Zootopia: Not My World [DISCONTINUED]

Chapter 5

I woke up, my heart full of pain and sorrow. Other me was right, I won't last much longer like this. I only see him in my dreams. But he does help me a lot. I might as well explain what what was going on.

Last time I snapped was about two months after Mom died. It was because no one would listen to me when I tried to tell anyone how I felt. Everyone simply ignored me, thinking I was of no importance. They thought they would get away with it, but they were sorely mistaken. After going through all of that neglect, I felt a burning sensation in my heart, as if it had combusted into flames of hatred. I heard the voices of the people who had ignored me when I needed them.

"Piss off."

"Not now."

"Stop pestering me!"

But the very last voice is what triggered that switch inside of me.

"No one cares about your feelings, and no one ever will!"

I could feel the rage clouding my mind, making my blood boil. I had armed myself with a knife from the kitchen - a rather large one; big enough to kill. I had one desire: revenge. I wanted to make those who disregarded my need to vent. It was their fault I had become this psychopathic monster.

By the time I was finally able to control myself, I had wiped out nearly the entire town. The few people that had survived already evacuated the area to safety. I wandered around the lifeless town, now filled with lifeless bodies. I had managed to slaughter eleven police officers, and even an entire SWAT team, armed with a simple kitchen knife. I came to a conclusion that my strength increases dramatically while I was in that state, practically invincible.

Every witness who saw me in the act was killed. It was clear that those who managed to escape didn't find out who the murderer was. My father was one of them, as he had taken me away to move to a different town, called "Berkley", in fear that I may be mercilessly slaughtered if we were to stay.

To this day, no one has ever found out about my horrible actions. And to be honest, I don't know if it was even really me who murdered them all. I couldn't control it.

But that was in the past. I needed to move on, no matter how much that memory tortured me. But I have one question...

How long will I last?

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