Am I a monster?

You were poor yet loved when you were young. They may not have had enough to buy all your school books, let alone toys, but your parents made up for it by trying hard everyday making sure you well provided as possible for school. You never made any friends in your first three years, but you had your imaginary friend by your side, your wooden princess. She used to be there for you all the time... right up until she told you scared her and abandoned you. Suddenly, no one wanted to see you. They all feared you.
Your loving parents, who while could not look you in the eye least look at your face, still tried their best. They were the only people you could count on... until they were involved in a hit and run and you knew it was the cruel neighbor from behind your house that did them in.

You never liked him and he never liked you. You over heard him threaten your mum that you were only good for one thing and it was between his legs. You may be young, but you were mature enough to understand what he said. You always hated him. And with nothing to live for, you let your anger run loose and fury overtook you.

You don’t remember what happened. You saw red and then came to with him dead in his kitchen, blood everywhere and banging on the door as red and blue lights flashed outside the front window. They opened the door, stared at you as you back into the corner screaming at them, and they fled. It started to hurt. You weren’t any different. In the midst the chaos around you, you spied a mirror and your reflection... haunted you. You scared yourself. You feared yourself.

You ran.

No one stopped you, and those that did, did so half heartedly and when you resisted, they stopped. You couldn’t hear, as if you suddenly went deaf. No, you could hear, but more like sense the sounds. No one was nice. When you were catching your breath in a park, some teenagers were throwing stones at you. Next thing you knew, you had saw red and they were on the ground, everywhere on the ground. As if you ripped them apart. As if you were a monster.

You found a mask later on, hiding in an alley behind some bins, hungry enough to sift through them for some food. You put it on, to hide the face that you fear the most. After a few months of living like this, you forgot your name. you noticed you had stopped growing. You noticed how ugly the world can be. You hated to be seen. You adapted. You feared everything, but it was okay.

Once dead, nothing can hurt you. 

i am not to be feared

Scrap 1 - Found in the drafts for a status update on a small social media website

I was walking down my street at night. Sometime in May. I live in quite a peaceful area that I don’t normally need to worry about my safety. I liked to walk late at night, quite calming and all. It’s a nightly ritual for me now. However, just now, I thought I saw something unusual. I saw a child wearing a blank white mask in tattered clothes under a house’s shadow... I went straight home and for the first time since the series of break-ins in the area 3 years back, locked my doors and closed my windows. Something was off and I felt it like a child alone at night feels when the shadows become much more.

I was scared. Something was wrong, but what? Why had that child scared me so?

Scrap 2 - Found in a notebook belonging to the victim

Today, I woke up feeling horrible. Had terrible dreams due to that kid. He was probably playing murder in the dark or something like that, most likely. I brushed it off. Right up until I saw him in the area again, peeping in a window at the house opposite mine across the road. I called in sick that day for work, and took a week off.

What is with that kid?

Scrap 3 - Found written in another notepad in the car belonging to the victim. The text was just legible and has been rewritten by scribes to make the evidence more readable.

I went to Arthur’s house. He has lived in the area for all his life and is hitting the late eighties. I inquired about the kid from three nights ago after I caught him peeking into my window. His response was “He is not to be feared” which I had thought to mean that the kid was okay, which clearly wasn’t the case for he continued “He is terror and dread, extreme in own fear of us that he may lash out at those that he feel that may threaten him. Now go, for I have betrayed him and I fear that we may both be killed. Go!”

I fled. I ran. And I saw him as I turned back at the end of the street, him watching me.

Scrap 4 - Found stuff in the hole of the victim’s body, where the heart should be. Should have been covered in blood had the body possessed any. Time of death unknown.

He is here. Outside my hotel door. I didn’t go home. He followed me. How did he get inside? He scares me.


Written on the walls in blood after the murder of Louis Cartel:

i am not to be feared