Vincent

I've edited it. |:

So, you want to know about me. Not exactly little or old, but me. It’s like opening a book, or a letter; to read for your own enjoyment, or maybe because you have to. Maybe you can read it in my eyes, on my face, and in the way I talk to you. Maybe there’s more to my medium-brown hair, and green-silver eyes. Maybe you can’t. Maybe I look like the tough guy, or the scary guy to you. I know I have a few screws loose in my head that you cannot or will not ever see; my tall frame being a tool to loom over people.  Something I refuse to tell anyone because it would just result in something worse. Everyone has secrets, but I promise mine is more severe than you could ever know. I guess I’m dodging around the actual statement I’m supposed to be making, but that’s only natural for me. It’s a reaction I don’t know how to reverse. And as I stand in front of you, hands in my pocket, an off expression on my face I open my mouth to speak.

                “I did it.”

                “Did what?” you reply, your face giving me that pitying, confused look. You looked as if you were about to pull your lank blonde hair back with those bony hands.  I purse my lips and look away from you. You’re the reason I’m in here. You disgust me.

                “You know, I did it.” I emphasize “it” to get my point across. I didn’t want to be blunt.

                “You’re going to have to tell me what “it” is one day Vincent.” You say a pitying look upon your face. As if I’m some poor animal that’s been given away for reasons only known to it, which was true in a sense. No one here knew what I had done or why I had done it. They just knew I was in here. You shift in your seat.

                “You already know what it is. I shouldn’t have to explain myself. And I’ve already told you. I’m not who you seem to think I am.” I explained bitterly. Sighing, you stand up and walk me to the door. It was the same day after day and I think you were getting tired of it.

                “No, I do not know what “it” is, and I wish you would tell me. We’re about to give up and just send you to The Place. Because if you aren’t who we think you are, who are you?” You sound disappointed. Fear crawls through my skin at the mention of The Place. The sole place where I had come back from not too long ago, or more likely escaped, was the way. My memory was tugging me to think of the pure fear of what they had done. It was eating at my heart and tugging at the part of me that I wanted to say something. The logical part of me screams for something to be said. I sigh in contempt.

                “You really want to know what I did, don’t you?” I ask, bitterness staying in my voice.  Instead of answering, you just nod. Looking down at my watch, I check the minute. If I timed this right I wouldn’t have to say a word about it. If not, it could spell disaster. Well, not actually disaster. I wasn’t exactly sure what had happened to me in The Place, I just knew I didn’t like it and I didn’t want to go back; at any cost. Just admittance to what I couldn’t say. I hear your foot tapping against the linoleum of the floor. Green, white, brown, green, white, brown �" I say in my head counting the colors of each tile.  3, 2, 1, and off goes the timer on your desk.  The time with you for today is over and I want to hurry to get out. But you’re still standing there, angry expression on your face, in front of my exit. I glare at you and shove my hands deeper in my jacket pockets.

                “I want an answer. You can’t just dodge around this question for the rest of your life.” You press. I feel the anger bubbling below my skin like the fear had, but the anger didn’t pass. I fought to keep control of myself as you stood there waiting.

                “I’m allowed out now; you’re holding me against my free will.” I growl. She didn’t seem scared of me and that struck me as odd. Everyone was scared of me no matter who they were when I was almost mad. It was just something I had gotten used to. You looked small compared to me anyways.

                “You’re allowed out, but you’re not leaving until you tell me. Now, Vincent, tell me what “it” is.” You were demanding. I’ll give you that, but it’s much. I still didn’t know why you called me that name.

                “Move, and quit calling me that.” I retorted. I was taking deeps gulps of air to make sure I didn’t go overboard. Something about that name was familiar, but I didn’t know.

                “Move? I do believe I am the one in charge here.” Your tone was annoying, peeving. My eyes were flashing with fury. I didn’t want to tell you what “It” was. You didn’t deserve to know about me. About the monster that lived within me, or that had lived in me. I stepped closer to you, looking down at your small figure. It gave me a sense of power, but then I got a hold of myself. No need for repeats. My lips pursed, I turned around. If you really wanted to know; I guess there was no choice except to tell you what “it” was.

                “I really shouldn’t be telling you this. You are an abomination. You’re the reason I’m in this place, and you haven’t even the slightest clue what I’ve done. You falsely accuse me when you send me in this place of torture. Even though I have done something that cannot be reversed, that I should be ashamed of to an extreme extent, but I’m not. I don’t think I did any wrong at all. You all are in the wrong because you’re accusing me of a crime I did not commit.” I tell you. Since my back is still to you, I have no idea what your face is saying.

                “What do you mean?” official as ever. I sigh and turn around. Your eyes do not fear me, they are calculating me.

                “I don’t think I was wrong for killing her. I think I was in the right. People like her shouldn’t exist in this world.” I carefully watch your face as I say this. I see a glimmer of something in them before you mask it again. Not allowed to show fear, are you? I think to myself as I look away.

                “Who is “her?”” you question. Should I tell you who “her” is? Would it be wrong to tell you how much of a monster I had been? What would you think of me? I swallow, but not nervously.

                “My mother,” I say through clenched teeth, “She’s the one I killed.”

                “Your mother is the one you killed? You’re lying.” I hear confusion in your voice.

                “Yes. You sound confused. I’m not lying about this.” I laugh, but it’s without feeling. I turn around again to look at you. If ever there was a time you had emotion on you face, it was now. Lying was one of the biggest crimes in this place. Most of those things out there couldn’t even tell a lie. It was programmed into their heads, this law: You shall not lie in any case. There wasn’t any way I was going to follow a law that could not be followed. Everyone lied at least once in their lives. It was something that could not be avoided.

                “Why would you lie about a thing like that?” you ask. You hadn’t expected that. Of course you hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t what you’d wanted to her..

                “Because, it’s not like it was necessary for you to know.” My voice was level enough, but I really wanted to get out of this room.  “Can I go now?” You didn’t reply to me. I pushed you aside and opened the door.

                “You can’t run from it Vincent.” You called, a little late in in time-reaction to what I said.

                “I’m not running. I haven’t been either. You just don’t understand what had to be done. Apparently you think I’m someone else.” I answered.  Walking away from you I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know you had to be wondering what I meant by “it had to be done.” Why I was so reluctant to tell you about what had happened. Just keep it vague I told myself. My feet touched another room and instead of going in I stopped. You were standing there in front of me, eyes wary, hands held out. What could you possibly want now?

                “You’re running from this. Come back to the room.” You stated. You were lying. I wasn’t lying about running. You just didn’t know that. Couldn’t see that I was happier without the burden I had relieved.

                “Why do you keep assuming that I’m running from it? Did you ever think that I’m just trying to get away from you? Away from that stupid room you put me in EVERY day. That’s what I’m trying to do.” I sighed. You were still looking at me in denial. What did it take for you to get the point…?

                “Why’d you do it? Why are you lying to me?” Ah, the question I had been waiting for you to ask. Why? Why did I do it? I pursed my lips.

                “Why should I tell you?” was my reply. I had tried to keep the bitter tone out of my voice, but I didn’t quite succeed.

                “So I can make sense of why you’re running from me when you’ve been somewhat obedient lately.” There you went again with that theory I’m “running.”

                “I already told you, I’m not running.” I didn’t try to keep the bitterness out.

                “Then what are you doing? Why aren’t you telling me about it?” I cocked an eyebrow at your tone. I thought about that question for a little bit, opened my mouth and shut it again, and then looked at you.

                “If I was running from it I’d be in a worse condition than I am now. Agreed? She deserved what she got. I’m not lying to you, I promise.” You still weren’t convinced. I could tell by the way you were looking at me.

                “Grab him.” Wait, what? Grab me? I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my arms and torso.

                “Let. Me. Go.” I screamed. It was just, monstrous, but then again who’s to say I was human? The Place had to have changed me in some way because I was different. I was being accused of something that I didn’t have the slightest clue of what it was. The arms tightened around me and started pulling me back. I wasn’t fighting just yet.

                “We’re just going to take you somewhere you can tell us what happened. Isn’t that alright?” there was something off-kilter about your voice.  It made me think that you would do anything short of killing me to get this out of my heart. Something I don’t believe was there. Why did you want to know so badly? What was so important about me in all of this? They dragged me off with you in tow. A face of certain bitter amusement I knew was there was masked by a false scowl. I couldn’t do anything just yet; key word, yet.

                “Where exactly are you taking me?” I tried to keep my tone nonchalant.

                “Don’t worry about it. You’ll know soon enough.” Your heels were clicking on the floor. Was that a chuckle? Was there something seriously wrong with your head? With that, they took me through some doors that I had seen before and didn’t like. They were doors that were inaccessible to “patients.” “Patients,” the people who, quote on quote, lived here in this place. We were not allowed to call it a mental asylum. We simply referred to it as “here,” or a lessened version of “The Place.” The Place was for the people who were too far gone to come back. You could call us who lived here crazy, but we really weren’t. We all have a little sanity in us despite what the people who warden us say. Unless you’re past these doors; that’s when you become too far for treatment, or so I thought before I had gotten out.  My mouth was still closed as they moved me past hallways where people were screaming, moaning, and crying; trying to plead sanity as they dug their fingernails into their skin. It sent more than chills up my spine to see the deteriorated state of these “people” again.  I was pushed into the last set of doors with you right behind me. A quick assessment of them room showed an operation table that was rusted. The metallic silver had lost its shine and so had the instruments on the table beside it. The rust looked as if there was blood that had caused it and the walls weren’t exactly the prettiest sight either. There were machines buzzing and the whirring noise was constant. I felt more than uneasy when I heard something metal slide home behind the door. I turned slowly around to face you, or more likely the top of your head.

                “We’re locked in, aren’t we?” I sighed afraid to actually keep looking at the room keeping my eyes solely placed on the tile in front of my feet.

                “You’re a smart boy Vincent. Now, you have to tell me why you did it. I won’t allow this to continue.” You were just looking for trouble. Looking for some reason to get me to spill reasons I didn’t know or want to talk about. Because I didn’t feel you needed to know about what had happened.  There really wasn’t any time for me to talk before I had to struggle against you. You had brought me back to The Place; maybe to do another operation, or hurt me even more than I had been hurt last time.

                “Why do you call me Vin cent?” is all I could manage to choke out before you were back in my face. But after hearing that, you stepped back.

                “What do you mean you fool? You ARE Vincent. ” You looked confused as do I.

                “My name is not Vincent, Vince, or anything of that manner. I kept telling I’m not who you think I am. My name is Kyle.” I stared at you. I may have killed my mother, but I wasn’t the person you were looking for apparently. You face was set in shock.

                “Then where is he?! I KNEW they grabbed the wrong person!” Emphasis on the “he” was all you seemed to care.

                “Who is “he”?” I asked. You grabbed me and you were hissing words that were too low for me to hear.

                “You’re HIS clone, not him. They cloned you here because they figured you were too far gone to care and you are quieter than them.”

I heard the metal slip, and the creaking of the door opening. I turned around and it looked like I was staring at myself. Only his hair was matted and longer and the outfit he wore was a little unorthodox. This had to be the clone of me, Vincent. He was wearing what seemed to be a hospital slip and his face was bruised, but a triumphant grin was placed on his lips.

                “You lose. You picked the wrong person.” He raised something up and then you were gone. It was only him and I. My mouth gaped.

                “I’m Vincent, Vince, or anything of that matter. Now, let’s pretend this didn’t happen alright?” It was almost like listening to myself only calm and collected. I didn’t understand what he meant by that. My gaze had probably turned confused.

                “Pretend what didn’t happen? Who are you? What did you do that was so bad for them to accuse me of it?” I wanted as many answers as I could possibly get before whatever that “thing” he had made me disappear as well.

                “You’re so innocent. I don’t think I want to ruin your petty mind with information of which I possess.” His fingers twirled the thing which kind of, in the lighting, looked like a gun.

                “What mind? Just go ahead and tell me. It seems as if you wanted you could make me disintegrate with that weapon, whatever it is.” I told him severely.

                “Oh wait, I am your mind. That’s how they split us. Same physical qualities, but I’m the smart one. You’re just a retard to put it blunt.”

                “I have some brains! Just tell me what it is you did and I’ll be satisfied.” I was getting mad. I think I had gotten the raw end of the deal in this splitting of the body.

                “What haven’t I done is the better question. You have the emotion end of the body, and I have the smarts. They seem to think you’re me because you stay withdrawn and you can think. I think I’ll go take a stroll with my little gun here again.” Vincent was cruel, in a cold, dead way. I felt the tension in the small room grow as I didn’t answer. He could blast me with that at any second.

                “How does it work?” I asked thinking if I got him distracted enough I could lock him in here, but at the previous position he had his back to the door.

                “How does what work?”

                “Your gun.” I shuffled a little to the right.

                “What are you doing?” he lifted his gun pointing it at me.

                “Getting comfortable.” I sat down where I was to relieve him. “Now, how does it work?” He lowered the gun and he eyed me. I realized his eyes didn’t match mine at that point. They were an icier color than mine would ever be. If he could feel suspicion I’m pretty sure he’d be feeling it now.

                “Why do you want to know?”

                “Passes time? Plus, I want to know how it kills me. I know I’m not getting out of this room.”

                “Do you now? Well I guess that isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I guess I could tell you how it works.” He paused.

                “Well?” I urged him.  I was scooting slowly towards the door when he wasn’t looking; stopping when he looked at me.

                “It’s not a gun for one, and two you don’t disappear. It transports you somewhere else. I deal with the people there instead of where I shoot them because it’s more convenient. So, if I “shot” you right now, you wouldn’t die. You’d just be very uncomfortable with all the other people I’ve “shot” in the past 3 days.” He explained this as if I were a kid who didn’t know anything. My face evened out into a scowl.

                “Does it have a name?” I scooted a little further. His eyes swung around to mine and I stretched to hide the fact I had moved.

                “A name…? I don’t think so.” He started turning it in his hands looking for markings of some kind. I really got a good look at it then. It wasn’t a gun like he had said. It was a shiny, black metallic object. The supposed barrel of the gun was braided and at the end there were 2 opening holes. The third was covered by something I couldn’t quite make out from the angle. I watched him turn around again and scooted a little further. I was a quarter way to the door now.

                “Well if it doesn’t, that’s alright. How many times have you used that thing?” I wanted to swallow to get the dryness out of my throat, but that wouldn’t be smart seeing as I was getting closer to death by the second.

                “I’ve lost count. I don’t remember pointless things like that.” The metal flashed as he tossed it in the air and he caught it. My eyes flicked to the door and back to him. I could do it now, but it would be risky. Either I would be hit by that weapon, or I’d make it.

                “I don’t think human death is pointless. We have purpose here enough.” I held my breath and braced myself. The next second consisted of me springing to the door and trying the handle just to be knocked aside and thrown across the room

                “You think I didn’t see that one coming? You’re not getting out of here.” There was a note of finality in the statement. I felt the hope in my heart seep away as I lay crumpled on the ground.

                “I had to try.” I sat up and scooted back into the far corner. There was a spider on the wall to the left of me and for a second it looked like it was laughing at me.

                “Trying is meager; I’ve wasted enough time with you as it is. There can only be one of us on this planet.”

                “And apparently it’s not me, is it?” I asked. There was really no way to look at this situation in a positive way.

                “Well, it’s not me.” His laugh was completely full of malice. I managed to swallow and wet whatever little of my mouth I could. It was a struggled sound. My only reply was to sigh. His voice came back strong as ever, “I lied to you about something.”

                “And what is that?” I mumbled. He took a step closer to me and drew the gun-looking thing and pointed it straight at me.

                “This, it’s not a transporter. It’s a-“ I was cut off from hearing his voice because when he had started talking he’d pulled the trigger on it. My last thought consisted of betrayal, or so it was thought. But really it was just not there because I was gone with the smoke that had stood in my place.

Author's Note

You think I could add to it? Delete things? Add something that would be useful? It's supposed to be a short story, but that's it.