Life not my own

Avatar image for under_dog
Under Dog

168

Forum Posts

0

Wiki Points

0

Followers

Reviews: 0

User Lists: 0

#1  Edited By Under Dog

“Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish they would leave me alone. Everyday, they harass me. They break my pride, try and destroy my life.” The young teenager thought to himself as he stared at the two punks who had bullied him. They were harassing someone else at that very moment. It might give him an opportunity to slip by on his way home, unnoticed.

“No,” he thought, “they would pay.” Picking up a brick that was laying in the ally way, he quietly sneaked behind the two as they cornered their target. The cornered boy was angry, he could tell, wanted to lash out and defend himself, but couldn't, and he would have to do it for him. Quickly he struck, a solid blow, to the back of ones head, dropping him like a rock. The other looked in astonishment, full on, in his eyes. Taking the opportunity while he had the chance, he leaped upon him, bringing the brick hard into his face, shattering the nose, and possibly the jaw. After kicking the unconscious ones a few times, he looked to see the kid still cowering in the corner.

“It's ok, I don't think they will bother either of us again.” He tried to comfort the boy, who was probably about his age. “Come on, let's get out of here before they come too, or someone sees us.”


The boy looked up, full on into his face, and that same look of astonishment was in his eyes as well. It was his own face. He was looking at himself, the victim. A massive fear and desire to get away overwhelmed him, a feeling that he was cornered and had to get away. Instinct took over, and he lashed out once more, as hard as he could. The boy fell, not like the others had. He had died, and he knew it.


It took only a couple moments for him to realize what had happened. He had taken on another's form and identity once more, and this time it meant the death of the luckless lad. It started fading quickly, the memories that he had been subconsciously reading from the child's head. But what he had done, it would stick with him. He now had another of his own memories. Maybe this time, he would be able to keep control, maybe this would be enough to allow him to be his own person. To have a connection with his own experiences that would stop others lives from overtaking his. He tossed the stone to the side, knelt down, and thanked the child for what he had given him, and asking the fates to forgive him what he had done, and left.