I hate people.
Once upon a time, I could have tolerated them. If they had tolerated me.
They don’t suffer imperfections though. And they didn’t suffer me.
For some reason, they think that Loners will go away if they pick on them. For some reason they can’t see that the simpler solution would be to befriend the Loners and make them Not-Loners. Make them everyone else.
Isn’t that what we all want? To be treated like everyone else?
You can’t always get what you want my friend, or, actually, I can’t.
Take my ‘best friend’. Please. He sticks by me, through thick and thin.
Until somebody else comes along. Somebody better than me. Which is anybody.
But that’s not the point. The point is that I hate people. I didn’t, they had their chance, but now it’s too late for them. I’ve been granted power. Power to make them pay.
They’re just food to me now. Bad, annoying, hurtful food. Food that brings bad memories and horrible nightmares. Even the dreams caused by my insanity pale in comparison to dreams of my life. Unspeakable terrors hold no terror for me greater than remembering.
Especially her.
She was the worst. The worst of them all. Worse than my peers who made nasty hurtful jokes. Worse than the adults who heard them and just laughed. Worse than my parents, who suggested I get ‘help’. Their idea of help was to have me locked away. I didn’t try to talk to them after that. I just kept it all in, and eventually they shut up.
But I was talking about her, wasn’t I?
She was the only one who broke the loneliness. Five years ago. Of course, she was pretty and popular and wouldn’t talk to me in public, but every day after school she would be there, in my treehouse. It actually was more of a platform than a house. But she would come up there, and we would talk. Behind the bubblehead exterior she was, at least at that time, very smart. We would talk for hours, everything from the philosophical to the trivial. I remember she had a talent for telling stories, like me. We would tell each other stories. Then she would leave.
As the years passed, she spent less time with me. After I dropped out of school Sophomore year, she didn’t come around at all. I stayed in the treehouse all day, most nights too, but she never came back...
But that’s okay. Tonight’s the night.
My power also gave me a plan...
That, my friends (and I use the term mockingly), is the smell of life itself. I didn’t even bother to drink from her, I just clawed and ripped until she was dead.
She didn’t know. But she will when I’m with her again. She’ll know that I only did this because I love her... because it was the only way...
With my Cordelia... where we can talk forever without anyone else to bother us... My Cordelia...
And I’ll never be alone again...