How To Create A Monster
- Reads 589
- Votes 17
- Parts 8
Ongoing1h 15m
Last published Wed, Sep 17, 2014
"Nobody's evil for evil's sake." His voice was gentle, but held so much raw emotion it made me tear up. "No one even loves me. Why should I even try?" I laughed homorlessly. I'm all alone in this damned world. I've already killed my father. The cause of my family's seperation and suffering was standing right in front of me and I'll be a fool not to kill him right now when he's so vulnerable. I mean, what can the court do if I kill another person? Get me hung twice? I would already be dead the first time. I put my finger on the trigger as I aimed for his head. "Well," He calmly says as he looks at the gun, then back to me. "Your sister loves you, your mum definitely loves you. I loved you the first time your mother introduced you. You were so happy." My hands go shaky at the reminder as tears obscured my vision as I bit my quivering bottom lip. Stupid, good for nothing liar. I quickly blinked the tears away and steadied my hands. I lowered the gun and aimed it at his heart this time. For a second there, I almost believed him. No wonder my sister and mother fell for his stories. I would've too, a long time ago. But unluckily for him, I'm not that little naive girl anymore. Let's see how he feels when someone breaks his heart for once. Literally. This is my life, this is my story, this is How To Create A Monster. -Illustration: Darkfade07
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No one stopped to look. No one glanced in the alley I cried in. I was tired of this place, so tired of the endless days that stretched out before me. The emptiness in my heart was eating me alive, with no end in sight. My own darkness was swallowing me whole and leaving nothing alive. The tears froze on my bright red cheeks. I was tired of feeling so broken, but most of all I was tired of being so alone. I pulled out the cold heavy weapon from my coat and stared at it. "If someone would look this way," I thought, "If someone would just glance at me and see my pain. I won't do it." There was a man standing in front of me. After he removed the single bullet from my pistol, he handed it back to me, and left. I followed the man at a distance back to his apartment. He knew that I had followed him and waited at the door to let me in. For reasons I cannot explain I entered his tiny apartment. I fell asleep at the table playing with the bullet and woke up to my alarm the following morning. There was a pillow beneath my head, a blanket over my shoulders, and a note that read: "Dear Stranger..."
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