I am alive. The whole of my body shivers at the anticipation of the next breeze wafting across my already goosebump-riddled skin. All around me I see a perfect, clear sky… I feel grass shimmering next to my ears and arms. I smell the aroma of mountain flowers and pine trees. Is this paradise? Am I now filled with unending happiness simply because of this unexplained change in surroundings? I don’t care, I’m taken over by bliss. I rise up and find my vessel has changed as well.. Gone are the gut, the pale skin, the slightly disfigured neck, the many open sores on my arm. My skin is now golden brown, with just the right amount of hair. I’m fit, not too muscular. I take off running through the field, eager to explore and enjoy this wonderful gift, this gift that I do not deserve, when I hear strange sounds– sounds of people. Off to the side, near the treeline, a group of people are laying down the settings for a picnic. Empowered by the “new me” I boldly stride over to them and announce that I am great, they are not. Oddly they just laugh and carry on, and I am bewildered. I sit down in the midst of them, interrupting conversations, joking the less attractive and/or witty relentlessly, and they embrace me. This… this power… it floods over me like a rush of embarrassment. I feel as though my skin is burning and my head goes numb. A faint part of me whispers, “This is not you. This is not what you want to be…” but I silence it, and enjoy the fruits of my attractiveness and care-free attitude.

These people I am with, I do not even remember their names, but I do remember when the urge to kill first reared it’s small complicated head. It was evident to me that one of the females was smitten. I began to flirt with her, and she was soon mine. We run off into the woods and embrace, but I stop short, a dizzying feeling taking over. I look at her, stare into her eyes. “What are you doing?” “What…?” “Why are we here? What is it that convinced you to come with me??” “I don’t know.. You’re cute.” Anger swells. “What have I done or said to make you think I would treat you well at all? Do you know anything about me? As I recall it, I was just acting like a complete jackass to you and your friends, simply because I could.” The small voice from before had returned. “Are you that shallow that you would come and do these intimate things with me simply because I look nice? Does my personality, kindness, thoughts, emotions mean nothing to you?!” By now my confused expression had melted away leaving a red portrait of fury. I was gripping her arms tightly and the skin around my fingers turned white. This anonymous girl was the embodiement of every girl who shunned me, or made fun of me, or had otherwise treated me like shit simply because I dressed differently or was chubby or didn’t talk very much. For a split second I see my former self, standing silently just behind this girl, this thing in my hands, and I see the scowling disapproval on his face. I scream out to him, “This is what you wanted!! This is what must be. This is the only way your life will matter.” Through the growing moisture in my eyes I see that my former self has no eyes, merely dark shadows. The eyes are missing so that he can ignore the ugly thing he has become, and only feel the joyous power and feeling of importance that this animal reaps. A quick flash, attention focuses on the girl, crying hysterically in my grip, and I expect her friends to appear. I actually wait for them to. Minutes pass, maybe seconds, it was all a blur, but I grow impatient and toss her to the ground. I stomp on her small neck, only to paralyze her long enough for me to aim my foot better for the second blow. This time I continue downward, listening to her gurgle, feelings things snap and pop under the weight. It doesn’t take long for her to stop kicking.

I hover behind a tree near the others, not feeling the ground, not hearing my own breath. Focused on the task at hand. I feel power, importance, meaning flowing out of me. If only I could charge at them, taking each down with my bare hands, mutilating their perfect accepted average bodies so their mothers would weep when they see them. My murderous trance is broken by the presence of my former self, eerily appearing next to me. He’s staring at the same thing I am with his blind, dark, lifeless gaze. I speak to him, in whispers… “These people represent that which has tormented us for years. By some great glory, or folly, I have been granted the means to take our revenge. Would you have me pass that up, and let us feel no satisfaction in this life?” He merely stares, but I can sense his thoughts. “You’re wrong. They do it because they feel superior. And maybe they are justified in that feeling. Think back to all the times someone belittled us, made us feel inferior, think of the anger that was bottled up for so long. Think of your ‘avenue’ for releasing that!! Can that really make you feel proud? Can you live with that? These are symbols, not people. We must act, I must act, if only to save our own sanity!” …. “How can you feel pity for them?? How can you justify it to yourself? They do not deserve compassion because they showed none to us.” …. “You will see… When my task is complete, our whole outlook on life will have changed. We shall be the ones who look down upon them. We shall know that we are better, stronger, faster, smarter. This will be our legacy. This will empower others like us to rise up and defend themselves. This will cause millions to feel strong enough to speak up when others fuck with them. Would you really deny that?”

He faded away, blending with the surrounding trees. My mission was clear, my method apparent. I lunge at them, screaming a low, disturbing yell that invokes fear and panic on their faces. I leap into the air, and tackle the nearest item. It falls to the ground, while the others scramble to their feet. Now my body is numb, my movements are not felt. I feel as though I am five feet behind myself looking through a pair of binoculars. I move somewhat gracefully, but more importantly, with a rage unseen in any of my younger, more violent days. Now they are all lying, incapacitated at my feet. I randomly punch into the mass of limbs and torsoes, hearing them grunt with pain. I tear through their skin with my fingertips, alleviating their forms of these filthy unneccessary organs. They’re all dead, and I lie on top of them, covered in blood, clutching the small black heart that had been removed from one of the females. Looking at this, I felt immense satisfaction and justification. I had discovered her secret. I had learned the truth about the sect of humanity this “girl” represented.

The day turned to night, the bodies disappeared, and I didn’t question it. I sat, legs crossed, sticky with blood, across from my former self. I asked him questions. Questions that I knew the answers to. His stare was empty, hollow, his replies were silent but they had a cold significance for me. In due time, we would again become one, and I would be shut away in the subconscience for an indefinate amount of time. But this day had taught me many things.