears beginning to form. “No! I don’t want to leave you and mommy! Come with me!”
My mother was crying quietly and she said, “Listen to your father please. Go!” before she screamed. I was shocked by this sudden cry of pain and stepped back as she fell to the floor.
“Marla!” My dad yelled just as he let out an equally pained noise.
I began to cry. What was happening? Why were mommy and daddy suddenly screaming and falling down? The big man was at the top of the stairs, staring at me with dark, menacing eyes. Out of nowhere I started hearing faint screams of children being…tortured? I don’t know. They got louder and louder and soon I was screaming to hear myself. I couldn’t think or focus on anything. The dying kids were drowning everything out. I fell to my knees and moments later wound up on my side in a fetal position. Then I blacked out.
4:32 a.m. Normal time for me to wake up; drenched in sweat plus a raw throat from screaming is too. I push off the blankets and head to my small bathroom. I undo the braid I put my black hair in last night and toss my shorts and boxers to the floor. I step in my shower and clean up from the night’s nightmare. Five minutes later I’m in fresh boxers and drying my hair with a towel. I pull on some black jeans and a long sleeve red-and-black striped shirt. My feet step into a pair of Vans, a strap that attaches to a bag graces my shoulder and my hip length hair is back in a messy braid. I lock up my apartment and head to work. This is my usual routine before I go to school. Every day, except weekends. The only difference on weekends is that I don’t go to school. Duh. I work at a restaurant as whatever they need me at the moment. This morning looks like they need me to throw people out. I help clean up ‘til about 7 then I tell my boss I’m heading to school. He just waves at me to go so I do.
It takes me about 15-20 minutes to get to school. And I leave at 7 so that I can just head straight to class and not talk to anyone. Not that anyone comes up to talk to me anyway. But still.
Normal school day, with a shit-ton of homework. Ah well. I head back to work and my boss tells me to go home.
“You need to do something other than come here Marv! Go find a pretty girl and have some fun.”
“C’mon boss! Get real! Can I stay and do my homework or something?”
“Go home Marvick. I mean it.”
I mumble curses as I head out. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning…”
What a day. Couldn’t get any worse I suppose. I’m a dull person. I work, go to school, go to work, go home and do homework. Then I try and stay awake as long as possible. The longest time I’ve slept is five hours. I mainly live off of 2-4 hours of sleep. I know I’m boring. But I have no reason to do more than I already do.
