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This is my story about a guy named Robin. He's an average, weak little guy with an above-average intelligence. He falls in love, then has his heart crushed. In finding his love gone, he sees no reasons to continue on, but he finds his calling and finds the strength to continue on, even though his calling involves murder.
I was a normal person just a few weeks ago. How did I become this? I’m dealing with such shady people. If someone had come up to me last week and told me that this is what I would be doing for the rest of my life and that I was good at it, I’d have baulked at them. I’d always thought I was good. I always thought I was a good person. So, how did I become this?
My name is really no one’s business but my own, but I’ll tell it anyway; Lloyd Patterson. Middle name is Robin, which is what I usually go by. I’m a young adult. Only 22. I’m a skinny, white, gaming, writing wuss. I spend all my time daydreaming while listening to my favourite music. Never held a gun, never committed a crime. I was a fine, up-standing citizen (disregarding my habit for mary jane, of course). I smoke, but I never drink. I’m jobless and have been forever. Frankly, most would think me just a bum for the way I seem to live.
I live in a shitty little apartment complex, rent-free after a few strings were pulled by old friends I grew up with. I only get by with the regular bills because my mom likes to help me out whenever I can’t get anything paid (she lives in the same complex). As far as food goes, I get help with that--food stamps. I typically only support my habit by hanging around friends and smoking with them whenever they offer, which is a lot. People are always very nice to me, since I’m always nice to them. However, I’m also a bit weak. People will walk all over me, if I let them.
I never had very many friends. Growing up, I was a kid hermit. I just stayed in my room constantly, playing video games and listening to my music on full blast with headphones. I hardly even talk to anyone online, which is where I’m more open and willing to make friends (if you can call someone living in another state that you’ve never even physically met a friend, anyway). The few friends I have now I’ve met through my mother or grew up with. And there’s a reason I never had many friends and barely have any now.
When I was younger in elementary school, I let myself be friends with a few people. One, in particular. I don’t remember his name anymore, but I remember what happened very well. The other kids liked to consider me weird because I was smart. They treated a girl with glasses very badly, and she was a bit like me. I felt horrible seeing how they treated her, but I was a very sensitive kid and scared to death of being picked on, so I never said anything. I guess it served me right, what happened.
One day, seemingly at random, one of the kids started up with the teacher. I didn’t know what was going on, at first. The teacher came to me, asking if I was “going around, touching the other kids and saying ‘There, now you’ve got my cooties!’” I just gaped at her. The other kids came up behind her saying that I did, among some other childish things. A few were imitating what they said I did, mocking me. They all knew I didn’t do a thing to any of them. I couldn’t even speak, not able to process what was happening; the fact that every kid in the damn class was lying on me for absolutely no reason. I wouldn’t have cared if it hadn’t gotten me in trouble. Why? I have no idea. Probably because I wasn’t “owning up” to what I supposedly did. With all that evidence against me, the teacher had no choice but to believe them. What made it hurt all the worse was that the one guy I got a little close to wouldn’t say a word to defend me. He may not have joined the others in saying I did it, but he didn’t say anything in my favour either.
And so, ever since that day, I’d been a hermit. I never trusted anybody. I still have trust issues. I treat people as nice as possible, but I never get too personal. I just act polite. It’s what a person should always do, acting polite. No one believes in it anymore, which is a damn shame. But I digress.
Now, I barely have any friends. I don’t want my trust broken so badly like that again. I spend all my time writing, daydreaming with my music playing, or just sleeping. I often sit in my apartment, just thinking and feeling like my life isn’t worth all the nonsense. Never once had a suicidal thought, though. I tried to cut my arm when I was about 14 or so with one of my swords from my collection, but I couldn’t do it for two reasons. One, I can’t do anything that would cause me physical pain, because I’m very sensitive since I never actually do anything (my skin is soft and flimsy, so much so I can barely walk barefoot). Two, I knew how unbelievably stupid it was to do something like that. I firmly believe suicide is just stupid, no matter the reasons.
A loner, a smoker, a loser. Weak, scared, unmotivated. I’m all around a useless husk. This is true especially lately (before I got my new “job,” that is). I just felt so hollow. I started feeling like I have no heart for the longest time. I didn’t feel like I really exist. I felt like a complete nobody. A person that could just disappear, and no one would even notice. And with the way I was, easily forgettable, it was possible.
I was sitting in my apartment one night, flipping the channels on the TV without looking at what was on, when someone knocked on my door. I became very annoyed, because it was a bit late, and I was in no mood to waste any effort keeping a conversation. I stood up slowly, dragging my feet along the floor as I went to the door. I opened it a crack, glaring out at a new neighbour. He had just moved in a day or two before, so I didn’t trust him at all. He was white, which was odd to begin with (the apartment complex is corrupt and likes to only give apartments to illegal Mexicans that can’t speak English so they can scam them out of more money), but he was also a good-looking man. Not man people around here look presentable like he did. Most looked like they needed another hit of insert-drug-here badly.
“…what?” I asked him irritably, my voice much softer than usual with apathy. “Oh, sorry, am I bothering you, or interrupting anything?” he asked, looking worried, “I’ll leave right away, if you want me to.” I only stared at him for a moment. It wasn’t often I met someone as amiable as myself. “Uh, no.” I replied, now actually giving some effort with my voice, “No, you ain’t interrupting anything at all. I ain’t never got nothing to do around here. May I ask your reason for this visit, new guy?”
He smiled then and held out his hand. “I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Lea Heiburg.” I shook his hand reluctantly. Now that I looked at him, he really was good-looking. His hair was very bright and blonde, and he had it styled. He had dark blue eyes that reminded me of an evening sky. He was taller than me, too (and I stand at 6’0” exactly). “Nice to meet you, honky,” I said in a monotone, “Now tell me what you really want. It’s too damn late for anyone to be coming up to someone’s door just to be saying ‘how-do-you-do?’.”
He looked genuinely surprised at that remark. “Why, what would make you assume I want anything?” he inquired, still smiling, “It is late, yes, but I don’t know anybody around here and have absolutely nothing to do. I just wanted to make a friend, so I wouldn’t have to spend the night sitting at home. Alone.” The last word struck me. I was always home alone, so I knew how he felt. I was gonna be up all night anyway, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to let dude stay for a minute.
“Come on in,” I welcomed him as I opened the door, “Mi casa and whatnot.”
So what do you think? Opinions, comments? Too long, too wordy? Confusing story? Gimme something to work with.
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