Graffiti for word

Story time: So this was about 2 weeks ago at a playground near my house. My daughter who is only 2 years old wanted to go a playground with a swing. The place I took her too was a relatively new playground with all those “corporate” styled bright colored playground equipment. In other words it was nice. No graffiti and no trash along with plenty of accessibility. We had gone on a school day so it was relatively empty except for one woman with her 3/4 year old son. Between my daughter and her son, the park was theirs. Unfortunately it wasn’t for long. 5 teenagers came to the park, and there were rules stated for ages 1 to 12 . These kids were probably high schoolers, at least 14/15 years old. Probably taking advantage of the half day and decided to hangout in the park. Of course they are loud and the occasional swear is yelled but it really didn’t bother me. In fact the teens were very friendly. My daughter was definitely intrigued in the big kids and wanted to run like them. They kept to themselves and were probably trying to relive their childhood by playing tag and stuff. Kinda reminded me of youth. Like I said, it didn’t bother me. Now the other attendee, the mother with the son, our Karen of the story, was not happy with teens. She kept making comments, was passive aggressive, and was even trying to get me against them. Eventually the teens left. But as they were leaving, a cop car was pulling into the park. I see Karen running at the cops yelling at them to chase them down. She kept yelling that they were vandalizing the park and yelling obscenities. The cop looked really annoyed, he really did not want to deal with this but I saw him write something up. It didn’t look like he chased after the teens but I was just really frustrated with what happened. The teens were doing nothing, they were literally just playing in playground. Granted they were older but it just seemed unnecessary for the Karen to call cops on them. Compared to the alternative, these kids weren’t doing drugs or drinking alcohol, they were just being kids, and the Karen wasn’t a fan of it.

Hi I just came across a novel, chosen by the moon novel by izabella W. Its on pay by chapter websites, I've opened and read a few chapters but I can't seem to find any free version or chapter version anywhere. Please help. If anyone has read it I'm willing to take spoilers. Here's the advert I found below of it on Facebook.
Lycanthrope species is a disgusting race. And I, Delan Riley, am nothing more than a human scum in their eyes never expected those species would turn my world upside down. Since when the lycans managed to penetrate our town, like in the early 1900's we have a hierarchy, upper class = the lycans, middle class = mated humans, and lower class = the normal humans, who were basically considered scum. I endured their torment day after day, vowing to run away from them one day, until that day came and everything changed.
Dylan POV "Humans," I scowled at the principal's words from tannoy. "The Alpha twins will be celebrating their birthday tomorrow, as such, festivities are in order." Oh great, the Alphas twin children. Adrian and Arya are the worst lycans alive. I swear just because they are the alphas kids they literally get away with everything. If their birthday is tomorrow, then the wolves are going to be worse than ever. "All students will be present to greet them, two lines will be made, with humans on the left and the lycanthrope on the right. Any mated human will be at the front of the line for their year, you will all also be in order of your school year. That is all." Chat broke out the minute the tannoy was finished. "We haven't had a school gathering since the alpha king visited three years ago, before his sons coronation." Nick was right, the last time we all gathered like that was for the king and queens visit, when he decided to let the world know that he was to renounce his title to his only child, son Josh. "That sick bestard, he wants to make sure everyone is there so those idiot twins can find their mates." Yes I was mad, my fists connected with the table in front of me once more as I thought about how disgusting the situation was. You see the twins will be turning 17, so it's very possible someone in our school could be their mate, finding a mate is sacred to a wolf, the minute they say that one word your fate is sealed. They will turn your mind, morph you into being a lover of their kind, and then you'll give in.

That won't happen to me, I'm growing old to see the world as it once was, and I'm going to choose who I'll be with. No one will take that dream away from me.

Once dinner was finished, I just wanted to sleep. I'd had a very long tiring day, I quickly sat down on a small stool my mother kept in the storage closet and removed my shirt while my brother Freddy sat at the table to do his simple homework. It wasn't long before my mother came in with a large bowl of warm salt water and some cotton, this was going to sting I just knew it. She was here to help me with the wounds caused by wolves yesterday. She slowly began to unwrap the bandage from around my torso and slowed down drastically when it came to the final layer, I felt it peel off every wound and my fists clenched in pain. "Jesus!" I heard my mom exclaim once the dressing was completely removed. The air on my back was nice though and I sighed as my arm covered my once again exposed brests. "This is more than 15!" I began to hear sniffles coming from her and sighed turning round to look at her face, only to notice tears streaming down it. "Mom I'm fine, it's alright." She shook her head. "It's not alright, I'm your mother I shouldn't let these things happen. I'm so sorry. Your father would have..." here she goes again. Every single time something happened she'd always bring up dad, it really annoyed me because no matter how much we all wish he was here, he just isn't. My father was kiled by THEIR kind, almost 5 years ago when they actually managed to take over. When the lycans managed to penetrate our town my father rose up with some people from the neighborhood, to defend our livelihood, it was futile to say the least. We lost many people and I watched as my dad was ripped apart by two fully shifted wolves, I ended up shoting him to stop his suffering before they dragged me to the courtyard, i was the person to receive the first lashing of the town when I was 12! The wolves have been pretty strict with me since that day. "Stop being stvpid!" Was I harsh? Definitely! Did she need to hear it again, absolutely. "Dad is dead, we don't know what he'd do because he never knew this life. He never knew this world." I know what he'd have done, most likely attacked the guy who held the whip and got himself kiled in the process. "The best thing you can do for me, is stop crying and help me, next time don't insist on helping if you can't handle it." She began to wash my open wounds with the warm salt water causing loud winces to leave me, I knew it was necessary to prevent infection, but my god it hurt like a betch. "Some of these are really deep Dylan!" She sniffed again and my eyes rolled in my head. "I told you, I'm fine, just wrap me back up so I can get to bed." My mom was obviously more impacted by my injuries than I was, I suppose that always the case though. When it's happening to you, you've just got to get through it but when it's happening to someone you love, you just want to take their pain away. She quickly placed a fresh bandage around my waist and chest and wrapped it tightly for compression. The bowl of water that was used was now red in color, I guess from the blood my back was dripping with. "Can you keep your head down please? At least just this week. You can't take any more lashings." I simply nodded before standing up away from the stool, I walked over to Freddie and ruffled his hair in affection. "Good night squirt." He giggled and fixed his hair slightly. "Night Dilly." I smiled walking upstairs to my little bedroom, as soon as I was inside i shut the door and flopped down on to my bed on my stomach and I took a minute to cry to myself at the pain in my back, what my mom did was important but it hurt, not that I'd ever tell her. My hand covered my mouth quickly to muffle any noise I might be making. I couldn't tell anyone, I had to be strong because more and more people were crumpling these days, and my mom would break if she knew how much I was suffering. Sleep followed me shortly after, she was right though about me needing to keep my head down for the time being, I could not take another lashing! After a long night and an even longer morning, we were all finally stood in the hallway at school waiting for the twins to arrive. "Mine!" Everyone that was stood in the hallway tensed up, as we were seniors, me and Nick were stood towards the very back of the human line. All the mated people were situated directly opposite their wolf mates in their years. We stayed silent and still as Arya walked down the hall and stopped directly in front of Nick. His eyes widened in fear, unsure of wether to look up or keep his head lowered. "Look me in the eye, mate." He glanced at me slightly as if asking what he should do. "I said, look me in the eye." He slowly moved his eye line up to look at her face. I took a glance myself to see her eyes pitch black with lust. "I... can't... I mean... erm." Before he was able to mutter anything else, two wolves from opposite, grabbed him out of the line and dragged him behind Arya. "Hey!" My head shot up before I could stop myself. My mouth also forgot its place as I jumped out of line. Everyone's head shot to me as my eyes widened in realization at what I'd done. Adrian, the other twin, walked up to me before punching me right in the stomach, I doubled over instantly. Feeling the sting in my slightly healed back. "I know you... You were publicly flogged only two days ago." God I hate this guy. "I also have it on good authority, that you openly spoke out against our rules and regulations in yesterday's class." My head shot down the line slightly to see Erin, looking a little frightened, her mate, the beta to be was looking at her, nodding his head in reassurance. "You traitor, you grassed on your own kind?" I yelled at her before feeling a fist connect with my cheek. My head whipped to the side from the force, while my class members gasped. I'm so done with this treatment, right then, I wasn't in charge of my actions. My fists curled up and my stance became a lot more defensive. My head snapped up to the alpha to be, and I looked him in the eye. "You don't know the meaning of the word disrespect." I suddenly hurled my fist towards his head, which he easily dodged, but my foot came up and kicked him instead. He stumbled backwards from the force with wide eyes. "You... you Actually hit me!" He didn't even sound annoyed, more shocked. Everyone in the hallway was watching, waiting for the alpha to do something but instead he simply stood up straight, regaining his composure. "I think everyone should get back to class." He began to walk away, following his sister when I called him back. "What about Nick?!" "Simple, He's my sisters mate. He now belongs to her." Argh, he's not an object. "He's not her property." A chuckle left his mouth, before turning his back to me again. "All humans are property." A short while later everyone made it to science class, our teacher Mrs Mathews is mated to the lycans pack doctor, she also now has a four and two year old with him. She was one of the first humans to be cohered into a false relationship. "What were you thinking young lady?" I rolled my head at her before looking at the empty seat next to mine. Nick was with that stvpid wolf girl right now. Being changed, I'm so angry it's ridiculous. "I was thinking, this guy is being a prick. Did you hear him? 'All humans are property.' It's bull shet." I looked up and the whole class looked at me like I had three heads. Talking shet about wolves is one thing, but talking about an alpha is punishable by death, attacking an alpha is an even worse offense. There was then a knock at the door and in walked Erin and her band of mated bestards. "Sorry we're late Mrs." "Erin, how are things between you and bata Monroe?" She blushed, the traitor actually blushed at the mention of his name. "He spoke to me last night about trying for a baby. We need a good strong boy to take over as beta." I scoffed looking at her as she took her seat. "You guys are actually pathetic, why can't it be a girl? Those mutts are basically Neanderthals" I voiced my opinion and saw all the shocked faces around me. Calling the lycans mutts, is the same as them calling us scum. After lesson had ended the entire school was called into the hall for assembly. This is where any human who has been found to have broken the rules were punished, usually 10 lashings were goven out or something similar. "Welcome to the school assembly, congratulations to the alpha twins for finding both your mates. Now on to the business at hand, as the 5 year anniversary of the new world is coming up, we have been informed that the alpha king will be visiting our district next week, this is very exciting news. We want you all to look your absolute best, she wolves and mated females will wear exemplary dresses made by seamstress. Male wolves and mated men will wear tailored suits. Anyone who doesn't comply will be reprimanded." The Alpha King?! No one has met him yet, he took over the throne three years ago when he turned 18. He really didn't make any appearances though, great, this month is going to be a nightmare. "As for the humans, you will be given a new uniform to wear for the visit, these are to be neatly ironed and worn to the highest standard. As for the following humans, based on your attitude this past week, you will be coming to the front and facing punishment. Tony summerset?!" Tony's head shot up as he looked around, he was in the year below but he shared my views when it came to the lycans. He slowly walked up to the front of assembly, almost instantly his top was t0rn in two and he received 10 lashings. A girl named Kara was next and she too received 10 lashings. A few more people went up slowly accepting their fate then suddenly my name was called. "Dylan Riley." Inside I was terrified but I simply shrugged my shoulders, I guess I did kind of expect this. Although I'm not sure if my back can take any more damage. "You attacked an alpha, correct!" His eyes bored into mine as I bowed my head submitting to his authority. "Technically, no." Everyone in the school gym looked on in fear, as my head moved to the front row of the wolf side. Adrian sat, with a werewolf girl in the year below, her name was Jana, I guess he found his mate. Nick and Arya were no where to be seen though. Adrian gave me a shrug as if to say he didn't tell, before smirking at my comment. "He hasn't officially taken the alpha title yet, so he's just..." i looked at the principle and noticed his eyes black and his claws out, he was in what lycans call a half shift, triggered when the subject has become angered. He turned to two security wolves and gave them a nod, Almost immediately i was forced onto my knees, my arm was slammed on a table and held in place by one wolf, while my body was held in place by the other. "Ok, I don't think this is needed, I have alpha blood, a stvpid human girl can't hurt me." My head snapped to Adrian who had stood up in front of the school to stop what was happening. "Nevertheless, humans need to know their place." With that the pressure on my arm increased as our principals hand pulled my sleeve up before a long claw punctured my skin. The searing pain shoting from the fresh wound had my eyes scrunched and my fist clenched, I bit the inside of my cheek hard instantly tasting blood, however no sound left my mouth. He continued to write, using my skin as a canvas and his claws as a marker, it went on forever, my vision blurred slightly at one point as I turned my head away. After minutes of torture, he was done and the pressure on my arm eased, instantly I snatched my arm away, hissing through my teeth at the pain. I was about to scurry off stage, when I was roughly grabbed yet again, my arm being held in the air by the principal while my feet were inches off the floor, blood dripped from the wound and the pattern he had made was on show for everyone to see. Loads of people gasped, even the wolves looked slightly horrified at what had happened. "This is what happens when a human decides to speak out. I can promise, anyone who so much as says one word about our way of life, will have the same punishment." My arm was starting to seriously ache from being held in the air for so long, and the lack of blood flow to my suspended arm was causing me pins and needles, still I refused to make a sound. I held the tears back and I bit my cheek harder causing more blood to fill my mouth. "That's enough Bradley!" Adrian growled, he was still stood up and looking at the scene in front of him. His eyes hard as he stared at the principal a low warning growl erupted from his chest which had the head teacher gulping, he quickly let go of my arm causing me to crash to the floor. A small cry left my mouth as I hit the hard floor. Immediately I scrambled away, my foot just missed the high step leading to the stage and I fell, waiting for the impact of the ground, but it never came. Two strong arms wrapped around me catching my weak body causing me to look up, my eyes widened as I noticed Adrian had caught my falling form. "This isn't part of the human punishment program!" Adrian growled causing me to tense in his grip, I pushed him away from me before fixing my uniform top. The room was deadly silent, taking in the scene in front of them, while I stole a glance at my forearm. Carved into my skin by his devastating claws were two words, words that would most definitely scar my body for life. 'Human scum' "Lessons must be learned, she received lashing merely two days ago, and clearly it had no effect on her." Another growl left Adrian's chest as he stepped on to the stage, I wasn't bothered though, you would think I'd be ashamed but I simply smiled slightly. I fixed my sleeve a little so it wouldn't rub on the fresh wound before speaking. "It doesn't matter," the whole room looked at me shocked by my attitude. "I would rather be labeled human scum, than have any resemblance to your kind. I'm proud of what I am, how many of you can say that?" After my amazing little speech, I walked right down the middle between the humans and lycans and out the door. No more compliance, I'm going to get away with as much as I can without getting into too much bother. There will come a day when the lycans power will fizzle out. When it does I'll be ready, I'll be waiting for the day we take our world back. As for the best part about my plan...

No one can stop me.

"Ouch, not so hard." I seethed as the school nurse cleaned my new wound with antiseptic. "If you had of just kept your mouth shut, this wouldn't have happened." I turned to my right looking out the window at the few clouds that were floating in the blue sky. "Like I said, I'm proud to be human, and now everyone knows what I am." I clenched my fist together as the nurse began wrapping a bandage around my forearm. It had been a good few hours since the incident in the hall, and I had been forced to come to the nurces office after I had tried to clean my wound by splashing it with water from the tap, it also refused to stop bleeding. "You are impossible. Can you please just try and stay out of trouble? For one day, that's all I ask." Our school nurse is a wolf, she's one of them. However she hates the way they treat us mere humans, she thinks we should all just live in peace with equal rights. Like that would ever happen. "All I've done is stay out of trouble, but you are just going to humiliate me anyway, so what's the actual point?" "The pack were discussing a public execution, Dylan. You need to walk on egg shells from now on, not just for you but for your family as well." No ones been publicly executed in over 4 months, I'm flattered they're considering it. They only execute people who they believe are the biggest problems to society. "Well then... I'm flattered." I chuckled, before looking at the patch job. 'Huh, not too shabby.' I quickly stood up from the human nursing station and pulled the sleeve of my shirt down covering the evidence of ever being hurt. "This is serious!" I just gave her a blank look before leaving the room. On the way out I heard her call back to me. "Please just think about it." I gave a clipped nod as I walked away wondering how I'm going to tell my mom about this. Later in the evening... "Dilly why you say that?" Freddie looked up at me with a mouth full of bread. "Don't speak with your mouthful!" My mom scolded him as a bashful blush made its way to his cheeks. "Sowwy mommy." His reply was muffled as he swallowed the last chunk of food. "I said it Freddie, because it's the truth. The wolf race are a pathetic excuse for..." my mom cut me off with an extremely stern look. "Dylan! They have ears everywhere, one more word out of you and it's your room." I scowled, my hatred for the Lycan kind growing stronger as each day passes. "What more can they do to me, lash me? Beat me? Brand me? They've ran out of options." I stated slamming my hands down, then severely regretting it as sharp pain shot though my wound. "What was that?" My head shot to regard my mothers worried expression. Her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were dull and judging as she looked at me. "Nothing, it was nothing." I quickly took my plate in my hand and began to walk to the kitchen. "I'm not really hungry, and I have homework to do!" My mom caught hold of my forearm causing me to drop my plate suddenly, I watched it slowly fall before shattering on the floor. I retracted my arm quickly and turned to Freddie. "Stay there and don't move until it's cleaned up ok sport?" He just nodded with wide eyes, I turned back to my mom and noticed her curious stare on my arm. Her grip shifted to the other side as she turned it around before pulling my sleeve up. The bandage was showing and a bit of blood was seeping though after the wound had been disturbed. "What the hel happened?" My moms eyes widened as she began to fumble with the bandage. Before she could unravel any of it I snatched my arm away. "I had an accident at school. No big." I began to gather the large pieces of the broken plate up ready to put them in the bin. "What did you do Dylan?" She looked at me with pure worry and only then did I realize what the wound must look like to someone who didn't know. "For gods sake! I didn't do it to myself! I got publicly punished at the assembly alright? It's no big deal." Her face dropped instantly and she stepped towards me, causing me to step backwards. "Mom, I'm ok. So back off will you." "What did you do? I've never known them to cut someone's arm as a punishment." Her shock and accusation was evident in her voice and I sighed heavily. "I spoke against the alphas son." I may have hit him too, but I wasn't going to divulge that part to her. "It's not one big cut, mom, it's a brand, 'human scum' carved onto my arm." "They've branded you now too?!" My eyes rolled at her hurt tone as I went to get the dustpan and brush. "You're so much like your father." A sigh left her mouth as she spoke, running a hand through her hair, while I quickly swept up the little pieces of the broken plate. "You've had a new uniform delivered. It's laid out on your bed. Dylan, Please just try and stay respectful in the future, I don't want my daughter to be completely mutilated. Although you're not far off." "Gee, Thanks." I then walked over to my little brother Freddy before blowing a kiss into his neck and hearing him giggle. "So sport, how's school going?" "It's ok." He shrugged before going back to coloring a dinosaur picture in. "Well that's good, stay out of trouble, ok little man?" Heading upstairs and into my room, my thoughts wandered to the permanent graffiti scar very slowly healing on my arm. Disgusting beasts. Think they own the world because they're faster, stronger and can shift. Pah. If you ask me they are not all that.

The second I walked into my room my mouth dropped open. On my bed was some grey pants laid out neatly, which wasn't the surprising part, no, what shocked me was the grey high neck no sleeved button down shirt, every single set of uniform had sleeves except this one. They've done this on purpose those, mutts. They want the world to see my arm and know what a disgusting creature I am. They want the world to know that I, Dylan Riley, am nothing more than 'human scum'.

During the last week, I've been horrible, in class I've been loud in voicing my views, I've insulted at least everyone to some degree, I didn't care about the consequences, and I certainly didn't think about them. I haven't seen Nick at all since he was claimed, and to make matters worse today was the royal visit. Oh yes, werewolves and mated humans alike were spending every waking minute preparing themselves to meet his royal majesty, king of the wolves. Unclaimed Humans however would rather stick pins in their eyes. "Dylan, get down now... you're going to be late." She was right, I was dawdling this morning, I really couldn't be bothered today, I gave myself one last look in the small mirror and sighed when my eyes met my newly uncovered brand. It had bad bruising around the letters, and was still extremely tender to touch, it was definitely healing now though. I made my way down the stairs and came face to face with my mother who was seeing to Freddie, she was helping my brother get his coat on when she turned to me. "You ready sport?" Freddie nodded his little head at me and smiled while I quickly slid my shoes on. "Just Remember, the alpha is bad enough, Dylan, please, please don't do anything to anger the king." My mother stopped us from walking out the door to tell me something she had been telling me continuously for the last couple of days, it was almost as if the entire human population of our district was expecting me to do something stvpid. "Try and have a good day." I rolled my eyes but nodded, even I know not to push the king, he could kil me in the hallway like it was nothing. In fact I plan on staying out of his way for the entirety of the day. "We will see you tonight mom." I stated before me and my brother began our walk to school, his little hand clutched my own tightly as we went. Usually Nick would be with us, as he lives next door, well he used to, now he's residing in the main pack house. I quickly dropped Freddie off at his school and watched him get the wolfsbane neutralizer before walking into him building giving me a small wave before he went in. With my new scar on complete show, and my figure being complimented by the skin tight shirt I was wearing, I sauntered down the street to school, I gave my name and year in and took the wolf's bane neutralizer injection with no problems at all. It was finally getting into school that the problem occurred. Walking through the halls I was met by many looks, some of pity some of disgust. You see every single non mated human in the school was wearing a long sleeved version of the uniform I was given. All the Wolves and mated couples were scattered around in fancy floor length dresses or tailored suits. As I turned the corner I noticed a couple, now this couple happened to catch my eye the most out of all of them because it consisted of Arya and Nick, eating each other's faces off. "What the hel!" Nicks head shot to me as his eyes widened. He too was dressed in a tailored suit, a navy blue tie hung on his neck to match Aryas dress. Why was this happening all the time? It's always my friends that get completely brain washed. I shook my head in disbelief before turning my back on him. I heard his fast footsteps behind me as I rounded the corner. "Dylan?!" He ran right in front of me, stopping me in my tracks, making me drop my bag off my shoulder and almost causing me to bump into him. "Let me just explain..." "Has she marked you?" I mean you could almost see it in his eyes, she had marked him, and knowing the way life goes he's probably even mated with her. "Actually... Don't even answer that." I aggressively picked my bag up off of the floor and stormed off down the hall. "Dylan, just listen to me, Erin was right, it's so hard to resist your soulmate, and Arya is actually ok once you get to know her." I just kept walking, he caught up to me walking beside me but it didn't matter, I completely ignored everything and everyone. 'I'm so not in the mood today' getting into class was good though, I said hello to Mr Foley and took my usual seat. Nick sighed then took his bag off ready to sit next to me, but I snapped before he had the chance. "Traitors and mated idiots sit on that side of the room." I didn't look him in the eye as I pointed to a seat right at the front of the classroom on the opposite side. His eyes widened as he turned his attention back to me. "You can't be serious Dylan." I gave him a blank look before grabbing my book out of my backpack, I placed it on the desk then began to write the date on the top line. "I've sat in this seat for as long as I can remember." I ignored him, his voice sounded sad and shocked. "Dylan? Wait! What is that?!" Before I could react Nick had grabbed hold of my branded arm and turned it to see the letters. "Oh my God! What happened?" I snatched my arm away from him and shrugged as I continued to write in my book before grabbing my water bottle out of my bag. "The principal happened, it was my punishment for speaking out against Adrian and Arya. I wear it with pride." He just held a complete look of disbelief. "You spoke out against them?" I shrugged, what did he think I'd do. "It's no secret that I despise this stvpid new world and the mutts that control it. You were my friend, I wasn't going to let them just take you without saying something, although that is exactly what you seem to have done. Enjoy the view from your new seat!" "Don't be like that, Dylan, I'm your best friend, I'm sorry about your arm, but..." my eyes rolled inside my head at my friends words. "Anything with the word 'but' in, isn't an apology, it's a rationalization." I took a drink of water from my bottle and kept my eyes facing forward, ignoring his every attempt to try and talk to me. "Dylan?.. Dylan?... Do you know what? Erin is right, if you push us all away you won't have any friends left." He huffed before walking over to the empty seat and sitting down, I could feel him glancing up at me every now and again but I didn't respond. "Good morning class, please settle down." He looked at me then at Nick and frowned, we've never sat apart, we were friends before the new world even began. I just shook my head telling him to forget it. "So... as you know the king will be arriving in a short while, but until then lessons will go on as normal." Its funny seeing teachers in the same uniform your wearing, mr Foley and his wife are the coolest. Human teachers and doctors only have slightly more respect than we do. Because of Mr Foley's status him and his wife have better access to food and drink, Mrs Foley is cool, sometimes she even makes sure mr Foley brings some in for me. Ya know, coz I'm their favorite student. It's not in a weird way, it's just they were friends of the family before the new wold took effect. Mr Foley and my dad were buddies from high school, so it goes without sayin really. "All the mated humans will be at the front of each years line again, after that you will all be placed in status, Nick, as your mated to Alpha Arya, you'll be at the front of your line. Dylan as you have been branded..." his voice trailed off as he looked at me. "Yeah yeah, I'll be at the back of the line behind everyone. I get it." I huffed, moving my sight towards the window once more. "I am sorry." I turned to face Mr Foley again, he looked genuinely upset and that look of pity wasn't something I wanted to see. I gave him a clipped nod then turned away again. "Anyway, on to the subject matter, 'Of Mice and Men, page 64, Nick why don't you start us off with the reading."

"Of course sir." Nick began reading the book but I switched off, today is going to be a long day. After almost an hour and a half of reading comprehension, the bell chimed signaling lunch. I shot up and out of the classroom before anyone could say anything. Today, I was avoiding drama like the plague.

I wandered the corridors straight to the lunch hall. All the people I would normally hang out with we're all mated so I grabbed my lunch quickly, and sat down at the end of the human table. Let me lay the lunch hall out for you. On one side of the room you have two long rows of tables, with simple benches that make it look like prison, on the other side of the room you have multiple round tables with fancy chairs. Yup you get it. The humans sit at the prison tables and the wolves and traitors sit on the fancy tables, they get fancy food, fancy drink and most importantly they get pudding. what I would give to have some pudding. "Dylan can we just talk?" Nick quickly took the spot next to me as he set his lunch tray down. I looked at his food which had been placed on a ceramic, circular white plate. God that looked good. I sighed knowing he was going to talk anyway. "Fine, you have two minutes." I used my fork to take a bit of pasta off his plate and shoved it into my mouth. God that was good. "After I left school, I was taken to the pack house with Arya, and I really got to know her. It took a few days for me to finally accept being with her, but ever since life has been ok, and the sax... well that's a whole other story." Eww, I didn't need that mental image in my head. "I'm glad your happy." I stated before deciding I had no appetite. His face held shock before he sighed in relief. "That means a lot Dylan, I mean you know that your opinion matters to me." I cut him off before he could say anything else. "I said I was glad your happy. I didn't say I approved of what you've done. You've basically turned into one of THEM, I can't ever forgive you for that." He looked hurt, but I couldn't care less about his feelings. He placed his hand gently on my arm and went to open his mouth when a growl sounded out. All heads whipped to where it came from, Arya was stood holding a glass of soda and a plate, she was looking right at me and Nick and I would totally be dead if looks could kil. Nick quickly retracted his hand, his whole face fell and you could see sorrow flood his irises. "You sit with me now, get away from that, that... scum!" Wow, Nick was such a lucky guy. NOT. "You heard her. Get away from me, go sit with your new friends. I'm happy for you, and I understand where your coming from, but don't come up to me again and pretend you didn't betray your own kind. Don't pretend you didn't betray me." I shoved a little bit of food into my mouth before standing up and walking out of the cafeteria, leaving my tray on the table. I was walking through the hallway to the classroom, you see I decided to spend lunch with Mr Foley in his room, when I happened to hear voices in the corridor. "Is it wise for her to actually be present when the king arrives? Surely she could be placed in the dungeons, it might actually teach her some respect?" My principal was speaking to the alpha of our district, huh, if I stayed and listened do you think they'd notice, maybe they could smell me?! "Everyone is to be present, if the Riley girl does one thing out of line she will be dealt with severely, child or not. That girl has been a blight to the district since day one, she's dangerous, if she puts one hair out of place I will personally break her into submission." Oh shet, they were talking about me specifically, and they mentioned the dungeon, that's not been used in months. Normally I would have listened in more but something about the entire situation didn't sit right with me, all of a sudden, I was on edge, and simply wasn't interested in the slightest in hearing how my misery was to be enhanced. I backed up slightly before turning around and bumping head first into one of the hottest man I had ever seen. I lost my balance immediately and fell straight on to the floor letting out a small grumble in the process. His eyebrows knitted together quickly and his breath hitched in his throat as he looked upon my fallen state and gasped. "Mate!" He whispered, his eyes fixated on mine. Now, I had seen and heard that many times to know what that means, I gasped before taking a step back. 'No, no, no, no, no. This can not be happening.' He growled slightly before stepping towards me. Oh Shet!

For anyone who wants to see how things began.
https://www.reddit.com/HFY/s/S97b2fqIjx
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

For anyone who wants to see how I got into this situation.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/s/R0DAycoVIm
“In what universe would I ever do you a favor? “ I say, sweeping the floor of the reinforced barn.
“It’s not a favor, it’s a trade, bud.
What do you want in return? “ Trenchcoat asks from within the coffin-like cage.
“To be back home, 8 months ago. “ I reply.
Over the past few weeks I’ve managed to integrate myself into the day to day life on the farm. Things are still a grim, horrifying slog, but with every day it gets a bit easier to deal with.
“Give me something I can do. “ The creature pleads.
“Why, so I can wind up on the end of another ‘ Gotcha’ moment? I’m good. “ is my answer.
A few minutes of silence go by, Augustus breaks it.
“I don’t know many secrets of the universe. Facts, not really my bag. But I know a couple.
How about I share one with you?
No one, not the pope, not my brother, not the shit-bird perched on the highest branch of my twisted family tree, knows what happens when you die.
Some of us never will, of course. Others have ways of avoiding it, but at the end of the day, when the lights truly go out, we know next to nothing.
We do know one thing though. There is judgement, by who? Who knows? Why? Not important.
But at the end of the day, if your battery can’t be recharged, you really want to be thinking about how many marks are on each side of the ledger. “
I don’t reply, and for the next hour or so I ignore the pleading and hinting Trenchcoat does.
But that night, as I sip acidic tea, and try to get a handle on how in the fuck old televisions function, his offer is at the forefront of my mind.
He wants to kill, specifically 6 teenagers who, according to him, have been murdering classmates yearly in a twisted ritual.
He wants me to think this is some kind of noble act, he frames it as almost superheroic. The evil prick knows how I feel, knows that I see the blood on my hands every day, and would kill ( possibly literally) for some way to atone.
Is it a play? I honestly don’t think so, something about how eager the twisted thing is, about how he’s treating the situation as a buyer’s market makes me think something about this makes it important to him.
He offers me everything besides safety and protection. I’m desperate for help, but I have no way to hold him to any agreement.
So the thought rolls around in my mind, staving off the few hours of sleep I get.
“Okay, so, I have it on good authority that tea is supposed to taste better over here. What the hell is wrong with this? “ I say, sitting around an outside table with Sylvia, Dafydd and Colin.
Sylvia smiles, “ Barium, calcium, and a touch of castor oil. “
I look at the brew, then at her.
“If I had told you when you got here you need to drink that to mitigate the effects of working with void touched objects and creatures, you’d have assumed the worst, and found a way to avoid drinking it.
Good to see you becoming more perceptive though. “ Sylvia explains.
“That’s called paranoia, Syl. “ I reply.
She laughs, lighting a cigarette.
“Do you know why I’ve let you figure things out on your own? “ The ancient woman asks.
“Accepted? Yes. Understood, not in the slightest. “ I answer, wondering what sadist invented the scone.
“It’s because I need a leader. Someone who can understand, not a boy who puts his head down and listens to orders.
Someone who can make their own decisions when the time comes.
And I think that time is coming soon. “ Her statement feels like a question.
“If I chose to be here I’d be honored.” I counter.
“That attitude on the other hand… needs work.
Nikolas, today, we talk about what’s really going on.
We play a role in a much larger organization, us, and other families like us, are the ‘boots on the ground’ so to speak.
Our job is not to capture creatures, or horde esoteric goods. We do not foil the schemes of demons, nor blind those who look too deeply into the abyss.
We’re given information about events that could steer the path of humanity into a brick wall. And our job is to make sure they don’t happen. “ Sylvia reveals.
“Something is happening with these fights? “ I ask.
“As I said, perceptive.
Yes, it could be next week, it could be in a decade or two. Right now, we know very little about it, other than when it happens, it would be in our best interests to be of a high standing in the pits. “ She replies.
I absorb the information, and t drug laced tea in equal measure. As I do, I feel something, I feel I’m a part of what’s going on.
This is going to sound dumb as hell, but up until this point I hadn’t been taking things seriously. Don’t get me wrong, death is on the table, and I was trying to avoid that. But I was just treading water, hoping something or someone came by and to get me out of this situation.
But as Syl lays things out, I start to think of my place here, what I can be doing to better my state.
“Here is the part where you avoid telling me why you couldn’t have used anyone around here. “ I prod.
I keep her gaze, Colin and Dafydd shift uncomfortably.
“Augustus, he’s a tricky one. But a very lucky find for us.
I’ve tried 2 others. A boy and a girl, both I practically raised.
Marco, he was a warrior. But the demon got in his head. There was nothing that could be done beyond end his suffering.
Zelma, I won’t talk about.
That thing, it has a way of turning someone’s best traits against them. You, are a blank slate, but you’re family. You’re my best guess as to how we can use him to our advantage.
And this is why I need you, not to listen, but to understand. To see what’s happening, and make your own decisions. If I were to give you my knowledge, if I were to arm you with the best weapons, and the most powerful esoteric objects I know. He’d just have more to turn against you. “ Sylvia’s revelation scares me and puts a massive weight on my shoulders all at the same time.
Confidence and fear are both dangerous emotions. The two of them are almost like drugs in a way.
After eight months of mainlining fear, the tiny line of confidence Sylvia gave me, went straight to my head.
Trenchcoat told me where to find a video file. And after a couple of weeks of running it through every possible test I could, to check for any kind of manipulation, supernatural or otherwise, I watched it.
I was confident that the world would be much better off without the people committing the vicious acts contained in those twenty minutes of footage.
A teenage view of morality, I admit. But what do you want, I’m a teenager.
We watch the abandoned house from across the street. It’s a dingy, urban blight affected suburb, that being said, how no one seems to notice the seven foot freak with me, I have no idea.
The kid inside smoking stolen cigarettes and illegally supplied booze is a husky young guy of about 14. The half dozen kids that show up a couple hours later look closer to my age, last couple of years of high school I’m guessing.
The way they get into the house tells me they’ve done this before. The backpacks they all carry tell me they’re there for a purpose.
“How fucking funny would it be if I just killed you here and took off? “ Trenchcoat says, looming behind me.
I tense.
“It’s a joke. Out of my whole rotten family, Art and I, are close. I’m not going anywhere.
Unfortunately for you. “ Trenchcoat shoves me to the ground as he walks toward the house.
We get in through a basement window, I fit easily, Trenchcoat contorts his body to fit through the thin opening, somehow doing so silently.
I keep hearing Sylvia in my head. Telling me how she needs someone that can make his own decisions.
As I stand in the litter strewn basement, beside a creature with child murder on it’s mind I question the decision that I made.
At first the illumination is dim, nothing more than scraps of moonlight filtered through splintered wood. But with an industrial click, suddenly a half dozen lightbulbs bathe the basement in harsh, yellowish light.
Harsh, but not harsh enough to cause the reaction I see from Trenchcoat.
He squints and tries, unsuccessfully to turn away from the lights. Something about them is causing him discomfort. I get my hopes up for a moment he’s going to burst into flame or turn into dust or something, but no dice.
The sight of the walking nightmare looking pained and confused makes me panic. But before I can think of how I fucked up, I hear a voice.
The room, by the sounds of it, the entire house, has been rigged with speakers. Cleverly recessed in sconces and corners.
“Augi, long time no see. And I see you brought a little Renfield fella with you. “ The voice is modulated, Trenchcoat looks curious for a moment.
“Who, is this? You that clown that’s been fucking with Art?” He guesses.
The voice laughs, “Nope.
Who I am, is a guy who managed to find a few boxes of lightbulbs from ’93.
Then again, with eBay, that could make me just about anyone. “
Trenchcoat turns and looks toward the window we came in. He reaches a hand toward it, stopping a few inches away.
“That’s fucking interesting. “ He says, eyes darting around the room.
“Isn’t it though? “ The voice replies, clearly hearing the creature’s whisper, “ Tonight you get the pay for centuries of the worst shit committed by man or beast. I’ve made sure of that. No one in this house is going anywhere for the next 8 hours.
I’m sure the rest of the houseguests are pretty confused as to what’s going on. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, so let me give you the Cliff’s notes.
You kids have been killing a monster a year for half a decade. You were the perfect bait, and I have faith you’ll be able to outwit Augi long enough to make it out of here.
If not, you’ll still have helped kill one of the worst things to walk the face of the earth. “
“What the hell is he talking about? “ I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.
“That’s what you’re worried about right now?
Yeah, these kids are more Scooby gang than Manson family. Don’t blame me for the fact it only took an out of context exorcism video and some promises of making things right with the universe to get you on board with killing them. “ Trenchcoat spits.
I feel afraid, stupid and small. Which is to say, lately, business as usual.
I begin to break lightbulbs, I notice no runes, or anything else that would indicate they have any kind of supernatural origin.
As the basement dims, Trenchcoat starts to breathe easier.
“What’s going on, what stopped you from leaving? “ I ask.
“This little shit is playing The Game. “ Trenchcoat says to himself as much as to me. He looks deep in thought, inspecting the glass from the bulbs.
“What are you talking about? “ I say, my voice cracking slightly.
I hear noises upstairs, frantic foot falls. Indecipherable shouting.
Trenchcoat turns to me, exasperated and filled with anger.
“You’ve heard of ‘Rules’ right? All that ‘Don’t turn left on East street at 3:24 am kind of shit? “ The creature starts, “More and more of them popping up lately. Can’t miss the things.
Well, your kind seems great at finding them, but fucking awful at figuring out what they are. It’s not someone’s new job, or creepy school. The answer is so damned simple, but all of you’ve missed it.
It's a game. It’s, The Game.
It’s ran by the thickest branches of my family tree, and the stakes are high enough even I don’t really understand.
And whoever has us here, he’s weaponized it. The crazy fuck. “
“Call on your family for help then. “ I say, starting to deal with the fear and confusion.
“You first. “ Is Trenchcoat’s reply.
I get his point, and for a twisted, shitty moment, I find myself relating to the murderous thing I’ve been saddled with.
“So what’s the plan? “ I ask.
“Get my hands on whoever’s been stalking me. Between A and B, probably kill those little do-gooders upstairs out of spite.
I need you to circumvent rules we come across. Humans need to agree to follow the rules, it’s why people encounter them in jobs and schools so much. I’m not human, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t get a choice. “ I’m shaking my head as Augustus relates his plan.
“We’re not hurting those kids. “ I say defiantly.
“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.
But I’m a God damned child killing monster, bud! How long is that going to take to sink the fuck in?
Me not doing what I do, isn’t like giving up smokes. Think of it like not having a slash for months on end. Sooner or later, like it or not, I’m either finding a bathroom or pissing my pants. “ the rant scares me, but it makes me think.
Something about Augustus, it seems very, 90’s. Whoever was on the speakers was talking about the lightbulbs being from ’93. I’m picking up on a very distinct pattern.
I file that information with the rest of the disconnected lore I’ve managed to find on Trenchcoat as I follow him up the steep, narrow set of stairs.
He whips the thin wood door open, taking an aggressive, lurching step into the livingroom beyond. Surely ready to dispense too far quips and limitless violence, as per usual.
But that doesn’t happen, his rage filled scowl turns into a look of resignation, “Fuck”, is the monster’s last word before he disappears.
I cautiously walk up the loose splinter ridden stairs, expecting Augustus to be waiting around the corner, or engaged in combat with some other horror.
But once I get to the top, there’s nothing more sinister than a livingroom covered in dust and graffiti strewn with old bottles and new stains.
I know my chance when I see it. The particle board sealing the bay window is rotten, the glass long since broken.
No monster, no crazy family, I’ll take my chances with the streets of the U. K.
I tap the crumbling wood with a foot, it rattles, it won’t take much to make a hole.
I line up a kick, freedom no more than a quarter inch of rotten wood away.
“I wouldn’t do that. “ Says a voice behind me, male, around my age I’d guess, but with a confidence that makes me listen, “ Rigged with a load of C4 in the window frame.
Don’t take my word for it, guy wasn’t very subtle. ”
Sure enough, I see small wires running along the edges of the frame and embedded in the particle board.
I turn around, the six people standing in front of me have a vibe I can only describe as severe.
“Are we going to have issues? “ a slight, dark skinned guy asks.
“You making threats? “ I reply.
“No, he isn’t. “ it’s the same voice that warned me about the explosives. It belongs to a squared jawed kid with short black hair, he’s wearing a grey hoodie, and separates himself from the group. “ Call me Kent, and I’m in charge of making threats.
Sid, he’s our people person, he’s just trying to see if you’re someone we need to worry about. “
“We don’t have time to figure this kid out, leave him. “ a short, ginger girl says.
“Ami, why don’t I stay out of equipment, and you and Kent let me figure this kid out?” Sid says.
“I’m Nik. “ I volunteer.
“Good to meet you Nik. “ Sid says, walking around Kent, “Didn’t mean to start things off on the wrong foot.
We’ve just gotten used to doing these kinds of things in our own way over the past bit. We get a little… weird around this time of year if I’m being honest. “
I nod, apprehensive at giving any kind of detailed response.
“Derik” says a tall, pale guy, “ Research. “
“Liam. “ a tanned boy in a flannel shirt and deep blue jeans tells me, “ Oxford doesn’t talk, accident a couple of years back. I’m logistics, he figures spooky shit out. “
Oxford is thin and bald, his face looks much older than it should. Like he’s the victim of some kind of wasting disease.
Telling these kids the truth would be, complicated. And something about their war vet demeanor, makes me want to keep things simple.
So I give them a version of the truth. One where I was plucked from my room by Trenchcoat, and brought here for a slow death.
They buy it. I think.
“Well, I don’t know what this Jigsaw wannabe has planned, but trust me when I say, it can’t be much worse than the things we’ve went through. “ Kent says, trying to be reassuring.
“Just, one more thing. “ Sid begins, “ Why all the scars? “
I know I’ve won most of the group over, but I don’t like the look Sid is giving me.
“Work on a farm, on top of that, the family owns an auction. Lots of bent steel and splinters, what can I say? “ I say, trying to sound casual.
“Fair enough, that accent though. “ Sid’s look becomes almost predatory as he talks.
“Immigration my guy. What’s with the third degree? “ I reply.
“We’ve just met and I’ve only asked three questions.
Humor me here though.
You get taken in the night by that thing that winked out of existence.
Seems pretty nice of him to let you put on shoes. “ Sid lets his statement hang.
Kent turns, I don’t like where this is going. Panic and fear start to well up.
“What’re you thinking Sid? “ Kent asks.
“Kid’s lying. But he’s good at it. “ Sid answers.
“You saying this has turned into a, me, situation? “ Kent’s question starts a deep pit in my stomach.
“I don’t know if we need to go that far. But I don’t like the idea of him having seen our faces. I think this is a Liam situation. “ As Sid says this I look to Liam, who already seems deep in thought.
“Local cops will back our story, but he could go beyond them.
We tie him up until all of this is done, and we get some video of him putting a blade into the body upstairs. He goes telling any stories, it’s us and the locals versus some Yank on video stabbing the kid. “ Liam suggests.
I tried to fight, it went, embarrassingly. Kent had me on the ground in some kind of arm lock in about a second.
I’m bound to an old wooden chair with electrical cords, dragged into a room on the second floor where the chubby kid from before lays face down in a coagulated pool of his own blood. Surrounded by the trappings of misspent youth.
The door locks, and I stare at the corpse, wondering what in the hell went on up here, and in what universe are these psychopaths anything other than what they seemed on screen.
Time becomes almost malleable. I’m terrified to the point where every moment seems to stretch out forever.
Then, I hear it. A wet, organic noise. It starts below the body, and slowly starts to spread.
After a minute or two, the body starts to jerk and twitch. The room is dim as hell, but some kind of ropey, flesh-like substance, is sealing off the door.
I watch as the corpse clumsily gets to it’s feet. It’s skin pale, it’s throat slit to the point of near decapitation.
The head falls backward, obscenely with a small spurt of thick blood.
I scream, I thought I’d been getting used to being face to face with monsters. But fully bound, inches away from a kid that seems to be filled with a twisting mass of barbed, writhing, intestine like tentacles, I realize I’m not used to shit.
The ropey mass forms the barest suggestion of features, a shifting, lumpen mass of ever moving tendrils coming from what used to be the kid’s neck.
The sound spreads more, cracks in the floorboards and walls begin to show hints of the tendrils filling them in like spray foam.
No one is hearing my screams, or if they are, they have no interest in helping.
Ever wonder how you’d handle torture? I think if you’re the kind of person to be reading this, it’s likely you have.
I started by pissing myself.
The second the thin tendril touches my hand, I feel a blinding, flensing pain. I can do nothing but watch, as thousands of nearly hair thin spines tear and consume my flesh. As it slowly, almost, curiously makes it’s way up my arm, it leaves a bloodless, scarred furrow about an eighth of an inch deep.
My second reaction was to lose any pretense at defiance or dignity. I thrash and scream, beg and offer. All of this turning into choked sobs as the thing starts to do much of the same with another tendril.
It felt like I was in hell, every inch of me nothing more than a canvas for this artist of misery.
But pain, it can only go so far. Whether we’re talking about my tolerance, or this thing’s interest.
Mutilation, the brutal wedding of pain and loss. That was it’s next step.
A thick, almost centipede like tendril sits on my pinky like a hot iron. I can only watch in horror as I see fat, then muscle, then bone, then, nothing.
My voice shreds, I tear my wrists and ankles trying desperately to break the expertly tied wires.
My mind is at the breaking point, the creature in front of my makes a terrible, high pitched keening I assume is laughter.
My body is a roadmap of scarred pits and lines. My hand sports a cleanly severed finger. Fuck me, I wish things ended there.
Of all the important parts of the human body, the eye, tends to feel the least pain. Which isn’t to say, as I watched the greedy, grasping claws slowly take pieces of one of mine, it didn’t hurt, but the worst part, was knowing what was happening.
The vision in my left eye begins to distort at first, the edges getting blurry, then going dark. Bit by bit, chunk by irreplaceable chunk, the creature takes half my vision.
I can feel the shifting air on the bare socket, to call what I’m doing screaming, would be understating things to the point of absurdity.
My brain reels at what has just happened. I can feel my grip on reality begin to loosen, pain, worse than can bare, loss of half my sight, it’s too much.
My brain feels filled with static, for a few brief moments I swear, I can hear someone, a voice, trying to tell me something.
But then, a smell hits me. Something so foul, so alien, it yanks me back from the brink of disassociation. I gag and choke, as the air becomes thick with the rotten, chemical reek.
Then, I see it, I see, him.
As randomly as he disappeared, in an instant Trenchcoat is in the room.
He’s torn apart, wounds so deep and ragged, I can see the door on the other side of the room through the worst of them.
One arm is a twisted, broken mess, the flesh jacket torn to shreds of necrotic tissue.
The look on his face is panic, paranoia. A rictus grin of someone that has been kept on his toes for entirely too long.
He trembles and heaves, looking like he could fall over at any second.
He points his good arm at the tendril creature, who I notice has a too familiar eye suspended in it’s shifting features.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about the motherfucker who just made me kill my favorite cousin, would you? “ Trenchcoat asks, his voice cracked, and strained.
He gets a confused keening in response.
“Bad day for you then. “ Augustus says.
There is no style to his violence, Trenchcoat grabs the shifting mass, his wicked, claw tipped fingers angling themselves in tendrils. As he lifts the thing, floorboards break, and it’s torn free from the root-like system it was creating in the room.
Three brutal slams cover me in ichor and pieces of creature. Trenchcoat tosses the mewling, twitching pile in a corner and looks at me with disgust.
“You let that thing do this to you? Fuckin’ pathetic, bud.
And who tied you up? “ The nightmare I’ve been cursed with chides me.
“The kids downstairs. “ I say only now realizing I’ve still been sobbing.
One handed, Trenchcoat snaps the wires, then stumbles backward, slowly sliding down the wall.
He coughs, grey, bloody phlegm hitting the ground.
“So, what’s the play here? If this shit broke you, I could use the spare parts, if not, well, you know what the Bible says.
An eye for an eye. “ Trenchcoat grins as he talks, nearly on the brink of death.
And that’s where I think I’m going to leave things. Because, honestly I don’t know what I’m choosing.
I’m mutilated, half blind, using too much of my energy typing to strangers online about things because, I’m so fucking alone here.
If you hear from me again, I hope I made the right move. If not, take this as a lesson on what happens when you screw around with the occult.

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The following two brain scans were provided by the Neuro-Warfare branch of the Halcyon Security Division (HSD) for the purpose of analyzing the thoughts, behaviors, and information of notorious gangsters Vincent 'Troy' Cohen and Bruno (Deadname: Koraak Tel-Char). At the point of the recording of this archival shared, Bruno has since received his rebirth therapy, and Vincent is currently serving a long-term rehabilitative and reeducative sentence in the Erebus Supermax Prison on Io.
Warning: the contents of this archival shared may be especially disturbing to some audiences. Viewer discretion is advised.
Warning: the contents of this archival shard are for the sole purpose of analyzing the thought patterns and memories of certain degenerate criminals in an effort to ascertain vital information that can be used to eliminate their organizations. Only staff with clearance level Omega may view this archival shared, and the viewership of this archival shared by anyone of inadequate clearance level will lead to twenty years in prison and a fine of over a hundred thousand credits.
Booting up memory scan: Vincent 'Troy' Cohen, November 4th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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"Do you have visuals of the target, Troy?"
I knelt down in the alleyway, the bodies of me and my partners shrouded in long, waterproof, ashen-gray overcoats the shade of dirty street scum that we wore to ward off the constant heavy rainfall the color of osmium. Our faces were covered in a mix of scrapped respirators, visors, or full metal face masks carved with intricate designs to hide our identities. On our waists were our badges of honor: leather belts studded with interlocked rivets made from blackened titanium, each buckle forged of silver and shaped into the head of our gang's symbol, the black mamba. We hid amongst the shadows of the dark midday of Halcyon City, the heavy, oppressive rains blanketing the roads paved obsidian-black with asphalt and weathered concrete walkways. The street lamps were always on, like beacons of false hope in a storm of melancholy.
The city was dark and dreary as always, the planet of Proxima Centauri B, renamed Dawn's Lamentation over a century ago, orbited the red dwarf star of Proxima Centauri, and the atmosphere was thick with natural smog and ever-storming rain clouds. That didn't dissuade people from living here: there was plenty of money to be had for shrewd industrialists and hardworking pioneers, even in the urban sprawl. But that life also came with risks, especially for those on the bottom of the totem pole.
I was a ganger, and we were criminals; full stop. I won't assault you with some spiel about how we're the good guys fighting oppression because, at the end of the day, we could be just as bad, if not worse, than Halcyon's Security Division, or the HSD for short. We were traffickers, killers, extortionists, and money launderers. We dealt with everything from stolen tech and military-grade hardware to hard drugs and sentients.
Yes, sentients. We trafficked sentients, but not in the way you might think. They weren't prisoners, in fact, we were their saviors if they had the cash. We had developed a reputation for fighting the power, but it was still business: sure, freeing captives from the clutches of the Protectorate. The disruption of its many oppressive organizations held a certain satisfaction in my heart for sure, but we didn't help those who couldn't pay unless someone else paid on their behalf. It was about making sure me and my gang, my family, could live a decent life for another day.
It helped that most of us joined after leaving the state yard for partaking in acts of 'degeneracy' and 'anti-xenopet illegalities' as if those terms meant anything anymore other than that we were a threat to the local status quo. It was hard to pick up a job as a former inmate when even in something as harsh and backbreaking as a job in the iridium mines near the poles when the employment office had you blacklisted as a degenerate, which lead to the formation of many of the gangs: we needed to make a living somehow, and when all social programs were cut off from you unless you submitted for 're-education' and the only way to put food on the table was subverting, breaking, or even downright fighting the law, you did what you had to do or you died on the streets a scorned beggar.
It wasn't like the HSD made it easy for us on even a good day: the local HSD units were armed to the teeth with advanced, military-grade hardware that you'd often see on the front lines of the Second Authority War: armored assault transports, a myriad of advanced war droids, all sorts of chemical countermeasures that made tear gas seem like putting the garden hose on mist mode, and of course advanced firearms. Add that to the fact that they were authorized to use deadly force when they deemed it necessary and you had a ruthless, heartless, and nearly unstoppable enemy. But we could make that work: we weren't trying to stop them, just to withstand them.
"Yeah, I got eyes on the prize, Koraak; seven armored transports, two for droids, five for prisoners."
Today wasn't a day for a normal job: we were getting bolder, cockier, more ambitious. Our numbers had swelled for the last few years after the raid at Barnard's Star and the fall of the Blood Dragon Mafia. Their leader, Saito Yasuhide, had committed seppuku as their manor burned, and his twin sons had gone down fighting rather than allowing themselves to be captured simply to face a firing squad. In the aftermath, many of the family's associates had fled to the surrounding systems, and with the sheer size and scope of the criminal underworld found here, it was no wonder that many people who had developed skills of the less legal variety had decided to form ranks with the gangs, and with them they brought guns, tech, knowledge, contacts, and even something that we thought wasn't possible beforehand: a semblance of peace between the gangs, or at least the closest thing to peace that gangs could cultivate effectively. With the fall of the Blood Dragons, we saw the writing on the wall, and the writing couldn't have been clearer: work together or die together.
"Sounds like a massacre, Troy: are you sure we can handle seven?"
"We ain't got no choice, Cinder: this job's double the usual rate, and that's not including the weapons and gear we could scrounge if this goes well," I hissed, my eyes scanning for any resistance. There were at least four guards for each van, not to mention at least eight droids in total, meaning that we were already outnumbered, but we had the element of surprise: we could make it work. "So put your balls in your purse and get ready to spill some blood."
Koraak snorted at our antics, which sounded like someone pulling the ripcord on a lawnmower. He was a veteran Russu Corsair, and while his past of slaving, raiding, and killing was unsavory, so were the lives we'd lived, so who were we to judge? All we cared about was that he was a brutal and capable fighter and a loyal brother in arms. It turned out that being a ganger wasn't much different from being a Corsair: you lived and died by a code of honor, you fought to the death for your brothers, and you lived to die for the sake of your gang and your family, simple as that. In a strange, ironic way, it was an incredibly honest way of life: we were under no illusions as to what we were, what we did, and why we did it, and we'd long since accepted it. The Russu related to us in that aspect, in many ways I could respect, which is why I hated what the Protectorate was doing, and why I couldn't grasp how most of humanity could just collectively lose their marbles so long ago. What had happened for us to deem all other life below us in such a demeaning and infantilizing way?
The Russu were a race of tall, muscle-bound Saurians with avian features, and Koraak was no exception: reaching almost seven feet in height and weighing over four hundred and fifty pounds, he could be an absolute menace if he so desired. His skin was covered in stubby, knobby scales and dense plumage, with elegant feathers adorning the ridges along his back as well as his forearms, elbows, knees, and the crests on his head. He almost looked like how paleontologists described velociraptors, with razor-sharp talons, feathers shaded in vibrant greens, reds, and purples, and a maw full of sharp teeth, but at the tip of his snout was a sharp, beak-like growth meant for ripping flesh off the bone.
The Russu were strange as hell, but they also looked almost cute in the same way a fully grown alligator was cute: they were obviously dangerous, but humans would always have this innate desire to anthropomorphize them and to pet them for some inexplicable reason, although common sense usually prevented that, at least amongst the very few of us left that were sane.
"Shut up, Troy! All I'm saying is that that'll be rough, and you know it," hissed Cinder. Cinder was a tall black man whose coffee-colored skin was covered in tattoos. He wore an ebony mechanic's jumpsuit with metal inserts underneath his grimy overcoat covering his body and a faded black respirator on his face. His eyes were a startling blue that seemed sorely out of place, and his hair was braided into thick cornrows along his scalp. He wore a pair of heavy black combat boots and palmed his compact shotgun in his hands, the square barrel less than seven inches. Like a lot of the weapons the Black Mambas carried on their persons and dealt in, they fired caseless ammunition; in Cinder's case it was 16x40mm caseless shotshells filled with depleted uranium micro-flechetes no thicker than a toothpick. Cinder nervously fiddled with the detachable tube magazine underneath the barrel, his hands shaking. Despite the shit I have him, I didn't blame him for being anxious: I was anxious too, even if I refused to show it. The biting cold of unease and pessimism was in my stomach, and I ran all the way that this job could go wrong in my head over and over.
"Just hold yourself together, this ain't anything we haven't done before, there's just more of it," I reassured Cinder, "besides, we're not alone; we have reinforcements across the street. We'll make it out of this alive."
Cinder nodded almost absentmindedly, his eyes downcast and his breathing shallow. I turned from him and back to Koraak, who was making sure he had everything on his person; he had a synthetic leather bandoleer across his chest that contained the heavy eight guage depleted uranium slugs he kept loading and unloading into his much larger, longer, and more traditional shotgun he nicknamed ‘carnage’ and several leather straps that held his Tu'shan daggers: traditional Russu pyramidal blades forged from a silvery alloy with all three edges serrated and the tip barbed to leave behind horrible, gaping wounds that gushed blood. They were wickedly sharp and absolutely straight like a stiletto, and the hilts and pommels were beautifully decorated. He wore no clothes underneath his overcoat to cover the countless scars and blemishes he's earned in combat across his chest and abdomen, and instead of a normal respirator or visor, he simply wore a hood over his head and some traditional Russu facial armor to protect his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.
"You ready to fight, Koraak? The caravan will pick up and leave soon."
Koraak was silent for a moment before nodding, a human gesture he had picked up after serving as a soldier with the Black Mambas for years. "I'm always ready to fight," he said before lifting up his shotgun and aiming down the sights at the reinforced front wheels of the first armored car in the caravan. He exhaled and fired, the slug ripping through both front tires and causing them to deflate and fall apart. The echo of the shot rang through the alleyway and the street, causing pedestrians to panic and flee the scene as heavily armored guards poured out of the side doors of the armored cars and unholstered their carbines.
"Go, now!" I shouted, and both me and Cinder rushed out into the fray, our guns raised. Koraak was right behind the two of us, providing covering fire with his shotgun. Several guards fell quickly, Koraak's precise fire and the sheer force of the depleted uranium slugs putting them down for good as their heads were vaporized or their chest cavities were turned to mush. He emptied the tube with one final shot that painted the grey matter of a security guard on the door of one of the armored cars, then racked the shotgun and expertly loaded it in threes, his hands deft and agile as he reached for more slugs faster than any human.
With the cacophony of our initial assault, more Black Mambas poured out from the alleyways and the subways, armed to the teeth with all manner of weapons; shotguns, submachine guns, pistols, machetes, baseball bats, and all manner of homemade explosives. Molotovs and more potent concoctions shattered against the asphalt, herding in the caravan guards with their volatile contents as they were quickly gunned down. The assault was working, and we were winning.
Then I heard the robotic whine of a combat droid activating, and my heart sank. One of the armored cars in the back activated the four combat droids it held, the robotic assault units detaching from their charging ports on the sides of the large van and began to form up, each armed with a terrifying array of deadly weapons meant to quash any and all resistance. They were blocky, soulless, utilitarian things that stood at eight feet tall, with flat feet meant for stomping and blades, grasping claws designed to lacerate flesh and shatter bone. On each shoulder was a weapon: on the left was a multi-barrel rotary grenade launcher loaded with 15mm concussion grenades, and on the right was a burst-fire splinter cannon. They were all painted a dull grayish-green, the color of Halcyon's Security Division, although some had a few decorations on them: the one closest to me had a bit of graffiti on the side that said Mr. Hugs in Comic Sans, which I couldn't decide whether that made it more or less terrifying. They split up without hesitation and began to scan the chaotic battlefield, their single, red, beady lenses the security forces had the gall to call eyes focusing on specific targets to eliminate.
An entire group of Black Mambas was torn to pieces by a cloud of flechettes as one of the droids fired a withering three-round burst of shotshells from the four gauge splinter cannon mounted on its shoulder. Another picked up a Black Mamba in its hand and crushed her skull effortlessly before tossing her limp body to the side, its single, red, remorseless robotic eye tracking a new target. Most bullets that struck their thick armored chassis simply bounced off, and those that could pierce the armor didn't seem to phase the droids whatsoever, merely notifying them of a new potential target.
"Damnit," I shouted as I gunned down another guard only for two more to take his place. "Cinder! We gotta pop open the cars and scram! Get the maglock cutters!"
Cinder rushed and slid over through a dirty puddle, pulling out a maglock cutter from the inside of his coat and slipping it onto the back door of the first van. It immediately went to work, drilling through the maglock with a high-powered plasma torch nozzle, and within ten seconds we heard the telltale clunk of the maglock separating. I yanked the door open and ordered I side, ready to escort the prisoners out… only for my face to contort in shock and horror.
The back was empty. There was not a single soul inside of the back brig of the armored car.
"What the fuck…" Cinder gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "What the actual fuck… what the fuck is this, Troy?"
"I… I don't…" I stuttered the sounds of battle and carnage drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in my ears. All five cars were supposed to be filled with recently captured Russu from the front lines ready to be housed in the local Xenopet-Megaplex for processing and conditioning. The fact that this one was empty…
Suddenly, it all hit me at once with the force of a freight train, but it was too late. "We were set up, Cinder; our fucking client either squealed or was crooked to begin with…"
"Fucking bitch!" Cinder shouted as he spun around in an enraged arch, anger growing in his eyes. He aimed his shotgun at an approaching security guard and reduced his upper body to a fine red mist with a cacophony of shotgun blasts. "We gotta get everyone who's left out of here! Do you know what this means? The Jurors will be here soon, and then we're all going down! We gotta go, fuck the job!"
I grit my teeth. Not the Jurors, anything but the Jurors.
"Fine, gather everyone who's left and we'll slip through the sewers, the droids are too bulky to follow us there…"
As I spoke, my eyes wandered to the seventh and final armored car, the second of the droid cars, and my blood froze. Not only were all four ports empty, but they were also smaller and more shallow than the ports for the combat droids. That could only mean one thing.
"Oh fuck! Cinder, we gotta get our Russu members out of here! They've got arachnid droids!"
Arachnid droids were the stuff of nightmares. Resembling blocky, robotic arachnids the size of a manhole cover, they were specifically designed to take down sentient aliens, specifically the Russu, using sickeningly non-lethal means. They were equipped with full-body adaptive cloaking to blend in with their environments, paralytic agents that they could inject into their victims, built-in taser barbs, psychedelic gas ports for crowd-control, and a narrow-coned cacophony canon that disabled the Russu using incredibly high-pitched sounds that only they could hear, forcing them onto their knees and clutching the backs of their heads where their auditory organs were stored in agony. But worst of all was their stygian spinnerets: special ports near the end of their robotic abdomens that excreted a viscous, latex-like substance made up of millions of nano-bots. This substance could be used to render Russu blind, deaf, and mute by having it forced onto their faces, the black substance growing and enveloping their heads and working its way into every orifice. It was completely permeable to the standard atmosphere, but any Russu who had been 'webbed' was completely helpless and essentially captured, and the 'webbing' was both nearly indestructible and nigh impossible to remove without a triple-encrypted override key that was found in every arachnid droid's code, which was corrupted when the droid was destroyed or hacked into. Once you were 'webbed', you were essentially captured and the standard protocol was to leave you to the wolves since the nano-bots could be tracked, endangering the entire gang.
I turned just as I heard the deafening sound of Koraak discharging his shotgun, and I saw him squaring off against one of the assault droids. The droid has obviously been programmed to not use lethal force against Russu if possible, as instead of simply killing Koraak with it's shoulder-mounted splinter cannon, it approached with its claws extended, blades retracted. Koraak continued to back away and fire, pumping the droid full of depleted uranium slugs, its armor crumbling inward as the slugs pierced its chassis and damaged its internal cyberstructure. Eventually, Koraak ran out of slugs and instinctively reached to his bandoleer only to find that he had no more shells left at all, and he drew one of his knives and his sidearm, a simple high-caliber handgun. He tried to take down the droid with his handgun, but the bullets didn't even seem to affect the droid upon penetration, it's claws still extended as it attempted to apprehend Koraak.
In the corner of my vision, as I watched Koraak battle with the droid, I noticed a faint shimmer in the air on one of the black streetlight poles that was right behind him. I focused on it and blinked, believing my eyes had deceived me for a moment before realizing that it was actually a cloaked arachnid droid stalking Korvaak, ready to pounce and incapacitate him.
Before I could shout, it leaped from the pole and landed on Korvaak, causing him to shout in surprise while it began to coagulate its horrifying stygian webbing to disable Korvaak. Korvaak tried to wrestle it off of him, but the droid was agile and fast, clinging onto Korvaak and skittering around across his upper body as he attempted to grab it, forcibly wrapping the sticky black liquid across his face as he gagged like a spider wrapping up a fly. I rushed towards him to try and help, but I felt pain explode in my ribs as I was struck with the arm of the closest combat droid and launched into the chassis of a parked car, the metal denting from the sheer force of impact. I groaned in pain as I saw stars and my head spun, and just then I felt a blinding light be cast over me.
“Drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head, or you will be pacified with deadly force!” Shouted a loud, artificially deepened voice from above. “I repeat, drop your weapons and kneel with your hands on your head! Neither hostility nor hesitation will be tolerated!”
It was the Jurors, I could feel the air being pushed around from the thrusters on their drop ships, and I could hear screams and shouts as my fellow Black Mambas were quickly gunned down. I couldn’t see well since I was seeing double, but I could hear the slaughter as my eyes dimmed and I began to lose consciousness, my regrets crawling up my throat like vomit.
I’m sorry was all I could think as everything finally went dark, and the sounds of chaos, destruction, and combat faded away.
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Memory halted due to loss of consciousness. Booting next available memory in shard…
Booting up memory scan: Koraak Tel-Char Bruno, November 5th, 2446…
Loading and processing firmware data… translating… memories and subconscious simulated…
Beginning archival shard presentation…
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“Good morning, sleepyhead; it’s time for breakfast.”
My eyes shot open. I was not in the street anymore, nor was I home in my bed with my mate. I knew instantly that something was horribly wrong. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t gain the leverage to do so: my ankles had been shackled together with magnetic cuffs and my arms were forced together in front of me.
I was wearing some kind of thick shirt. It was warm, fluffy, and comfortable on the inside, but it still made me incredibly uncomfortable that my arms didn’t have a free range of motion. I looked down to see that I was wearing some human garment I had heard about before, a straightjacket maybe?
The entire room was padded: the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. There was no bed or furniture; the floor was soft enough to serve as a bed in itself. There was nothing else except for the soft reddish-orange lights on the ceiling that somehow made me sleepy. I blinked slowly for a moment, my body screaming at me to just lay back down and lose consciousness, but I couldn’t do that: I needed to figure out where I was and how to escape.
Then I noticed who was speaking to me: it was a short human female, with crow's feet around her blue eyes, blonde hair braided down her back, and freckles all over her face. She had a soft smile on her lips, and her forehead was slightly crinkled. She wore a full-body white lab suit with a white overcoat and a pair of glasses for snugly on her face.
"There we go, now I can see those pretty eyes, such a beautiful shade of teal," she cooed softly, "You're such a handsome boy, even with all those scars: I'm sure you'll be adopted very quickly once we get you fixed up."
Fear gripped my heart as I began to piece all the evidence together. I had been captured; I was no longer on Halcyon, and instead, I was in one of the horrific space-born facilities I had heard so much about from the inside agents. I started to hyperventilate and squawk like a newborn hatchling, my eyes dilating in panic. This couldn't be happening! This has to be a nightmare!
The human woman merely wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into an embrace, cradling my head under her chin and speaking softly. I couldn't bite at her or claw at her: I was muzzled and wearing a straight jacket, so I had no choice but to allow her to coddle me.
"It's okay, sweetheart: I understand you're scared, but Julie's here to make all the pain and bad thoughts go away," she said as if she was comforting a child, which made anger blossom in my chest indignantly. "I'll be your caretaker for the next few months, and I'm going to make sure you're healthy, happy, and most importantly safe while you're under our care. I'm sorry to say that includes your restraints and restrictive clothing, but we have to make sure you aren't a threat to yourself or others before we can determine if it's a good idea to remove you from suicide watch."
I growled under my muzzle. Suicide watch? They must have had a lot of instances of Russu taking their own lives after being captured, something I wished I had been able to do before that damnable droid launched itself onto me and…
I shuddered at the thought of the black, viscous substance forcing itself into my nostrils and down my throat and windpipe, gagging me and rendering me completely helpless. It was so cold, so harsh, like slime, and when I had tried to tear it off of my face it merely attached itself to my claws and bound my talons together. I remember squirming on the ground as it enveloped me, unable to see, hear, or speak, and then everything went dark in an instant. It was the most horrible thing I had ever experienced, which was saying something.
"You alright, sweetheart? Oh, I know, you're probably hungry! Here, try some of this." She held up a piece of what looked like raw bacon and wiggled it in front of me before reaching out to remove my muzzle. In an instant, I attempted to snap at her only for pain to blossom in my forehead and my eyes to roll up in my head as I convulsed. It was like something was attempting to drill through my skull from the inside, and every breath felt empty and labored.
"Now, that didn't feel very nice, did it? This is why we have countermeasures in place because we can't trust you yet, sweetheart! Don't worry, we'll work on breaking you of all those bad behaviors and habits while you're here; after all, a well-trained pet is a happy pet!" She began to stroke the crests on my head as I slowly recovered, and she snugly fit the muzzle back onto my snout. "But I won't hold it against you this time, sweetheart; you're just scared and confused, but I'll make all the pain go away."
I struggled in the straight jacket, trying my best to break out of it, but it was no use. Eventually, I became exhausted and despondent, allowing my new caretaker to have her way with me as she gently ran her fingers through my feathers and along my ridges, quietly speaking to me in a hopeless attempt to cheer me up. She seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being, which concerned me even further: who could be this naturally twisted while attempting to be as benevolent and kindhearted as possible?
I felt the pain and terror build up in my chest, the anxiety from what horrific activities I imagined they had planned for me here. I couldn't take the infantilization, the lack of any autonomy, the dehumanization, and what I feared the most was if the rumors of 'rebirth' were true: would they take my personhood from me?
Suddenly, I felt her whisper to me. "Don't worry sweetheart, I know you're so scared and confused, but I promise you everything will be okay: it's going to be your birthday soon, and then everything will get better." She ran her fingers through the feathers along my crest lovingly. "It will be such a wonderful day, and then we'll choose for you the most wonderful family, and you'll spend the rest of your life happy in your forever home! Doesn't all of that sound wonderful?"
I wanted to die. I wanted to disappear. I didn't want to lose myself, not like this, not to these monsters!
"It'll be your birthday soon," she said wistfully as if she was remembering similar events to this in the past like I wasn't the first she'd done this too, "and you'll never be sad again."
I realized that I wasn't the first the stay in this particular cell, and I knew for certain that I wouldn't be the last: I'd end up like my brother, a broken, erased mess of a pathetic creature, reduced to nothing more than a pet for these humans to amuse themselves with.
"We took the liberty of picking out a nice name for you, sweetheart! Now, let me just slip this little programming chip into the port slot on your occipital bone, and... there we go! It will also help you calm down a bit and adjust."
I felt the chip begin to invade my mind, suppressing my thoughts. What made me me was slowly being ripped out of my mind. I couldn't remember my name my name is Bruno, and I needed to get out! I can't let them do this to me! Somebody help me! I was a good boy.
##Do not think. You are a good boy.##
I tried to scream, but my voice wouldn't work: I had trouble forming any words at all, the confusion clouding my mind like wet, slimy eels curling around my brain and sinking their teeth into its folds like needles. I couldn’t scream any longer, because I had nothing left: the chip was slowly beginning to take everything from me, robbing me of my identity and branding a new one into my psyche with a white-hot iron. Julie simply held me close, attempting to reassure me as I awaited the inevitable demise of my personhood. Soon I would be just like my brother: erased. My mind would be shaped into the mind of a loyal plaything, like a Dog.
##Relax. Allow caretaker [Julie] to comfort you. You will let go of your burden.##
Soon, everything was a blur. I quickly found myself resting my head in her lap as she whispered to me and fed me, my eyes bleary and my head fuzzy. I couldn't remember my name anymore My name was Bruno, and I needed to break free from this trance relax, and allow her to help me; good boys didn't resist help.
##Good Boy. Do not think. You are a good boy.##
You can't... I...
##Good boy.##
I wouldn't… good boys don't… I…
##Good boy##
I was a good boy… I was a good boy…
I was… I was… a good… boy…
Someone help me, please! I don't want to be erased!
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The following script is from episode #343 of Halcyon After Dark, a popular late-night and current events talk show hosted by Melinda Carter. This specific episode was sponsored in part by the Halcyon Security Division, with Director Lochlin O'Brien joining as a guest star to talk about the changing crime statistics in Halcyon City and the HSD's recent successes in busting organized crime as well as their plans for addressing the growing criminal underworld.
MC: Good evening Halcyon! I'm your host, Melinda Carter, and you're watching Halcyon's most popular late-night talk show, Halcyon After Dark!
The crowd claps and cheers as Melinda walks on stage and sits behind her desk, her glittering red dress waving as she does so from the special effects.
MC: Tonight we have a very special guest here to tell us about the state of crime in the city and his plans on resolving it: please put your hands together for the HSD's very own Director, Lochlin O'Brien!
The crowd cheers some more as HSD Director Lochlan O'Brien, a tall, muscular, caucasian male in his early forties with red hair and a well-trimmed beard steps into the room, waving at the crowd with a bright smile. He sits in the armchair angled next to Melinda's desk and gives her his full attention.
MC: It's so good to have you on the show, Director! Tell me, how are you doing on this fine evening?
LO: I'm doing excellent, Melinda: every day I wake up feeling fulfilled knowing I'm serving Halcyon to the best of my abilities and then some."
MC: That's the spirit, Director! Now, I know this question is just on everyone's lips, so I have to ask: how successful was the recent gang bust? I heard HSD forces took out dozens of gang members and liberated at least a dozen Russu Hounds from their abusive clutches, but I know that everyone in the audience and at home wants to know the numbers.
LO: I'd be glad to tell you, but I do have to preface this by saying that we still lost a lot of good officers that day, and while we did strike a crippling blow to one of Halcyon's biggest gangs, it doesn't change the fact that each death is a tragedy, and we're taking steps to prevent them in the future. That being said, those valiant officers did not sacrifice themselves in vain: we had over a dozen confirmed kills and several arrests, including the rescue of several corrupted Russu hounds.
MC: That's excellent, Director: proof that even when the number of degenerates and scum grow by the day, the HSD will always be here to keep the citizens of Halcyon safe.
LO: Absolutely, Melinda, and we're always working tirelessly to increase the efficiency and effectiveness of our units, as well as racing to stay several steps ahead of the many gangs of Halcyon at all times. My newest goal as Director is to vastly increase the funding given to our Robotics Department and our Neuro-Warfare Department to potentially reduce the number of casualties we may experience in the future, as well as to quickly and effectively detain, and if necessary, eliminate criminals. Within the next decade, I want to double the number of automated units each Security Platoon is assigned: droids are the future of public safety as well as countless other industries, and it would be foolish to be left behind.
MC: That is quite a lofty goal, Director: what about the displaced jobs from the increased automation? What will the union say?
LO: And to that, I say: what misplaced jobs? We aren't replacing our honored and beloved service members with droids, Melinda, we are simply supplementing our units with more droids to ensure that future gang assaults end with fewer HSD casualties and more gang members in prison or eliminated, simple as that.
MC: That makes much more sense, Director, thanks for clarifying. Now, I have one more question that I'm sure much of Halcyon wants to know the answer to before we take a short break: what plans do you and your fellow directors have to make long-term progress in reducing crime beyond just increasing funding? Have you proposed any plans to strike at the source of where crime and degeneracy flourish?
OL: That's an excellent question, and one I am proud to answer: my constituents and I have been working tirelessly on a two-step plan to greatly reduce crime levels in Halcyon. Step one would be to prevent people from becoming criminals and degenerates at all in the first place: a lot of young men and women, but especially young men, have lost either one or both parents or even a sibling, aunt or uncle, or even a close friend by the brutality of the Second Authority War, and while the service of their lost loved ones will always be recognized and honored, many of these young men and women are left bitter, angry and lost without the guidance these people give them in their lives. Oftentimes they seek to fill that void with others who claim to relate to them: career criminals. These criminals will fill their heads with lies and false narratives to make them feel like they're fighting back against the 'evil protectorate government' that took their loved ones from them by sending them off to war when in reality it was the rogue Xenopets of the Triarchy that took them away by resisting their just and inevitable unburdening.
In response, I have proposed a slew of special programs that will make sure local law enforcement and HSD officers are present and contributing to their local community, and we'll be providing easy and light job openings for youngsters and teens looking to make a career for themselves in the force when they grow up. We want to let these lost souls know that there are people who care about them, people who understand them and that you shouldn't turn to degeneracy to feel fulfilled. We want to help the youth of our great society soar to new heights!
MC: That sounds like a wonderful beginning to your plan, Director, but what about the second step?
LO: Well, the second step is to prevent criminals and degenerates from becoming repeat criminals. Sure, they've made their mistakes, some worse than others, but they're only human like the rest of us. Some of them have been through hell: some are traumatized veterans who don't know how to adapt to normal life, others were recruited when they were young and don't know that there's a better way to live, and even more are mentally ill. We're alone in this galaxy, and we can't leave so many people behind. That's why we've come up with an excellent solution: we've set up isolated communities on distant moons and frontier planets where these criminals can be reeducated, rehabilitated, and allowed to repay their debt to society. When they're deemed 'reformed' and have graduated from our program, they'll be granted a hefty stipend and their criminal record will be deemed irrelevant, allowing them to reintegrate and become functioning members of our proud society.
MC: all of these sound like incredible steps forward in the fight to better our society and make real progress, Director. Sadly, we do have to step away for a moment, but you best believe I'll be back, Halcyon, and we'll be asking the Director here some burning questions about allegations over the quality of life Erubus Supermax! Now, a word from our sponsors!
Halcyon Xenopet-Megaplex! Everything your xenopet could ever need in one place! Adoption is now free-
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Good, you’re still alive! The rest of this shard appears to be corrupted, which means this particular trail seems to have run cold here, but do not despair; you need to keep searching. Find out what happened. Find the truth.I cannot guide you any longer: they've already found me, and if I remain in contact with you they'll find you as well. Take the archival database, and see what you can piece together. Maybe if we discover what truly happened we can put an end to this madness once and for all. I'm counting on you. Don't cry for me, I don't fear death, but I fear what they'll do to me to get to you: there are far worse fates than death, after all.

Hello , this is my fifth submission. It feels like it's trending in the right direction thanks to the feedback I've been getting from you all.
I would love to hear some more thoughts because I would like to start querying in the near future, but don't want to jump the gun unless the query itself is ready. I'm open to any and ALL criticism and feedback. Thank you in advance!
[First Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1b2oprl/qcrit_adult_science_fiction_god_particle_111k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Second Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1b8cxqn/qcrit_adult_science_fiction_god_particle_111k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Third Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1cr7k53/qcrit_adult_science_fiction_god_particle_111k/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button)
[Fourth Attempt](https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1cy7p00/qcrit\_adult\_science\_fiction\_god\_particle\_111k/?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web3x&utm\_name=web3xcss&utm\_term=1&utm\_content=share\_button)
QUERY
[Dear Agent]
Detective Asaju knew she’d have to face death eventually, she just thought it would’ve been in 200 years. After catching a group of hackers ID scrubbing a simple arrest quickly turns into a blood bath. Surviving a dance of blades thanks only to her cybernetic enhancements, Asaju meets Helel, a man known to only a handful as the devil of Nauru.
Preferring to speak the languages of his past lives, Helel is surprised when Asaju speaks Latin. Seeing an old soul that he recognizes Helel spares Asaju believing he’s found his successor. Recruited by the Intelligence Division, Asaju joins the hunt for Helel and his cult. Through her investigation Asaju learns how untouchable the corporations that run the world are, and how they’ve tricked those they exploit into believing they’re happy.
Helel’s plan to save humanity from itself finally begins when he hijacks a news station and promises to change the world in six days. Asaju and the Intelligence Division move in to capture him only to find themselves ensnared in Helel’s trap. Asaju sacrifices herself so others can escape, but the devil always gets his due.
Asaju is drugged with a mind altering hallucinogen that leaves her questioning who she really is. Seeing things that leave her both terrified and at peace, Asaju begins to wonder if these thoughts are her own, or if she’s just clay being shaped by the hand of the devil. As she struggles with her own sanity and tracking down Helel, Asaju realizes there may be fates worse than death.
GOD PARTICLE is an adult science fiction novel in the cyberpunk subgenre complete at 110,000 words. It combines the futuristic world of (insert comp I'm still looking for, last book I read did not work, that's 4-5 so far, but at someone suggested the Murderbot Diaries. I'm rereading the first but I don't think it fits, at least book 1. Last suggestion was maybe Womb City. The synopsis doesn't sound close but the world might be similar. Richard K Morgan's "Thin Air" has a similar world and detective vibe, but it came out in 2018, so 6 years ago. Is that possibly still okay to use?), and the mind bending and detective elements of Blake Crouch's, Recursion.
I graduated with a bachelor's degree in Cinema with an emphasis in Screenwriting from [insert uni name] before I transitioned to writing novels six years ago and am so exciting to be sharing my debut novel with you. (insert brief reasons why I think they would be a good fit to represent God Particle).
Thank you for your time and consideration.
FIRST 300:
Detective Asaju watched a kaleidoscope of colors dance above the street. The glittering holos moved against each building trying to entice partiers inside with every attraction imaginable. Asaju secretly envied these people. To her, the swirling mosaics were beautiful, but unappealing. She once heard a spaced raver describe them as “unicorn barf,” which perfectly summarized how she felt about them.
She stood beneath the holo of a shield that read, DigiSafe, behind a neon green phrase, NOT SAFE ENOUGH, and a laughing face. No one paid it any attention here in the entertainment district. It was normal for everyone to be in their loudest outfits, wearing the flashiest augments money could buy. Graffiti or not, the holo was too tame to be noticed by anyone. Ironically, it was Asaju who garnered the most attention. In a sea of color her plain gray jacket, dark jeans, and black shirt couldn’t have stood out more. Thankfully no one paid her more than a cursory glance before continuing on their way.
“How we lookin, Garcia?” she asked, scanning the crowd with her police issued EyeDent glasses that brought up the ID of every person that walked by. Almost everyone’s tag above their head was green, with only a few yellows sprinkled here and there. Most were unpaid tickets for overtuned cybernetics or unregistered solicitation. None of it was worth the paperwork or hassle of bringing them down to the station. Seeing nothing of interest, Asaju rubbed her wrists as she watched a woman with an augmented chest that looked like it had been dipped in a vat of pink satin walk past.
“Wired in now,” Garcia shouted over the crowd.
“I’m counting on you to find something I can follow up on,” Asaju said while looking down at him. He was a scrawny guy who looked even smaller as he sat on the ground with his terminal on his lap.

1. Mary Kelly was said to have spoken with a lisp
2. After Nichols death her body was taken to the mortuary and was taken via “Chapman’s court” and then her body was sent to the undertakers location on “Hanbury Street. “ Oddly, the next victim after Nichols was Annie Chapman who was murdered on Hanbury Street.
3. Mary Kelly was the first murdered victim to have ever been photographed post mortem. (EDIT: Kelly was the first murder victim to have a crime scene photo taken. We know that Eddowes post mortem photo was taken before Kelly. My apologies for this mistake in my original post.)
4. People used to believe at that time that the murdered victims eyes would reflect an image of their killer.
5. Under the archway where the Pinchin Street torso was dumped was written the word "Lipski" in chalk. This potentially links the Pinchin Street Torso to the murder of Stride and that of Miriam Angel in 1887.
6. Arthur Conan Doyle published his first Sherlock Holmes novel in 1887. In the novel (A Study In Scarlet) the fictional killer writes the word “RACHE” on the wall. The word “RACHE” means “revenge” in German. Perhaps Jack the ripper romanticized Arthur Conan Doyle’s fictional killers idea of writing a message on the wall if we believe that he wrote the graffiti on Ghoulston street.
7. Another Arthur Conan Doyle coincidence is that in 1888 Doyle wrote a piece called “The Mystery Of Cloomber” the illustrator worked on this piece from August 31st 1888 - November 8th 1888. If these dates sound familiar, they should. These are the dates that mark the first canonical killing of Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols and the last of the canonical victims Mary Jane Kelly (actually murdered on Nov. 9th) To make things even more interesting, the illustrators name was “George Wylie Hutchinson”, the reported first and last name of the last man who claimed to have seen the last canonical victim alive.
8. The Doctor who investigated the Whitechapel murders and the Thames torso murders, Doctor Thomas Bond committed suicide on June 6th 1901 by jumping out of a 3rd floor window. “At 7am, on the morning of Thursday June 6th 1901, the nurse had left the room for a brief moment. Seizing his opportunity Dr Bond had leapt from his bed, clad only in his nightshirt, and had thrown himself from the third floor window. He fell 50 feet, hitting the pavement below headfirst.”
9. There was a blotched double event that occurred on August 30th/31st. Before attacking and murdering Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols, the killer also attacked one Margaret Mallows (Or “Malhous”) but was unsuccessful in killing her.

My friends Jose, Luke, and I always search for new things. We invented challenges and explored every inch of our hometown. Not long ago we discovered geocaching. The three of us downloaded this app on our phones and set out. Filling our backpack with miscellaneous junk to replace any “treasures” we found, we rode out on our bikes. We didn’t find too much. A panda pencil hugger and a 2 dollar bill were among our top finds.
Soon, the app leads us off the beaten path. In between our neighborhood and the next, there’s a dead end road that leads to a power plant surrounded by the woods. Through said woods, a dirt path lined by massive power lines.
“Should we be worried about, you know, electrocution?” I say as we pull up to the spot.
“Nah, we’re fine,” says Jose. We search and search. This geocache is nowhere to be found. I mean, we’ve scoured everywhere except for the more dangerous spots.
“Bro, it’s not here. Somebody already got it,” said Luke.
“Yeah, they must have forgotten to replace it.” Jose says.
We call it quits, walking back up towards the road.
The following day, our trio is hanging out as usual. Luke’s little brother Gary comes to join us. This is unusual, because he’s, well, a hermit. I don't believe he’d seen the sun since last summer. This kid plays computer games from dusk till dawn. We tell him of yesterday’s Geocaching experience, and he wants to try it himself. We agree, we’re still curious and excited.
Gary rides on Luke’s handlebars because he’s small enough. We make it to the dead end, he's having a blast.
“Hey, we didn't try searching the woods yet.” Jose says. On second thought, not a great idea. Our attire most certainly does not suit a venture into the woods. Thorns, bugs, more thorns, it’s awful. Wanting to give up, but something stops us. A lone white shed.
“Woah, what the heck? Why’s that out here?” Jose says.
“Hmm. Maybe it’s for hunting deer or something?” I say.
“Here? By the power plant? We’re not even that deep into the woods.” Luke points out.
“Good point. That is odd.” I say.
“Wanna go see it?” Jose says, motioning in its direction.
“No way dude.” Luke says “Are you crazy?”
“Let's go.” I say pointing towards the out-of-place building.
Busted windows and black graffiti. Expecting the usual vulgar phrases and dick drawings, it’s safe to say we were caught by surprise.
Sure, it was graffiti alright, but it was... different. One phrase.
“What is this?” Jose blurted out.
“Follow the power,” it read. The words were not too legible. A can of rusted black spray paint lay on the ground.
“Maybe... it leads to the geocache?” Jose said.
“You can’t be serious.” I replied. He shrugged.
We looked at each other. This went on for minutes. We pondered what to do.
Curiosity got the better of us.
Outside of the gravel of the power plant, in between the woods, lay a vast trail lined by massive power lines. Hesitantly, we followed the trail.
It stretched on forever. An endless plain running through the vast woods. I’m not sure how long we walked. Maybe hours.
The sun was now beginning to set and our parents were worried. All of us received non-stop calls and texts from them, we eventually silenced our phones.
The trail stopped, and the woods began again. Seemingly another dead-end.
“Should we keep going?” I asked.
“Well, we followed the power lines, but I see nothing.” Jose said.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this. What are we gonna tell our parents?” I said.
“I don’t know, man. We made it this far. We might as well keep going.” Luke said.
I nodded, and we stepped into the woods. It was dead quiet. Only broken up by the crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs beneath our feet. We trudged onward, trying our best to be quiet. We didn’t know what we’d find. Much less what we were looking for. Curiosity is a powerful thing.
We had grown uneasy, beginning to smell an indescribable stench. Something felt wrong. My stomach churned.
Then we reached a clearing. We froze, for before us stood an inexplicable sight. A group standing in the clearing. Adorned in coats made of dark brown fur.
Their attire was the least of my concerns. Those faces. I can still picture them clearly. They were missing their eyes and mouths, yet they still had noses. It was as if God forgot to add those features when creating them.
“What the fuck?” Jose whispered to me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end and my heart rate increased. We were not supposed to be here. Everything in me wanted to run, but I was petrified. I just stared ahead. Could they see me? I shuddered. And what were they doing here?
Something else came out of the woods. A wolf or a coyote. Only... it was standing on its hind legs. In its grasp, a crude knife. It was something straight out of an archaeological dig. I’d seen nothing similar. Again, my fight-or-flight response was leaning towards flight, but my body just did not respond. None of us said a word to one another.
A lump formed in my throat. I anxiously expected what was going to happen. I could not look away. One by one, the wolf walked up to the faceless people and... began carving. It took its knife and carved into their faces. Soon, what felt like an eternity later, each of the beings, now had a face. Beady eyes and crooked mouths, they were even more terrifying than before. The wolf then strolled back into the woods, while those things just stood there...
By now, I had seen enough. The others must have had the same thought. My curiosity left and was replaced by survival. Slowly, we tiptoed backwards through the woods, clenching our teeth, hoping they couldn’t hear us.
“I think they’re looking at us.” Jose whispered through chattering teeth. A shiver went over my whole body. He was right, I could feel those black eyes staring right at us.
“Go, go!” I say in a scream whisper. We haul ass without looking back, disregarding the many thorns grabbing us.
Just as we're exiting the woods into the power plant. A loud mechanical noise cuts through the trees. Its roar shakes us to our core. Luke even throws Gary onto his shoulders. Grabbing our bikes as fast as possible, slamming those kick stands, we pedal back to civilization. Those things chased us the entire way, stopping only as we exited the power plant.
We walk with our bikes along the road, relieved that we escaped and no longer have anyone following us. The dim street lights illuminate our way. We take our phones off silent, bombarded with missed calls and texts from our families.
“Oh god, they must be so worried.” I say.
We then hear a siren coming from a police car. The red and blue lights come zooming around the corner.
“Our parents must have called the police. Guess we’d better go talk to them.” Jose says.
As we approach the vehicle, I felt everything will be alright. That is until I see the officer. Similar to those forest creatures, he lacks eyes and a mouth.
We run again, but the cop remains still. My friends and I make it home to our parents’ relief. We’re, of course, grounded for at least the next month.
Later that night, I lay in bed, my eyes wide open. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake that feeling. I kept trying to reassure myself. They couldn’t leave the woods, right? I mean, they stopped following us, so as long as we didn’t go back to the power plant, we’ll be safe. Why did they stop chasing us? But what about the cop?
I text Luke and Jose, checking if they’re okay, and relaying my thoughts to them, hoping they have more answers than I. No response from either.
I hear chiming dings of text tones. It’s coming from outside my window.
I peel back the blinds, peeking through them, my hands shaking. My friends on the other side stare, their eyes beady and animalistic, smiles jagged. I fear I soon will meet a similar fate.

Previous part: 8.
Three candle lanterns, two gardening hats, and two potted flowers...
​
Okay, first, what does any of this stuff have to do with Vanny, and why are they significant in the first place?
Well, there are two exact reasons why they are significant. The first is because they are out of place in this Log Ride scene depicting being onboard a train that is being robbed. The second reason and the most important is that these objects on the seats are not cardboard cutouts.
I didn't mention this above, but when you first enter this train scene, on your right and left, is a cardboard cutout of a brown handbag on top of a blue suitcase. If haven't seen this before, then I don't blame you as you literally only have two seconds to look at them before you're already past them.
Luckily, I have the power to pause things and use my unique skill of observation to spot these things. Anyway, what this tells me, is that objects that belong in this scene should be cutouts, not real things.
Due note, however, that certain objects, like the two buckets that can be seen here, could have an explanation for them being here as there is a water ride or they could be props like the various things in that starting area.
Right away we can remove the lanterns and the potted flowers as belonging here as they don't have anyway explanations for being on the train. But what about the hat?
I know I said it was a gardening hat but it could honestly be a random cowboy hat prop for the scene. Plus, why would Vanny bring two separate gardening hats or even bother to bring one when she's already inside a building. So then cowboy hat props it is then until someone rips the models out of the game to get a better look at them.
But even then, some garden hats do look very similar to cowboy hats and vice-versa.
So then that brings us back to the candle lanterns and the potted flowers. Now, the candle lanterns may seem like they fit the scene, but why would trains have lanterns on the seats and not hanging on the walls to provide light? They wouldn't. Someone had placed them there.
And while the lanterns themselves aren't a giveaway to Vanny's presence here, we know from the spray cans in Roxy Raceway pt 2 that she does, in fact, use them while in the ruined Pizzaplex.
But even with that, I can't exactly prove that she, specifically, is the one that is that placed all these candle lanterns around in Ruin or Help Wanted 2. Yet, if there's one thing these lanterns can, in fact, prove, is that Jeremy is physically in the Foxy Log Ride area in between Glamrock Salon and Roxy Raceway.
Because these lanterns only showed up by the time of Ruin. This means that someone had moved the lanterns here after Security Breach, which means that some parts of the area were too dark to navigate, thus requiring the lanterns which would only be a thing if the majority of the Pizzaplex's electrical system was ruined.
And since someone placed an object here that wasn't here before and has nothing to do with the train robbery scene or Log Ride itself, it means that the lantern is not a digital object made by the AR world but a real-world object which in turn means that Jeremy is in the real world Foxy Log ride!
Whoo. That makes this evidence numero dos for proof of Jeremy actively going to the different locations within the Pizzaplex. Well, tres actually, but we haven't gotten to Roxy's minigame yet. Fortunately, this one is a bit more solid than the Mixing Room one.
But I think all three pieces of evidence are sufficient enough for me to call it early and say that Jeremy is moving about during Help Wanted 2 instead of just standing in the FNAF6 pizzeria. However, don't expect me to make a "Prove It!" for this soon as I want to gather all the evidence for it that I could possibly find, just like Vanny and her various graffiti, yellow marks, and spray cans in Ruin.
Now we're left with the potted flowers. If I could only take one single object out of this train robbery scene and put it forth as evidence of Vanny's presence in Help Wanted 2, it's this!
Readers with a really good memory would remember in Ruin that I pointed out that Vanny has graffiti flowers in it. I believe I pointed it out twice, once in Superstar Daycare and the other, in Roxy Party Garage.
However, by using Security Breach, we can eliminate Vanny as the one who drew the flowers, next to her graffiti face in Superstar Daycare as they were already painted there before Ruin.
But the painted Roxy Party Garage flowers, on the other hand, can be confirmed to be drawn by Vanny because it's painted with blue paint which is one of the colored Helpy-branded spray cans that was next to her log bench bed in Monty Golf. And even better, Vanny drew the exact species of flowers that are in pots sitting on the train seats!
Also sorry for the low-quality pic, I literally cannot find someone who's not busy shooting at the targets and is looking directly at them. I could enlarge it, but I'll lose some important details of it.
Since I'm not an anthologist and have only the vaguest of background in gardening. We can only rely on prayer and hope that Scott and Co. modeled this flower close enough to the real one that I can find it using Google.
Okay, we got a match! Or matches really, as there are many kinds of yellow flowers for people to sniff. But I've narrowed it down to the three that look the most similar to the flowers in the pots and the ones graffitied.
So the closest in comparison to what we have here in Foxy Log Ride is the Yellow Gerbera Daisy, the Black-Eyed Susan, and of course the Sun Flower, specifically the dwarf Sun Flower. I think we can cross out the Yellow Gerbera Daisy as its disc floret (the black part in the middle of the flower.) is way smaller than the one in the game.
So now it's between, Black-Eyed Susan and the Sun Flower. I gotta say this took me a good while to figure out which of the two was more likely, but I've finally landed on the Black-Eyed Susan as our mysterious flower in a pot.
Mainly due to the size of the flower in the pot in Foxy Log Ride. Sunflowers, even their dwarf versions, are way bigger than the flowers we see here. Plus after some more searching, I've found an exact match of Vanny's flower graffiti in Ruin with a Black-Eyed Susan with the correct number of five petals!
Though Google says the is a vine, not a flower, so maybe this isn't the correct one either. Hmm... Yep, I can't find any alternatives to this vine. I thought that maybe since it looked young that maybe it was some other flower that looks different when it ages, but I can't find anything else that comes close to what we're seeing.
So I'm giving up on searching because I've been at this for way too long. For all I know these flowers could be fake! I've searched for yellow flowers, yellow flowers native to Utah, and even searched for white flowers that look like it, in case I got the colors wrong, and it came back negative.
Wait, hold on. I know I've said that I'm giving up on searching, but after taking a break, I've decided to renew my search through YouTube in case some lesser-known FNAF YouTuber or casual FNAF player may have had a better look at it.
Good thing I did, as I didn't quite get a better quality screenshot of the potted flowers but a different angle of it that showed better details of it. I know it doesn't look any better, but this is a huge help to me as it shows that the flower's disc florets were not black as I thought from the previous pic, but orange. Or yellowish orange, it's still hard to tell completely.
This whole time I was looking for the wrong flower! A huge thank you to Youtuber Bryce Musselman's "Five Nights at Freddy's Help Wanted 2 Quest 3 Captain Foxy Log Ride " video that allowed me to get a better look at the flower.
So now, let's try this again and see if we can find this flower!
Nope, still can't find it. Ugh! I feel like I'm going in circles with no end in sight! And I think I'm still getting something wrong about the flower, even with the new photos. The flowers are actually white, not yellow! It's just the flowers are really pale and the lighting of the training environment is affecting its coloring!
If there's a silver lining about this hunt for the flower, is that I'm giving a lot of these small YouTube channels views and finding some useful videos to help out with this particular deep dive. I've even found some videos that finally show what the hub world looks like with no light! We'll talk about it when we get back to the hub.
Yet even better than that, I've found a stream where Ryetoast had turned the brightness of the game way up!
But still, my search continues as I'm now fully committed to checking every single video covering the Log Ride to find a better look at this flower! Though I actually think I'm starting to run out of videos to check...
Oh my goodness! At last, after 10+ hours of searching, I've found the one video that gives me an almost perfect view of not just one of the flowers in the train but both! And it's from a video that I didn't know could be a thing. Someone had actually made a series of videos playing through the entirety of Help Wanted 2 in 360°, in VR.
I didn't even know you could do that in VR!
Well, VR 360° (Yes, that is the name of their channel), you are now Bonjonsie's first subscribed channel. You all have no idea how much of a stress relief this is, as the VR aspect of Help Wanted 2 has been an absolute pain to deal with when trying to get a better look at the environment through other Youtuber's videos. Especially since practically no one pays attention to it.
But right now, let's focus on finally identifying these flowers as they hopefully might tell us something about anything really. Alright, I've finally narrowed it down to one species of flowers. Anemone of the buttercup family, Ranunculaceae.
No not the sea anemone but the plant anemone, which apparently has different species. But if I had a gun to my head and was told to pick one or else, I would personally choose Piper's Anemone. Not because it looks the closest to the potted flowers in the train but because it's native to Utah.
Yeah, I tried my absolute best in trying to identify this flower, but still haven't landed on something besides a general species of what it might be. So far now, I'm going to hold off on talking about any symbolism or meanings we could get from the flower until someone, or one of you dear readers, can get a better look at that model.
But this doesn't mean these potted flowers can't tell us anything. In fact, what it can tell us is the approximate month that Help Wanted 2 takes place in! Bet you were thinking I couldn't glean anything like that from this, huh?
It was something I hoped to use with the other information gained from the species of the flower. But while I couldn't find that, the fact that these flowers are in full bloom means that we could use the blooming season of flowers in Utah as the general date for this game.
Of course, this only applies to wildflowers so we can't exactly use it for proof of anything as we don't know if Vanny just took these from outside the ruined Pizzaplex or just bought these from the store.
But, the fact that wildflowers can bloom in Utah anytime between March and September and that Cassie looks dressed for Autumn instead of Summer, leads me to believe that both Help Wanted and Ruin take place in September, maybe late September.
To me, this definitely means that the next game is taking place in either November or late November, but again, we can in no way present this as solid proof for anything other than a headcanon.
Now let's finally move on, because I'm sure some of you are wondering, what's the deal with Vanny and flowers?
As I mentioned earlier, Vanny has drawn these exact flowers before in Ruin on the wall in Roxy Party Garage just before you enter Roxy Raceway to deactivate Roxy. This tells us that these specific flowers hold some significance to her in some way.
What significance they might have is a mystery for now, but the reason she drew the flowers has already been known to us as on that same wall, you'll find an interesting word that Vanny decided to doodle on, summer.
What the flowers and the word summer are trying to point us to, is the aspects of Vanessa's character described in the Retro CDs in Security Breach. Notably, CD 1-7139, CD 7-7142, CD 9-7143, and CD 11-7145.
The first Therapist, the one who had been working with Vanessa the longest before Vanessa's infection with Glitchtrap happened and was the first to die, mentions something important about Vanessa's character in CD-1.

• Therapist: Hello Vanessa. How are you feeling today? You look a little tired.
• Therapist: Hmm... Well, it’s been a while since we last spoke. How’s your anxiety been? You did so well with your calming protocols when we first worked together. Are you still using those? Yes? Okay, good. Well, now I understand there’s a new issue. It came on just recently, rather suddenly? Can you tell me about it?

Vanessa's reply when the third Therapist has her take an inkblot test in CD-7.

• Therapist: Here we go. What do you see here?
• Vanessa: A tree house.
• Therapist: Hmm, it does look sort of like a tree house, doesn't it? Do you like tree houses?
• Vanessa: I like to sit outside and read.

This next neat characteristic of Vanessa is actually unsaid by her but instead hinted at by the Therapist in the first line of dialogue while the other is said by Vanessa at the end of CD-9.

• Therapist: What are you doing? Oh, you like those. I do too. They smell so sweet, don't they? Apparently, the janitor on this floor has a garden and has been putting bouquets in the offices here for years. Do you ever grow things? No?
• Vanessa: I work a lot.
• Vanessa: I don't like dark basements.

Leaving the final thing of note about her interests in CD-11.

• Therapist: Good morning Vanessa. Well, I can't blame you for looking out the window instead of listening to me. It's a gorgeous day, isn't it?
• Vanessa: I like the blue sky.
• Therapist: Hmm, so do I. Now, let's see what we can get done on this nice sunny day.

Vanessa likes to be outside, especially under the blue sky, where she likes flowers and to read. These aspects of Vanessa all pop up in the environment of Ruin and now Help Wanted 2 through various graffiti and objects.
For instance, her preference for being outside and flowers can both be seen in the flowers and "summer" graffiti in Roxy Party Garage. Both are painted in blue paint I might add, which helps tie it back to her liking her blue sky.
And now, in Help Wanted 2, we have potted flowers appearing in a completely unrelated area to them, with them being something she personally drew in Ruin. Showing that she personally likes these specific flowers.
Vanessa's preference to read is something seen twice in Ruin that I've pointed out in the previous deep dive. Once in Bonnie Bowl with the open book next to the radio she's using to track Cassie and once in her room in Fazer Blast where she has a stack of Fazbear World History books right next to her make-shift bed.
But what about Vanessa's anxiety? While there's nothing I've seen so far in Ruin or Help Wanted 2 that screams "I have anxiety!", the fact we've seen so much graffiti from Vanny in both games could be an indication of Vanny using that as some sort of Art therapy for relax from Glitchtrap keeping her inside the dark and ruin Pizzaplex and below it.
Oh, and uh, spoiler alert. Vanny is behind the graffiti hints for the dolls in Help Wanted 2. Yeah, I kinda figured that already before I even started this deep dive. I mean it's not hard to discover this when you already know about her graffiti quirk from Ruin and that she's still around. Really you just need to realize that Glitchtrap wouldn't volunteer to give a hint about his vulnerabilities. And that the one who would, destroys him in the secret ending.
But we'll talk more about Vanny's and Glitchtrap's apparent breakup, once we start collecting the memory dolls. Right now, It's finally time I get into Vanny, Vanessa, and my Double-V theory I attempted to put off earlier.
Now as I said before, this theory or idea really, is something I've had since the very last post of my Ruin "Prove It!" series. For those that don't recall or know what that is, it's called "One ending leads to Ruin." And it has to do with me going over every single piece of evidence for and against each ending of Security Breach to finally prove once and for all which ending to that game is canon.
Yet it's in that post, where I finally remember the ending stinger of "To the Rooftop" ending. You know. The ending reveals to us, through Gregory, who's really under the mask of Vanny, Vanessa! However, in a shocking turn of events, the ending stinger shows us Vanessa looking down from the rooftop at Vanessa.
What? How? What's going on?! Is the best way to summarize the FNAF community's feelings regarding this ending now and when SecurityBreach release. And to this day nobody has a satisfying answer to it.
​

• The Vanessa on the roof is her spirit/ghost!

We know what ghosts look like in the games. Sure, new era, a new way of depicting things, but disregarding that, Vanessa is in her security guard outfit, which means if she was a ghost then she died while working as the head of security at the Pizzaplex. Something that couldn't have happened because the only reason she has that position is because someone up top brought her to that position because of Glitchtrap's machinations.
Plus Vanessa physically interacts with Gregory and the S.T.A.F.F. bots in Security Breach proving that she's alive.
Now if you're suggesting that's her lingering ghost after she died in the To the Rooftop ending, then it's still easily disprovable by the simple fact that she died from hitting the ground, not from being tackled by Freddy. While our boy Freddy is fast, he's not fast enough to instantly kill someone by running at them.
​

• The Vanessa on the ground is a robot!

This one, while absolutely story-breaking to me, does have some merit. While this might've got to do with the overall censoring of the game, there isn't any blood coming from Vanny after she fell from the rooftop.
While I'm not expecting a pool of it, there would be at least some blood coming from her nose or coming from the back of her head, considering that A. She landed on her back and B. head injuries typically bleed a lot more from anywhere else even if it's a minor wound.
But let's ignore that, is there any other evidence that can prove that there's a robot imposter among us? Hmm...
If she were a robot, she would be making loud noises considering that the material needed to make a humanoid robot Vanessa would weigh heavier than the regular human Vanessa, right? Not necessarily, as the Daycare Attendant, who is around Vanessa's height, doesn't make as loud of a sound when moving around like his Glamrock companions.
So it's possible to build a humanoid robot that's as flexible and dexterous as a regular human without it being obvious that the humanoid is, in fact, a robot.
However, having a humanoid robot be Vanny eliminates the need for it to mimic Vanessa's appearance, because, at that point, you can make the robot look like anyone. And there's not a good enough reason for Glitchtrap to have Vanny look like Vanessa when she could look like anyone else he wants.
Vanessa isn't special to Glitchtrap like Jeremy is. At least from what I've seen so far from basically every single game in the new era. Their relationship is one born out of circumstances rather than intention like I theorized Gregory's to be. So there isn't any reason why he would have a robot look like her.
But the final nail in the coffin for this theory is the alternate ending in Security Breach, which provides solid evidence to disprove it more than anything else. Specifically, the Disassemble Vanny ending.
No, it's not because she can or gets "disassembled" in this ending or the fact that she screams from it. It's actually from the ending stinger as the newspaper that shows up at the end of it makes mention of Fazbear Entertainment closing due to health concerns and plans to be coming back next season.
Now, this being the cause of the entire company shutting down is something that only happens in this ending as the other ending that doesn't have to do with something happening to the Pizzaplex or Glitchtrap has the Pizzaplex continue as business as usual.
This tells us that Vanny's disassembly had been bloody enough and that she was human enough to shut down the company temporarily. It also informs us that Vanny is an employee, as only a serious death of an employee within a company building would make a company close down like that as the public and police investigation would force Fazbear Entertainment to seriously reevaluate itself or investigate itself.
But maybe I'm thinking too extreme or worst-case scenario. Maybe Fazbear Entertainment would be able to cover it up before the police or the public were made aware of Vanny's death. Still, some poor human employees would be the ones to unfortunately find what's left of her in the morning, which would prompt Faz Ent to investigate itself.
And like anything "good" company, they'll find nothing wrong. Maybe an overworked employee with mental health issues. That will be fixed as Faz Ent will introduce ways for their employees to focus on their mental health.
So once again we are faced with this after-credits stinger that completely upends everything we knew about Vanessa and her situation with Glitchtrap. Most of the community and theorists choose to ignore this conundrum or dismiss it because it's an alternate non-canon ending and I... completely forgot about it until I was gathering all my evidence for the Burn It ALL Down ending being canon.
I'm sure most are aware of this already, but I haven't done a Security Breach deep-dive before I did Ruin as...

1. The theories around Security Breach didn't provoke me to do an analysis on it to find the true answers as Ruin's did.
2. Security Breach itself kinda soured on me on the franchise as a whole. Not because of the gameplay issue but because of its butcher from top to bottom story. Seriously, after experiencing something with a different franchise where the trailer shows something completely different from what's in the game, I began to detest that, regardless of the reasoning behind it.
3. Security Breach is a big game, if y'all think this deep dive is slow and long then, oh joy, it ain't got nothing on what a Security Breach deep dive would look like.

So, yeah, the To the Rooftop ending after credit's stinger kinda slipped my mind. But now that I've finished my analysis on Ruin and have been getting deeper into Help Wanted 2, I fully believe Vanny = Vanessa, right? Right?
Hahahahaha, nope!
Even with all the evidence I personally brought up above, I don't believe Vanny = Vanessa. And it's all thanks to the To the Rooftop ending that got me thinking differently about it, as before rewatching it, I too fully believed Vanny = Vanessa.
So what, exactly in this ending caused me to change my mind about it? It can't be because they showed two different Vanessas in it, right?
That's exactly why!
Yes, a game's alternate endings can, indeed, show us goofy, shocking, comedic, or flat-out story-breaking events that can be dismissed as some extra content or whimsical what-if scenarios from the Storyteller. But, a Storyteller could also use alternate endings to expand the lore by revealing details that would be hidden if characters had made different choices.
Case in point, and keeping it FNAF related, Sister Location's secret Ennard boss fight. We know for a fact, that this fight didn't happen, and the ending afterward isn't canonical to the Scott era games storyline. Yet, in this very same sequence of non-canon events, it's revealed that monitors are showing hidden cameras in FNAF 4 gameplay nights and the minigame hallway. And that our physic friend Fredbear plushie friend sits on the desk with a radio next to him, suggesting that someone was using Fredbear to talk to Crying Child.
Scott, and FNAF in turn, have shown that the mainline FNAF games use its alternate endings as another way to expand the lore. To feed us with new information about the current situation within a game without expanding the game's scope.
Nowhere does FNAF's alternate endings get more elaborate and intricate, than the Steel Wool era games. Help Wanted's two endings reveal Glitchtrap's ability to possess bodies and his William-ism. Dreadbear doesn't have an ending, but it introduces William's old mask, Vanny, and the construction of the Pizzaplex. Ruin's three endings shed light on Gregory's darker side, the lingering trauma of the Mimic and Glitchtrap related to David's death along with the Scooper machine underground, and the revelation that the Security Mask can connect to the Network underground while hinting at the connection of Vanessa, Gregory, Helpi, and perhaps the missing kids to the network.
But it's Security Breach that is the uncontested king of the alternate endings in the FNAFverse (At least until the new FNAF1 book releases). Not only does each ending reveal something about the story, but in addition to that, putting them together reveals even more than seperated!
I already went through how the Dissaseemble Vanny ending helps provide additional info for the To the Rooftop ending above and even went over how To the Rooftop ending and the others do the same thing for the Burn it ALL Down ending in my final "Prove It!" post.
So just like how Scott once described the games and the Silver Eyes trilogy relation, we should be treating the alternate endings of the games themselves as canon but as a separate continuity.
So the Security Breach endings show what would happen in canon if Gregroy made a different choice in an alternate continuity. Everything up to that choice was/is the same. The rules of the world and lore are the same, and the characters are the same, all that is different, is the choice made.
Basically, what I'm trying to say. Is that this Vanny and Vanessa thing we got thrown in our face by Scott and Steel Wool in the To the Rooftop ending is something not to be dismissed and tossed aside.
So having said that it's about time I give my answer to this interesting and confusing twist that remains without a satisfying answer to it. Which lead me to Double-V. Something, I've been wanting to talk about for a long while. But I also must apologize because I need to speed up the explanation/ "Prove It!" crafting. We really need to get back to Foxy's Log Rid minigame.
​
Sorry for the akward cut here, but there's no world where I cut in the middle of what comes next and it reads naturally and flowingly, trust me. I tried my best, but good lord, I just keep finding more stuff! Continue on to Part 8.6!

After stumbling across two old posts targeting me (I avoid direct linking to prevent brigading but the title of those posts is reflected in my post title), I thought I'd dismantle them, their representation of my comments, and their discussion of the sources they mention.
A question I discussed with an apologist in the past is if Jahiliyyah narratives are correct in depicting the Jahiliyyah as largely illiterate. The apologist claims the "Jahiliyyah" only refers to late pre-Islamic Arabia (though many traditionalist definitions put it much further back). For the sake of argument, we'll look at literacy in the late pre-Islamic Hijaz. During this conversation, I brought up a statement made by Ahmad Al-Jallad:

The abundance of written records in Arabia suggests that writing was widespread among both settled people and nomads (Figure 7.2); however, its function among both groups was quite different. Macdonald (2009: vol. 1; 2010) established an important distinction between literate societies and non-literate societies based on the role of writing for the functioning of society. Ancient South Arabia exemplifies a literate society. Its officials set up thousands of public inscriptions, recording their deeds, dedications to deities, legal decrees, and so on. The existence of public inscriptions, however, cannot stand as witness to widespread literacy among the general population, as they reflect the work of professional scribes and highly skilled masons. As Stein has pointed out, the wording of even the most personal letters suggests that the sender did not compose the text himself himself, and that recipients were not expected to read them. To explain this, he hypothesized the existence of scribal centres where documents were composed on the behalf of their authors. On the other hand, Macdonald draws our attention to another category of inscriptions in South Arabia that intimates widespread knowledge of reading and writing graffiti. Unlike commissioned inscriptions, graffiti are informal works of individual expression, and as such, must be carved by the author. The existence of thousands of graffiti in South Arabia, always composed in the monumental and only rarely the minuscule script, suggests that a sizable segment of the population could employ writing for informal purposes. The use of the monumental script rather than the day-to-day script of the wooden sticks could have been symptomatic of the medium and need not imply that knowledge of the minuscule hand was more restricted. The evidence for the major oasis towns of North and West Arabia is not as plentiful. Nevertheless, after a close and skillful analysis of the material, focusing mainly on the appearance of inforrmal letter forms and ligatures in the inscriptions, Macdonald concluded that the settled populations of these areas also belonged to literate societies and, as in South Arabia, large segments of the population knew how to write, and presumably, read (2010: 9 –15). (Al-Jallad, "The Linguistic Landscape of Pre-Islamic Arabia," pp. 116–117)

Takeaways:

• Where literacy prevalence is high, MacDonald and Al-Jallad distinguish literate from non-literate societies based on the institutional role played by writing in that society.
• South, North, and West Arabia meet the criteria for being classified as literate societies according to this scheme.

The apologists response to this reference was to assure me that Al-Jallad (the worlds top authority in this field) is misunderstanding the earlier work of MacDonald (keep in mind that MacDonald was Al-Jallad's mentor and they're in direct contact with each other). He says MacDonald's real opinion is that "Arab culture was in all important respects fundamentally oral" — just like in the Tuareg tribe (!), where the ability to write is widespread but only employed for informal purposes. He goes on and on — but as it turns out, Stephen Shoemaker made the same mistake as this apologist did in his book Creating the Quran. For this reason, we turn to a correction from another paper: Marijn van Putten: "The Development of Hijazi Orthography," Millennium (2023). This is a major and original study demonstrating pre-Islamic Hijaz was a "literate" society in MacDonald's sense:

a number of idiosyncrasies ... all point to a single conclusion: Not only has the Arabic script had a long and storied history, it is clear that there was a formalized system of scribal practice with significant sophistication and idiosyncrasy that must have been present and developed already in the pre-Islamic period. This challenges the notion that the pre-Islamic Hijaz was a “non-literate” society as for example Stephen Shoemaker would have it.⁷⁰ Neither the Quran, nor the pre-Islamic inscriptions of the centuries leading up to the rise of Islam, show the kind of ad hoc non-literate literacy as one sees among the Tuareg or may hypothesize for the nomadic pre-Islamic Arabic writers that employed the Safaitic script. Instead, there was a formalized scribal practice that required formal education to properly execute according to the existing norms.⁷¹ (pp. 125-126)

So Van Putten finds that the late pre-Islamic Hijaz was literate and Van Putten is clear that his conclusion is meant in terms of MacDonald's categorization of a literate society and not just widespread ability to write but only employed for informal purposes like with the Tuareg tribe. Van Putten goes on in fn. 70: "[Shoemaker] cites Michael Macdonald to make this point. But one must stress that Macdonald is not talking about the Hijaz of the 6th century but rather the Nomadic writers in the South Arabian scripts. See Macdonald 2010: 5–28; Shoemaker 2022: 125." In other words, the Tuareg analogy is irrelevant and at best concern nomadic Arab tribes until the 4th century.
The user also made a second post with roughly the same title. He claims I misunderstood Juan Cole's comments about literacy in the late pre-Islamic Western Arabia because Cole was describing Islamic-era 7th century inscriptions. Yet Cole specifically concluded: "the Believers were keeping the suras as parchment or papyrus pamphlets even in the time of the Prophet", implying an established practice of writing already existed. Since the apologist fails to grasp the relevance of these and similar 7th-century inscriptions, I quote fn. 71 of the earlier paper by Van Putten:

One may further note Petra Sijpesteijn’s observation that early Islamic Arabic administrative formulae from the very beginning of Islam are distinct from the Greek ones (even in bilinguals) and are not calques. This seems to suggest an already established administrative practice. See Sijpesteijn 2020: 468.

Al-Jallad similarly says:

Thus, the growing body of pre- Islamic evidence strongly indicates that the use of Arabic for administration in the early Islamic period does not reflect an ad hoc invention, but the continuation of an established tradition of administration in Arabic which must have its origins in North Arabian and Syrian scribal practices. ("The Linguistic Landscape of pre-Islamic Arabia," pg. 119)

From the recent AMA event this subreddit has had with Hythem Sidky, we have the opinion on this subject now by yet another significant expert. I asked Sidky: "What are your thoughts about literacy in the pre-Islamic Hijaz?" Sidky responded:

It's hard to put concrete numbers on it. But based on both the cursive nature of the script itself and the inscriptions, they were literate in the ways the matter. Also, Quranic codices don't strike me as that community's first attempt and producing a book. And if you look at the text of the Quran itself (in contrast to hadith), there are verses that strongly suggest we're looking at a sufficiently literate culture. Emphasis on writing down deeds and contracts, etc..

In another comment, Sidky also wrote: "I think the Meccans had a scribal school."
And that concludes this post. The late pre-Islamic Hijaz was a literate society, so-defined as a society with an established tradition of writing that is employed in fulfilling formal societal functions. Thus, Jahiliyyah characterizations late pre-Islamic Arabia as illiterate or even with MacDonald's category of non-literate are historically inaccurate.

Since I made two OC's for the other two Fleet inherited techniques I decided to make the third one.
Name: Galen Fleets Age: 22 Grade: Between 1st and Special Grade History: Galen is the youngest sibling of the three fleets' children. Galen is a very unconventional sorcerer, the way he uses his inherited technique is very different from the past users, so for that reason many of the older retired sorcerers of the Fleets family dislike Galen. His older siblings Aurelia and Jade don't mind this behavior though. Galen is very much a free spirit and he goes and does whatever he wants.
Cursed Technique

• Name: Finger Painting
• Type: Inherited
• Description: Galen can cover the index finger on his dominant hand in black cursed energy (Black CE for short). If he writes a word with that cursed energy then whatever was written comes true. The words have to be written on a Canvas and depending on the type of Canvas then different words can be written. Living Canvas (Ex: Humans, Curses, Sorcers) can have action words (Ex: run, stop, cry) and inanimate Canvas (Objects) can have modifying words (Burning, Gigantic, Unbreaking). If the canvas has cursed energy, if the canvas has more cursed energy than Galen, then the words won't work as well as if the canvas has less cursed energy than him. The longer the words take effect on the canvas, the more cursed energy will be drained from Galen. Galen mainly uses this to use his surrounding objects to control the surroundings to his advantage.

Extension Technique

• Action Paint: A basic technique that allows Galen to fire the Black CE from his finger. The CE is fired very fast and has some power behind it, similar to a bullet fired from a handgun. This does not require a lot of CE to use, so the user can use it multiple times. The user could build up the CE to increase the power and speed but the charge-up time is very noticeable.
• Graffiti Explosion: Very similar to how Choso uses Supernova with Blood Manipulation, Galen can separate a portion of black CE from himself and compress it into an extremely dense sphere, and then he can release that built-up pressure to create a CE explosion.
• Hand Paint: Galen can cover his entire hand in Black CE, this "stains" the target when hit with an unarmed attack. This stain will stick to the target's body making it harder to reinforce that certain part of the body where the stain is. This would increase the amount of CE the targets need to properly reinforce the body.
• Oil Spill: By using Oil Spill with the same reasoning as his Maximum technique, Galen can use Oil Spill on the air instead of on a surface. This would allow him to create something similar to a Curtain barrier. Galen would have more control over the size and strength of it though.
• Tattoo: Galen can write a word on a canvas and instead of the word just being on the canvas, the word is now a part of the canvas. When Galen does this the time that the word affects the canvas is now very long. The time could be hours, days, weeks, etc but the longer the time the more CE needed. If the canvas is a living canvas and uses RCE then the word will disappear, or if they cut off that part of the body that has the word on it.
  • Quote: This extension allows Galen to not force the literal meaning of the word but use the word for another meaning. Galen writes a phrase as a Tattoo, the phrase is the chant he uses for his Action Paint extension. This allows him to always the Action Paint extension at 120% output.
• Whiteout: Galen holds his finger with the Black CE on a canvas and they completely cover the canvas with their Black CE. When they are covered in this way, it completely hides the canvas's cursed energy, and sorcerers or cursed spirits will only be able to sense his cursed energy and not the canvas'.
  • Resketch: When Galen uses Whiteout on a cursed spirit the curse can be controlled by the user and act more as a shikigami than a regular curse. Along with controlling the curse, the curse will look completely different than before, they will resemble a small squid shikigami that can shoot black CE, like ink, and have multiple tentacles. The squids float in the air, and in the water, the squids are very fast. Galen can only use this technique on curses that are much weaker than themselves, a rough estimate would be that he can only use this technique on curses that are 3 grades lower than himself.

Maximum Technique

• Living Word: Similar to a barrierless domain, this technique allows Galen to paint on thin air. He creates an ink copy of himself, the copy is sentient and can think for itself, and they have the same personality and characteristics as Galen, but the copy is their own person so any binding vow the original user has does not apply to the copy. The copy knows this cursed technique as well and knows all the extension techniques, but can't use RCT, Maximum Technique, or Domain Expansion. The copy has an amount of cursed energy equal to the amount that Galen used to use this maximum technique. Once the copy has used all of their cursed energy then they vanish.
  • Living Portrait: Instead of creating a copy of himself, Galen could create a copy of another person/creature. He would need more time to paint the copy and the copy would not have access to any powers of who they were based on. In exchange for that, these kinds of copies do not require as much CE and their physical abilities are stronger.

Domain Expansion

• Name: Death Painting
• Appearance: The domain itself looks like an entirely black void with nothing else in it except for Galen, whoever was trapped in the domain, and also a small floating painting canvas that appears next to Galen.
• Ability: On the canvas, Galen can write on it and whatever Galen wrote on the canvas appears on whoever Galen chooses. Galen can also choose to draw a straight line on the canvas, this would make a cut appear on whoever Galen chooses. If someone destroys the canvas, then another one will reappear.

Heavenly Restriction

• Divine Mutilation: From birth, Galen was cursed with a Heavenly Restriction, he lost his left leg from the knee down, right arm from the shoulder, and left eye, and also he lost his ability to use RCE. In exchange for these massive disadvantages he was granted insane CE efficiency, so using his technique is next to nothing for him. One step down from Gojo's CE efficiency.

Prosthetics: In response to Galen's HR, he was given several cursed prosthetics.

• Left Leg: This prosthetic is a shikigami, it attaches to his knee and allows Galen to control it like an extension of his own body. The body of this shikigami is malleable, it can stretch/shrink itself. The shikigami kind of looks like the prosthetic leg that Mirko from MHA has, except it's a living thing. On the back side of the leg where the calf would be there is a large ridge of sharp bones coming out of it.
• Right Arm: This prosthetic is also a shikigami, it attaches to his shoulder and allows Galen to control it like an extension of his own body. The arm looks like a pitch-black regular arm, but at the elbow, the arm can split into two different arms when Galen chooses. Since this shikigami allows Galen to have two dominant right hands, he can use his Black CE on both hands at once.
• Left Eye: This fake glass eye is a cursed tool, it allows Galen to see through it just like a normal eye. The pupil of the eye resembles a pink heart. The cursed technique of this tool allows Galen to see someone through this eye and "lock on" to them. When someone is "locked on" to the eye won't let it out of its sight, no matter how fast it moves the eye will always move to constantly keep it in sight.

Other Techniques

• Black Flash: Galen is pretty capable of performing fairly regular black flashes. He can't perform them on command as much as Yuji but he can regular chain like 3 to 4 in a row if concentrating enough.
• Recoil: This technique allows Galen to reinforce a part of his body like his arm multiple times up to a total of 10 times. When Galen does layer his CE, his CE will become a darker shade. When Galen attacks with his multiple-layer reinforced arm, then depending on how many layers there are, the target of the attack will feel that many amount of impacts. The target will feel the impacts back to back not all at once. This technique could also be used to defend certain parts of the body, with multiple layers of CE reinforcement. Galen is not able to achieve a black flash while using this technique.

This is taken from and is copyright protected by globalsoup.net, a website that promotes flash Fiction with annual writing contests.
I am reprinting these Flash Fiction Prompts because they are outstanding ways to freewrite and offer plenty to work with for those who want to learn how to write Flash Fiction.
So check out these prompts and the article and work some of them into your journal! Post the best responses!
100 Awesome Flash Fiction Prompts - Plus Bonus Prompts!
We’ve put together 100 flash fiction prompts, each one designed for a very short story. These prompts will probably be best suited to a story of between 300-1,000 words. If you want to write a longer story using these prompts, you can easily expand these ideas to fit a story of any length.
What is flash fiction?
Flash Fiction is defined as a very short story that can be anywhere from just a couple of words to about a thousand in length. The beauty (and difficulty) of writing flash fiction lies in trying to tell a complete story in so few words. Great flash fiction is succinct, emotive, thought-provoking, and impactful.
What’s the difference between flash fiction and a short story?
The only difference between flash fiction and a typical short story is the word count. However, this scarcity of words means that writing flash fiction can feel like a completely new skill. Just like the short story is a different animal to the novel or novella; flash fiction is kind of unique.
When writing flash, you’ll need to use fewer characters, a simpler plot, and you’ll have to make each word count. This is why editing is so important. You have to be brutal. Cut out everything superfluous and really make sure each and every word is performing an important function in the story. If you’re interested in writing very short fiction, why not check out drabbles? Drabbles are stories of exactly 100 words in length, and they can be a great way to practice keeping your stories very, very short.
How to plot a flash fiction story
When you sit down to write flash fiction, you must begin by choosing an appropriate plot. You cannot simply use a short story plot and tell it using fewer words. A typical flash fiction plot is like looking at one part of a story under a microscope.
For example, let’s look at prompt #21 in our list of 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat. If you were writing a novel about a sinking ship, you’d probably want the actual sinking to be the climax of the story. Of course, there are infinite ways to write a novel about a sinking ship, but this would structurally be the most obvious. You’d use the first part of the novel to introduce your characters and describe the voyage leading up to the sinking and the sinking of the ship would be the dramatic climax, leaving the last part of the book as the resolution.

The golden rule of writing short stories is to begin as close to end as you can. So, to turn the same story from novel to short story, you’d probably want to begin with the ship sinking. You haven’t got time to introduce the characters before the action begins, so you’d need to feed in exposition and backstory here and there during the events.
All stories need a good climax. So, you would find the most dramatic moment in the story and build up to it. Perhaps your climax would be the two main characters having to decide who will take the remaining seat on the last lifeboat.
Finally, you need a resolution. In a longer short story you do have time to bring in some kind of satisfying resolution at the end.
But, if you’re writing flash fiction and your story is only a few hundred words, you really need to zoom in on one tiny moment in that story.
You don’t have time to tell the entire story of a sinking ship, but you can turn one moment into a story.
We’ve chosen the lifeboat situation as the key moment in this hypothetical story. Two characters must decide which one of them will take the last seat on the last lifeboat. This is an appropriate plot for flash fiction because it’s simple, high-stakes, dramatic, and thought provoking.
Not all flash fiction will have a plot quite this dramatic, but all great flash fiction will have a plot that can be expressed in just one or two sentences.
If you have a plot in mind, but it seems more suitable for a longer story, you can sometimes find several flash fiction plots hidden within it. Just look for little stories within the story, like the lifeboat moment in our hypothetical tale of the sinking ship.
This brings us to our top tip for coming up with ideas for flash fiction stories:
if you’re ever stuck for ideas, you can find little stories within the story in books, movies, and TV shows. A full length feature film might have as many as 20 little incidents in it that could easily be flash fiction.
Don’t directly write a story based on the film, though. Just carefully pick out those little moments, write down what’s happening as a one or two sentence plot, and then use it to inspire your own, completely original flash fiction story.
One of our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts was actually taken from the movie Pulp Fiction!
How to write very short flash fiction
There are several reasons writers might start writing flash fiction. Of course, it could be that they just love and enjoy the form, but sometimes they’ll be a more strategic and practical reason at play.
Perhaps they want to practise the process of writing stories within the confines of a certain word limit. Maybe they are trying to develop a daily writing routine and they don’t have a lot of free time. It could be that they’re trying to break a habit of not finishing writing projects, or perhaps they are entering a flash fiction competition.
Whatever the reason, very often when we sit down to write flash, we must work under an imposed or self-imposed word restraint. We’ve set ourselves (or been set) the task of keeping the story under a particular number of words.
So, how do you plot a flash fiction story when you have to keep your story very, very short.
We’re not going to discuss stories of 100 words or fewer here. Technically, those stories are still flash, however, we prefer to categorise 100 word stories as drabbles and anything under 100 words as micro fiction.
But what if you have to keep your flash fiction story under, let’s say, 300 words? How do you write a flash fiction story that short?
The answer is: get your microscope out again. Remember earlier when we said writing flash fiction is like looking at part of a story under a microscope? If you have to write very short flash fiction, you’ll need to zoom in even further.
Let’s look at a couple of examples from our 100 Flash Fiction Prompts:

1. During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to the story, you could have time to tell the story of the entire fight. With only 300 words, it might be better to zoom in on the very moment when the boxer must choose whether or not to go down.
In a longer flash fiction story you might have time to go into detail about why he’s in this situation and why he’s so conflicted. In a 300 word story, you might only devote one or two sentences to his gambling debt and the large sum of money waiting for him if he goes down in the third round, as instructed.

1. A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.

If you had 1,000 words to devote to this story, you might be able to write about the whole process of choosing what to take and what to leave behind. You might be able to mention many different choices and have the whole family participate in the story. You’d be able to go into some details about certain choices and the stories behind individual objects or mementos, as well as the implications of choosing certain things over others.
With only 300 words, it would be advisable to zoom in on one member of the family and to focus on one profound and important choice.
How to write a flash fiction story
Now you have your mini plot, you still need to make sure your flash fiction feels like a complete story. It should still have a beginning, middle, and an end.
Just like a short story, you may need to bring in a little exposition here and there to give texture, context, backstory, and to bring some depth to the characters. But, unlike a short story, you won’t necessarily need to end with a full, detailed resolution. It’s quite common for a flash fiction story to end with a quick twist or plenty of ambiguity.
Flash Fiction is much more about eliciting emotions and provoking thought, than setting up and resolving a complex story.
100 Awesome Flash Fiction Prompts
A young ballet dancer chooses not to tell the other dancers in her troop about a loose paving stone outside their dance studio.
Two sisters realise they’ve both been on a perfect first date … with the same man.
On the car journey home, two parents realise they’ve left their child’s favourite teddy on a park bench several hours away.
A writer suffering from writers’ block looks for inspiration in a strange place.
Set 200 years in the future, a young man realises he’s too emotionally dependent on his robot assistant.
A young woman discovers she’s taken the wrong suitcase home from the airport. The contents of the case make her question her own life choices.
A murderer realises he has only 10 minutes to dispose of a body.
A child decides to walk home by themselves after their parent forgets to pick them up from school … again.
Your protagonist manages to talk the grim reaper out of collecting their soul.
Your protagonist suddenly realises they’ve been living in a simulation.
A young couple has chosen to spend the night in a haunted house to fix their marriage. Your story starts just as things get very weird.
Your protagonist finds a letter they wrote to themselves when they were a teenager.
Your protagonist must decide whether or not to drink from a fountain that erases all painful memories from the mind.
Your protagonist comes across a street called ‘Memory Lane’. They quickly realise the name is eerily apt.
A bride finds out something startling about her future husband an hour before the wedding.
Your protagonist finds an advertisement for a company that promises everlasting youth.
A youngest sibling shows up at a family reunion they weren’t actually invited to.
Your protagonist finds a piece of paper with a spell on it. If they say the words out loud they aren't sure if something terrible or wonderful will happen.
Your protagonist is watching a jazz band play when they realise they know the drummer from somewhere — but where? It takes a whole song for them to figure it out.
Your protagonist must meet their ex for lunch to tell them they’re now engaged. It’s been just a few weeks since they split up.
Two people on a sinking ship must decide who should take the last seat in the last lifeboat.
During a match, a young boxer must decide whether to throw the fight.
Your protagonist must pack their belongings before moving to a new colony on mars.
A pilot realises they have lost control of their aircraft.
Your protagonist doesn’t want to attend their 100th birthday party — and for good reason!
Your protagonist gets stuck in a lift with their ex … 5 minutes after breaking up with them.
A child says goodbye to the fairies in his garden before moving to a new home.
Your protagonist saves someone’s life … and then wishes they hadn’t.
Your protagonist arrives at a blind date. They’ve been set up with someone they actually know a little too well.
Set in a dystopian future in which public displays of affection are banned, your protagonist faces an agonising choice.
An agoraphobic must face their fear in order to save something important.
Your protagonist must make her partner fall out of love with them. Both their lives depend on it.
Your protagonist is hiking with her small children, they come face to face with a grizzly bear and her cubs.
Cinderella and Prince Charming realise they got married too quickly.
A message written in graffiti on a bathroom wall has serious implications for your protagonist.
Your protagonist finds a bag, looks inside, and realises the owner might just be their soulmate.
Your protagonist has been seeing the same stranger everywhere they go for months. They finally decide to confront them.
A couple realise their relationship is over during the trip of a lifetime. They’ve been saving up for the trip for years.
A public debate sees two previously married people letting their private grievances come into their arguments.
Your protagonist plans their escape from a retirement home.
A couple realise their fundamental beliefs are at odds with each other.
An artist develops an obsession with drawing a next-door neighbour.
Your protagonist finds themselves trapped in a cabin with a group of hikers during a heavy snowfall.
An ice skater must face going back on the ice after a dangerous fall.
A couple must decide their plan for New Year’ Eve. They both have secret reasons for their choice.
A family must decide what to take and what to leave behind as a wildfire approaches their home.
Your protagonist is waiting for someone important at the airport. They begin to think that person isn’t going to show up … and then they realise why.
Your protagonist must find their way through a maze. What they find in the middle of the maze is the last thing they were expecting.
An actor waiting in the wings has forgotten his first line.
Your protagonist is wrongly identified as a hero. Do they come clean?
Your protagonist realises their past is catching up with them.
Your protagonist overhears something that has serious implications for them while trying on clothes in a changing room.
Your protagonist is in a costume shop trying to decide what to dress up as for Halloween.
Your protagonist realises they’ve slipped into an alternate dimension.
A surgeon must make an impossible choice on the operating table.
A pregnant journalist interviews the mother of a missing child.
Your protagonist must ask his girlfriend’s father for his blessing, only to discover the father knows his deepest secret.
Your protagonist sees something on social media that will change their life forever.
Two work colleagues realise they’ve been dreaming the same dreams for weeks.
A reluctant daughter comes to terms with having to carry on the family business.
Your protagonist realises she must go on the run.
Two bank robbers disagree on their plan to rob a bank. This leads to a disastrous consequence.
A strange case of deja vous leaves your protagonist convinced of supernatural interference.
A sceptic begins to question their beliefs during a psychic reading.
Your protagonist uncovers a scandal at their workplace.
A hapless cook tries to recreate her late father’s favourite recipes in an effort to feel connected to him.
Your protagonist has a premonition that makes them certain they can’t visit their mother-in-law for Christmas. Now he must convince his husband.
A young backpacker discovers something unexpected in a cave.
An impulsive character and an indecisive character are brought together by chance. They must make an important choice.
Two characters cleaning up after a party discover an object that sheds light on something strange that happened earlier.
Two strangers are trapped together during a blackout.
Your protagonist must take a leap of faith in order to save something important to them.
Your protagonist discovers a huge part of their life has been a lie.
Your protagonist has set up an elaborate way to propose. Inexplicably, everything goes wrong.
Your protagonist must buy a dress for her mother’s funeral.
Your protagonist goes back to her favourite city in the world, only to find it has completely changed.
While stargazing, your protagonist realises the stars are forming secret messages in the sky.
Your protagonist hears a news story on the radio that will mean the world changes forever. However, she seems to be the only person who heard it.
Your protagonist is crossing a frozen lake. They see something under the ice that definitely shouldn’t be there.
A workaholic must come to terms with retirement.
An Olympic athlete must decide whether or not to report their teammate for doping.
A young mother feels isolated from her childless friends.
Your protagonist is about to realise their greatest ambition. Will it be everything they were hoping for?
Onboard a spaceship, a couple prepare to go into stasis for hundreds of years.
Your protagonist has an obsession with thinking about the past.
Set in a post-apocalyptic future, your protagonist meets an unlikely love interest.
Your protagonist visits a place from their childhood and realises their memories of that time might not be accurate at all.
A small child has decided to run away from home. Her parents watch on with amusement as she decides what to put in her backpack.
On a whim, a bus driver decides to radically change his route, much to the chagrin of his passengers.
Dystopian. A couple in love are only allowed to spend time with each other one day a year.
A shapeshifter begins to realise their powers are fading. They must decide what form will be the last one they take before they cannot change again.
The devil visits your protagonist with an offer on her soul.
Your protagonist suddenly has the ability to read minds. There’s only one place they want to go now!
Your very wealthy protagonist has designed a simple test to see who will inherit her estate.
An archaeologist discovers something that will change how we see the history of the world. It could be dangerous. Does he keep it to himself?
Your protagonist must clear out their late mother’s house. She discovers an incredible family secret.
Your protagonist is meeting his brother. They haven’t seen each other for 20 years.
Your protagonist develops the ability to see the world literally through someone else’s eyes.
Your protagonist starts to believe their partner might be a spy.
Your protagonist discovers a hidden camera in their living room.
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A woman loses her young niece in a busy shopping mall.
Three strangers must solve a riddle in order to gain entry to a secret club.
A poor woman must borrow ingredients from her neighbours to bake her husband a birthday cake.
A waiter finally finds out why an old man has been coming to the restaurant where he works every day at exactly the same time.
Two work colleagues must decide which of them is to take the blame for a terrible mistake at work.
Your disgruntled protagonist goes to confront the couple next door about the strange noises they’ve been hearing at night.
A family dinner party sees three characters make three very surprising announcements.
Two women argue over who should get to buy the last dress available in a store. How do they decide who should get it?
A young couple find out they knew (and disliked) each other vehemently as children.
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Lonely Castle in the Mirror, by Mizuki Tsujimura
"Lonely Castle in the Mirror" is a genre-savvy portal fantasy about junior high students who get drawn into a mysterious castle when they're supposed to be in school. Kokoro had a terrible experience early in the school year that's made her terrified of facing her classmates, and develops some kind of (psychosomatic?) illness that prevents her from attending either the normal school or a special alternative school for students who need more support. Shortly after this, her bedroom mirror turns into a portal to the castle with six other students who are also not in school during the normal hours. The "Wolf Queen" in charge--an elementary school girl who enjoys allusions to "Little Red Riding Hood"--tells them all that there's a secret key in the castle that can grant one wish, and they have a year to find it and, potentially, use it. Also, if anyone is caught in the castle outside of the 9-5 school day timeframe, they'll all be eaten by a wolf.
So, these painfully shy students have the opportunity to make friends and have a non-terrifying experience with kids their own age, and they all enjoy bonding and playing video games and drinking tea together, and for the most part nobody cares about finding the key, because that would make the castle close and prematurely end their new friendship. For most of the book, the contrived quest stuff doesn't play into it. And then when it does, it kind of lampshades "oh yeah I have to do this on speedrun mode."
There are a lot of takes pointing out that books where "the magic goes away"/"everyone loses their memories"/"we just have to move on with our lives and pretend like the portal fantasy never happened" can be pretty messed up. In this book, however, I couldn't find myself relating to the characters because it felt like a perverse incentives situation. Yes, middle school is an emotionally volatile, turbulent, unpleasant environment full of many immature people. This is a pretty common experience, actually. Kokoro just can't handle it, and as a response, the infinitely patient teacher at the alternative school reassures her mother that she's battling really hard and it's not her fault, she just can't go to school, and then she gets to go through a portal into fantasy world with people who play video games and eat snacks all day...? I understand there's more to it than that, but something has to change about this situation because otherwise this really isn't the message you want to send. (Once we learn about the backgrounds and life situations of some of the other students, I can imagine how it was easier for people like Subaru and Aki to fall through the cracks, but it feels like, eg, Masamune and Ureshino's junior high situation should have had some kind of guidance counselor or adult in the room. The readers' guide in the back of the book describes Kokoro as a "futoko," and I understand this is more pervasive in Japan than elsewhere, but I have a hard time accepting that seventh graders staying home for months on end with no apparent homeschooling or tutoring gets such a shrug.)
The prose didn't really grab me, sometimes it felt awkward ("That day, Fuka apparently enjoyed the chocolates back home, for she faithfully reported to Kokoro that 'they were delicious.'") and there were a several parts with very. short. one. line. paragraphs.

Kokoro tried to convince herself that she hadn't been at home that day. Miori and the others had simply pounded on the door of an empty house, trampled over the patio, gone round and round over outside of the house. But nothing actually happened. Nothing at all. She never was about to be killed. And yet the next day, she said, "I have a stomachache." And she really did. It was no lie. And her mother chimed in: "You do look pale. Are you OK?" And that's when Kokoro stopped going to school.

A few paragraphs later:

Would she be able to protect herself?
The only place she could now go to freely from her bedroom was the castle.
If I'm in the castle, she started to think, then I'll be safe.
Only the castle beyond the mirror could offer her complete protection.

Girl, I know your mental health isn't the greatest, but we're talking about the place where people threatened you with being eaten alive by a wolf. ??? Sorry, my suspension of belief does not extend this far.
There's also a random red herring with a neighbor student whose father has an interest in researching fairy tales, and like, maybe that "real world" location/characters are related in some way to the portal world? No, it's just a fortuitous coincidence that helps Kokoro have access to more Western fairy tale info.
The good news is, about halfway through the characters start developing some genre-savviness and realizing what they have in common, and towards the end, things pick up significantly in terms of how and why some of the arbitrary fairy-tale logic came about. So it definitely sticks the landing in that way.
Bingo: Prologue/Epilogue, Author of Color, Book Club
Promise of the Flame, by Sylvia Louise Engdahl
At the end of "Stewards of the Flame," to which this book is a sequel, our heroes Jesse, Carla, and Peter had hijacked a spaceship and jumped to an uninhabited planet to set up a colony where humans could develop psionic powers free from the medical bureaucracy of Undine. Jesse's hyperspace jump was rushed and not perfectly calculated, so in order to ensure their oxygen supply makes it all the way to planet Maclairn (named after their late founder), the Group had to confront their deepest fear and brave the stasis boxes that had been Chekhov-gunned several times in the last section. As the existence of the sequel implies, the protagonists and most of their comrades survive stasis. But while, in "Stewards," the hyperspace navigation "error"/imperfection sets up the Group's ultimate test, here it casts a long shadow as Jesse keeps wondering, "could we have picked a better landing site if I hadn't screwed it up?"
The early days on Maclairn are a struggle. The first part of the book is a recurring cycle of "should we do things this way or that way? Well, we came here to set up a society fully founded on mind powers, we pretty much have to commit to the bit or else what's the point." Repeat ad infinitum. Later, this broadens somewhat to "we have to have psi powers coexist with modern technology to fulfill Ian [Maclairn]'s dream, otherwise what's the point." There are clear parallels to (Engdahl's older trilogy) "Children of the Star"; that society represents the endpoint if they go down a path of giving up on modern technology--and the burdens of agrarian, high-population-growth societies fall disproportionately on women. If "Stewards" had motifs of baptism, this is more of an Exodus story, with the characters sulking about "why did you bring us out of Undine just to starve in the wilderness, at least there we had enough to eat." "My God, came Carla’s thought, we’re homesick! Homesick for Undine! I never admitted that to myself, it was so foolish, I’d wanted so much to leave . . . I guess I just pushed it down inside, into a place I didn’t dare go. . . ."
The consequences of the hyperspace jump being off are a minor tonal retcon/change in perspective on the events of the first book. A more significant one, to me, involves love triangle dynamics. In "Stewards," we learn that Carla and Peter both previously had spouses who died under the authoritarian Undine government. Fortunately, Jesse shows up just when Carla is ready to love again, and their relationship brings him into the Group and thus enables their escape from Undine. "Promise" adds that Peter has been silently pining for Carla all along, but needed Jesse's starship skills too much to say anything. We're told the Group's adult recruits skew slightly female, but that isn't represented among the main characters, and you're telling me that none of them are Peter's type? All three of them sigh and angst about "oh, we're such great friends, we can't let this love triangle come between us," and at times it feels like it's setting up for a polygamy plotline (they're all highly powerful telepaths, they can't keep secrets from each other!) And then it just...goes nowhere. As in the first book, I can accept that sex is probably great among telepaths; I can't buy that every single person has to have sex in order to fully level up their telepathic sensitivity!
The best parts of "Promise" involve the culture clashes between Jesse, who grew up on Earth; the rest of the adult Group members, from Undine; and the Maclairn-born generation. Undine's environment is so tightly regulated, they don't even have insects or lizards, so the planet's "collective unconsciousness" doesn't have a fear of creepy-crawlies; Jesse's initial revulsion risks "contaminating" the psyche until everyone faces their fear.

“Horror vids involving animal life aren’t permitted on colony worlds,” Peter told him. “Haven’t you ever wondered why starship libraries don’t contain any? Earth has always banned their export as a measure to protect extraterrestrial lifeforms. It’s one of the few government trade regulations I think is wise.” Of course, Jesse realized. The average Earth citizen’s reaction would have been to kill the crawlies—if possible, to exterminate them. That hadn’t occurred to anyone yesterday. And horror vids often portrayed even intelligent aliens as repulsive; what kind of precedent would that set if similar ones were ever encountered?
Traditionally, said the knowledgebase, small farmers had chopped chickens’ heads off with a hatchet. Wringing their necks was said to be more humane, but nobody wanted to experiment on live, squawking chickens despite the specific instructions provided. These warned that the hardest part, in the physical sense, would be catching a grown chicken in the first place—a fact soon borne out by experience, as chickens are not devoid of telepathic sensitivity and the pursuers were unconsciously broadcasting their intent to kill.
Kel, like many of the Group’s other children, had been slow in learning to talk. It had taken awhile before it dawned on the adults that this was because the kids’ telepathic bonds with their parents had been so strongly encouraged that they felt no need to communicate vocally. Speech could not be allowed to die out in a psi-based culture; it was essential not only to reading but to the framing and communication of complex ideas. Now, everyone realized that like the skills for volitional control of the body, telepathic conveyance of concepts, as distinguished from emotions, must wait until the kids were older.

On the other hand, the scope of "this is dangerous, but we must, to commit to the psionic bit" and "well, we've come through a lot of tough situations before, but this time really is the end...jk never mind we got out of it" got repetitive. There was one scene towards the end where it's like "okay, we're almost done, I can see how telepathy might be used to enable a permanent self-sacrifice...nope, we're still going, huh," and even though some of the resolutions were nice callbacks/tying up foreshadowing, it was still a lot.
Like in James P. Hogan's "Voyage to Yesteryear," the kids who were raised outside of Earth and Undine's prejudices are, overall, a great step forward for humankind, but there can be some values dissonance. In both cases, the desire for lots of population growth leads to a much lower age of consent than Earthlings are used to. Justified somewhat more in Maclairn's case; telepathy means almost everyone wouldn't fathom hurting each other and of course sex is consensual, as well as amazing. On the other hand, in both cases, there's no prison infrastructure; if someone is determined to be evil and is posing a grave threat to others, you just have to kill them. "Promise" gets a little more philosophical about the problem of evil--if it's not nature and it's not nurture, what causes it? Free will? Sure, but it seems as if some people are also evil from day one even if their DNA is just fine.
There are a couple shoutouts to Lord of the Rings and Star Trek that fit in nicely. I found "it's just like using the Force, you know, like in that old vid, Star Wars" to be more of a distraction. Similarly, Engdahl's commitment to showing her work ("in the twentieth century on Earth, you know, people experimented with remote viewing!") got to be a distraction. But the exploration of "okay, let's try a rain dance, even if it fails we're learning something and pushing knowledge forward" was a great use of the "sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" trope, which is what I come to Engdahl for anyway.
Some people, like Peter, tend to believe in an afterlife; others, like Jesse, are more skeptical. Earth religions don't transfer well to other planets because the interstellar gap is too big for the collective unconsciousness to bridge. Despite this, characters use the word "God" (like in a telepathic context of "Carla . . . oh, God, Carla, answer me!") approximately 144 times. Do you have no one else's name to take in vain???
Criticisms aside, I do think that this is less heavy-handed than "Stewards" and at least as good a starting point!
Bingo: Dreams, Prologues/Epilogues, Self-Published, Survival. One prominent character acquires a physical disability midway through the story. Jesse and Peter's Criminal record on Undine is not very important (since the entire book is set on or around Maclairn), but it becomes more prominent in the last section.
The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi, by Shannon Chakraborty
Once upon a time (1100s Indian Ocean) there was a notorious nakhudha (pirate captain) named Amina al-Sirafi. Ten years ago, she retired, and now she's a single mom with a bad knee and a leaky roof. However, a wealthy noblewoman who believes her granddaughter has been kidnapped by a Western European would-be sorcerer insists on having Amina rescue her, never mind Amina's own family responsibilities. So Amina has to put the band back together, staying one step ahead of the authorities while getting to the bottom of the mystery.
Amina and her crew are likable rogues. I found this easier to get into than Chakraborty's "City of Brass". That book focused more on a long-term conflict between two factions, neither of whom consistently seem like the "good guys"; maybe that's supposed to be sending a message about RL actually works, but I found it confusing at times. In contrast, the early sections of "Amina" are about tracking down individual allies, from a gay smuggler stuck in a prison in Aden, to a navigator and family man in Mogadishu, while researching the notorious Falco Palamenestra and speculating what he might be up to.
At first, Amina's Muslim identity comes through more in the ways characters talk, and some level of monster-fighting exorcism (like Catholicism in some horror movies), than actual practice. But gradually, we see more of how she's struggled to be a parent in her post-pirate life:

If the criminal past didn’t alert you, I have not always been a very good Muslim. Drinking and missing prayer were among my lesser sins, and if I tried to straighten myself up every year when Ramadan rolled around—a new life of piety easy to imagine while dazed with thirst and caught up in the communal joy of taraweeh—I typically lapsed into my usual behavior by the time the month of Shawwal had ended.
But then Marjana was born. And Asif was . . . lost. And if one of these events made me feel as though I had no right to ever call upon God again, the other filled with me a driving need I could not deny. So I keep my daily prayers, even if I feel unworthy the entire time.

To me, this rang true as a depiction of a complicated, realistic, person of faith.
This is a time and place that I knew very little about. For instance, one plotline involves the island of Socotra, an island off the coast of Somalia which is today part of Yemen. There are caves there with graffiti from sailors going back thousands of years, in Indian and Greek and Ethiopic scripts. This is a real place! I would not have been able to tell you anything about it before reading this book! So Chakraborty's vivid descriptions of places this, and of the diverse cultures and religious backgrounds of pirates who live and work alongside each other, is compelling. There's a danger in this as a reader, though, in that getting too caught up in the "worldbuilding" of the actual world can make it feel like its "foreignness" is what makes it speculative and fantastical, which is obviously inaccurate and beside the point. That's one reason why jumping in at the deep end with an honest-to-goodness sea monster in chapter one might have been a good choice, to remind us that there really are otherworldly things happening.
The themes of "rich people love to jerk poor people around" and "the male gaze sucks" are clear, but there's lots of quippy banter mixed in.

“That was you, was it not? The woman who poisoned the soldiers at the wali’s office, freed a crew of homicidal pirates, set a score of ships on fire, and fled the harbor in the middle of the night?” “I would never confirm such a thing and put you at risk of consorting with criminals. But it was two ships, not a score. I wouldn’t wish to encourage exaggeration.”
Sailing past its ancient breakwater—the stones said to have been set there by giants—you might feel as though you have entered a mythical port of magic from a sailor’s yarn. You would be sorely mistaken. Aden is where magic goes to be crushed by the muhtasib’s weights, and if wonder could be calculated, this city would require an ordinance taxing it.
“She knows you are a pirate?” “I am not a pirate,” Majed huffed. “I am a cartographer with a checkered past.” “Yes. A checkered past of piracy.”

The book contains a few chapters that are "in-universe documentation" or chronicles of the places and people in the main narrative. This is a trope I really enjoy at times. However, in this case, I didn't feel it added much, beyond underscoring the themes that "men feel threatened by powerful women, oh no."
The biggest issue for me was how all the diverse, sympathetic characters just kind of went along with developments that felt more reminiscent of 2020s Tumblr idiolect than 1100s Indian Ocean. How fortuitously convenient! (At least it got a Hugo nom.)
Smaller quibbles: the timeframe with Amina in her forties is appeSaling to the extent that it's a story about a working mother trying to follow her own dreams while also desperately missing her kid. But in order to make that work, the narrative sometimes withholds a lot of important information about the tragedies in Amina's past/her relationship with her child's father until it can be brought forward for dramatic effect, and it made me wonder what a story from the younger Amina's POV would look like without the artificial suspense problem.
More broadly, I felt like the second half's pace wasn't as crisp as the first--there's a dramatic near-death experience, then a bunch of fantastical creatures are introduced in quick succession as if to make up for the "worldbuilding via the actual world" stuff earlier, then we get a very contrived in-universe sequel hook, then we double back to a setting that had already been introduced. Whereas the first part was "we need to go to A to do B and then that gives us a clue that leads us to C."
Who wore it better?

“It is invalid!” I burst out. “Our nikah. It is not permissible for me to marry a non-Muslim.” Raksh frowned. “Is that why the man had me say all those words about God and prophets?” He returned to studying the contract. “Trust me, dear wife, I can be a vast number of things.” “But—but you are not a believer.” “Of course I am. Best to know the competition, yes?”

Compare "Alif the Unseen" (which is one of my favorites and I suspect I probably was harsh on "City of Brass" by comparison):

"But I told him I couldn't marry him even if I wanted to, because I can't marry an unbeliever. And he laughed and said he'd been a believer, 'for a the better part of a thousand years,' I believe were the exact words." "What?" said Alif. "Vikram? Vikram the madman who bites people?" "He might be those things," said the convert hastily, "but did you ever know him to do or say anything really blasphemous?" "I guess not."

Bingo: Alliterative Title, Criminals, Dreams, Reference Materials, Readalong! It's planned to be First in a Series but the sequels aren't out yet. (Statistics from last year just came out and this was the most popular book across all 2023 bingo cards, with ~200 reads!)
Spinning Silver, by Naomi Novik
When I read "Uprooted" and griped about the implausible romance and/or reactive plot, people's reactions were "try Spinning Silver, it's an improvement in some of those ways." And yeah, it is! I was aware that Spinning Silver was set in the same world as Uprooted, ~1700s Eastern Europe but with some fantasy elements, and that it was based on Rumplestiltskin.
But it's a lot more than a simple retelling. "Spinning Silver" teases out the individual trope elements of Rumplestiltskin--a mercenary father trying to get his daughter to marry up, the dead mother looming over the plot, a woman given the impossible task of making gold out of other elements, terrible bargains, aloof and unknowable beings from the fae world, the power of knowing someone's true name, the horror of a mother trading her child to inhuman creatures--and blows them all up, turning them inside-out, and creating something original.
It also does a lot with POV. For the first chunk, we have two young women from a small town who go back and forth telling the stories of their business dealings. But as the book goes on, we start jumping into more and more people's heads, and everyone's voice is very different. Sometimes this can be used for dramatic irony; we hear what character A thinks of their interaction with B, then we jump back and tell the same scene from B's POV and what was going through their head is very different than what A assumes. Once in a while, this makes the plot drag--there's a couple of scenes towards the end where we can't have any suspense about "oh no, will they find what they're looking for" because we've just seen the corresponding scene from another POV, and it would have been more effective to rearrange them--but overall, things are propelled forward much more intriguingly than "Uprooted."
Our POV characters are:

• Miryem, the daughter of the village moneylender. Miryem's family is Jewish, which means her father is one of the few people socially permitted to work as a moneylender--but he's more interested in currying favor with the neighbors than getting his debts repaid, so his family goes hungry. Miryem steps up, grows "cold" and "wintry," and takes on his job, to her parents' horror. But an offhand remark about "look, I can turn silver into gold" (metaphorically, because of, you know, capitalism) inadvertently catches the ear of the "Staryk," monstrous elven raiders who live in a parallel realm.
• Wanda, the daughter of an abusive alcoholic. Miryem is like "he can't pay off his debt because he's drunk everything away, I'll have them repay me by hiring Wanda to assist me with our work, I know this is cold and ruthless but I have to." Then when we see it from Wanda's POV she's like "you're giving me money to be out of the house and away from my father? And you'll even feed me? What an undeserved kindness!" Her reaction to "learning to manipulate numbers and do arithmetic is an amazing kind of magic!" felt cheesy and over-the-top, but the contrast between the literal phrasing of a royal decree and the way she "translates" it was more convincing.
• Irina, the daughter of the duke of Vysnia (Vilnius, Lithuania). Like Wanda, her mother is dead and her father is trying to arrange the most profitable marriage for her, never mind what she wants. When Miryem is compelled to turn magical Staryk silver into gold, she does so by having an acquaintance forge silver jewelry which the duke purchases--so when the gold takes on magical powers in the Staryk world, so does the silver with Irina, and brings her to the attention of a tsar. Despite her cold relationship with her father, she learns a lot from him and is a true politician, adept as anyone at cutting deals to keep her realm safe.
• Stepon, Wanda's younger brother. His narration is very simple and childlike (amazing cold open with "I like goats because I know what they will do.") It's possible he has some kind of sensory/mental health issues, or it's possible he's just eleven and overstimulated by unfamiliar crowds.
• Magreta, Irina's nurse/caretaker. She can be kind and supportive, but her casual antisemitism provides a contrast to how Miryem is treated by the villagers.
• Mirnatius, the tsar. For a while we mostly see him through Irina's POV ("this guy is so full of himself he requires a new outfit every day, that's no way to manage the economy"), but again, his narration provides a very different perspective on what's going on.

So I said the romance was better than "Uprooted," in that we didn't have the implausible "elderly magician berates young woman all the time but also they can't keep their hands off each other." In "Spinning Silver," both {Miryem and the Staryk king} and {Irina and Mirnatius} are paired off without much say-so on anybody's part, it's being manipulated by magic/higher-ups. So the timeframe of the book is mostly them all learning how to tolerate each other, and the romance is kind of left to your imagination in the future era.
The Staryk magic is kind of like...you can see their roads briefly if they make incursions in the human world, but as soon as they've disappeared, you start forgetting them and it really takes effort to remember. This means that if someone, like Miryem, disappears into the Staryk world, she's forgotten almost immediately except for little irregularities that don't seem right. These depictions were well-done. (Except that I was trying to remember if the Staryk were the same as the [jerk, mundane human] aristocrats in "Uprooted." They're not. I think I was half-remembering "Marek," the creepy prince, instead of "Staryk," the winter elves.)
There's a cool liminal space that sets up back-and-forth "communication" between the human and Staryk realms, and again, the multiple POVs are a good framework for this. On the other hand, there are some things, like, why do the Staryk want human gold, that are kind of chalked up to "magic idk" and not completely spelled out; for some of the confrontations at the end, again, it's better not to worry too much about hard magic systems and just go with the vibes. There's also an earlier plot that definitely plays the trope of "the less the audience knows about the plan, the more likely it is to succeed" trope straight.
Especially early on, it can be a very bleak "everyone sucks here" setting. Wanda and Stepon's father is horrific. Irina's father is mercenary and sets her up with Mirnatius, a dandy who abuses animals for fun. Nobody in the village respects Miryem's family, and when she tries to reclaim what she's due, her parents are horrified. The Staryk raid the village and carry off women and demand impossible tasks. There's a lot of "I have my wife to murder and Guilder to frame for it" coming from all sides. Even though the plot is moving forward, it's hard to feel like there's anything to root for.
But cracks of light shine through. Miryem's mother, and her mother, defy the "dead moms" trope, and are able to be loving parental figures to Wanda, Stepon, and their brother Sergey. Miryem's grandfather is wise and conscientious, warning her of the risks that some of her choices pose not only to their family but to the Vysnia Jewish community as a whole, but still recognizing she's mature enough to make her own choices. They even make use of a real-world Jewish blessing for the first blossoming of trees in the spring. Even when people are trying to be cold, sometimes they're just too human!
Bingo: Alliterative Title, Under the Surface (not for most of the plot, but there is a secret tunnel that gets use), Multi-POV (and how!)
The Infinite Arena (edited by Terry Carr)
Anthology of SF short stories about sports, stumbled upon while browsing a used bookstore. I like sports and the first one was based on "Casey at the Bat," so okay, sold.
It's from 1977, and the stories were originally published in the 40s-70s timeframe. The sex ratio among writers appears to be nine men, zero women, which is pretty "impressive" considering there are only seven stories. Three of them are installments from series that feature the same recurring character(s), so maybe that explains some of the...paucity? I don't want to say they're "flat" or "shallow" or anything, most of the contemporary "deep" stuff isn't to my taste either, but it feels like there's "no 'there' there" for several of these. In some cases, it's like, "we have to raise the stakes by involving gambling/someone's fate being on the line"; in others, it's looking for parallels between sports and other aspects of life (warfare? weird alien insects?) that provide the impetus for two plots to intertwine.
-Joy in Mudville (Poul Anderson and Gordon R. Dickson)--very impressionable and earnest teddy-bear-like alien species imprints on humans, and immediately become obsessed with baseball. One of the aliens names himself Mighty Casey, but unfortunately, opponents can rattle him by reminding him of how "Casey at the Bat" turned out. Fortunately, what poetry can break, poetry can also fix...

"You untentacled mammal! raged Ush Karuza. "You sslimeless conformation of bored flesh!" Alex had long ago discovered that mankind rarely reacts to insults couched in nonhuman terms. It did not offend him at all to be told that he was slimeless.

-Bullard Reflects (Malcolm Jameson)--Dazzle Dart is a sport played by bouncing light rays around with reflective gear and aiming for a goal at the opponents' end. Like American football, one team is designated on offense at a time, and the other is on defense, but you can "intercept" and score from on defense. In Dazzle Dart, this is worth bonus points. Except instead of normal goals and "turnover" goals being worth one and two points respectively, it's twenty-five and fifty. And you thought Quidditch was silly. (This is from 1941.)
-The Body Builders (Keith Laumer)--the best of the stories, in my opinion, in that it predicts both technological advancement and the social changes that will ensue in a clever way.

So it's a little artificial maybe--but what about the Orggies, riding around in custom-built cars that are nothing but substitute personalities, wearing padded shoulders, contact lenses, hearing aids, false teeth, cosmetics, elevator shoes, rugs to cover their bald domes? If you're going to wear false eyelashes, why not false eyes? Instead of a nose bob, why not bob the whole face? At least a fellow wearing a Servo is honest about it, which is more than you can say for an Orggie doll in a foam-rubber bra--not that Julie needed any help in that department.

-The Great Kladnar Race (Robert Silverberg and Randall Garrett)--bored humans on an alien planet try introducing something like horse races that they can bet on. However, the aliens' concepts of sports and competition and betting don't necessarily align with the humans'.
-Mr. Meek Plays Polo (Clifford D. Simak)--guy who has only seen one space polo game in his life somehow accidentally stumbles into being the "expert" space polo coach, oops. Also there are weird alien bugs that are great at computation (a little like "The Circle").
-Sunjammer (Arthur C. Clarke, whose name is spelled wrong on the front cover)--a solar flare interrupts a solar sailboat race. Felt timely given the storm of a few days ago! (I did not get to see the aurora, alas.)
-Run to Starlight (George R. R. Martin)--short and slow but extremely muscular aliens enter an American football league and crush everyone, metaphorically and literally. However, the aliens' concepts of sports and competition don't necessarily align with the humans'. Too bad he never wrote anything else ;)
Bingo: 5+ short stories.

But I think people use the word “toy” way way way too much. Just the word pisses me off, it’s like people don’t have any authority in real life so they go onto the graff subreddits and just type “toy” without even looking at people’s art.
I’ve been doing graffiti for about 3ish years now, and from what I’ve learned is the people saying “toy” are just people that aren’t good at graff and can’t cope with it. I don’t think anyone is a toy but I also think some throwies and pieces shouldn’t be put out into the world.
Another thing that pisses me off is “tagging” its not graffiti unless your like tagging one of the pieces you made. Not just running around like a chicken without a head, and “tagging” random ass places. Instead how about you get some eggshell stickers and do something that is actually readable and looks good and isn’t just one color to look at.
From what I’ve heard from oldies about graff and what not back in the day I feel like I was born into the wrong generation where people feel a little bit of self completion from saying “toy” and then writing a bunch of speggeti noodles on the wall and saying it’s art
Sorry for the rant, just had to let that off my shoulder after seeing someone’s decent art work and three comments on it is just the word “toy” nothing else. Have a good day
If this broke the rules sorry, I don’t belive it did.

It’s been some time before I had gotten a chance to go back home. I went to Canada for my university and am currently looking for work. The economy was down the shitter, my friends from uni all dispersed into their own adult lives and I was stuck alone in my apartment staring at a dwindling list of relevant job offers online.
I’d started staying up later and later, where the first sunlight was usually also the last natural light I would see before crashing on my couch. I was at my limit, not enjoying much of anything, and all my senses feeling numb. I was just pushing on through to the next day.
I’d decided to save up some money to return back to my family for a short while, just a few weeks to decompress and see if that would help me.
I come from one of the smaller cities in mid-western Germany. There’s absolutely nothing notable about it other than being located near the forest where my ancestors fought back the Romans. But the people are nice, as far as Germans go. We are a weird people, I admit. Outwardly cold towards those we don’t know, until we get together for a few beers or a piece of cake, after which you would think we were friends our entire lives.
But that’s exactly what I wanted then. If I managed to get out of my hole to grab a coffee, those trained smiles just reminded me of how miserable I was. I needed the gruffness of my Fatherland and the reality of my own family.
My arrival and the first few days went about as well as I’d anticipated. I was greeted with hugs and kisses and had to tell the same stories about a hundred times before crashing on my old bed. Even at home, I barely managed to get outside. I’d stay up, smoke and drink on the balcony before letting sleep carry me through the day. My family was understandably worried. I hadn’t really told them the extent of how shitty I had been feeling.
They tried their best, considering they didn’t really know how to deal with my mental status. It wasn’t their fault, their words weren’t reaching me. At least, they managed to figure out pretty quickly to drop the subject for now, attempting instead to simply cheer me up by being themselves and acting as if everything was normal. It worked for me, even if it wasn’t quite the reality check I needed. I even managed to get up early enough to see them at breakfast. I still remember the soft smiles they gave me when they saw me. I shrugged, sat down, and ate some eggs.
One day, an old high school friend, Max, who had also managed to make his way back home and had heard of my arrival, hit me up via text and asked if I wanted to go on a walk. I wanted to decline but at the same time, I felt bad enough that I had never once texted him and now here he was, inviting me.
We used to live close together, so all he needed to do was pick me up at home. We decided to retread our old childhood stomping grounds in the forest that bordered our suburb. It’s the same forest I mentioned earlier, by the way.
As he rang the doorbell, I was overcome by this terrible anxiety. How would he see me? What would he think of me?
I opened the door and he immediately smiled and said, “How are you, you fucking ghost?”
I couldn’t help but grin and we hugged.
“Could be better, bro. You know how it is,” I replied.
“Ain’t that the truth,” he chuckled and beckoned me outside. (I will be paraphrasing some of what was said as I’m translating it. Otherwise, I would just sound off.)
As we hiked through the down-trodden dirt paths, through the luscious trees, bright green and alight with the sounds of birds chirping away, we barely said a word to each other. I guess he understood what I was going through, perhaps heard the bare minimum from whoever told him I was even here. At the time, I thought he pitied me and that’s why he came to pick me up.
We exchanged the odd question about what we were doing. For me, nothing. He was training to become a nurse, which honestly surprised me seeing as he always was more one for making jokes and sleeping in class rather than being passionate about helping people. But who was I to judge?
We decided to walk up the hill further into the woods. Unlike the miles and miles of dark green conifers you might be picturing from North America, this forest is more of a mixture of beeches, birches, and fir trees. Most areas are well-lit, as the sun has enough space to seep through. However, I’ve always felt it gives you a false sense of security. You think you can see everything but in the end, it is still you, alone in the woods, dismissing every shadow or sign of movement as leaves and branches when in reality you really have no idea what might be lurking behind those tree trunks. Another aspect is that while the paths seem to form a natural clearing, it is just as easy to get lost, mistaking a more flat patch on the ground for a man-made path, just because the leaves don’t obscure the sun, letting the forest swallow you up with ease.
I realized then that I’d never been aware of that until now. I’ve always seen the woods as our kingdom, as nature inviting us to be free and just be children.
“Something wrong?” Max asked.
“Forest seems different. Might just be me though.”
Max nodded and replied, “I get what you mean. Seems less friendly now that we’re older, doesn’t it.”
“Exactly.”
Max stopped for a second and frowned, before suggesting, “Listen. One thing is actually different. You remember the meadow, with the river and the bridge?”
“Sure.”
“You recall that concrete bunker that was next to it. We always just thought it was something to do with the power grid.”
I did remember it. I remembered the way it stood out as an ugly minimalist block, threatening the serenity of nature. The graffiti didn’t help. We would usually stay away, not minding it.
I nodded.
“Well, that one is gone…but…uh…there’s another one. Popped up a while ago, don’t know when exactly. Lisa’s Aunt noticed it while walking her dog. Wanna check it out?”
I raised my eyebrow, “Why would we wanna do that?”
“I don’t know man. I’m trying my best here.” I could sense his desperation, reminding me of my parents, seeing me every night before they went to bed, asking me to hang out with them.
I shrugged, grabbed his shoulders, and said, “Lead the way then.”
He gave me a weak smile and we walked on.
Indeed, the structure was, in terms of how it was built, identical to the one we saw as kids. We walked around it, checking every angle. There really was nothing remarkable about it but something was finally stirring inside my cold heart. A sense of adventure, something new and unexpected to be discovered. I didn’t know how long it would last but I wanted to cling onto it and keep it inside me for as long as I could.
We found a door on one side, reading “No Authorized Access”.
Max poked me and asked, “Is it just me or does this door look different from the old one?”
It did. “There’s a handle on this one and…no lock. The old one just had a keyhole. I suppose it was so It was harder to open from the outside.”
I looked around, trying to get a better lay of the land, “Have you noticed something else?”
Max tried to follow my eyes, “What?”
“There are no powerlines or towers. The old one had those too.”
“Maybe it’s underground. Save the trees and all of that.”
“Maybe..,” I responded.
Max took another walk around the box, shouting from the other side, “Nobody has tagged it yet, either!”
“Can’t be that old then…Come back and give me a lift!”
Max helped me onto the roof. There was nothing, not even an HVAC box.
“Bro, what do you see!”
“Nothing, Max. Not a thing.”
I jumped back down and looked at my friend. We both started to grin. This little detour had just turned into a bonafide mystery.
“I guess there’s only one thing to do now,” I said, looking at the door handle.
“I guess you’re right.”
We both didn’t move a muscle, exchanging glances.
Max took a step back, holding his hands up: “Why don’t you go ahead.”
“Hmmm…Wimp.”
“Do it then, big guy.”
“Alright. Alright.” I slowly placed my hands on the handle, as if it may be electrified, and tried twisting it. Nothing happened.
I could feel Max deflate behind me but I wouldn’t give up. I tried it with some more force and noticed the door buckle. I wouldn’t stop now. I was feeling good. I kept pushing and pulling, using my foot against the wall for more force.
Finally, the door gave way and with it, I fell backward, crashing into leaves and dirt.
Max was equally shocked and amused, “Okay then, big guy. You go to the gym?”
“Not really. The door must’ve just rusted shut,” I said as I got back up and dusted myself off.
We both took a look inside but couldn’t see anything. But it was more than that. There was a thick wall of darkness, just past the precipice of the doorway. No light from the forest dared to enter it. Even the birds seemed frightened, enveloping both of us in absolute silence.
We tried to make anything out inside but we couldn’t. It was just black. I got out my phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it inside. It barely managed to penetrate, forcing me to get closer and closer. It felt a chill come from this portal I had just opened up.
“Nah, man. This ain’t right.” Max huffed behind me.
“Just give me a second.” I got as close to the opening as I was comfortable with and held my phone out. My fingers brushed past the boundary and it was running them under icy cold water. I shuddered but tried to steady my arm.
“I can make out a hallway. That’s it. I think it splits just a bit further in.” I told Max.
“Cool. Cool. You want to lead the way then?”
“You brought me here. Why don’t you go first? I opened the damn thing.”
“Exactly…finders keepers.”
“Aren’t nurses supposed to be able to be brave or something?”
“First of all, nurse-in-training. Second of all, you’re thinking of firefighters and thirdly, what the fuck do you mean brave? It’s like staring into the Marianna’s trench. This doesn’t seem natural.”
“I mean…It’s not. Somebody built it.”
“Yeah. That somebody clearly doesn’t want anybody to enter.”
I got agitated. He had brought me here, he agreed to open the door. Why did he want to ruin this for me? Isn’t this what he wanted? Isn’t this what everybody at home wants for me? To finally fucking act and not just waste away in my room?
“You can stand guard,” I replied gruffly.
Max put his hands in the air, took another look at me, and said, “You owe me a drink after this.,” before taking out his phone and turning the flashlight on.
I felt my anger vanish and we proceeded inside. We were definitely not dressed warm enough. As soon as both of us passed through the doorway, we took one last look at the forest behind us. There was nobody there to save us. We were alone. Maybe, I shouldn’t make Max do this. He was right. Something was very wrong here. I could feel my heartbeat fastening and my confidence replaced with fear.
Max took the first step forward and said, “At least the door won’t suddenly close on us.”
“I suppose so,” I replied following after him, hyping myself up. I wanted this. I needed this, I kept thinking to myself.
The first few meters were easy, as long as the light and escape were still clearly behind us. But we both felt it. There was a pressure here and the further we went in, the more it told us to leave.
We made it towards the end and indeed there was a split.
“Which way, boss?” Max asked.
I paused, shining my light in both directions. It looked to be more of the same.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Max.
Max gave me an agitated look and sighed, “You wanted this, right? And I don’t abandon my friends.”
His words stung. I looked at my feet in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t text or call.”
I could make out his smile and he replied, slapping my back: “It’s alright, bro. I get it. Gotta make up for lost time now at least.”
“Yeah…,” I responded weakly.
“So which way?”
“No idea. Got a preference?”
“Well, the left is one shade of pitch black and the right is another shade…I’ll pick right. Always my favorite side.”
“Right, it is,” I proclaimed.
We walked on, leaving the safety of the front door only in our memories.
Slowly inching forward, our flashlights barely made a dent into the void. There was no glass, no doors, just concrete and the linoleum floor.
After a little while Max tapped on my back, “Hey, did you notice something?”
I stopped, “No. What’s up?”
“This whole box wasn’t more than a few meters wide, right?”
“I did take me like two or free steps to get around.”
“Well…,” he held his arms up.
“How long have we been walking in here?”
“Exactly. How the fuck is that possible?”
“It isn’t it…”
Not only did this structure come out of nowhere, it also had complete disregard for the laws of physics. First, the light, which we simply waved away but now this? I was beginning to wonder whether this was worth it, after all, torn between my need for excitement and a basic fear of the unknown.
As if to answer us, our flashlights made out an irregularity ahead of us. It was another door.
We made our way closer to the door and Max slowly tried out the handle. The door opened into more black nothingness, where this time our light managed to illuminate even less. Max took another step and suddenly he was gone.
I blinked for a second, only to hear him scream and hear his voice draw further and further away from me. Running towards the doorframe, I only caught a glimpse of a bright dot falling further and further into an abyss, we both had failed to see.
“MAAAAAX!? MAAAAX!” I called out to him several times but he was nowhere to be seen. Even his flashlight had been swallowed up
I continued shouting out his name but there was no response. I was suddenly very alone, very scared, and very much ashamed.
Max was down there because of me, because I craved adventure so much in my boring unfulfilled existence that I was willing to not only risk my life but his as well. We both looked inside this alien box and knew something was wrong, yet I decided to go in anyway. Even, if it wasn’t dangerous, it was likely still very illegal. I’ve destroyed public property, entered a sealed-off area, and made my friend an accessory to my crime. A friend who had just been swallowed up by what looked to be a night sky without stars, utterly devoid of life.
Then I heard it. It was a faint moan, barely audible but coming from below.
I peeked my head past the doorway, again shouting, “Max!? Are you there?!”
The only response was more moaning. I grabbed my phone and tried to find anything to guide me. It couldn’t just be a giant hole, could it? I nearly dropped my phone, the more desperately I tried to make something out.
There was a little overhang, just past the doorway. I got on all fours and crawled forward, shining my flashlight around me.
Max’s moans didn’t cease.
“Don’t worry, bro. I-I’m gonna come get you!” I didn’t really believe in the words I was saying.
That wasn’t until I noticed something in the overhang. Just to my left, it went down but when I looked closely, I saw that the drop was only a few centimeters. I slithered to my left and tried to follow the small drop. Indeed, just past the first one followed another similar decrease. Steps!
They were hard to make out, seeing as the floor was as black as its surroundings but the texture was different. They didn’t particularly leave a lot of room to actually stand on, explaining why Max had so easily stumbled past them into the opening. If I was careful enough, I could manage my way down.
So, I stood up and took my first few steps deeper into the void, my flashlight as my only companion. Every move felt like a gamble. Would I reach the next step, stumble, or completely lose my balance and fall into the hole? I made damn sure to hug the wall, clearly cruved. It must've been a circle and a massive one at that. While I couldn’t make out the door where I came from, I noticed quickly that it took a lot longer to traverse this staircase, than I’d imagined.
One more step and suddenly, I fell. I either missed a step or there was none. Everything looked the same, like nothing. I almost felt weightless, like drifting through the cosmos. There was no sound and almost no draft of air resisting my falling body. If not for my apparent ability to breathe and scream, you could be fooled into thinking this whole structure was housing a dark vacuum, ready to swallow any outside life into its empty space.
I screamed and screamed as I fell but the longer I dropped, the less energy I had to scream. Flailing around in desperation, I tried to reach around me in the hopes of grasping a ledge, even if it would rip my arms out of their sockets. No luck. I just kept falling down that impossibly deep hole.
All I kept thinking was, how could’ve Max survived the fall? Did I mistake his death screams echoing out as pained groans?
But I would soon get my answer.
Trying to think back to it, the fall must’ve taken about 5 minutes, more or less. That kind of distance in the real world would likely see you ending up as a pancake, but in this madhouse, a fall like that simply ended up with a broken phone and you lying on damp concrete, disoriented and sore from a somewhat rough landing. No doubt, my impact still hurt but I was alive. I tried to sit up. My head was pounding and I could feel the scrapes all over my body.
I stumbled around in the darkness, stumbling over what I felt to be my broken phone. Turning around was like turning in a corn maze.
“MAX! MAAAAX!” I shouted. If he was still alive, he must be able to hear me, right?
“Julian…?” I heard Max’s voice somewhere from my right, “I’m here…over here.”
His voice sounded weak and scared, “Quickly.”
“I’m coming, bro!” I slowly made my way towards the direction his voice came from until I eventually fell over something.
“Ouch! What the fuck!” Max creied out in pain.
I scrambled and finally, my hands made their way to his shoulder. I couldn’t help but give him a hug.
“I thought…,” I decided not to say it.
“Bro, I’m hurt. Get off me already.” He groaned at me.
“How long did you fall for?” I asked, just to ascertain whether I was making something up.
“A few good minutes. Honestly don’t know how I survived, but I landed on my fucking ankle. It’s done for, Justin.”
“Let me help you…,” I reached around him and helped him up.
“Now what?” he asked.
I couldn’t see him. The darkness was too powerful, even more suffocating down here. But it felt good to hold him, know somebody was there.
I tried to force a chuckle and said, “Original exit is not an option anymore.”
I don’t know why but I could feel Max staring daggers at me.
He sighed and said, “Let’s walk in one direction, find a wall, and walk around.”
“Like in a Maze…”
“What?”
“The best way to escape a maze is to pick a wall and stick to it, no matter what. Sooner or later, you will find an exit,” I explained.
“Makes sense. Where did you hear that?”
“Internet. Spent a lot of time there.”
“I figured…,” He said almost wistfully, “What does the internet say about impossible, fucking, black hellscapes?”
“Don’t go in…”
“I fucking hate you…,” Max said.
Something dropped in my stomach, that feeling of having disappointed someone you hold dearly.
I asked, “Do you mean that?”
Max snorted and responded, “Depends on if we make it out of here, buddy.”
We walked and walked. Max’s phone also broke, so we had to just commit to a direction and hope for the best.
We kept going strong but soon both our bodies became weary. We became thirsty and hungry and our bruised selves were starting to slow down. Every moment we were hoping to just run into a wall and break our noses, shouting in pain and joy but that stop never came.
We barely said a word to each other, just holding out our arms around us.
I was the first to break down, almost taking Max along with me on my way to my knees. I couldn’t help but start sobbing. The was a constant back and forth in my head, as my mind raced from each moment I fucked up and what I should’ve done better.
Never should’ve entered the building. Never should’ve forced Max to come with me. Should’ve run out and asked for help when he fell…I should’ve never come back.
A dark thought passed through. If I had died in Canada, my parents wouldn’t have known of it for some time, staying blissfully ignorant and happy, thinking that their son was trying their best. If I were to disappear in these woods, in this hole, it wouldn’t take them as long. Their devastation, sorrow, and grief would come much quicker.
Again, when I think about it now, it seems like such a strange line of reasoning but in the end, I know now as I did then what my mind was trying to tell me: You’ve fucked up.
Max tried to console me, “Don’t worry. We’re going to make it. Other people have seen this place. Maybe somebody will come and find us.”
“I’m sorry,” was all I could get out.
“I know, buddy,” this time Max held me.
And so we just remained there for a bit, hugging it out, trying to get some relief out of our situation.
We would venture onwards, the reality dawning on us that the bottom of this hole was larger than we could’ve imagined.
At some point, we couldn’t take it anymore. Exhausted, we decided to take a break and sat down. Max, took his jacket bundled it up, and used it as a pillow to raise his ankle. I couldn’t help but look around, knowing I wouldn’t make out anything.
Eventually, my head felt weary and I followed Max’s idea and used my jacket as a pillow.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I’m tired…,” I responded.
“Yes. Fall asleep.”
“Hey! Don’t judge me. You sat down first.”
Max said: “I didn’t say anything.”
As if electrocuted, every hair on my body stood up and I became tense, my eyes staring widely into the abyss above me.
“What?” I asked.
“I didn’t say anything…,” Max answered.
We both stood up, gripping our jackets and each other.
“Just rest…,” a voice said again.
It was close, somewhere around us. It sounded human and comforting but upon hearing it again it was clear that it wasn’t mine or Max’s.
We started turning in circles, on guard for anything to come out at us.
Max whispered, “I say we run as fast as we can.”
“Got it.”
The voice appeared again, “Don’t run….be with me.”
It sent a shudder down our spines. It was different this time. Before it was a male voice, now it sounded like the soothing tone of a mother tucking you into bed at night.
“GO!” Max shouted and we booked it.
Admittedly, given our circumstances, we could've known it was pointless but our need to survive took over.
We ran as fast as we could, as fast as our tired legs allowed us. Max’s ankle wasn't helping.
Then there it was: In the distance, we saw a light.
There was hope and that propelled us to pick up the pace just a little.
Arm in arm, we made our way towards the bright spot in the distance. I could hear Max’s moans get increasingly more severe. He wouldn’t be able to take much more.
Then the light moved, ever so slightly.
I stopped us in our tracks.
“Shhhh,” I said to Max.
The light almost danced, left to right and up and down. We couldn’t help but follow it. As it danced it became bigger and brighter.
“Oh shit…” Max whispered.
We hunkered down, but we knew it was too late. It was moving towards us.
Oh shit, oh fuck, oh my fucking god,” Max was losing it.
I slapped his shoulder, “Get it together.”
With the light, a figure appeared in the darkness. It followed the light, almost floating towards us. We had to shield our eyes from the bobbing, ball that illuminated us. We had been in the dark so long that it felt as if we were looking into the sun.
The orb moved to be just above us and the figure stopped about two or three meters from us, its back still covered in darkness. It looked like a woman, pale yet beautiful and naked.
“Please stay.” she said, “I’ll make you comfortable.”
Max shouted, “Just let us leave! Please!”
The figure receded back into the darkness and reappeared behind us, now a man, just as pale and handsome.
Max gripped me harder.
I asked, “How many are you?”
The man responded, “Only one…but I can be many,” It looked at me and tilted its head, “Why did you come here?”
“We just wanted to explore…,” I said.
“You did. Your friend did not.”
My heart froze over but Max tapped my shoulder.
“I wouldn’t just abandon my friend like that,” he answered.
The creature moved closer to Max, “I don’t want you…You are no good to me anymore.”
Something came from the darkness and snatched Max. Even with the light, I couldn’t make it out. A black mass entangled Max’s legs and lifted him up.
I managed to hold onto him and a tug of war began, all the while Max was screaming. It nearly got dragged with him but after a while, he seemed to have been released and dropped back onto the floor.
This time he hit his head and was knocked out cold. I checked on him but apart from a pulse and shallow breathing, there was no response.
“Curious,” the man said, “The way you fight back…Maybe I misjudged you.”
It came closer again. I could hear a large mass dragging and a foul smell emanating from the man’s direction. I had to cover my nose for a second.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
“Your darkness. It gives me pleasure.”
“What darkness?”
“Why were you drawn to this place? Why wasn’t your friend?”
“I just wanted to explore, wanted to do something.”
“Mmmm…yes…but didn’t this place strike you as unusual?”
I looked down.
“Yes. You embraced the darkness. Why?”
“You seem to know why.”
There was a guttural sound, profoundly unsettling and unholy. It sounded like laughter. Once again, the figure vanished and appeared beside me, now a young woman, closer to my age.
“You want to stay here, don’t you? Let the darkness around you match the one inside your mind.”
My hands became fists, “What are you talking about?”
“Do you really care where you are? The end would be just the same and just as welcomed. Your parents would be devastated either way.”
I twitched slightly. Did it know what I was thinking?
“I don’t want to fucking die!” I resisted.
“But you don’t care if you do,” it responded and it was right.
My body went limp and again there was that unnatural laughter. The girl took a deep breath and smiled, “Ah yes…Despair. Humans are full of it.”
“Human? What are you?”
The figure smiled and the orb lowered to be just above my head. My eyes widened. As I followed it, I could see a long, thin stretch of skin elongate towards the figure, which was now raised up in the air, and in front of me were eyes, large, black, and too many to count, paired with one enormous row of sharp teeth.
That was about as much as I could and wanted to make out.
It spoke again, its maw unmoving and its voice a cacophony of seemingly thousands of different people speaking in unison, “See me.”
I wanted to run but I knew it was futile. Besides, Max was still lying by my feet. I wouldn’t just leave him with this monster.
I couldn’t help but my body began to shake and I was beginning to hyperventilate.
“Yes!” the creature droned, all its eyes fixed on me.
Kneeling down, I felt the darkness encroach on me.
What could it do? Should I just submit? Maybe I could bargain to save Max and at least do one good thing with my life.
I thought about it. In the end, what would happen if I made it out of this? Nothing good. I would be back to my same old, miserable life only now with the knowledge that creatures like this exist. What if this wasn’t the only one? What if there were more? Why did I have to go inside? Why? Why? Why?
My mind was spiraling once again.
I could feel the monster drawing closer, soaking in my misery.
Why wouldn’t it just take me? Why make me choose? Was it savoring me?
I asked, “Why not just get it over with?”
“Mmmm…Simple. Your total submission is the ultimate meal, the only way to make you mine.”
“What if I refuse…”
It laughed and Its whole mass was shaking, “I am older than your human history could ever conceive. I will wait. Others will come and one day you will find your way back to me. I’m not bound here. I live in your darkness.”
“That’s it?” I couldn’t believe it, trying to hide my fear in a simple response.
“That’s it…You will remember me. He won’t. You will come back to me. Of that, I have no doubt. My darkness will always be there to comfort you.”
I took another look at Max and remembered the way he initially asked me to come out and now here he is, stuck with me and this abomination. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but smile.
He really was there for me.
“I want to leave. You are just another thing in my life. Another thing I will get over, just like I always do.”
The creature drew back a little, but I could make out how its teeth were forming a smile.
“So be it,” it said and suddenly everything went dark.
And just like that there was light again. I was lying on the concrete floor in a room, filled with a huge generator and other electrical boxes. Just ahead of me was light, not some false promise but sunlight. It was the door I had broken down earlier, illuminating my face. In the end, unobscured by some kind of eldritch magic, it really had just been a small building to do with the power grid.
Max was next to me, also waking up.
“What the fuck happened? How did we fall asleep and why do we look like shit?” He asked.
I was almost relieved. I didn’t want him to remember but I also didn’t have an adequate explanation. I simply helped him up. His ankle was still messed up and we humped out back into the forest.
It couldn’t have been more than maybe a few hours, if even. The sun had barely moved.
I helped him back to my house, where I called him an ambulance to look at his injury. The entire time he was asking questions, I had no answer. I simply said that he tripped on a loose wire, twisted his ankle, and took me with him. He didn’t believe me but he also didn’t press further. I don’t think he really ever trusted me after that. Again, I could live with that. I had other concerns and I was happy that he wouldn’t have to live with what I had dragged him into.
While I would like to say it ended there, it wasn’t quite so.
What we went through and what I had made Max endure, the memory of it or not, stayed with me, sending daggers through my heart. Then there was the unavoidable reality of what that monster had said to me.
I tried to forget and move on. I even went back to Canada, trying to pick up my life. But I began having nightmares, constantly avoiding dark spaces and sleeping with all my lights on.
I recently even started going to therapy. It was less to get better but almost more as a declaration of a fight. That thing would not see me again. I had to get better.
Well, I still don’t have a job, which is partly why I’m writing this here, seeing what others have witnessed here, made me think it was as good a place as any to tell my story.
Therapy helped a little but my life is still not what I wanted it to be, but I’m trying to stay positive. Yet, I am afraid. What if I’m just lying to myself?
Every time, I feel my inner void getting the best of me, I try to think back. I think back to my family accepting me as I am and how my friend decided to follow me into a hellhole, just because he didn’t want to leave me alone.
Recently, I decided to take a walk through the local park, during the day of course. Passing by the bathrooms, my eyes drifted and Instead of the halogen lamps, I saw only darkness. I’ve convinced myself that it was stress, some kind of PTSD, but I can’t be sure. I put my head down and kept walking.
So here’s a bit of advice. Be happy. Trust me, I know it’s hard, but there’s always something. Find things to be happy about, because if you don’t something else might find you instead.

Hahaha
Not sure if this is the right place for anything.
I am 36 years old. The trauma began when i was a 9 year old kid in elementary school. My mom was already psychotic and enjoyed killing my goldfish and then crying and saying it was an accident then repeatedly replacing them all killing them again with bleach. It was what i thought was normal.
She didn’t know how to raise me so i had a lot of babysitters. At one babysitters house, their kid taught me it was fun to pull out pants down and play with our weiners. I didn’t like the kid, but I thought this was normal behavior.
At school in the middle of class i pulled my pants down and got in trouble. I was pulled out of school and a counselor told my mom i had ADD, and needed to go to a school for children with special needs.
My mom took me to the school, it was a normal school but it had the “Cornerstone Program” for special kids. The very first thing the program director and my mom did was coerce me into signing a piece of paper saying that explicitly stated that I, a child, was giving consent to the staff to physically assault me in the form of a “restraint” whenever they felt like i needed it done to me, “for safety.”
I refused to sign it and they both got very angry with me and told me that it’s only for bad kids. Then i asked why i was being sent to a school for bad kids. Then they said that as long as i was “good” then they wouldn’t assault me. So i promised i would be good and not misbehave and signed the paper.
On the first day of school, it was pure chaos. The other kids were antagonizing one another, and it was incredibly distracting and hilarious. One kid yelled to the other “Go suck on yo mamma’s dick!” And then the other kid got enraged and then was dragged into the back “restraining room” to be held down and forced to scream while they had an anxiety attack, until they “break” and become “calmed down” by the adults physically assaulting the minors.
Because of this chaotic environment, how was I supposed to succeed as a child sent there for one diagnosis “ADD” because i pulled my pants down once.
I didn’t do my schoolwork in class because it was impossible, and I just observed the constant fighting between the other kids instead.
One teacher got mad that I wasn’t “obeying” and he took me into the other detached classroom that served as the Cornerstone main office. He sat me down, and forced a pencil in my hands and he said “do your work. Now.” Because he was mean, i put the pencil down. He grabbed it again, and forced it in my hands, then squeezed my hands with his hands and began writing the math numbers down on the page for me.
I knew he was trying to hurt me, so i jammed him with my thumbnail back. Thats when he grabbed me and threw me onto the floor, and attacked me with a “restraint” maneuver. He gave me my first anxiety attack, i will never forget screaming for help for an hour but i was ignored by anyone who could hear me. That is when i learned that i had no safety, that i could scream for help as a child, but no one would ever come, and that they were going to physically torture me to do schoolwork if i didn’t obey them.
I had rug burn all over my face and chin from being held to the floor. When the school day was over, before i could tell my mom i was assaulted, they told her that i got my first necessary restraint, and that i obviously was a bad child who needed their program.
She wouldn’t listen to me that i was assaulted and essentially physically raped. I went back to school the next day and told to do a better job behaving.
I was trying to do my schoolwork out of fear of pain and torture, then the same guy who assaulted me, “Rob” came over to me and pretended to be my best friend. Probably out of guilt since he knew he was a child abusing sack of shit just there to suck up a paycheck and get off on being a living nightmare, a torturer of children.
He pretended to help me with my work, to show everyone that he was normal and just doing his job, that he didn’t just physically rape me the previous day. I had another anxiety attack from just his proximity to me. He quit the very next day, because he knew what he did to me.
Every day i was terrified of going to “Torture School” as i called the Cornerstone program. I was traumatized by the first attack on me, so i couldn’t concentrate on doing schoolwork. The other staff got annoyed with me because I didn’t validate them by doing my schoolwork, and since they had no idea how to handle kids with special needs, i became a target for them.
The teachers told my mom that i wasn’t doing my schoolwork because i needed ADD medication. Not because of the lack of proper education and parenting, but i needed to be given a daily chemical lobotomy. After one dr appointment, I was put on “Ridilin” for a day, and it was like having an active lobotomy. I could not think or feel emotions.
The same teachers that recommended I start taking medication got mad at me for not doing my schoolwork, were now mad at me that the medication they decided i needed to be on now made it completely impossible to do my work. So the teachers suggested that I take a different medication, so i was put on “wellbutron” which still allowed me to function but with a less intense lobotomy so they could take the credit for their recommendation that i be medicated, all for keeping up their image of being good and smart special ed teachers.
Btw in case you don’t know, it is always illegal for a teacher to suggest a child start taking medication. 🙃
Every day my mom would take out her anger at me, she was a rageaholic, and still is. She loved to have a meltdown, full on screaming and yelling and hitting me and ranting about how she has to blame me for it, then say “wow, this was because you didn’t take your medication today yet!” Every. Single. Time. I wondered what i was even taking the meds for, and began to see that the adults were the ones all fucked up mentally and needed medication. Also the program only let us watch limited kids movies, depressing ones and a long looney tunes PSA movie about how drugs are bad. But it’s ok that my mom was a heavy weed smoker, and i needed to be lobotomized through medication every day.
The school had a “point system” that rewarded kids with daily numbers on a white board for “good behavior” and points could purchase rewards, and bad behavior got points taken away. I wasn’t allowed to get points because i didn’t do my schoolwork, and they held that over my head constantly to try and give me incentive. It was all bullshit, and one day they threatened to take points from a kid and he went and erased the entire whiteboard. Boom, end of fight club, the teachers powers over us with the mysterious numbers ended. They didn’t make any back ups of the points because it was just there to scare us into good behavior 😂
Because i didn’t do my schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have points anyway, and the teachers decided to take my desk out of the classroom, and put it inside of the restraint room, so i was forced to listen to the screams of the children they tortured even louder. They used to give the other kids points for “good ignoring” when there was a child screaming in the back. Can you imagine, a pointless point system built by sadists, that reward children for ignoring the torturous screams of their peers, and then reward that as good behavior?
Eventually, the teachers decided to have a meeting with my mom about how i refused to do school work in their environment. They started joking “well, you dont even do your work in the back room, it’s like you just come to school to get restraints! Ahaha” they thought it was so funny to torture me. Another teacher added in “yeah, if you’re not obeying us, then we’re not teaching you and just restraining you all the time, what does that make us? Ahaha”
“Kid torturers” i replied. Their laughter stopped when they were called out for exactly what they were. My mom didn’t seem to understand the moment, and she said “oh yeah! And since you don’t obey me, I guess I’m resigning as your mother.” She sounded so happy to shirk all that responsibility. The Cornerstone staff tried to laugh that off too, “haha, umm, don’t you mean ‘redefining’, haha?”
“Nope,” and she went on a rant about how “when he learns to obey me and do his schoolwork, he will have the privilege of having a mother back.” And stunned the room full of people who tortured children for a living.
After that, she wouldn’t allow me to call her mom, i had to call her by her first name.
One day, on thanksgiving, we were getting ready to leave and go see family. She got upset about something, said I wasn’t obeying her, and he fat ass grabbed me and pinned me to the ground. She kept saying “look at me, im a teacher restraining you because you won’t obey!” She said as her boobs were falling out of her mumu and hitting me in the face with her weaponized titties. In the struggle, she kept leaning on me on one hand and hurting me to try in vain to get her girls back in her mumu, then her tits kept falling out, then she gave up on this futile exercise in normal parenting.
I refused to go with her, and i stayed home and ate 5 bowls of cereal and called it thanksgiving. She would also abuse me in front of family especially on Christmas and holidays, the normal routine of having an enraged meltdown and trying to blame me for it while everyone is confused what even she’s even so mad about during the holidays in the first place.
One day at school, we had a new staff member who acted like an ex con. The first time I disobeyed him, he threw me to the ground so hard I had the wind knocked out of me and i couldn’t breathe. then he got on top of me and held me down, and i still couldn’t breathe, i finally felt my lungs inflate and started screaming, but that was “bad behavior” so i had to pretend to not have a panic attack so i would be let go and allowed to breathe normally.
Of course that was written up as “my fault” for “being out of control” and “needing” to be restrained and i got in trouble for it. We had behavior report cards we had to take home every day, so i would do nothing, get told that i was disobeying their orders by not doing schoolwork, restrained/tortured, written up, behavior paper taken home to be seen by my mom, then she would use that as an excuse to take out all her anger out on me.
One day, the previous guy decided to attack me outside so at least there was one witness to the aftermath of the abuse.
The guy took me and kids to the community farm across the street, and gave us all rakes, and demanded that we clean all the chicken shit out of the chicken coops. When he tried to hand me the rake, it was gross and i was starting to develop an OCD from having things forced into my hands, so i didn’t want to touch it.
He grabbed me, and threw me to the ground once again into the pile of chicken shit, and then locked the chicken wire fence and left me in there, and said i couldn’t come out until i cleaned up all the chicken shit by myself.
I sat there stunned, and eventually a normal teacher from the normal part of the school for regular kids who didn’t get abused saw me. She said “Oh my god! What are you doing in there?” And then there was a school county investigation opened up.
I was interviewed by 2 detectives at home about the incident, and they didn’t care or know about any of the other abuse happening at Cornerstone. Just that one guy was fired, and i thought since if my mom knew the abuse was this bad, i wouldn’t have to go back to that school.
I had to go back the next day and pretend like nothing happened. The special ed teachers were upset with me that i got one of them in trouble, and they feared me. They got so afraid of me that they wouldn’t allow me to have a sharpened pencil, only allowed me to have broken ones, then got me in trouble for not doing my schoolwork. 🙄
One day, we all went to the zoo, and went to the gorilla enclosure and looked down over the railing. I had never seen animals at the zoo react to the dysfunctional kids fighting and the child torturer adults. It was as if the gorillas immediately saw the darkness in their souls they tried to hide so well. I backed away from the field trip group among the din of the gorillas, they were in a frenzy screaming at the school staff to get away from them. A teacher turned to yell at me to get back with the group, and they kept acting like the gorillas didn’t absolutely hate them. And then 😂 the gorilla grabbed a huge handful of dirt and shit, and slung a giant dry cloud of shit dust at the staff and misbehaving kids. Literally the karma they deserved, and luckily i had decided to back away from them and was the only one in the group not covered in gorilla shit. Lmao 😂
Since i refused to do schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have a summer break. I had to do all my schoolwork as homework from home, and i was surprised and thought that was just an option no one told me about, and it was much easier for me to to schoolwork without distractions from other kids or threats of violence from staff. I wondered why i even had to go to that school at all if i could have just done my schoolwork from home.
When i was almost done with a page of math, my mom got mad at me for doing my schoolwork, and yelled “there’s just a bunch of NUMBERS on the page!” And crumpled up the page of homework. And i yelled “Noo! That’s what math is! It’s numbers!!” And tried to smooth the paper out. I turned it in like that, the teacher laughed at me and said that I can’t turn in homework like that. I told him that my mom did it, and when he asked why, i said “Because there’s numbers on it.” Which was the honest answer, and confused them.
Eventually, i stopped taking my medication, and started flushing the pill down the toilet every day. If i hid it anywhere else, my mom would find it. So i learned that if i didn’t take my pill, i would still get blamed for things, whether or not i was medicated or not. So my mom would say as usual “Wow, i bet you didn’t take your pills today!”
But, i had not taken them in weeks, months, and eventually years.
Since i wasn’t allowed to “disobey by not doing my schoolwork” my desk was in the backroom. The door would be left open if there wasn’t a child being tortured in the back, but they remembered to specifically close it when it was storytime because i “wasn’t allowed to read like the normal kids who behaved”
Eventually, the teachers took away my privileges to have a desk in the back room, and i was forced to sit on the floor in a carpeted room, the area that they would send in “out of control” kids and abuse them. I sat in solitary confinement as a child for 2 years, just go be abused everyday and go home to more abuse. The Cornerstone staff would usually forget i was in there, and would throw in kids having their mental health crises, and then they would start attacking me. It was a normal routine of sitting on the floor in solidarity confinement, and waiting for them to send in another kid who was ready to attack and having to avoid them with minor injuries to get out of the room and remind them i was in there. I was allowed to sit at my desk in the back only when the room was occupied by a screaming child being abused by assault by “restraint.”
One day, the staff announced to the class that they decided to remove the carpeting from the restraint room, and would be replacing it with a linoleum tile floor. They then started mocking the kids that if they acted up, a cold hard floor is what they will be restrained against. Then they started joking that I was going to be the one suffering the most from that.
As i sat on the floor in solitary confinement at 10 years old, i was very resilient and tried to not let the school staff get to me. I knew what they were doing and how my mom acted and how she allowed them to abuse me daily was wrong. I bored out of my mind. There was only torture and adults blaming me for their actions. Nothing made sense.
One day i got so bored making friends with the floor, there was a tiny corner sticking up, and i began peeling the cheap linoleum off of the floor.
The staff then made my mother pay for them to re-do their nice new floor, it was kind of like their revenge for having to babysit me, the kid who didn’t obey them all day. My dad did the actual construction to save my single mom some money, and they were both pissed at me for “being a bad kid.” So my mom paid the money, and my father did the work and effort, to rework the very floor i was supposed to sit on almost day. Custom made by my parents who i brought together once again even though they hated one another, so romantic getting parents back together only briefly if only to yell at their attention starved kid.
Then i told myself to resist the urge to peel the linoleum as i sat there on the floor for months of boredom, for the undeterminable amount of time i was incarcerated as a child.
Also did i mention it was really cold and they would physically assault me to remove my hoodie from me if i refused to take it off.
One day i came into the restraint room as normal, and saw someone else had peeled off the linoleum on the floor. The staff immediately blamed me for it and told my mom and dad they had to do the floor over again. And they almost went through with it but it was more convenient for their time and money to listen to me when i said i didn’t do it.
So then the staff at Cornerstone became mad at me for “lying” and were disappointed because they were looking forward to getting a new floor out of my parents anytime they asked for one. 😂
Eventually I guess I served enough time, and I was off to yet another abusive school. This one was called Anna Kyle, and it was basically like being sent to Auschwitz every day for school.
I should mention at this point, my mom let me watch Schindler’s list and every time a Jewish person was shot she would say “thats what they should do to you if you don’t do your schoolwork.” Like, wow lady.
So anyway, the environment at this school was exactly like a concentration camp run by old witches. There was no education here, and once again, i was found to be “disobeying” and sent to a carpeted room. The rooms had graffiti carved into the walls from other kids in the past. If i had an attitude, the staff would tell my mom that i “defaced property” even though the wall of graffiti was carved there long before i got there, and they tried to get my mom to pay for a new door to the restraint room. My mom got wise to the antics of special ed school staff and refused to pay, which made them upset because they were jealous of my mom’s high paying job and wanted to extort money out of her somehow as a form of revenge for having to babysit me at school.
My schooling there was sitting on a floor and zoning out another indefinite amount of time of solitary confinement. At least this time it was a carpeted floor, and if i behaved, a staffer would come in to let me “play with colored beads” for the day. Just playing with the beads on a string made me forget the world around me. I remembered playing with the beads, and pretending that they were the different sailor scouts from Sailor Moon, and wanting the green beads to be Sailor Jupiter and wish she could protect me.
One day, I didn’t obey an order, and then 5 of these old witches grabbed me, and carried me around above their heads from one classroom’s restraint room to another. I was upset at being violated and abused like that. A teacher said “you know why you’re upset, it’s cuz you just don’t listen!” And i replied “its cuz you’re a bitch.” I didn’t use that word before but i had heard it, and knew it was a really good word to use when an adult was insulting another adult. She gave me such an insolent look, for a kid that they abuses daily to talk to her that way. She left and then i waited a very long time in the new restraint room. School ended and buses came, why was i still there?
Then a staff member said “ok someone’s here to pick you up” and let me out. I was confused, where was my schoolbus?
It was my grandma, and she picked me up and took me to her house instead of home. She was livid and gave no explanation.
Eventually my mom came and got me from her house. I demanded to know what was going on.
Well apparently, me calling the teacher a bitch made the teacher “so very concerned” about the “highly sexual” words i was saying, and she was convinced that i was being sexually abused by my mom, so she called the police and my mom was just at the police station getting interviewed all day if she has ever molested me. I was shocked, but at least now i didn’t have to go back to that school. At least “bitch” was the magic word to get me out of there 😆
Then that night i saw my mom using the newly invented internet to find more special ed schools to go to. I was like Milo in The Oblongs, “Can’t I just go to normal school?” And she realized that maybe i should.
First day of normal school, every student sat down the teacher said open your journals, every kid robotically and orderly opened their journals and wrote down the date, what was written on the board would be our lesson for today, and everyone just started doing it on their own without any prompt. I was so confused, how did everyone know what they were supposed to do? I had no idea what school was supposed to be at this point. I just sunk my head and slept through class because i literally had NO IDEA what i was supposed to be doing. The other kids were confused by my actions, but i literally didn’t understand them.
“Learning” from a “teacher”? What the hell is that? 😂
I was called into the principals office with the teacher and my mom. I was told “you are not allowed to disobey your teacher, if you don’t do your schoolwork, then everyone else will think they don’t have to do it too!” Which still didn’t translate to anything to me. They assumed i already “knew how” to do that was required of a student but was trying to “disobey” on purpose. They came up with a rule that if i sat down, i had to start school work at the same time as everyone else, or I had to get up and leave class immediately and sit in the office all day.
The next day i sat down, everyone starts writing in their journal. The teacher gives me the hand motion to leave and get out. I realized “oh, we’re writing whats on the board down, why didn’t anyone just tell me.” And i started writing down the date. The teacher yells “no! You have to leave now! You already had your chance!!” And then i never tried to appease these troglodytes again.
Eventually the janitor at the school raped a 12 year old girl and it had to shut down. But far be it from me to tell an all knowing principal how to run their school.
Its fine because i went to a different special ed school for middle school, slept every day. Slept every day through highschool too and just stayed up all night playing an online MMORPG which was new at the time. It became a focus point that my mom did everything in her power to act like keeping me from the one thing that ever made me happy was a form of parenting. So she would do stupid things like hiding my keyboard to start a fight for attention and feel like shes a mother just by being authoritative.
Eventually at 21 i knew i needed to escape her and leave home badly enough that i joined the Air Force. At first she kept telling me that i was retarded and didn’t have the mental capacity to “get yelled at” every day. Ummm what have i been trained for my entire life then, lady? 😂
After she realized i was serious and she wouldn’t have to support me anymore she became overly supportive to the point she was sabotaging me. While i focused on working out and learning the Airman’s Creed, she was looking at recruits getting yelled at. This was all stuff i was AVOIDING to keep MY WARRIOR MINDSET PURE, and she wouldn’t even allow me that. Eventually she became so obsessed with training, she started acting like she signed up for the Air Force herself 😂 “Wow, i did such a good job raising you, that you ended up joining the Air Force, because i’m such a good mom, because i put you through the Air Force, i will be busting my buttons with pride as you graduate from Basic Training. Wait a second, if you’re graduating the Air Force, because of MY good parenting…” (insert woman doing math meme) “Well, oh my god, I’M joining the Air Force? Because of you joining? Because i’m such a good parent???”
And i gave her a look of wtf are you talking about. I’m so glad to be away from this piece of work.
I went to basic, i did a month of training, unfortunately I had bad knees so i had to be sent home. Before i came home my mom then decided to have a meltdown over the phone when i told her. Instead of sympathy or even understanding the condition of having patella femoral syndrome, she said she was writing a list of rules i had to obey when i came home. Ummm im coming home anyway, its not like i had a choice.
This woman even took the time to type up some 10 page long letter that she printed out and sent me in training in a manila envelope, which made it look like i had some super important letter to receive something so big during Basic Training. It was just some fantasy where she had full control over my life. I literally read the first 2 sentences and thew the entire thing away. Then when i talked to her on the phone next she was like “what did you think of that letter? Huh huh huh?” And i said i didn’t even read it and she could go fuck herself.
When i got home from the Air Force, she was livid and hostile towards me, and told me to “Gehtahjaaaahb” every 5 seconds like that was any way shape or form helpful in the slightest way. While everyone else understood i was making a sacrifice to the service and i came home BARELY ABLE TO WALK because the cartilage in my knees wore down so much, she was harassing me nonstop.
Eventually one day she started in on me, and I threw my computer table at her and she realized she shouldn’t be fucking with someone who just underwent a month of strength training and discipline. You DO NOT disrespect anyone and raise your voice like that, and especially not someone who just responded to TIs in uniforms yelling at them for a whole month and the only answer I’m allowed to give is YES, SIR.
Eventually, she realized that she can’t just scream at me, and she saw a commercial on TV for me to go to college at a nearby game design university. So she said I need to go to it.
Long story short, i decide to go, i had no interest in art but i learned how to draw, began taking classes and i used my Airman’s training and discipline to work really hard. For the first time ever, i was enjoying school, and i was even on the dean’s list of a very famous person who is dean at the school.
I asked my mom if i could use the refundable ticket that was meant for my Air Force graduation to take a trip for my birthday. She said yes. I saw my best friend and stayed with her for a week, saw a metal show, had an amazing time with new friends who wanted to celebrate my birthday and for coming to visit them. My friends treated me like a celebrity. When it was time to go, i heard at the airport they were offering $400 dollars to someone to give up their flight on my flight. I thought of doing that and extending my stay and giving my friend the money, but i thought i should just go home because i had more friends waiting to welcome me home.
When i got home, my local hometown friends were waiting for me to come home from the airport. I just came home late, and i just texted them “woo im home!” And they replied “woo, we’re here! Let us in as soon as i got home, 😆
they had gifts and a jack in the box burger for me. I let them into my room and they just wanted to hang out for 5 minutes and say happy birthday and leave.
I went to grab a drink, and on my way back to my room, apparently i had woken up my mom. And she immediately started to get upset with me that i had people over. I said “oh, im sorry i woke you, they’re going to leave now. Lets talk in the morning.” She screams “Noooo!” And i go into my room to avoid the confrontation.
I locked the door behind me, because i had to put a lock on the door because my mom kept not listening to me when i told her to stay out of my room, and she kept coming into my room and do stupid things like fold a pile of dirty laundry and put it away, and taking my laundry i was about to fold and wash it again.
So i had locked it so wouldn’t come in cause a scene in front of my friends who were trying to leave. I tried to tell them that they had to leave, and they said sure lets go. But then my mom was on the other side of the door, screaming “Everyone leave!!!” and kicking and body slamming against the door until it broke off of the doorframe and she opened it with sheer force of her obese body weight. The ironic thing is that if she was so upset that people were over, why did she kick and body slam the door again and again to prevent them from leaving? 🧐
After this, i still had to live with this abhorrent sack of shit who’s womb I happened to be the one I escaped from, and still try to do my schoolwork too. I completely ignored her to keep my sanity. If she spoke to me, i had downloaded a nifty little AIRHORN APP that i blared from my phone at max volume if she talked to me. Of course that would make her start screaming at me, and it justified me using it every time in the first place.
I would wear my headphones around her in the kitchen to ignore her completely, and they were noise canceling headphones as well. Once she said something bitchy and angry towards me and i stared at her completely blank faced and gave her a look of icannothearyouwhyareyoustilltalkingtome and went back to making food. Then she came and grabbed my headphones off the side, and leaned into my ear and started talking to me. I reacted like a reflex to grab the headphone i thought had gotten caught on the cord and was being pulled off, and accidentally 🤭 smacked her in the face in the process. I just repositioned my headphones and went back to my business of cooking. And she was having a meltdown, running in a circle trying to start a fight with me, and i think saying that i ‘hit her’ after she made contact with me first when i was just grabbing my headphones she pulled off. 🤷🏼‍♂️
A few other times, i fucked with her for revenge. She hated when the porch light was turned off, and when the front door was locked. So i kept the light off and locked both the top and bottom locks. So when she couldn’t see she kept trying to ring the doorbell, as if I was going to come let her dumb ass in. And so she would start screaming at the front door to let me in. Eventually she would unlock one, and then realized the other one was locked as well, then while she was unlocking that one, i would sneak to the front door and re lock the first one. Then she would start screaming on the front porch, having a violent angry melt down in front of the other neighbors. How embarrassing for her.
I continued to ignore her every chance i got. I would make emo artwork in my work with my emo music playing in my headphones. Occasionally i would hear her trying to start a fight with me through my door, and since it was locked i would ignore her. Since she already fucked up my door, she could body slam against it to open it. She did that when i was ignoring her once, and she was laughing about the fact she could use her fat ass to open my locked door.
I told her if she ever body slammed my door again i would make her regret it.
She did it again to get my attention, and thought it was funny.
She thought it was funny to barge i to my safe space and terrorize me, to trigger my anxiety, to scream at me, to cause destruction of her own property just so she could start a fight with me, blame me for the fight to feel justified to scream at me and abuse me.
So what she didn’t know is that I had recorded her when she body slammed my door the first time. The video goes on and on for 5 minutes of her screaming and punching and body slamming, gradually breaking down the door and frame cracking, my friends terrified the entire time. And then her screaming like a maniac until she finally breaks it and then walks into my room acting like she was some sort of victim.
I posted the video on Facebook, named it “i hate you, i don’t deserve this abuse” and then tagged her in it, so our family and all of her friends, personally and professionally would see it.
When it was still unbeknownst to her, she still kept up her tough abuser façade, acting like she had reason to abuse me when I had done nothing. But then, once she found out i had exposed her abuse publicly, she then suddenly changed, and started acting like a victim again. So funny how fast her tough guy act dropped when her abuse gets exposed, and then in order to cope with being a terrible piece of shit, she suddenly started playing the victim to everyone around her.
She told her sister I was abusing her, and then said she was “going to stay with her for no reason” so she went to go play out this imaginary roleplaying story by staying the night with her over the weekend. She had to stick to the role she invented for me, just so she could act out that i was abusing her. It was pretty pathetic. Then my aunt started to treat me like i was an abuser. I eventually had to set her straight because my mom had spun the video around to make it seem like i was antagonizing her through the door, saying our nervous shudders of terror was me and my friends laughing at her through the door. Once I set her straight that I was the victim of my moms abuse, she realized that she had been tricked and felt really guilty for getting involved and thinking i was an abuser. As she should.
Since I had to constantly defend myself from abuse, I really lost all interest in school, and even became a huge jerk to my boyfriend at the time, to the point that he broke up with me. I had never been broken up with before, because usually it’s fair or mutual or i do the breaking. But this was the first time someone left me, and it was because i was so abused i started to become abusive, and he left me when he saw that change. He didn’t want to be around my mom when he was over to visit me anyway, and she had scared off a couple other of my boyfriends in the past. Imagine having several relationships that lasted for few months but then they leave you because your MOM fights with you all the time.
Eventually i met with a long time online friend, and as of now we have been together 13 years. During that time i was able to get 500 miles away from my mom and stay with my partner and his mom. I am 36 now.
During that time i rarely saw my abuser whose womb i escaped from.
The last time I saw her i told her I never wanted to see her again. She invited me to a big birthday party weekend she was having for herself and 2 of her friends, and everyone was going to come. Had a surprisingly good time with her and everyone i knew. She was nice the entire time. Then on the last day i was there visiting her, she decided to scream at the top of her lungs at me for wanting to hang out with my childhood friend who was also visiting.
I realized she was going to pretend to not be a sack of shit to everyone else and be nice to them, but she will ALWAYS have energy to scream at me.
I thought she invited me to her birthday party because of some hope that the distance had healed us, and she was nice now. But, i realized she will be nice to literally everyone else she invited, but NOT her own son who drove 500 miles out to see her.
I cried myself to sleep the night before my partner and me left. In the morning my mom was acting all smiles and wanted to visit before we left. I told her that I never wanted to see her again, locked my room, and packed while i ignored her long enough that she had to leave to go to work.
I was in a very deep depression. Friends and co workers i had would cordially ask me how was my vacation time off i took to go to my mom’s birthday party, and i told them it was horrible and change the subject.
I did not talk to her for a year. Eventually she tried reaching out and we maintained a communication. Casually in conversation she would mention how we need to have a visit, to which i would reply “Oh, but I already told you that I never wanted to see you again.” And that’s called making my boundaries known. Instead of realizing she had fucked up and perhaps she could put some effort into fixing herself and owning up to what she did wrong, she just took it as an insult because she’s a narcissist who could never comprehend she’s guilty of any wrongdoing.

Hahaha
Not sure if this is the right place for anything.
I am 36 years old. The trauma began when i was a 9 year old kid in elementary school. My mom was already psychotic and enjoyed killing my goldfish and then crying and saying it was an accident then repeatedly replacing them all killing them again with bleach. It was what i thought was normal.
She didn’t know how to raise me so i had a lot of babysitters. At one babysitters house, their kid taught me it was fun to pull out pants down and play with our weiners. I didn’t like the kid, but I thought this was normal behavior.
At school in the middle of class i pulled my pants down and got in trouble. I was pulled out of school and a counselor told my mom i had ADD, and needed to go to a school for children with special needs.
My mom took me to the school, it was a normal school but it had the “Cornerstone Program” for special kids. The very first thing the program director and my mom did was coerce me into signing a piece of paper saying that explicitly stated that I, a child, was giving consent to the staff to physically assault me in the form of a “restraint” whenever they felt like i needed it done to me, “for safety.”
I refused to sign it and they both got very angry with me and told me that it’s only for bad kids. Then i asked why i was being sent to a school for bad kids. Then they said that as long as i was “good” then they wouldn’t assault me. So i promised i would be good and not misbehave and signed the paper.
On the first day of school, it was pure chaos. The other kids were antagonizing one another, and it was incredibly distracting and hilarious. One kid yelled to the other “Go suck on yo mamma’s dick!” And then the other kid got enraged and then was dragged into the back “restraining room” to be held down and forced to scream while they had an anxiety attack, until they “break” and become “calmed down” by the adults physically assaulting the minors.
Because of this chaotic environment, how was I supposed to succeed as a child sent there for one diagnosis “ADD” because i pulled my pants down once.
I didn’t do my schoolwork in class because it was impossible, and I just observed the constant fighting between the other kids instead.
One teacher got mad that I wasn’t “obeying” and he took me into the other detached classroom that served as the Cornerstone main office. He sat me down, and forced a pencil in my hands and he said “do your work. Now.” Because he was mean, i put the pencil down. He grabbed it again, and forced it in my hands, then squeezed my hands with his hands and began writing the math numbers down on the page for me.
I knew he was trying to hurt me, so i jammed him with my thumbnail back. Thats when he grabbed me and threw me onto the floor, and attacked me with a “restraint” maneuver. He gave me my first anxiety attack, i will never forget screaming for help for an hour but i was ignored by anyone who could hear me. That is when i learned that i had no safety, that i could scream for help as a child, but no one would ever come, and that they were going to physically torture me to do schoolwork if i didn’t obey them.
I had rug burn all over my face and chin from being held to the floor. When the school day was over, before i could tell my mom i was assaulted, they told her that i got my first necessary restraint, and that i obviously was a bad child who needed their program.
She wouldn’t listen to me that i was assaulted and essentially physically raped. I went back to school the next day and told to do a better job behaving.
I was trying to do my schoolwork out of fear of pain and torture, then the same guy who assaulted me, “Rob” came over to me and pretended to be my best friend. Probably out of guilt since he knew he was a child abusing sack of shit just there to suck up a paycheck and get off on being a living nightmare, a torturer of children.
He pretended to help me with my work, to show everyone that he was normal and just doing his job, that he didn’t just physically rape me the previous day. I had another anxiety attack from just his proximity to me. He quit the very next day, because he knew what he did to me.
Every day i was terrified of going to “Torture School” as i called the Cornerstone program. I was traumatized by the first attack on me, so i couldn’t concentrate on doing schoolwork. The other staff got annoyed with me because I didn’t validate them by doing my schoolwork, and since they had no idea how to handle kids with special needs, i became a target for them.
The teachers told my mom that i wasn’t doing my schoolwork because i needed ADD medication. Not because of the lack of proper education and parenting, but i needed to be given a daily chemical lobotomy. After one dr appointment, I was put on “Ridilin” for a day, and it was like having an active lobotomy. I could not think or feel emotions.
The same teachers that recommended I start taking medication got mad at me for not doing my schoolwork, were now mad at me that the medication they decided i needed to be on now made it completely impossible to do my work. So the teachers suggested that I take a different medication, so i was put on “wellbutron” which still allowed me to function but with a less intense lobotomy so they could take the credit for their recommendation that i be medicated, all for keeping up their image of being good and smart special ed teachers.
Btw in case you don’t know, it is always illegal for a teacher to suggest a child start taking medication. 🙃
Every day my mom would take out her anger at me, she was a rageaholic, and still is. She loved to have a meltdown, full on screaming and yelling and hitting me and ranting about how she has to blame me for it, then say “wow, this was because you didn’t take your medication today yet!” Every. Single. Time. I wondered what i was even taking the meds for, and began to see that the adults were the ones all fucked up mentally and needed medication. Also the program only let us watch limited kids movies, depressing ones and a long looney tunes PSA movie about how drugs are bad. But it’s ok that my mom was a heavy weed smoker, and i needed to be lobotomized through medication every day.
The school had a “point system” that rewarded kids with daily numbers on a white board for “good behavior” and points could purchase rewards, and bad behavior got points taken away. I wasn’t allowed to get points because i didn’t do my schoolwork, and they held that over my head constantly to try and give me incentive. It was all bullshit, and one day they threatened to take points from a kid and he went and erased the entire whiteboard. Boom, end of fight club, the teachers powers over us with the mysterious numbers ended. They didn’t make any back ups of the points because it was just there to scare us into good behavior 😂
Because i didn’t do my schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have points anyway, and the teachers decided to take my desk out of the classroom, and put it inside of the restraint room, so i was forced to listen to the screams of the children they tortured even louder. They used to give the other kids points for “good ignoring” when there was a child screaming in the back. Can you imagine, a pointless point system built by sadists, that reward children for ignoring the torturous screams of their peers, and then reward that as good behavior?
Eventually, the teachers decided to have a meeting with my mom about how i refused to do school work in their environment. They started joking “well, you dont even do your work in the back room, it’s like you just come to school to get restraints! Ahaha” they thought it was so funny to torture me. Another teacher added in “yeah, if you’re not obeying us, then we’re not teaching you and just restraining you all the time, what does that make us? Ahaha”
“Kid torturers” i replied. Their laughter stopped when they were called out for exactly what they were. My mom didn’t seem to understand the moment, and she said “oh yeah! And since you don’t obey me, I guess I’m resigning as your mother.” She sounded so happy to shirk all that responsibility. The Cornerstone staff tried to laugh that off too, “haha, umm, don’t you mean ‘redefining’, haha?”
“Nope,” and she went on a rant about how “when he learns to obey me and do his schoolwork, he will have the privilege of having a mother back.” And stunned the room full of people who tortured children for a living.
After that, she wouldn’t allow me to call her mom, i had to call her by her first name.
One day, on thanksgiving, we were getting ready to leave and go see family. She got upset about something, said I wasn’t obeying her, and he fat ass grabbed me and pinned me to the ground. She kept saying “look at me, im a teacher restraining you because you won’t obey!” She said as her boobs were falling out of her mumu and hitting me in the face with her weaponized titties. In the struggle, she kept leaning on me on one hand and hurting me to try in vain to get her girls back in her mumu, then her tits kept falling out, then she gave up on this futile exercise in normal parenting.
I refused to go with her, and i stayed home and ate 5 bowls of cereal and called it thanksgiving. She would also abuse me in front of family especially on Christmas and holidays, the normal routine of having an enraged meltdown and trying to blame me for it while everyone is confused what even she’s even so mad about during the holidays in the first place.
One day at school, we had a new staff member who acted like an ex con. The first time I disobeyed him, he threw me to the ground so hard I had the wind knocked out of me and i couldn’t breathe. then he got on top of me and held me down, and i still couldn’t breathe, i finally felt my lungs inflate and started screaming, but that was “bad behavior” so i had to pretend to not have a panic attack so i would be let go and allowed to breathe normally.
Of course that was written up as “my fault” for “being out of control” and “needing” to be restrained and i got in trouble for it. We had behavior report cards we had to take home every day, so i would do nothing, get told that i was disobeying their orders by not doing schoolwork, restrained/tortured, written up, behavior paper taken home to be seen by my mom, then she would use that as an excuse to take out all her anger out on me.
One day, the previous guy decided to attack me outside so at least there was one witness to the aftermath of the abuse.
The guy took me and kids to the community farm across the street, and gave us all rakes, and demanded that we clean all the chicken shit out of the chicken coops. When he tried to hand me the rake, it was gross and i was starting to develop an OCD from having things forced into my hands, so i didn’t want to touch it.
He grabbed me, and threw me to the ground once again into the pile of chicken shit, and then locked the chicken wire fence and left me in there, and said i couldn’t come out until i cleaned up all the chicken shit by myself.
I sat there stunned, and eventually a normal teacher from the normal part of the school for regular kids who didn’t get abused saw me. She said “Oh my god! What are you doing in there?” And then there was a school county investigation opened up.
I was interviewed by 2 detectives at home about the incident, and they didn’t care or know about any of the other abuse happening at Cornerstone. Just that one guy was fired, and i thought since if my mom knew the abuse was this bad, i wouldn’t have to go back to that school.
I had to go back the next day and pretend like nothing happened. The special ed teachers were upset with me that i got one of them in trouble, and they feared me. They got so afraid of me that they wouldn’t allow me to have a sharpened pencil, only allowed me to have broken ones, then got me in trouble for not doing my schoolwork. 🙄
One day, we all went to the zoo, and went to the gorilla enclosure and looked down over the railing. I had never seen animals at the zoo react to the dysfunctional kids fighting and the child torturer adults. It was as if the gorillas immediately saw the darkness in their souls they tried to hide so well. I backed away from the field trip group among the din of the gorillas, they were in a frenzy screaming at the school staff to get away from them. A teacher turned to yell at me to get back with the group, and they kept acting like the gorillas didn’t absolutely hate them. And then 😂 the gorilla grabbed a huge handful of dirt and shit, and slung a giant dry cloud of shit dust at the staff and misbehaving kids. Literally the karma they deserved, and luckily i had decided to back away from them and was the only one in the group not covered in gorilla shit. Lmao 😂
Since i refused to do schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have a summer break. I had to do all my schoolwork as homework from home, and i was surprised and thought that was just an option no one told me about, and it was much easier for me to to schoolwork without distractions from other kids or threats of violence from staff. I wondered why i even had to go to that school at all if i could have just done my schoolwork from home.
When i was almost done with a page of math, my mom got mad at me for doing my schoolwork, and yelled “there’s just a bunch of NUMBERS on the page!” And crumpled up the page of homework. And i yelled “Noo! That’s what math is! It’s numbers!!” And tried to smooth the paper out. I turned it in like that, the teacher laughed at me and said that I can’t turn in homework like that. I told him that my mom did it, and when he asked why, i said “Because there’s numbers on it.” Which was the honest answer, and confused them.
Eventually, i stopped taking my medication, and started flushing the pill down the toilet every day. If i hid it anywhere else, my mom would find it. So i learned that if i didn’t take my pill, i would still get blamed for things, whether or not i was medicated or not. So my mom would say as usual “Wow, i bet you didn’t take your pills today!”
But, i had not taken them in weeks, months, and eventually years.
Since i wasn’t allowed to “disobey by not doing my schoolwork” my desk was in the backroom. The door would be left open if there wasn’t a child being tortured in the back, but they remembered to specifically close it when it was storytime because i “wasn’t allowed to read like the normal kids who behaved”
Eventually, the teachers took away my privileges to have a desk in the back room, and i was forced to sit on the floor in a carpeted room, the area that they would send in “out of control” kids and abuse them. I sat in solitary confinement as a child for 2 years, just go be abused everyday and go home to more abuse. The Cornerstone staff would usually forget i was in there, and would throw in kids having their mental health crises, and then they would start attacking me. It was a normal routine of sitting on the floor in solidarity confinement, and waiting for them to send in another kid who was ready to attack and having to avoid them with minor injuries to get out of the room and remind them i was in there. I was allowed to sit at my desk in the back only when the room was occupied by a screaming child being abused by assault by “restraint.”
One day, the staff announced to the class that they decided to remove the carpeting from the restraint room, and would be replacing it with a linoleum tile floor. They then started mocking the kids that if they acted up, a cold hard floor is what they will be restrained against. Then they started joking that I was going to be the one suffering the most from that.
As i sat on the floor in solitary confinement at 10 years old, i was very resilient and tried to not let the school staff get to me. I knew what they were doing and how my mom acted and how she allowed them to abuse me daily was wrong. I bored out of my mind. There was only torture and adults blaming me for their actions. Nothing made sense.
One day i got so bored making friends with the floor, there was a tiny corner sticking up, and i began peeling the cheap linoleum off of the floor.
The staff then made my mother pay for them to re-do their nice new floor, it was kind of like their revenge for having to babysit me, the kid who didn’t obey them all day. My dad did the actual construction to save my single mom some money, and they were both pissed at me for “being a bad kid.” So my mom paid the money, and my father did the work and effort, to rework the very floor i was supposed to sit on almost day. Custom made by my parents who i brought together once again even though they hated one another, so romantic getting parents back together only briefly if only to yell at their attention starved kid.
Then i told myself to resist the urge to peel the linoleum as i sat there on the floor for months of boredom, for the undeterminable amount of time i was incarcerated as a child.
Also did i mention it was really cold and they would physically assault me to remove my hoodie from me if i refused to take it off.
One day i came into the restraint room as normal, and saw someone else had peeled off the linoleum on the floor. The staff immediately blamed me for it and told my mom and dad they had to do the floor over again. And they almost went through with it but it was more convenient for their time and money to listen to me when i said i didn’t do it.
So then the staff at Cornerstone became mad at me for “lying” and were disappointed because they were looking forward to getting a new floor out of my parents anytime they asked for one. 😂
Eventually I guess I served enough time, and I was off to yet another abusive school. This one was called Anna Kyle, and it was basically like being sent to Auschwitz every day for school.
I should mention at this point, my mom let me watch Schindler’s list and every time a Jewish person was shot she would say “thats what they should do to you if you don’t do your schoolwork.” Like, wow lady.
So anyway, the environment at this school was exactly like a concentration camp run by old witches. There was no education here, and once again, i was found to be “disobeying” and sent to a carpeted room. The rooms had graffiti carved into the walls from other kids in the past. If i had an attitude, the staff would tell my mom that i “defaced property” even though the wall of graffiti was carved there long before i got there, and they tried to get my mom to pay for a new door to the restraint room. My mom got wise to the antics of special ed school staff and refused to pay, which made them upset because they were jealous of my mom’s high paying job and wanted to extort money out of her somehow as a form of revenge for having to babysit me at school.
My schooling there was sitting on a floor and zoning out another indefinite amount of time of solitary confinement. At least this time it was a carpeted floor, and if i behaved, a staffer would come in to let me “play with colored beads” for the day. Just playing with the beads on a string made me forget the world around me. I remembered playing with the beads, and pretending that they were the different sailor scouts from Sailor Moon, and wanting the green beads to be Sailor Jupiter and wish she could protect me.
One day, I didn’t obey an order, and then 5 of these old witches grabbed me, and carried me around above their heads from one classroom’s restraint room to another. I was upset at being violated and abused like that. A teacher said “you know why you’re upset, it’s cuz you just don’t listen!” And i replied “its cuz you’re a bitch.” I didn’t use that word before but i had heard it, and knew it was a really good word to use when an adult was insulting another adult. She gave me such an insolent look, for a kid that they abuses daily to talk to her that way. She left and then i waited a very long time in the new restraint room. School ended and buses came, why was i still there?
Then a staff member said “ok someone’s here to pick you up” and let me out. I was confused, where was my schoolbus?
It was my grandma, and she picked me up and took me to her house instead of home. She was livid and gave no explanation.
Eventually my mom came and got me from her house. I demanded to know what was going on.
Well apparently, me calling the teacher a bitch made the teacher “so very concerned” about the “highly sexual” words i was saying, and she was convinced that i was being sexually abused by my mom, so she called the police and my mom was just at the police station getting interviewed all day if she has ever molested me. I was shocked, but at least now i didn’t have to go back to that school. At least “bitch” was the magic word to get me out of there 😆
Then that night i saw my mom using the newly invented internet to find more special ed schools to go to. I was like Milo in The Oblongs, “Can’t I just go to normal school?” And she realized that maybe i should.
First day of normal school, every student sat down the teacher said open your journals, every kid robotically and orderly opened their journals and wrote down the date, what was written on the board would be our lesson for today, and everyone just started doing it on their own without any prompt. I was so confused, how did everyone know what they were supposed to do? I had no idea what school was supposed to be at this point. I just sunk my head and slept through class because i literally had NO IDEA what i was supposed to be doing. The other kids were confused by my actions, but i literally didn’t understand them.
“Learning” from a “teacher”? What the hell is that? 😂
I was called into the principals office with the teacher and my mom. I was told “you are not allowed to disobey your teacher, if you don’t do your schoolwork, then everyone else will think they don’t have to do it too!” Which still didn’t translate to anything to me. They assumed i already “knew how” to do that was required of a student but was trying to “disobey” on purpose. They came up with a rule that if i sat down, i had to start school work at the same time as everyone else, or I had to get up and leave class immediately and sit in the office all day.
The next day i sat down, everyone starts writing in their journal. The teacher gives me the hand motion to leave and get out. I realized “oh, we’re writing whats on the board down, why didn’t anyone just tell me.” And i started writing down the date. The teacher yells “no! You have to leave now! You already had your chance!!” And then i never tried to appease these troglodytes again.
Eventually the janitor at the school raped a 12 year old girl and it had to shut down. But far be it from me to tell an all knowing principal how to run their school.
Its fine because i went to a different special ed school for middle school, slept every day. Slept every day through highschool too and just stayed up all night playing an online MMORPG which was new at the time. It became a focus point that my mom did everything in her power to act like keeping me from the one thing that ever made me happy was a form of parenting. So she would do stupid things like hiding my keyboard to start a fight for attention and feel like shes a mother just by being authoritative.
Eventually at 21 i knew i needed to escape her and leave home badly enough that i joined the Air Force. At first she kept telling me that i was retarded and didn’t have the mental capacity to “get yelled at” every day. Ummm what have i been trained for my entire life then, lady? 😂
After she realized i was serious and she wouldn’t have to support me anymore she became overly supportive to the point she was sabotaging me. While i focused on working out and learning the Airman’s Creed, she was looking at recruits getting yelled at. This was all stuff i was AVOIDING to keep MY WARRIOR MINDSET PURE, and she wouldn’t even allow me that. Eventually she became so obsessed with training, she started acting like she signed up for the Air Force herself 😂 “Wow, i did such a good job raising you, that you ended up joining the Air Force, because i’m such a good mom, because i put you through the Air Force, i will be busting my buttons with pride as you graduate from Basic Training. Wait a second, if you’re graduating the Air Force, because of MY good parenting…” (insert woman doing math meme) “Well, oh my god, I’M joining the Air Force? Because of you joining? Because i’m such a good parent???”
And i gave her a look of wtf are you talking about. I’m so glad to be away from this piece of work.
I went to basic, i did a month of training, unfortunately I had bad knees so i had to be sent home. Before i came home my mom then decided to have a meltdown over the phone when i told her. Instead of sympathy or even understanding the condition of having patella femoral syndrome, she said she was writing a list of rules i had to obey when i came home. Ummm im coming home anyway, its not like i had a choice.
This woman even took the time to type up some 10 page long letter that she printed out and sent me in training in a manila envelope, which made it look like i had some super important letter to receive something so big during Basic Training. It was just some fantasy where she had full control over my life. I literally read the first 2 sentences and thew the entire thing away. Then when i talked to her on the phone next she was like “what did you think of that letter? Huh huh huh?” And i said i didn’t even read it and she could go fuck herself.
When i got home from the Air Force, she was livid and hostile towards me, and told me to “Gehtahjaaaahb” every 5 seconds like that was any way shape or form helpful in the slightest way. While everyone else understood i was making a sacrifice to the service and i came home BARELY ABLE TO WALK because the cartilage in my knees wore down so much, she was harassing me nonstop.
Eventually one day she started in on me, and I threw my computer table at her and she realized she shouldn’t be fucking with someone who just underwent a month of strength training and discipline. You DO NOT disrespect anyone and raise your voice like that, and especially not someone who just responded to TIs in uniforms yelling at them for a whole month and the only answer I’m allowed to give is YES, SIR.
Eventually, she realized that she can’t just scream at me, and she saw a commercial on TV for me to go to college at a nearby game design university. So she said I need to go to it.
Long story short, i decide to go, i had no interest in art but i learned how to draw, began taking classes and i used my Airman’s training and discipline to work really hard. For the first time ever, i was enjoying school, and i was even on the dean’s list of a very famous person who is dean at the school.
I asked my mom if i could use the refundable ticket that was meant for my Air Force graduation to take a trip for my birthday. She said yes. I saw my best friend and stayed with her for a week, saw a metal show, had an amazing time with new friends who wanted to celebrate my birthday and for coming to visit them. My friends treated me like a celebrity. When it was time to go, i heard at the airport they were offering $400 dollars to someone to give up their flight on my flight. I thought of doing that and extending my stay and giving my friend the money, but i thought i should just go home because i had more friends waiting to welcome me home.
When i got home, my local hometown friends were waiting for me to come home from the airport. I just came home late, and i just texted them “woo im home!” And they replied “woo, we’re here! Let us in as soon as i got home, 😆
they had gifts and a jack in the box burger for me. I let them into my room and they just wanted to hang out for 5 minutes and say happy birthday and leave.
I went to grab a drink, and on my way back to my room, apparently i had woken up my mom. And she immediately started to get upset with me that i had people over. I said “oh, im sorry i woke you, they’re going to leave now. Lets talk in the morning.” She screams “Noooo!” And i go into my room to avoid the confrontation.
I locked the door behind me, because i had to put a lock on the door because my mom kept not listening to me when i told her to stay out of my room, and she kept coming into my room and do stupid things like fold a pile of dirty laundry and put it away, and taking my laundry i was about to fold and wash it again.
So i had locked it so wouldn’t come in cause a scene in front of my friends who were trying to leave. I tried to tell them that they had to leave, and they said sure lets go. But then my mom was on the other side of the door, screaming “Everyone leave!!!” and kicking and body slamming against the door until it broke off of the doorframe and she opened it with sheer force of her obese body weight. The ironic thing is that if she was so upset that people were over, why did she kick and body slam the door again and again to prevent them from leaving? 🧐
After this, i still had to live with this abhorrent sack of shit who’s womb I happened to be the one I escaped from, and still try to do my schoolwork too. I completely ignored her to keep my sanity. If she spoke to me, i had downloaded a nifty little AIRHORN APP that i blared from my phone at max volume if she talked to me. Of course that would make her start screaming at me, and it justified me using it every time in the first place.
I would wear my headphones around her in the kitchen to ignore her completely, and they were noise canceling headphones as well. Once she said something bitchy and angry towards me and i stared at her completely blank faced and gave her a look of icannothearyouwhyareyoustilltalkingtome and went back to making food. Then she came and grabbed my headphones off the side, and leaned into my ear and started talking to me. I reacted like a reflex to grab the headphone i thought had gotten caught on the cord and was being pulled off, and accidentally 🤭 smacked her in the face in the process. I just repositioned my headphones and went back to my business of cooking. And she was having a meltdown, running in a circle trying to start a fight with me, and i think saying that i ‘hit her’ after she made contact with me first when i was just grabbing my headphones she pulled off. 🤷🏼‍♂️
A few other times, i fucked with her for revenge. She hated when the porch light was turned off, and when the front door was locked. So i kept the light off and locked both the top and bottom locks. So when she couldn’t see she kept trying to ring the doorbell, as if I was going to come let her dumb ass in. And so she would start screaming at the front door to let me in. Eventually she would unlock one, and then realized the other one was locked as well, then while she was unlocking that one, i would sneak to the front door and re lock the first one. Then she would start screaming on the front porch, having a violent angry melt down in front of the other neighbors. How embarrassing for her.
I continued to ignore her every chance i got. I would make emo artwork in my work with my emo music playing in my headphones. Occasionally i would hear her trying to start a fight with me through my door, and since it was locked i would ignore her. Since she already fucked up my door, she could body slam against it to open it. She did that when i was ignoring her once, and she was laughing about the fact she could use her fat ass to open my locked door.
I told her if she ever body slammed my door again i would make her regret it.
She did it again to get my attention, and thought it was funny.
She thought it was funny to barge i to my safe space and terrorize me, to trigger my anxiety, to scream at me, to cause destruction of her own property just so she could start a fight with me, blame me for the fight to feel justified to scream at me and abuse me.
So what she didn’t know is that I had recorded her when she body slammed my door the first time. The video goes on and on for 5 minutes of her screaming and punching and body slamming, gradually breaking down the door and frame cracking, my friends terrified the entire time. And then her screaming like a maniac until she finally breaks it and then walks into my room acting like she was some sort of victim.
I posted the video on Facebook, named it “i hate you, i don’t deserve this abuse” and then tagged her in it, so our family and all of her friends, personally and professionally would see it.
When it was still unbeknownst to her, she still kept up her tough abuser façade, acting like she had reason to abuse me when I had done nothing. But then, once she found out i had exposed her abuse publicly, she then suddenly changed, and started acting like a victim again. So funny how fast her tough guy act dropped when her abuse gets exposed, and then in order to cope with being a terrible piece of shit, she suddenly started playing the victim to everyone around her.
She told her sister I was abusing her, and then said she was “going to stay with her for no reason” so she went to go play out this imaginary roleplaying story by staying the night with her over the weekend. She had to stick to the role she invented for me, just so she could act out that i was abusing her. It was pretty pathetic. Then my aunt started to treat me like i was an abuser. I eventually had to set her straight because my mom had spun the video around to make it seem like i was antagonizing her through the door, saying our nervous shudders of terror was me and my friends laughing at her through the door. Once I set her straight that I was the victim of my moms abuse, she realized that she had been tricked and felt really guilty for getting involved and thinking i was an abuser. As she should.
Since I had to constantly defend myself from abuse, I really lost all interest in school, and even became a huge jerk to my boyfriend at the time, to the point that he broke up with me. I had never been broken up with before, because usually it’s fair or mutual or i do the breaking. But this was the first time someone left me, and it was because i was so abused i started to become abusive, and he left me when he saw that change. He didn’t want to be around my mom when he was over to visit me anyway, and she had scared off a couple other of my boyfriends in the past. Imagine having several relationships that lasted for few months but then they leave you because your MOM fights with you all the time.
Eventually i met with a long time online friend, and as of now we have been together 13 years. During that time i was able to get 500 miles away from my mom and stay with my partner and his mom. I am 36 now.
During that time i rarely saw my abuser whose womb i escaped from.
The last time I saw her i told her I never wanted to see her again. She invited me to a big birthday party weekend she was having for herself and 2 of her friends, and everyone was going to come. Had a surprisingly good time with her and everyone i knew. She was nice the entire time. Then on the last day i was there visiting her, she decided to scream at the top of her lungs at me for wanting to hang out with my childhood friend who was also visiting.
I realized she was going to pretend to not be a sack of shit to everyone else and be nice to them, but she will ALWAYS have energy to scream at me.
I thought she invited me to her birthday party because of some hope that the distance had healed us, and she was nice now. But, i realized she will be nice to literally everyone else she invited, but NOT her own son who drove 500 miles out to see her.
I cried myself to sleep the night before my partner and me left. In the morning my mom was acting all smiles and wanted to visit before we left. I told her that I never wanted to see her again, locked my room, and packed while i ignored her long enough that she had to leave to go to work.
I was in a very deep depression. Friends and co workers i had would cordially ask me how was my vacation time off i took to go to my mom’s birthday party, and i told them it was horrible and change the subject.
I did not talk to her for a year. Eventually she tried reaching out and we maintained a communication. Casually in conversation she would mention how we need to have a visit, to which i would reply “Oh, but I already told you that I never wanted to see you again.” And that’s called making my boundaries known. Instead of realizing she had fucked up and perhaps she could put some effort into fixing herself and owning up to what she did wrong, she just took it as an insult because she’s a narcissist who could never comprehend she’s guilty of any wrongdoing.

Word count: 4,639
_______ Chapter 1 _______
POV Leo
The trek back home from Staten Island was long. Every inch of Leo’s body hurt, it felt like fire. The open wound on his side mixed with the unbearable pain in his arm in the forefront of his mind. The group slowly made their way past the debris of New York and towards the subway entrance. The blue brother could feel all eyes on him, the silent concern heavy in the air. They repeatedly asked if he was okay. Sure, it hurt, but he’s put them through enough already. Leo thinks to himself, that the pain he’s feeling is nothing compared to the pain he just put his family through. So he smiles.
Leo has never been so happy to see their subway tunnel home. The graffitied trains and walls are lined with the memories of their new home. The turtles, their father, April, and Casey enter the makeshift home, He can tell they are as relieved as he is. God, it’s good to be back, he just wants to lay down and sleep until- wait. Donnie isn’t here with the rest of the group, did he run off once they got back?
His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp pain in his side causing him to stumble, Casey catches him and hoists his sensei's arm over his shoulder as a hiss of pain escapes the ninja's lips. A sad smile forced itself into the human’s face, not quite reaching his eyes. Leo can’t figure out why but a sudden feeling of Deja Vu washes over him.
“Leo take it easy, can you go three minutes without hurting yourself?” Oh, Donnie’s back. He quips from behind like he has been there the whole time. “Where’s the fun in that Dee?” The purple teen rolls his eyes, Leading the two to the living room. Leo notices Donnie's usual annoyed expression after one of his jokes is nowhere to be found, instead replaced by poorly masked unease. Dread began pooling the slider’s stomach, something was not right. He’s seen Donnie worried or upset sure, but this was different.
“Don, you ok?” The soft shell’s eyes grow wide with disbelief, seeming to have struck a cord. “Am I- Leo how could you be asking if I’m ok?!” Donnie raised his voice, is he shaking? “You’re the one who almost-” He stopped himself, all fight leaving his body. Sighing he runs a three-fingered hand down his face. “I’m fine Nardo, just focus on getting better, ok?” The purple brother doesn’t wait for an answer before walking ahead of him and Casey to the living room.
The group behind them seems too caught up in the moment to worry too much about the interaction. From anyone else's perspective, Donnie would just seem annoyed by Leo, but unlike the rest of the group, Leo notices something shift in Raph’s expression, His worry seeming to drift between Leo and Donnie.
The team follows. Worried for their friend, their son, their brother. Leo assumed he looked like shit judging by everyone’s concerned gazes. He isn’t surprised if he does, the Krang really did a number on him in the short time he was trapped in the prison, it’s his own fault really. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t think he was coming back, so what would have been the point?
Being as gentle as he can Casey lowers the teen onto the couch, careful not to further distress his master. Leo tries hard not to show the amount of pain he’s in, to not further worry his family. Blood from his side starts to stain the couch a crimson red. But he’s fine, really.
“You’re all being dermatic!” Leo attempts to smile, waving his hand dismissively as he speaks. “I’m fi-” A white-hot shock of pain moves through his arm like lightning, fuck that hurt. Judging by everyone's faces, he did a poor job hiding the pain. “Like hell, you’re fine!” Raph retaliates, clearly distressed, as Donnie kneels beside the couch holding his twin's arm and gently inspecting it. Raph continues flinging his hand in the air in exasperation. “You could have died, Leonardo! Do you not understand that?” The blue ninja flinches at Raph’s sudden movement, seeing this the turtle’s arms and expression drop. Damit, he didn’t mean to flinch.
Mikey places a firm hand on the distressed leader's shoulder, his eyes silently comforting Raph. The snapping turtle sighs, running his large hand over his face. “Sorry, sorry. I-” He looks away, unable to look Leo in the eyes anymore. “I didn’t mean to yell…” The following silence was excruciating. Leo never liked the quiet. Always opted for music when alone in the layer because the silence of his brothers not being there always unnerved him. It made him feel alone. Despite the number of people in the small living room, his brothers, Casey, April, Dad. He felt alone
That’s all the teen could feel when he was in the prison, alone. The emptiness of the dimension seeped into his poors, his skin. Alone, hollow, and empty. Forever. He had accepted the concept of being alone forever, accepted it as his reality, it was worth it to save his family.
“God- Leo.” Donnie finally cut the silence. Judging by his focus on him, Leo wasn’t even sure Donnie realized there was an awkward silence. “It’s broken.” He states matter of fact standing and ordering Raph to grab a first aid case in his lab to wrap it. Much to Leo’s displeasure, Donnie insisted on checking him over completely, The others sticking close trying (but failing) to not hover.
It isn’t anything that time and a lot of bandages couldn’t fix, He’ll be fine, he always is, but god everything was sore. Leo doesn’t think he’s ever been this tired in his life. Sometime during Donnie’s agonizingly long inspection, a Lou Jitsu movie was turned on, a distraction Leo was very thankful for. Everyone sat around only half watching the film, looking after each other's injuries, while April tried and failed to explain to Casey what the hell a movie was. Leo couldn’t focus on the film though, his concern being taken over by Donnie.
Something was wrong, he was rigid and stiff, so unlike his usual lax expression. He doesn’t look so good. Of course, he isn’t ok, they all aren’t super hot right now. But this is different. He looks like he’s in pain. He looks scared. Leo knows he should say something, he’s about to interject when his purple brother froze. Just staring ahead, the bandage he was in the middle of wrapping around his arm still loose in his hands. It’s like his soul had been sucked from his body. It unnerved Leo to no end.
“Don?” Nothing, like he didn’t even know he was there. Worry for his twin started to take over, is he hurt? Why is he helping him if he’s clearly not ok? “Donnie?” He tried again, this time grabbing his attention. He finally looked up to meet the slider’s eyes. He looked out of it, lost in his own world. “Donnie, Can you hear me?” It’s like he is seeing right through him, does he even know he’s there? “I’m fine, Leo.” the younger twin attempts a reassuring smile, hoping to ease Leo’s distress, but it wavers. He is not fine. Why does he always push others away when he’s hurt? He hates that his twin never takes care of himself, that he is worrying about other's needs when he clearly isn’t ok.
Leo takes a deep breath, readying himself for the inevitable conversation, only to get his breath cut off by pain radiating in his side. Hearing footsteps coming their direction Leo looks up only to lock eyes with Raph. “Hey, Leo take it easy!” Raph takes his place behind the kneeling Donnie. “I’m fine.” Raph looks like he’s about to argue before Leo cuts him off. “Donnie however, isn’t.” That seemed to throw the leader off, Looking down at said kneeling turtle before him. “Wha- Donnie?” The soft shell doesn’t move, only continuing to stare into nothing.
The crimson ninja seems unsure of what to do, his Raph Cason™ Bigger than ever. “Donnie?” No answer. Before Leo can tell him it’s a bad idea, Raph puts a hand on his shoulder. “Donnie are-” His body was moving the second Raphs hand came in contact, as if it shocked the life back into him, Grabbing the leader's wrist that rested on his shoulder. “Don’t.” He spoke desperately but quietly like anything louder might break him. He sounded so… scared. Donnie’s scared and probably in pain and he’s worried about him? Said turtle seemed to realize who Raph was, releasing his hand and turning back to finish bandaging the injured blue turtle's arm.
“S-Sorry…” Sorry? Why is he sorry? The purple twin quickly wraps his arm, seeming uncomfortable with the attention. “Why-” Leo doesn’t even get to finish a word before Donnie stands quickly, backing away from the chair. “I’m done.” With Donnie’s confirmation, the rest of his family crowded around him, asking question after question. “How are you feeling now, my son?” Splinter asked, cupping his face with his rat palm. “Does your arm hurt? Oh! I know!” Mikey beamed at Leo, bouncing on his heels. “I could draw on your bandages if you’d like!”
He felt a hand resting on his shoulder, belonging to Casey. “How’s your head, master?” He thinks April said something too, but his mind was preoccupied. The Slider turtle looked between the bodies surrounding him, looking for Donnie. His eyes landed on a shaking purple form in the corner. He is not alright. Leo’s twin needs him. He tries to stand from the old blood-stained couch only to be forced down by a hand on his plastron.
“Not happening Leo, you need to rest.” April quipped, trying to smile for the turtle. No, no she doesn’t understand he needs to get to Donnie, he needs to make sure he’s ok, he- “Leo.” Red comes into his vision, a hand gently grabbing his arm, giving Leo a reassuring squeeze. “I got him.” Raph let go, walking towards the softshell on the other side of the room. He’ll be ok, Leo tries to reassure himself. We’ll be ok.
_______ Chapter 2 _______
POV Donnie
Donnie was glad to finally be home, the old brick walls of his subway tunnel sanctuary providing a small peace the invasion had not allowed throughout the day. The turtles, their father, April, and Casey made it to the makeshift home after the traumatizing day, As much as he wants them all here he feels a bit claustrophobic. The genius doesn’t think there's ever been this many people in the tunnel home at once and it’s making him anxious. The group seemed as relieved as he was entering the subway station, a small weight lifted from their shoulders. they didn’t have time to feel relieved though. Everyone’s worried and focused on Leo.
Donnie’s shell throbbed in pain from the Technodrome. He can still see Mikey’s concerned face upon removing his outer armor, not fully trusting the idea. He knew he was right, the thought of removing his battle shell outside of his home felt wrong let alone in the technodrome. But it was the only way he could think of to connect with the ship.
Falling shell first into the Krang was pure agony, the slimy tendrils wrapping around him and crushing his soft shell. In the flesh of the ship, he truly thought there was no way the body could take any more pain than he was in. He was quickly proven wrong. The Krang forcefully pulling him from the ship was so, so, much worse. The force of snapping tendrils ripping and lacerating his shell was like white-hot fire.
The teen knows he’s going to have nightmares for years. Luckily the others hadn’t gotten a good look at his shell with all the action. As soon as the group got home the purple ninja sneaked back to his lab, retrieving another battle shell, trying hard to ignore the agony that placing the heavy metal on his fresh wounds caused. His family needed to focus on Leo. He couldn’t let himself become a distraction, so he hid behind his purple shell. His purple walls.
It doesn’t matter that he is in pain, it doesn’t matter how much he wants to scream till his voice is raw and destroyed. Leo needs him, Donnie is the second-best medic they have after Leo. The blue brother has always helped him, even when he was hurting. The least Donnie can do is push through some pain to help him.
Donnie sneaks back to the group from behind, hoping no one noticed his absence. He sees his injured twin falter, Casey catching him before he can stumble. Only ensuring the idea in Donnie’s head that he needs to hide his shell further. Casey swings Leo’s arm over his shoulder holding him up. God the kid’s a godsent. Creeping behind his family, trying hard to ignore the pain of his battle shell rubbing against his soft shell, he makes a mental note to properly thank Casey later for all he’s done.
“Leo take it easy, can you go three minutes without hurting yourself?” Donnie quips from behind like he has been there the whole time. “Where’s the fun in that Dee?” The purple teen rolls his eyes, Leading the two to the living room. His twin will be the death of him, his destructive and rebelling nature has already gotten him hurt, and next time… he might not be so lucky. The idea of living without his twin is scarier than anything the Krang could throw at him, and it almost happened. “Don, you ok?” He almost stops in his tracks. Is he ok? His brother, who was just trapped in a space prison with a psycho alien trying to beat him to death, was asking if he was ok. “Am I-Leo how could you be asking if I’m ok?!” Donnie raised his voice as a tremor ran through his body. He could not believe his twin right now, why is he concerned about him? “You’re the one who almost-” He stops himself, all fight leaving his body. No, not now. Sighing he runs a three-fingered hand down his face. “I’m fine Nardo, just focus on getting better, ok?”
The whole team followed closely behind as Donnie led Leo to the living room. Donnie knows they care, that they are just as worried about Leo as he is, but the hovering of his warm-colored brothers, April, and Dad only makes him more anxious. They're close, too close, too close to his shell. Casey carefully lowers her sensei onto the chair. Leo tried but failed to suppress the pain it caused.
“You’re all being dermatic!” Leo attempts to smile, waving his hand dismissively as he speaks. “I’m fi-” His face scrunches in pain as a hiss escapes his lips making Donnie's soul ache. Or is that ache coming from his back? He isn’t sure. “Like hell, you’re fine!” Ralph's distress snaps the genius from his thoughts. Kneeling in front of the teen he carefully takes Leo’s arm to inspect it. The younger twin is as gentle as he can while looking over his brother's arm, he notices how tense he is. I guess we have that in common, Donnie thinks. The discomfort of others looking after them, he knows what he’s feeling, it’s like a twin thing. They have more in common than Donnie would like to admit. The abnormal bend of Leo’s arm along with the intense red swelling told Donnie everything he needed to know.
“God- Leo.” Donnie stands, gently placing Leo’s arm on the chair armrest. “It’s broken.” The soft shell tells Raph to fetch a first aid case he keeps in his lab, then gets to bandaging up Leo. The rest of the family stay close, not wanting to leave till they know Leo’s alright. Donnie hates kneeling beside his hurt twin and having all these people hover above him. He feels like they can see through his battle shell, that all eyes are on him. It’s worse than the throbbing pain.
As the teen genius looked over Leo the rest of the crew checked each other. He noted Casey wrapping Mikey’s hands. Ah, right. The mystic magic had cracked his hands open causing them to bleed. From what he saw they aren't too bad, just dried and chapped, though he wouldn’t be surprised if they give him difficulty in the future. Splinter and April seem to be making sure Raph is well taken care of, looking after his eye. Donnie trusts the pair and Casey so he mentally checks making sure his other brothers are ok off his list.
God Leo looks like hell, well, He just got back from hell. He double-checked his twin, he couldn’t miss anything. He had to do this right. He already failed him once today, Leo wouldn’t be hurt if he had flown the Technodrome into the portal faster, Leo wouldn’t be in pain if he had pulled through the agony of his shell faster, Leo would be ok if he was stronger. “Donnie?” Leo’s voice was quiet, not wanting the others around them to hear. He hadn’t realized he'd been staring at Leo's arm, not working. He looks… Worried? Why does Leo look worried? Is he hurt somewhere he hasn’t found yet? Is he-
“Donnie, Can you hear me?” Oh, it’s him. He’s the problem. Leo is hurt, Leo is in pain, and he’s thinking about him. The blue teen has a look in his eyes like he knows Donnie is hiding something. “I’m fine, Leo.” He attempts a reassuring smile, hoping to ease Leo’s distress, but it wavers. Leo’s tired eyes can see right through him. Of course they do, they always do. He hears talking around him, but the people’s voices are far away from his mind, like echoing at the end of a cave. Leo is ridiculous, he shouldn’t be worried about him when he’s clearly hurt. Not when it’s Donnie’s fault he’s hurt in the first place. Suddenly there's a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t.” He wheezes pathetically, his voice is raspy and quiet, grabbing the intruder's wrist. They're going to hurt him, they're going to touch his shell, they’re going-... It’s raph.
Raph is safe. Raph wouldn’t hurt him… anymore. “S-Sorry…” It’s quiet and timed, so unlike his usual confident voice. He lets the leader go, turning back to Leo finishing wrapping the last bandage. Raph hasn’t moved from his spot behind him. He can’t bring himself to turn and look at him, he already knows the look the red teen is giving him. Worry, worry he doesn’t need let alone deserve. damn it why can’t he see that he’s busy? The purple brother sat back, admiring his handy work. “I’m done.” Their father, Casey, April, and Mikey take that as their cure. Standing quickly from their spots on the floor to crowd Leo.
Donnie backed away, giving the others the space, avoiding eye contact with Leo. He needs to stop thinking about everyone else when he’s clearly hurt. He is far too selfless. Donnie hadn’t noticed someone put on a Lou Jitsu movie in the background. It’s Leo’s favorite. The film is suddenly too loud for him despite not even knowing it was on mere seconds ago, the group of people beside him was loud, his own heart was loud, the throbbing in his shell was loud, everything was loud, loud, loud.
There’s a voice, it’s louder than the others. Closer? That would make the most sense. “Don-... you ne-...” The voice is muffled and hard to hear like it’s underwater, only being able to make out small bits of what it’s saying. A hand hesitantly holds his own. He recognizes those hands, they are big and rough but oh so gentle. “Raph.” It came out pathetic, almost inaudible. “Yeah Don, It’s me-... you… lab?” Lab, he recognizes that word. Lab is safe, lab is quiet. The distressed teen nods. Raph gently guides him out of the room and down the hall, away from the constant loud noises. Donnie’s eyes are downcast, his head suddenly becoming heavier. He can feal the adrenalin wearing off, giving way to exhaustion. The feel of concrete to metal on his feet tells him they made it to his lab.
Donnie is led to his office chair where he not so gracefully plops, the sudden contact of shell with the back of the chair sending a bolt of pain through his body. “What’s wrong?” Shit, he forgot Raph was there. He didn’t even try to hide the pain his chair caused. “Are you hurt?” No, no he’s fine. It’s Leo they should be worried about, not him. “Don you gotta breathe.” Breath? Oh. He hasn’t been breathing. The soft shell tries to take a deep breath but is caught in a coughing fit, the movement making his shell hurt more than it already did. “Hey, hey it’s ok. Just take it slow.”
The mutant teen tries again, this time more successful. It takes a couple of minutes for Donnie to regain control of his breathing, Raph whispering praises the whole time, aware that if he talks any louder his little brother will break. This is ridiculous, Donnie thinks to himself. Leo is hurt and he’s making this all about himself. He’s acting like a child. “Stop.”
The teen looks up to his older brother kneeling before the chair, confused. “Stop using that big brain of yours for five minutes and just breathe.” It’s like the leader could read his mind, he knows his brother well. Knows the dangers of his overactive brain. “Tell me Dee, what’s going on?” He’s fine, Donnie’s fine.
“Why aren’t you with Leo?” The question earns him a sad smile from the red turtle. “Because I'm worried about you Donnie.” He’s taking up his time, he’s pulling him from Leo. “I-I’m fine Raph.” The older brother is not amused. “Raph isn’t as much of a dum dum as you think Don, you just had a panic attack for Pete's sake.” Dam it. This won’t be easy to get out of. But that won’t stop him from trying. “Leo is hurt badly Raph, you should save your worry for him, not me.” Donnie starts to stand, attempting to put an end to this uncomfortable conversation, only for Raph to grab his arm and not so gently pull him back down.
Donnie couldn’t help the hiss of pain that left his lips as his shell hit his chair again. Ralph's face turned from frustration to concern. “Stop deflecting Donatello, you're clearly hurt!” Full name, he’s serious. There’s no convincing him now. The snapping turtle let out a sigh, running his hand over his face. “You are so much like Leo, both pains in my ass…” He mumbled into his palm before removing it to make eye contact with his brother. “You are the only one that hasn’t gotten checked for injuries Don, just let me make sure you are ok. Ok?” He knew there was nothing he could say to change the mutant's mind, so he let him. Raph may not be their best medic, but he knew enough to take care of Donnie.
The older ninja left to grab another first aid kit before returning by Donnie’s side. Raph went over his body, making sure not to miss any scrapes. Gently cleaning cuts and applying bandages where needed. He finished with the soft shell's skin, turning to him with a concerned and unsure expression. “Donnie… You asked me to get a med kit from your lab for Leo…” He faltered trying to make eye contact with Donnie, but he just couldn’t. Couldn’t look at his older brother's face without breaking, already teetering on the edge. “One of your battle shells was missing…”
Shit. “You came here and put it on when we first got home… Didn't you? You weren't wearing it before.” He places his hand on the soft shell's shoulder, making sure he can see him before he does so he can pull back if he doesn't want the touch. “Why are you hiding your shell, Donatello?”
Donnie froze, breath catching in his throat. Logically he knows it needs to be looked after, that what he was doing was dumb, but putting his family through even more distress, taking attention from his dying brother, seemed so much worse than the physical pain and the possibility of infection. The red leader’s eyes were searching his own, hoping for some confirmation, before they went wide.
“Shell. off. Now.” The change was instant, His lax shoulders turning rigid as he glared holes into Donnie’s armor. Raph’s sudden change made the purple teen flinch away from the hand on his shoulder. Panicking his thoughts raced, Was Raph mad at him? Had he finally gotten sick of his shit? His eyes followed Raphs line of sight to his battle shell. Oh. He hadn’t noticed the blood that began to escape from under the shell's armor, steadily dripping onto the now-ruined office chair.
“Donnie, please.” He couldn’t handle it anymore. The fear and desperation in Raph’s voice, the eyes on his shell's armor, the pain coursing through his body. He cried. Raph startled, his concern only rising. Donnie never cries. Gripping his skull with his nails Donnie curled in on himself, his breath getting faster. “Ok, ok, you’re ok.” Donnie isn’t sure who he’s reassuring anymore. “Raph’s got you, Raph’s gonna make sure you're ok.” He held out his hands for Donnie to take, seeming surprised by how fast he sought out his comfort. “C-Can’t” He wheezed out, hands grasping at his larger brother’s plastron. “Can’t br- breath.” Is he having a panic attack? He isn’t sure, his chest hurts. His breaths got caught in his lungs which burned like fire. The plastron under his hand began rising and falling dramatically. “Deep breaths Don, come one with me.”
Following his brother's example, the soft shell tries to slow his breathing. They sit like that till Raph seems to deem that they’ve made progress, Donnie’s breaths are no longer desperate but still not entirely steady either. Coxing the younger brother to sit on the floor, Raph positioned himself behind Donnie. Continuing to take deep exaggerated breaths for him to follow. The tech enthusiast can feel Raphs finger hovering over the button on his shoulder that releases the battle shell, hesitation evident. “D-Do it.” The soft shell's voice shakes. “Just do it.” Taking a deep breath himself,Raph removes the shell from his brother's back.
Pain, holy hell all he feels is pain. Pieces of his sliced shell peeled with the armor, reminding him too much of the tentacles that were ripped from his back. A gasp escaped Raph, hands hovering over his mess of a shell. Donnie can’t see him, see his face, but he doesn’t need to to know it’s bad. He feels fuzzy and weightless, that's probably not good. “Alright, Don you with me?” Said mutant only nodded, not trusting his voice. “Ok, Ok, good. I’m gonna get Dad ok?” No, no, not ok, don’t leave him here, don’t leave him in the ship don’t-
“Don ,Don your ok. Shhh.” Rough hands from behind gently but firmly held his shoulders, grounding him. “I’ll be right back, ok? I promise.” He is scared, He doesn’t want to be alone again. Alone in the flesh interior of the Technodrome. But he isn’t, He’s home, Donnie knows he’s never truly alone at home. So he nods. Raph will get Dad, and he will be ok. Leo will be ok. Maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but someday, they’ll be ok.
Roses are red, 🥀 Violets are blue, 🔵 The twins are a disaster, 🧑🤝🧑 What else is new,💀

Hahaha
Not sure if this is the right place for anything.
I am 36 years old. The trauma began when i was a 9 year old kid in elementary school. My mom was already psychotic and enjoyed killing my goldfish and then crying and saying it was an accident then repeatedly replacing them all killing them again with bleach. It was what i thought was normal.
She didn’t know how to raise me so i had a lot of babysitters. At one babysitters house, their kid taught me it was fun to pull out pants down and play with our weiners. I didn’t like the kid, but I thought this was normal behavior.
At school in the middle of class i pulled my pants down and got in trouble. I was pulled out of school and a counselor told my mom i had ADD, and needed to go to a school for children with special needs.
My mom took me to the school, it was a normal school but it had the “Cornerstone Program” for special kids. The very first thing the program director and my mom did was coerce me into signing a piece of paper saying that explicitly stated that I, a child, was giving consent to the staff to physically assault me in the form of a “restraint” whenever they felt like i needed it done to me, “for safety.”
I refused to sign it and they both got very angry with me and told me that it’s only for bad kids. Then i asked why i was being sent to a school for bad kids. Then they said that as long as i was “good” then they wouldn’t assault me. So i promised i would be good and not misbehave and signed the paper.
On the first day of school, it was pure chaos. The other kids were antagonizing one another, and it was incredibly distracting and hilarious. One kid yelled to the other “Go suck on yo mamma’s dick!” And then the other kid got enraged and then was dragged into the back “restraining room” to be held down and forced to scream while they had an anxiety attack, until they “break” and become “calmed down” by the adults physically assaulting the minors.
Because of this chaotic environment, how was I supposed to succeed as a child sent there for one diagnosis “ADD” because i pulled my pants down once.
I didn’t do my schoolwork in class because it was impossible, and I just observed the constant fighting between the other kids instead.
One teacher got mad that I wasn’t “obeying” and he took me into the other detached classroom that served as the Cornerstone main office. He sat me down, and forced a pencil in my hands and he said “do your work. Now.” Because he was mean, i put the pencil down. He grabbed it again, and forced it in my hands, then squeezed my hands with his hands and began writing the math numbers down on the page for me.
I knew he was trying to hurt me, so i jammed him with my thumbnail back. Thats when he grabbed me and threw me onto the floor, and attacked me with a “restraint” maneuver. He gave me my first anxiety attack, i will never forget screaming for help for an hour but i was ignored by anyone who could hear me. That is when i learned that i had no safety, that i could scream for help as a child, but no one would ever come, and that they were going to physically torture me to do schoolwork if i didn’t obey them.
I had rug burn all over my face and chin from being held to the floor. When the school day was over, before i could tell my mom i was assaulted, they told her that i got my first necessary restraint, and that i obviously was a bad child who needed their program.
She wouldn’t listen to me that i was assaulted and essentially physically raped. I went back to school the next day and told to do a better job behaving.
I was trying to do my schoolwork out of fear of pain and torture, then the same guy who assaulted me, “Rob” came over to me and pretended to be my best friend. Probably out of guilt since he knew he was a child abusing sack of shit just there to suck up a paycheck and get off on being a living nightmare, a torturer of children.
He pretended to help me with my work, to show everyone that he was normal and just doing his job, that he didn’t just physically rape me the previous day. I had another anxiety attack from just his proximity to me. He quit the very next day, because he knew what he did to me.
Every day i was terrified of going to “Torture School” as i called the Cornerstone program. I was traumatized by the first attack on me, so i couldn’t concentrate on doing schoolwork. The other staff got annoyed with me because I didn’t validate them by doing my schoolwork, and since they had no idea how to handle kids with special needs, i became a target for them.
The teachers told my mom that i wasn’t doing my schoolwork because i needed ADD medication. Not because of the lack of proper education and parenting, but i needed to be given a daily chemical lobotomy. After one dr appointment, I was put on “Ridilin” for a day, and it was like having an active lobotomy. I could not think or feel emotions.
The same teachers that recommended I start taking medication got mad at me for not doing my schoolwork, were now mad at me that the medication they decided i needed to be on now made it completely impossible to do my work. So the teachers suggested that I take a different medication, so i was put on “wellbutron” which still allowed me to function but with a less intense lobotomy so they could take the credit for their recommendation that i be medicated, all for keeping up their image of being good and smart special ed teachers.
Btw in case you don’t know, it is always illegal for a teacher to suggest a child start taking medication. 🙃
Every day my mom would take out her anger at me, she was a rageaholic, and still is. She loved to have a meltdown, full on screaming and yelling and hitting me and ranting about how she has to blame me for it, then say “wow, this was because you didn’t take your medication today yet!” Every. Single. Time. I wondered what i was even taking the meds for, and began to see that the adults were the ones all fucked up mentally and needed medication. Also the program only let us watch limited kids movies, depressing ones and a long looney tunes PSA movie about how drugs are bad. But it’s ok that my mom was a heavy weed smoker, and i needed to be lobotomized through medication every day.
The school had a “point system” that rewarded kids with daily numbers on a white board for “good behavior” and points could purchase rewards, and bad behavior got points taken away. I wasn’t allowed to get points because i didn’t do my schoolwork, and they held that over my head constantly to try and give me incentive. It was all bullshit, and one day they threatened to take points from a kid and he went and erased the entire whiteboard. Boom, end of fight club, the teachers powers over us with the mysterious numbers ended. They didn’t make any back ups of the points because it was just there to scare us into good behavior 😂
Because i didn’t do my schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have points anyway, and the teachers decided to take my desk out of the classroom, and put it inside of the restraint room, so i was forced to listen to the screams of the children they tortured even louder. They used to give the other kids points for “good ignoring” when there was a child screaming in the back. Can you imagine, a pointless point system built by sadists, that reward children for ignoring the torturous screams of their peers, and then reward that as good behavior?
Eventually, the teachers decided to have a meeting with my mom about how i refused to do school work in their environment. They started joking “well, you dont even do your work in the back room, it’s like you just come to school to get restraints! Ahaha” they thought it was so funny to torture me. Another teacher added in “yeah, if you’re not obeying us, then we’re not teaching you and just restraining you all the time, what does that make us? Ahaha”
“Kid torturers” i replied. Their laughter stopped when they were called out for exactly what they were. My mom didn’t seem to understand the moment, and she said “oh yeah! And since you don’t obey me, I guess I’m resigning as your mother.” She sounded so happy to shirk all that responsibility. The Cornerstone staff tried to laugh that off too, “haha, umm, don’t you mean ‘redefining’, haha?”
“Nope,” and she went on a rant about how “when he learns to obey me and do his schoolwork, he will have the privilege of having a mother back.” And stunned the room full of people who tortured children for a living.
After that, she wouldn’t allow me to call her mom, i had to call her by her first name.
One day, on thanksgiving, we were getting ready to leave and go see family. She got upset about something, said I wasn’t obeying her, and he fat ass grabbed me and pinned me to the ground. She kept saying “look at me, im a teacher restraining you because you won’t obey!” She said as her boobs were falling out of her mumu and hitting me in the face with her weaponized titties. In the struggle, she kept leaning on me on one hand and hurting me to try in vain to get her girls back in her mumu, then her tits kept falling out, then she gave up on this futile exercise in normal parenting.
I refused to go with her, and i stayed home and ate 5 bowls of cereal and called it thanksgiving. She would also abuse me in front of family especially on Christmas and holidays, the normal routine of having an enraged meltdown and trying to blame me for it while everyone is confused what even she’s even so mad about during the holidays in the first place.
One day at school, we had a new staff member who acted like an ex con. The first time I disobeyed him, he threw me to the ground so hard I had the wind knocked out of me and i couldn’t breathe. then he got on top of me and held me down, and i still couldn’t breathe, i finally felt my lungs inflate and started screaming, but that was “bad behavior” so i had to pretend to not have a panic attack so i would be let go and allowed to breathe normally.
Of course that was written up as “my fault” for “being out of control” and “needing” to be restrained and i got in trouble for it. We had behavior report cards we had to take home every day, so i would do nothing, get told that i was disobeying their orders by not doing schoolwork, restrained/tortured, written up, behavior paper taken home to be seen by my mom, then she would use that as an excuse to take out all her anger out on me.
One day, the previous guy decided to attack me outside so at least there was one witness to the aftermath of the abuse.
The guy took me and kids to the community farm across the street, and gave us all rakes, and demanded that we clean all the chicken shit out of the chicken coops. When he tried to hand me the rake, it was gross and i was starting to develop an OCD from having things forced into my hands, so i didn’t want to touch it.
He grabbed me, and threw me to the ground once again into the pile of chicken shit, and then locked the chicken wire fence and left me in there, and said i couldn’t come out until i cleaned up all the chicken shit by myself.
I sat there stunned, and eventually a normal teacher from the normal part of the school for regular kids who didn’t get abused saw me. She said “Oh my god! What are you doing in there?” And then there was a school county investigation opened up.
I was interviewed by 2 detectives at home about the incident, and they didn’t care or know about any of the other abuse happening at Cornerstone. Just that one guy was fired, and i thought since if my mom knew the abuse was this bad, i wouldn’t have to go back to that school.
I had to go back the next day and pretend like nothing happened. The special ed teachers were upset with me that i got one of them in trouble, and they feared me. They got so afraid of me that they wouldn’t allow me to have a sharpened pencil, only allowed me to have broken ones, then got me in trouble for not doing my schoolwork. 🙄
One day, we all went to the zoo, and went to the gorilla enclosure and looked down over the railing. I had never seen animals at the zoo react to the dysfunctional kids fighting and the child torturer adults. It was as if the gorillas immediately saw the darkness in their souls they tried to hide so well. I backed away from the field trip group among the din of the gorillas, they were in a frenzy screaming at the school staff to get away from them. A teacher turned to yell at me to get back with the group, and they kept acting like the gorillas didn’t absolutely hate them. And then 😂 the gorilla grabbed a huge handful of dirt and shit, and slung a giant dry cloud of shit dust at the staff and misbehaving kids. Literally the karma they deserved, and luckily i had decided to back away from them and was the only one in the group not covered in gorilla shit. Lmao 😂
Since i refused to do schoolwork, i wasn’t allowed to have a summer break. I had to do all my schoolwork as homework from home, and i was surprised and thought that was just an option no one told me about, and it was much easier for me to to schoolwork without distractions from other kids or threats of violence from staff. I wondered why i even had to go to that school at all if i could have just done my schoolwork from home.
When i was almost done with a page of math, my mom got mad at me for doing my schoolwork, and yelled “there’s just a bunch of NUMBERS on the page!” And crumpled up the page of homework. And i yelled “Noo! That’s what math is! It’s numbers!!” And tried to smooth the paper out. I turned it in like that, the teacher laughed at me and said that I can’t turn in homework like that. I told him that my mom did it, and when he asked why, i said “Because there’s numbers on it.” Which was the honest answer, and confused them.
Eventually, i stopped taking my medication, and started flushing the pill down the toilet every day. If i hid it anywhere else, my mom would find it. So i learned that if i didn’t take my pill, i would still get blamed for things, whether or not i was medicated or not. So my mom would say as usual “Wow, i bet you didn’t take your pills today!”
But, i had not taken them in weeks, months, and eventually years.
Since i wasn’t allowed to “disobey by not doing my schoolwork” my desk was in the backroom. The door would be left open if there wasn’t a child being tortured in the back, but they remembered to specifically close it when it was storytime because i “wasn’t allowed to read like the normal kids who behaved”
Eventually, the teachers took away my privileges to have a desk in the back room, and i was forced to sit on the floor in a carpeted room, the area that they would send in “out of control” kids and abuse them. I sat in solitary confinement as a child for 2 years, just go be abused everyday and go home to more abuse. The Cornerstone staff would usually forget i was in there, and would throw in kids having their mental health crises, and then they would start attacking me. It was a normal routine of sitting on the floor in solidarity confinement, and waiting for them to send in another kid who was ready to attack and having to avoid them with minor injuries to get out of the room and remind them i was in there. I was allowed to sit at my desk in the back only when the room was occupied by a screaming child being abused by assault by “restraint.”
One day, the staff announced to the class that they decided to remove the carpeting from the restraint room, and would be replacing it with a linoleum tile floor. They then started mocking the kids that if they acted up, a cold hard floor is what they will be restrained against. Then they started joking that I was going to be the one suffering the most from that.
As i sat on the floor in solitary confinement at 10 years old, i was very resilient and tried to not let the school staff get to me. I knew what they were doing and how my mom acted and how she allowed them to abuse me daily was wrong. I bored out of my mind. There was only torture and adults blaming me for their actions. Nothing made sense.
One day i got so bored making friends with the floor, there was a tiny corner sticking up, and i began peeling the cheap linoleum off of the floor.
The staff then made my mother pay for them to re-do their nice new floor, it was kind of like their revenge for having to babysit me, the kid who didn’t obey them all day. My dad did the actual construction to save my single mom some money, and they were both pissed at me for “being a bad kid.” So my mom paid the money, and my father did the work and effort, to rework the very floor i was supposed to sit on almost day. Custom made by my parents who i brought together once again even though they hated one another, so romantic getting parents back together only briefly if only to yell at their attention starved kid.
Then i told myself to resist the urge to peel the linoleum as i sat there on the floor for months of boredom, for the undeterminable amount of time i was incarcerated as a child.
Also did i mention it was really cold and they would physically assault me to remove my hoodie from me if i refused to take it off.
One day i came into the restraint room as normal, and saw someone else had peeled off the linoleum on the floor. The staff immediately blamed me for it and told my mom and dad they had to do the floor over again. And they almost went through with it but it was more convenient for their time and money to listen to me when i said i didn’t do it.
So then the staff at Cornerstone became mad at me for “lying” and were disappointed because they were looking forward to getting a new floor out of my parents anytime they asked for one. 😂
Eventually I guess I served enough time, and I was off to yet another abusive school. This one was called Anna Kyle, and it was basically like being sent to Auschwitz every day for school.
I should mention at this point, my mom let me watch Schindler’s list and every time a Jewish person was shot she would say “thats what they should do to you if you don’t do your schoolwork.” Like, wow lady.
So anyway, the environment at this school was exactly like a concentration camp run by old witches. There was no education here, and once again, i was found to be “disobeying” and sent to a carpeted room. The rooms had graffiti carved into the walls from other kids in the past. If i had an attitude, the staff would tell my mom that i “defaced property” even though the wall of graffiti was carved there long before i got there, and they tried to get my mom to pay for a new door to the restraint room. My mom got wise to the antics of special ed school staff and refused to pay, which made them upset because they were jealous of my mom’s high paying job and wanted to extort money out of her somehow as a form of revenge for having to babysit me at school.
My schooling there was sitting on a floor and zoning out another indefinite amount of time of solitary confinement. At least this time it was a carpeted floor, and if i behaved, a staffer would come in to let me “play with colored beads” for the day. Just playing with the beads on a string made me forget the world around me. I remembered playing with the beads, and pretending that they were the different sailor scouts from Sailor Moon, and wanting the green beads to be Sailor Jupiter and wish she could protect me.
One day, I didn’t obey an order, and then 5 of these old witches grabbed me, and carried me around above their heads from one classroom’s restraint room to another. I was upset at being violated and abused like that. A teacher said “you know why you’re upset, it’s cuz you just don’t listen!” And i replied “its cuz you’re a bitch.” I didn’t use that word before but i had heard it, and knew it was a really good word to use when an adult was insulting another adult. She gave me such an insolent look, for a kid that they abuses daily to talk to her that way. She left and then i waited a very long time in the new restraint room. School ended and buses came, why was i still there?
Then a staff member said “ok someone’s here to pick you up” and let me out. I was confused, where was my schoolbus?
It was my grandma, and she picked me up and took me to her house instead of home. She was livid and gave no explanation.
Eventually my mom came and got me from her house. I demanded to know what was going on.
Well apparently, me calling the teacher a bitch made the teacher “so very concerned” about the “highly sexual” words i was saying, and she was convinced that i was being sexually abused by my mom, so she called the police and my mom was just at the police station getting interviewed all day if she has ever molested me. I was shocked, but at least now i didn’t have to go back to that school. At least “bitch” was the magic word to get me out of there 😆
Then that night i saw my mom using the newly invented internet to find more special ed schools to go to. I was like Milo in The Oblongs, “Can’t I just go to normal school?” And she realized that maybe i should.
First day of normal school, every student sat down the teacher said open your journals, every kid robotically and orderly opened their journals and wrote down the date, what was written on the board would be our lesson for today, and everyone just started doing it on their own without any prompt. I was so confused, how did everyone know what they were supposed to do? I had no idea what school was supposed to be at this point. I just sunk my head and slept through class because i literally had NO IDEA what i was supposed to be doing. The other kids were confused by my actions, but i literally didn’t understand them.
“Learning” from a “teacher”? What the hell is that? 😂
I was called into the principals office with the teacher and my mom. I was told “you are not allowed to disobey your teacher, if you don’t do your schoolwork, then everyone else will think they don’t have to do it too!” Which still didn’t translate to anything to me. They assumed i already “knew how” to do that was required of a student but was trying to “disobey” on purpose. They came up with a rule that if i sat down, i had to start school work at the same time as everyone else, or I had to get up and leave class immediately and sit in the office all day.
The next day i sat down, everyone starts writing in their journal. The teacher gives me the hand motion to leave and get out. I realized “oh, we’re writing whats on the board down, why didn’t anyone just tell me.” And i started writing down the date. The teacher yells “no! You have to leave now! You already had your chance!!” And then i never tried to appease these troglodytes again.
Eventually the janitor at the school raped a 12 year old girl and it had to shut down. But far be it from me to tell an all knowing principal how to run their school.
Its fine because i went to a different special ed school for middle school, slept every day. Slept every day through highschool too and just stayed up all night playing an online MMORPG which was new at the time. It became a focus point that my mom did everything in her power to act like keeping me from the one thing that ever made me happy was a form of parenting. So she would do stupid things like hiding my keyboard to start a fight for attention and feel like shes a mother just by being authoritative.
Eventually at 21 i knew i needed to escape her and leave home badly enough that i joined the Air Force. At first she kept telling me that i was retarded and didn’t have the mental capacity to “get yelled at” every day. Ummm what have i been trained for my entire life then, lady? 😂
After she realized i was serious and she wouldn’t have to support me anymore she became overly supportive to the point she was sabotaging me. While i focused on working out and learning the Airman’s Creed, she was looking at recruits getting yelled at. This was all stuff i was AVOIDING to keep MY WARRIOR MINDSET PURE, and she wouldn’t even allow me that. Eventually she became so obsessed with training, she started acting like she signed up for the Air Force herself 😂 “Wow, i did such a good job raising you, that you ended up joining the Air Force, because i’m such a good mom, because i put you through the Air Force, i will be busting my buttons with pride as you graduate from Basic Training. Wait a second, if you’re graduating the Air Force, because of MY good parenting…” (insert woman doing math meme) “Well, oh my god, I’M joining the Air Force? Because of you joining? Because i’m such a good parent???”
And i gave her a look of wtf are you talking about. I’m so glad to be away from this piece of work.
I went to basic, i did a month of training, unfortunately I had bad knees so i had to be sent home. Before i came home my mom then decided to have a meltdown over the phone when i told her. Instead of sympathy or even understanding the condition of having patella femoral syndrome, she said she was writing a list of rules i had to obey when i came home. Ummm im coming home anyway, its not like i had a choice.
This woman even took the time to type up some 10 page long letter that she printed out and sent me in training in a manila envelope, which made it look like i had some super important letter to receive something so big during Basic Training. It was just some fantasy where she had full control over my life. I literally read the first 2 sentences and thew the entire thing away. Then when i talked to her on the phone next she was like “what did you think of that letter? Huh huh huh?” And i said i didn’t even read it and she could go fuck herself.
When i got home from the Air Force, she was livid and hostile towards me, and told me to “Gehtahjaaaahb” every 5 seconds like that was any way shape or form helpful in the slightest way. While everyone else understood i was making a sacrifice to the service and i came home BARELY ABLE TO WALK because the cartilage in my knees wore down so much, she was harassing me nonstop.
Eventually one day she started in on me, and I threw my computer table at her and she realized she shouldn’t be fucking with someone who just underwent a month of strength training and discipline. You DO NOT disrespect anyone and raise your voice like that, and especially not someone who just responded to TIs in uniforms yelling at them for a whole month and the only answer I’m allowed to give is YES, SIR.
Eventually, she realized that she can’t just scream at me, and she saw a commercial on TV for me to go to college at a nearby game design university. So she said I need to go to it.
Long story short, i decide to go, i had no interest in art but i learned how to draw, began taking classes and i used my Airman’s training and discipline to work really hard. For the first time ever, i was enjoying school, and i was even on the dean’s list of a very famous person who is dean at the school.
I asked my mom if i could use the refundable ticket that was meant for my Air Force graduation to take a trip for my birthday. She said yes. I saw my best friend and stayed with her for a week, saw a metal show, had an amazing time with new friends who wanted to celebrate my birthday and for coming to visit them. My friends treated me like a celebrity. When it was time to go, i heard at the airport they were offering $400 dollars to someone to give up their flight on my flight. I thought of doing that and extending my stay and giving my friend the money, but i thought i should just go home because i had more friends waiting to welcome me home.
When i got home, my local hometown friends were waiting for me to come home from the airport. I just came home late, and i just texted them “woo im home!” And they replied “woo, we’re here! Let us in as soon as i got home, 😆
they had gifts and a jack in the box burger for me. I let them into my room and they just wanted to hang out for 5 minutes and say happy birthday and leave.
I went to grab a drink, and on my way back to my room, apparently i had woken up my mom. And she immediately started to get upset with me that i had people over. I said “oh, im sorry i woke you, they’re going to leave now. Lets talk in the morning.” She screams “Noooo!” And i go into my room to avoid the confrontation.
I locked the door behind me, because i had to put a lock on the door because my mom kept not listening to me when i told her to stay out of my room, and she kept coming into my room and do stupid things like fold a pile of dirty laundry and put it away, and taking my laundry i was about to fold and wash it again.
So i had locked it so wouldn’t come in cause a scene in front of my friends who were trying to leave. I tried to tell them that they had to leave, and they said sure lets go. But then my mom was on the other side of the door, screaming “Everyone leave!!!” and kicking and body slamming against the door until it broke off of the doorframe and she opened it with sheer force of her obese body weight. The ironic thing is that if she was so upset that people were over, why did she kick and body slam the door again and again to prevent them from leaving? 🧐
After this, i still had to live with this abhorrent sack of shit who’s womb I happened to be the one I escaped from, and still try to do my schoolwork too. I completely ignored her to keep my sanity. If she spoke to me, i had downloaded a nifty little AIRHORN APP that i blared from my phone at max volume if she talked to me. Of course that would make her start screaming at me, and it justified me using it every time in the first place.
I would wear my headphones around her in the kitchen to ignore her completely, and they were noise canceling headphones as well. Once she said something bitchy and angry towards me and i stared at her completely blank faced and gave her a look of icannothearyouwhyareyoustilltalkingtome and went back to making food. Then she came and grabbed my headphones off the side, and leaned into my ear and started talking to me. I reacted like a reflex to grab the headphone i thought had gotten caught on the cord and was being pulled off, and accidentally 🤭 smacked her in the face in the process. I just repositioned my headphones and went back to my business of cooking. And she was having a meltdown, running in a circle trying to start a fight with me, and i think saying that i ‘hit her’ after she made contact with me first when i was just grabbing my headphones she pulled off. 🤷🏼‍♂️
A few other times, i fucked with her for revenge. She hated when the porch light was turned off, and when the front door was locked. So i kept the light off and locked both the top and bottom locks. So when she couldn’t see she kept trying to ring the doorbell, as if I was going to come let her dumb ass in. And so she would start screaming at the front door to let me in. Eventually she would unlock one, and then realized the other one was locked as well, then while she was unlocking that one, i would sneak to the front door and re lock the first one. Then she would start screaming on the front porch, having a violent angry melt down in front of the other neighbors. How embarrassing for her.
I continued to ignore her every chance i got. I would make emo artwork in my work with my emo music playing in my headphones. Occasionally i would hear her trying to start a fight with me through my door, and since it was locked i would ignore her. Since she already fucked up my door, she could body slam against it to open it. She did that when i was ignoring her once, and she was laughing about the fact she could use her fat ass to open my locked door.
I told her if she ever body slammed my door again i would make her regret it.
She did it again to get my attention, and thought it was funny.
She thought it was funny to barge i to my safe space and terrorize me, to trigger my anxiety, to scream at me, to cause destruction of her own property just so she could start a fight with me, blame me for the fight to feel justified to scream at me and abuse me.
So what she didn’t know is that I had recorded her when she body slammed my door the first time. The video goes on and on for 5 minutes of her screaming and punching and body slamming, gradually breaking down the door and frame cracking, my friends terrified the entire time. And then her screaming like a maniac until she finally breaks it and then walks into my room acting like she was some sort of victim.
I posted the video on Facebook, named it “i hate you, i don’t deserve this abuse” and then tagged her in it, so our family and all of her friends, personally and professionally would see it.
When it was still unbeknownst to her, she still kept up her tough abuser façade, acting like she had reason to abuse me when I had done nothing. But then, once she found out i had exposed her abuse publicly, she then suddenly changed, and started acting like a victim again. So funny how fast her tough guy act dropped when her abuse gets exposed, and then in order to cope with being a terrible piece of shit, she suddenly started playing the victim to everyone around her.
She told her sister I was abusing her, and then said she was “going to stay with her for no reason” so she went to go play out this imaginary roleplaying story by staying the night with her over the weekend. She had to stick to the role she invented for me, just so she could act out that i was abusing her. It was pretty pathetic. Then my aunt started to treat me like i was an abuser. I eventually had to set her straight because my mom had spun the video around to make it seem like i was antagonizing her through the door, saying our nervous shudders of terror was me and my friends laughing at her through the door. Once I set her straight that I was the victim of my moms abuse, she realized that she had been tricked and felt really guilty for getting involved and thinking i was an abuser. As she should.
Since I had to constantly defend myself from abuse, I really lost all interest in school, and even became a huge jerk to my boyfriend at the time, to the point that he broke up with me. I had never been broken up with before, because usually it’s fair or mutual or i do the breaking. But this was the first time someone left me, and it was because i was so abused i started to become abusive, and he left me when he saw that change. He didn’t want to be around my mom when he was over to visit me anyway, and she had scared off a couple other of my boyfriends in the past. Imagine having several relationships that lasted for few months but then they leave you because your MOM fights with you all the time.
Eventually i met with a long time online friend, and as of now we have been together 13 years. During that time i was able to get 500 miles away from my mom and stay with my partner and his mom. I am 36 now.
During that time i rarely saw my abuser whose womb i escaped from.
The last time I saw her i told her I never wanted to see her again. She invited me to a big birthday party weekend she was having for herself and 2 of her friends, and everyone was going to come. Had a surprisingly good time with her and everyone i knew. She was nice the entire time. Then on the last day i was there visiting her, she decided to scream at the top of her lungs at me for wanting to hang out with my childhood friend who was also visiting.
I realized she was going to pretend to not be a sack of shit to everyone else and be nice to them, but she will ALWAYS have energy to scream at me.
I thought she invited me to her birthday party because of some hope that the distance had healed us, and she was nice now. But, i realized she will be nice to literally everyone else she invited, but NOT her own son who drove 500 miles out to see her.
I cried myself to sleep the night before my partner and me left. In the morning my mom was acting all smiles and wanted to visit before we left. I told her that I never wanted to see her again, locked my room, and packed while i ignored her long enough that she had to leave to go to work.
I was in a very deep depression. Friends and co workers i had would cordially ask me how was my vacation time off i took to go to my mom’s birthday party, and i told them it was horrible and change the subject.
I did not talk to her for a year. Eventually she tried reaching out and we maintained a communication. Casually in conversation she would mention how we need to have a visit, to which i would reply “Oh, but I already told you that I never wanted to see you again.” And that’s called making my boundaries known. Instead of realizing she had fucked up and perhaps she could put some effort into fixing herself and owning up to what she did wrong, she just took it as an insult because she’s a narcissist who could never comprehend she’s guilty of any wrongdoing.

Part 1
I woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache. Groaning at the harsh sunlight coming through my window, I blinked the sand out of my eyes. It took me until my vision was clear for me to notice that my bedroom door, which I always made sure to close and lock before I went to sleep, was standing wide open. Like rusted gears starting to grind together, my waking mind slowly began to remember the strange crawling thing in the hallway I had glimpsed just before falling asleep.
I’ve always been a bit paranoid, and this paranoia had only increased after I started living alone. Reaching into my pillowcase, I carefully extracted a pocket knife that I keep hidden there, just in case. I hesitated before getting out of bed. I sat there, listening for a few minutes, trying to hear if there was any sound in my house. I couldn’t tell for certain, there was no way of knowing, but it felt like I could hear a faint wheezing under my bed, as if someone was struggling faintly for breath.
Or trying to stifle laughter.
I’d always had a fear of stepping out of bed. I didn’t like the gap between the floor and the bed frame, it always felt like there was just enough room for someone to hide down there. When I was much younger, sometimes I’d remain confined in bed for hours if I was home alone, afraid that if I stepped my foot upon the ground, I’d feel a clammy hand wrap gnarled fingers around my ankle.
Slowly, very slowly, I looked down over the edge of the bed, knife clutched tight in my sweaty fingers. For a split second I thought I saw a shadow shift, slightly, as though something ever so subtly had skirted out of view. I swallowed, fear making my heart race in my chest. I counted down from 10, but didn’t dare close my eyes. When I reached 1, I leapt out of bed, immediately crouching down and lifting the bed spread, knife raised to strike at whatever was hiding there.
Nothing.
There wasn’t even enough room beneath my bed for anyone to fit; boxes of old childhood toys and knick knacks had filled up all the remaining space down there. Setting the knife down on my bedside table, I rubbed my temples, taking deep breaths to try and calm myself down.
There’s nobody else in the house, Trinity, I thought to myself, you’re just being paranoid.
I felt my stomach growl, and remembered how little I had eaten the previous day. Realizing I’d have to actually go out and buy food before I could feed myself, I sighed and put on some clothes, slipping my car keys and wallet into my jacket pocket.
“Find everything you were looking for today si-,” said the cashier, catching herself mid-word as she looked closer at me, eyes drifting towards my neck and shoulders.
“Just fine, thank you,” I replied, not having any energy to even acknowledge this sort of thing.
The cashier just nodded and started scanning my groceries, mercifully choosing to eschew the usual small talk one expects from such interactions, though I couldn’t help but recall how chatty she had been with the elderly man immediately before me in line.
As I sat there, patiently waiting for her to finish with my items, I yawned a little, peering around my surroundings. I used to work in a grocery store just like this one, years ago. It was one of my very first jobs. It was always remarkable to me how similar chain stores looked on the inside, like they were procedurally generated levels in some video game, the same assets being assembled pseudo-randomly to create familiar spaces. My train of thought was interrupted when my idle gaze fell upon the monitor above the cashier’s head.
Where there ought to be the total I was supposed to pay, or an advertisement, or even just a blank screen, there was something murky, shadowed, slowly coming into focus. It seemed to be brightening, just a little at a time, a still image congealing out of the void of black pixels, long stringy black hair obscuring a face twisted into something almost resembling a smil-
“Alright, that’ll be 67.95.”
I jumped slightly at the cashier’s voice, hoping that she didn’t notice. “Of course, sorry,” I murmured, fumbling for my wallet and grabbing my credit card. The cashier just sighed almost imperceptibly. While I clumsily inserted the card into the chip reader, I looked up at the monitor, simply seeing my purchase’s total and a list of the items that had been scanned.
After being handed my receipt, I thanked the cashier, grabbed my bags and headed out the automatic door. I chanced a glance backwards on my way out, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of the image on the monitor again, but it was still normal. Just an ordinary checkout screen. I shook my head and made my way back to the car.
Maybe it wasn’t the wisest idea to take a night walk, given the odd events of the previous day, but in my defense at this point I was still operating under the assumption that whatever was going on was merely a consequence of stress and paranoia. I didn’t want to believe that I was in any real danger.
I’ve been taking night walks ever since the divorce, mainly to try and work through my fear of the dark. I felt embarrassed being in my mid 20s and still needing to sometimes keep the light on when I went to bed. Frankly I probably would have started taking the walks sooner, but Seth never felt comfortable with me going outside alone after nightfall. To my credit, the walks did genuinely work to quell some of my nyctophobia. I still didn’t exactly feel comfortable in the dark, but it wasn’t nerve wracking anymore.
One of my favorite spots for nocturnal wanderings was somewhere I had perhaps melodramatically christened the “midnight river.” It was a bit of water district infrastructure, an artificial creek of sorts that passed between the vast blocks of identical suburban homes, with gravel maintenance paths on both sides. I wasn’t supposed to be there, to be clear. There was a fence with a sign warning me that trespassers would be prosecuted, but frankly I didn’t really care. In my mind, the purpose of this sort of sign was to prevent people from going there to toss their trash, spray graffiti, and otherwise pollute or clog the waterway. All I was doing was taking a little walk. It may have been against the letter of the law, but in terms of crimes it was a fairly victimless one.
Hopping over the fence was easy enough; it wasn’t exactly tall, and there were plenty of foot and hand holds. After I was over the barrier, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone, tapping the flashlight button. Even though I’d worked through a lot of my fear of darkness, the midnight river still could be somewhat unsettling at times. You see, if you are walking around after dark in the city or suburbs, there is still going to be quite a bit of ambient light, due to streetlamps, advertising billboards, 24 hour convenience stores, etc. The midnight river, however, was nearly entirely pitch black. It was squeezed between lines of suburban homes, with the tall wooden fences of backyards forming walls that enclosed the entire space. The only places for light to get through were the chain link fences at each end of the midnight river, with everything in between being smothered in a blanket of perfect, inky blackness.
It can actually be quite pleasant once you get used to only being able to see a few feet in front of you. The air was filled with the sound of croaking frogs to my immediate right, along with the gentle babbling of flowing water. This mixed with the crunching of gravel underfoot into a soothing melange of ambient noise.
The walk along the midnight river isn’t especially long, maybe 15 minutes at most. I think it must have been about 5 minutes into my short journey that I heard the echo. It was subtle, difficult to notice, but once I had realized it was there, I was unable to ignore it; about a quarter second after each of my footsteps, I would hear another footstep from somewhere behind me.
I didn’t dare pause to turn around, though I desperately wanted to. I worried that if I stopped moving, whatever was hiding in my footsteps would realize I’d caught onto its presence and attack me. My mind was racing, trying to think of what the source of the sound could be. Mountain lions sometimes come down from the hills and wander into the suburbs, I thought to myself in a panic, or maybe it’s some maniac looking for an easy victim. My neck itched with the desire to turn and look at my pursuer, my free hand reaching down automatically to grip the handle of my pocket knife.
This continued for quite some time, the footsteps slowly but surely seeming to get ever so slightly closer. It was clear that even though my pursuer was matching my pace, they must have had a slightly longer stride, allowing them to gradually gain on me. I had to think of something, but every possible method of self defense seemed somehow insufficient, like bows and arrows against the lightning. I felt weak, small, and vulnerable. Without any ability to gain information about whoever or whatever was following me, my mind jumped to the worst possible conclusions to fill the gaps in perception.
Eventually I could see light at the end of the river, shining from a streetlamp through the gaps in the chain link fence.
I realized that I was going to have to climb the fence in order to get out.
It must have been about 50 yards away when I decided to start running. Not wanting to give my pursuer any warning I just stuffed my phone in my pocket and began sprinting as fast as I could possibly manage. My muscles burned with the strain and my lungs felt as though they were being pierced with needles, but fear motivated me to run faster than any medal or trophy ever could. As I ran, I could hear the crunch of gravel underfoot behind me, no longer trying to match my footsteps, simply moving as fast as possible to reach me.
I almost collided head first with the fence, but somehow managed to get a foothold and start climbing, as though genetic memories of ascending trees in the jungle to escape some predatory beast had been unearthed in order to assure my survival. Within seconds, I was out of the midnight river and standing on the sidewalk, beneath the blazing light of a streetlamp. I fumbled for my pocket knife and opened it, getting into something vaguely resembling a defensive position as I turned to face the one possible place from which my hunter could try to reach me.
And there was, indeed, something there, in the dark. A dark figure, just barely discernible at the edge of the streetlamp’s light. It took a slightly hesitant step forward, coming so, so close to being fully visible, but stopped before the light could touch it. I looked up at where I thought its face must be, and I could feel it looking back at me, studying me. Then, it simply turned around and began to walk slowly away, back into the blackness, gravel crunching beneath its feet. I could hear it whistling softly as it faded into the shadows.
<sup>Postscript
As promised; the second document, or “stage” as Trinity refers to it. Once again, the mundane details of Trinity’s life do seem to be accurately reflected within the document. I myself have actually walked with her in the past by what she calls the “midnight river,” though I have only ever done so during daylight.
Thus far, I am unable to determine Trinity’s intentions with writing this narrative. While I wouldn’t necessarily describe her as being entirely mentally healthy, especially given the somewhat traumatic details of her former marriage, she never seemed prone to hallucinations or flights of fancy. And yet, she hardly seems like the sort to write all this out as some sort of hoax.
I hope that the subsequent “stages” shine some light as to what exactly is going on.
- Helen Theodora Waite</sup>
Part 3