The Beast

A Story by J Stylez

A troubled boy and his desperate choice for a way out.

There he is huddled and whimpering in a dark, cold corner. Alone again as was the norm at this point in his short life. In his eyes was the pain and torment a small child should never have to endure, but such was his existence. He never seemed to fit in anywhere he went. Always the oddball in any crowd he may have been standing in. Either he was too fat or too tall at one point or another, but these features made him an easy target for the other kids. And they were relentless in there ridicule, but kids are cruel. Somehow, the proverb did little to ease his mind over the situation. They pointed and laughed and all he could do was sit in the circle and take it. When the bell would ring, he’d shoulder his book bag and shamefully pace back to his house.

When he’d get home he would tell his parents of all the horrible things that happened to him at school but they dismissed it as a case of “cruel kids” syndrome. They seemed more concerned about putting him on a diet than listening to what troubled him. But, his pain was very real and at night he’d cry himself to sleep wishing that someone would listen. He’d pray to God nightly hoping there was someone who could understand him. He wondered if there was someone that would care enough to help him with his problems and share in his pain. He prayed to his God, but I got to him first. His pain created me and the apathy of those he reached out to only strengthen my presence.

He made a pact with me written in his own innocent blood and it was one that could never be broken. As I comforted him those long nights he would grow to love me as a father. Sadly, he didn’t know what my true motives were. I taught him to choke back the tears and swallow all of the pain he felt. I told him that doing so would make it all go away. I lied. It was his pain that fed me making me stronger with each passing day. It was that same pain that I turned into angry and hate, fueling his young mind. Soon, I directed him to deflect all of the ridicule. I wanted him to use violence, but I quickly found out he had a gifted tongue.

His wit was so sharp that it seemed to pierce the very souls of the ones it was wielded against. I have to admit, it was something I never expected. He had a command of the English language that was in some ways poetic. And the little b*****d was funny. He wasn’t much to look at, but when he spoke he could capture the attention of the whole room. He was perfect. He was perfect and soon what his possessed would be mine. Over the years, I instructed him in the ways of malice. He took to it with ease. His distaste for the world and everyone in it swelled in me what some would call a heart.

For years we walked side by side, laughing and scheming. He took on a new persona: lyrical killer. It was delicious perfect! Not only had he grown from a round, whimpering child into a towering young man, but there was a beast inside of him ready to be unchained. That beast was me. I couldn’t wait for my chance. He was perfect. The body and mind I’ve always wanted and it was going to be all mine. And what would happen to him? He would go away, locked up forever. Somewhere in a very dark corner huddled and whimpering. He'd be chained in the same bottleless abyss from which I spawned.

He was nothing without me. I created him as much as he created me and he began living the life I’ve always wanted. Without me he was a weak, overweigh little b*****d who would just as easily piss himself if someone looked his way. He didn’t deserve the handsome body he has now and or the looks he from the women that pass us on the street. Nor should he get the laughs from the words that seemed to fall easily from his lips. Everything he has, everything he is belongs to me. He traded his soul for a chance to fit in and I gave that to him. He made a pact with me written in his own innocent blood and it was one that could never be broken. Now, with bloody contract in hand I planned to collect.