Four Best Friends 2: A New Perspective

Chapter 21 - A New Perspective

Chapter 21 - A New Perspective 

Is this what you wanted? Is this what makes you happy? You're obviously some sick individual if my suffering brings you joy and entertainment. Well, I wanted you to know that I'm pulling out all the stops here. It's my turn to take control of this story. Before my time on this Earth runs out, I want to tell my story to see if you guys will believe me or not. I'm certainly not leaving this life as trash, hoping that my next lives will be better. That's not the way I'm going to live; that's not the way anyone should live!

By now you should know who's writing this but for the weak of mind... Never mind. I'm not going to tell you who's writing this. You'll have to figure it out from the clues of the upcoming passages. It'll be on this paper where I write my life story. It'll be on this paper where I'll set myself ablaze and watch myself burn. It'll be on this paper where I'll be able to start anew. 

There's a couple things that you'll find out about me while reading this. One of these things include the fact that I suffer from a mental disorder. This might or might not have impacted the way I decided to live my life up until this point. Now, let's get on with the story! I bet no one wants to hear me ramble on about nothing.

I was born into an abusive family, specifically my father. He had interesting ideas on how to raise children. More like experiments actually. He carried these "experiments" out on me to see how I would be brought up. 

The experiments were never had a happy ending. I remember cowering under my covers, my whole body shaking while goosebumps ran down my arms. It felt like a doctor was trying to stick pins in my arms for fun. That's what it was like living with my father. To be completely honest, I blocked out most of the memories of my family so I can only tell you what I remember. I sincerely think that lying is a terrible thing. And from that last sentence, you can consider me the biggest hypocrite.

My mother was a better person than my father. That was the only silver lining at the time. Don't get me wrong, she was still a terrible person. Just a bit kinder hearted than my father. I sometimes dreamt that she would be the one to punish me instead of my father.

Ahhh.... Punishments. I used to think that that's what the experiments were about. I was being punished for something I did wrong. 

My father was a gun fanatic back in the day. He simply adored those tiny death machines. He used to take me to the gun ranges back then to teach me how to shoot. We had to go to this remote one thirty miles away from home because I was underage. 

On a rather sunny day, he decided to drive me over to the old gun range for our routine shooting lessons. My father knew that I did not like guns. I was undoubtedly the exact opposite of him. He told me that I'd need to know how to shoot a gun "For the correct moment". He birthed this idea of me being a silent soldier. That when the time came, I would need to protect myself. I bet he knew what he had coming...

Anyway, on this specific day, my father had to go to the restroom so he told me to keep shooting. I would tightly close one eye while the other focused on the target. I took time tracing the edges of the curled trigger, getting to know all of its ins and outs. For a couple seconds, I felt powerful. I felt like I was the king of the world. I could control the fate of others with one simple machine. This way I'd never get hurt.

But I let my shoulders relax and kept the gun dangling by my side. Why do I have the right to play God? Everyone is human, just like me; it wouldn't be right to take another's life. Those thoughts ran through my head and clouded my mind. When my father came back, I shot the gun.

Fast forward a couple years to when I was twelve. I was in school, middle school to be precise. I was a smart kid as well. Most of the other kids didn't like me because I was super shy. I always felt their hate filled stares glazed around me. They always talked about me behind my back as well. It was constant. I'd be walking down the hallway, then people would giggle and start talking. They don't have the right to talk to me like that...