Please don't do it! cried out the woman through tearful eyes. I wasn't always like this. I used to be able to differentiate right from wrong. An inner anger, a multitude of complex emotions crying out to be released drove me to kill. It wasn't always like this. I glanced deeply into her eyes admiring my reflection in the horrified blue iris. I loved to admire the human soul before it faced its demise. I wasn't that insane I'm sorry. I whispered as a wicked smile crept upon my lips.
It all started in the dazzling neon filled streets of Los Angeles. Growing up in such a horrendous area of the city probably bred my current so called condition. I lived in an apartment building that was riddled with shattered glass, rats squeaking in every corner and the walls stained with a mixture of every kind of filth this side of the world can produce. The walls weren't the only thing humanly disgusting; every tenant was a true testament to the exact definition of sleaze.
I had relied on primal instincts to survive. On occasion the manager: Mrs. Richards would allow me an apple whenever I did her dirty work which included: cleaning the foul bathrooms, eaves dropping on conversations or sometimes even damaging one of the residents' rooms so that they would learn to pay their rent on time. She would then make me repair any damage I had done, how ironic. She was a big lady, with a protruding belly and a face similar to her flaccid thighs. Her browns eyes were dangerously deceiving, soft and graceful. They helped her lure people into her snare, which meant she would falsely advertise her shabby apartment building as luxurious. In spite of it all, she was the only family I knew at the time.
Whenever visitors came to check out the rooms, Mrs. Richards would leave me in the closet. The only reason I could fathom that people would possibly want to live here is because they didn't want to rest their heads on the cold pavements of the city. I could not say that my life was exhausting because it was the only thing I knew. Awaking in a tarnished closet everyday to screaming neighbors and to the dripping of water from the loose pipes was natural for me. Deep down, I would constantly hope that this whole mess would turn around for me.
One day, as the sun's rays coursed through the opening under my closet, I woke up from my deep sleep. During the night, I had twisted and turned on the cold tiles or what was left of them. The broken pieces had dug deeply into my back leaving cuts and bruises. I had dusted myself off and removed the jagged pieces of tile that had stuck on my clothing. It was time to report to Mrs. Richards to receive the slim pickings of the day. As I turned the knob to open the door, I met some heavy resistance, making me unable to open the door. I heard an alarmed whisper through the cracks on the door. Stay inside Kyle! It was Mrs. Richards. What was wrong? I thought. I let go of the knob and sat back on the cold floor.
Soon after, I heard a staggering bang. Mrs. Richards let out a deafening scream, a large thud followed afterwards. Someone had killed her! I was panicking what was I going to do? Tears started running down my face, I heard footsteps approaching closer. The light that the door was letting through was suddenly obscured. The knob slowly turned and the door was thrown open.
I shielded my eyes from the blinding light that had broken through. Hello Kyle. said a voice in front of me We're here to help you. added the mysterious individual. I had caught a glimpse of the man; he was dressed in a black suite and with dark sunglasses covering his eyes. You killed Mrs. Roberts! I wailed out. I charged towards the man, fists clenched in front of me. I was going to tear him apart. I sprung forwards prepared to hear his voice crying out for mercy.
He let out a chuckle and grabbed me by the wrist with his powerful arms. I was flailing my arms at him trying to make impact, but it was to no avail. I stopped my assault for a second and caught sight of a brand on his cuff lings. It had the shape of a hawk colored in black. Fear slowly started to replace anger. I felt my heart starting to slow down. I peered upwards into his concealed eyes. I couldn't let Mrs. Richards down. I needed to make them pay for what they did! A tingling feeling came over me. He was going to kill me. The world slowly started to fade away, my head grew heavy and my sight grew dim. I let out a gasp and fell limp to the ground.
This all felt like a bad dream, I wish I could just pinch myself and this would all go away. Unfortunately, time would still unfold and wouldn't give me the benefit of an easy escape. I awoke in a strange place; I was in a shockingly comfortable bed. The walls were adorned with exquisite paintings, the floors covered in a velvety carpet and the furniture seemed to be made out of fine wood. Why was I at some sort of king's house? I whispered to myself.
It seems life turned around for me; a celestial being must have sent me to this wondrous palace. A sign for me to have a better life, it seemed like heaven at first. As I got up from my royal bed, I caught a glimpse of a man. He was staring at me with his deep black eyes; he seemed to be smiling at me. I stood frozen in fear; he must have brought me here. Hello. said the man, his appearance matched his voice: Powerful and smooth.
He was tall and muscular. He had white hair which seemed to be made from pristine diamonds. As he got closer, I caught sight of a large scar running across his fore head. Who are you? I asked with great hesitation. I'm Mr. Plant he answered, his voice penetrating the inner fibers of my body. As you can see, you are not in the hands of the bad man that tried to kidnap you. He declared with a slight smile on his lips. Mrs. Richards. His voice got lower and seemingly sadder. Called me right before the accident and she told me to get you, unfortunately he got to you before us. He paused and kept on gazing at me. But you don't have to worry; now you're safe. I did not know what to feel, Mrs. Richards was gone, but now I was safe. Inner warmth raced through my body, it felt so good to be safe and finally be able to call somewhere home.
During my stay at Mr. Plant's home, I had grown quite attached to him. He felt like a father to me, he would teach me about life and the essentials about being all who you can be. My sorrow for Mrs. Richards slowly burned away; I was taught that she was in a better world. At times Mr. Plant would leave late at night and come back sweaty and tired the morning after, but I did not ask any questions. He told me that they were some bad people that wanted to hurt him, he reassured me by confirming that I was always safe as long as I stayed in the house.
Years passed by, I was proudly calling Mr. Plant by a more appropriate name: father. As I neared my 16th birthday, I was to have a party with lots of close family and friends. The evening was to be held in a party boat that was rented out for night, at the local Marina. Even through the years I never asked where the large amounts of money came from. It never seemed to entice my curiosity, until this momentous night.
The party started off relatively quiet, guests settled down in their seats, the chefs started to boil the lobsters, to marinate the succulent fish and yell at the waiters for not properly holding the dishes. It was a large area, with the plethora of yachts and expensive boats in view. The clothes that covered the tables were woven from the finest cotton; the seats matched the golden lining of the decorations. The railings of the boat were laced with dim yellow lights that submerged the area in a mellow atmosphere. The band which was situated to the far was accompanying the calm mood with classical guitars, violins and chimes. It wasn't what I expected, in fact this wasn't every 16 year olds typical party, but I wasn't going to complain.
I did not know most of the guests, they all seemed strangers to me. They were probably father's friends. One of them though caught my attention; I gawked at him for several minutes. He was dressed in a black suite, with sun glasses covering his eyes, he seemed somewhat familiar. I thought about it, I had never met any of the people here. I just shrugged off the idea though, I guess I was just tired; it was time to meet the guests and introduce myself.