I lived

Short story

My name is Wilton Steen, and I hate you. Why do I hate you? Don't take it personally, I hate everyone. I am isolated, completely withdrawn and forgotten by society.  I’ve been in a constant struggle my whole life, no matter what.

But I've decided that I don't care anymore. I'm giving my life to wickedness and evil. I'd rather live that way while avoiding stress than try to fix my life under pressure. Nowadays, whatever money I manage is immediately spent on cigarettes and alcohol, because, in my opinion, that's what really matters.

The murder of my parents before my eyes, of my own doing, made me feel like I'd never again see the light. I was 15 when I set fire to my parent's bedroom and took off to live on my own. Living alone my teenage years, I wept for days, cursing my life for what it was, and there was a growing evil inside of me as well. Thievery became a habit.

Now, someone once close to me deserves death in my eyes. Actually, let me rephrase that. Everyone deserves death in my eyes. When I walk the streets, people stare at me as if I'm a monster. Every single day, I hear people muttering to each other, "Look at that damn hobo."

Children look up at their parents, frightened as they pass me by. "Mommy, he's soo scary." they say. Well, guess what, sweetheart! You want to see scary, I'll damn give you scary!

That's why they all need to die. I will confess it to the entire world if I have to! I hate them! They're animals, every last one of them!

But, now, back to that particular someone. This person is different. He's dead to me. He's mine to kill, and mine alone. My brother, Don, is responsible for demeaning me beyond comprehension in my teenage years by forcing me into a jockstrap during physical education, causing my virtual nudity to be transparent to hundreds of my male classmates.

I've really been thinking a lot about him lately, and what he did to me oh so many years ago. Obsessing about it, even. It's time for me to finish it once and for all.

~

 

The deed is done. Don is dead. I put a gun to his throat last night. He was alone in bed, and I sat there in his room, for many hours as he slept. Finally, I let my worries subside and pulled the trigger on him. I don't regret it one bit. 

One of the neighbors reported seeing me leave Don's home after the gunshot last night. I found a newspaper blowing around town, and I grabbed it to have a look. I made the headlines, and I think now it's only a matter of time before I'm suspected. The lady who reported me to the police described me as, "...a hideous man who looks exactly like what you would imagine a psychopathic murderer to look like..." Well, miss, you might just be next on my damn bucket list!

~

 

Just as I feared, the police caught sight of me today, and took me in for questioning. "Wilton Steen. Where were you on the night your brother was killed?"

Many things ran through my mind in that moment. A flashback echoed in my brain. The exact same question was asked to me that night my parents were killed. I told them I had nothing to do with it. That I returned home the next day to find my house burned to ashes. Now, I feel nauseous from the question, and I can feel sweat tickling my forehead.

"I killed my brother. He is dead, because of me. I confess, I am responsible, but I do not confess to you because it was wrong. No, no. I confess to you because I was right."

I was sentenced by jury to life in prison, but still no tinge of regret will find it's way into my mind. As I am escorted by two guards to the cell where I am to spend the rest of my life, I laugh maniacally, knowing where my destiny lies. I wait as one of the guards removes my handcuffs. When I hear the click, I grin devilishly, then slug the guard in the face, sending him to the ground. The second guard draws his gun, it's muzzle following me as I walk over to the other, unconscious guard.

"Listen, b***h, your gun doesn't sway me..." I laugh as I grab the unconscious guard's gun. The instant I pull it from his scabbard, the second guard shoots me in the leg. I fall to the ground, the gun still in my grasp. Through the pain, I squeeze out these words. "I...don't...give...a...crap. I lived. Yes...I...truly...lived. Nobody...understands...me! I lived! No one else...can...say the same. My...life...was great. My...hatred...was used...for the greater good. I...lived. Say...goodbye...a******s..."

I put the gun to my head and pull the trigger with a smile. I see the world disappear, and then darkness.....ignites.

 

Reviews

[M. Black]

great read :) I would advise that you draw on the moment a bit more though; he's angry at his brother for humiliating him but his hatred is expressed kind of matter-of-fact, I didn't really feel the emotion.
that being said though, I enjoyed the story, especially the opening paragraph; it really drew me in. :)

[Stars and Whales]

How would you suggest I make it more emotional? Thanks.

[M. Black]

maybe describe the embarrassment he felt in front of his classmates, how it hurt him that his brother would do that to him, and how those feelings eventually made him snap.
hope it helps :)

[Stars and Whales]

Thanks for the help! I will consider everything!

[Dave K]

wow. Very dark but well done. I could feel this guys pain and his hatred for all living things. This tail of human frailty is both fascinating and disturbing. Nicely done.

[Dak]

such a different viewpoint than i have ever thought of. interesting character with interesting motives. you have a great way about you when it comes to thinking of unique stories and your execution is perfect. love your work. looking forward to reading you more

-Dak

[Christian]

This is a great read and I really enjoy the journal type style to it. It's very dark. When it comes to showing emotion it always helps me to read paragraphs over a few times. Sometimes I come up with new ideas that help convey my message. Overall this is an amazing dark story. I enjoy stories where the main character isn't a hero but a villain. This keeps me wondering what else was going on in his mind and were there other reasons for his actions. That's not a bad thing by any means. A readers imagination is often far more terrifying than anything you could place on the page. I love it.

[Stars and Whales]

Thanks Christian. If there is ever anything you'd like me to read, I will be glad to. I am currently working on a fantasy novel as well as various short stories. If you would like to read over that, you may like it! Thank you for your feedback!