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The Bad Guy’s Side

By @Nanashi

Chapter 3

Ever since that day, I’ve been on the run. I’ve had to kill a lot of people, but only because they refused to stop trying to kill me. Okay, actually I just sort of kill them the second they try to attack me, but only because my instinct and adrenaline take over for me, and I don’t realize what’s happened until it’s done and over with. I guess I’m just a natural born killer. Either way, it sucks, and my dreams definitely don’t get better, if you could call them dreams. Not that I get much sleep to begin with. I have to keep watch most of the time, to make sure nobody tries to kill me in my sleep. However, I have woken up from time to time with a dead body on the ground near me, and it looked fresh, so I think I can even kill in my sleep. It’s pretty messed up if you ask me, especially since I can’t hide at a school and pretend to be someone normal for a few hours. The news seems to enjoy highlighting me every night, so everyone knows who I am, which sucks. It’s almost impossible to get new clothes, food, water, or for God’s sake, a shower. I’ve spent more days in my life smelling like a pig sty than I have smelling like a human being. I know, it’s dumb for an infamous murder to be thinking about a shower, but it’s bad when you can smell yourself, and people try to stay a mile away from you because of your b.o., not because I can kill them with my bare hands when they’ve got a gun. That actually happened once. I felt like I belonged in the movie The Matrix.

Today, something happens that’s never happened to me. I got treated like a human being. I was walking down the street, hood up so no one recognized me, when this this small yellow car pulls up behind me. I hear a girl call out from the driver’s seat, “Hey, do you want a ride?” She sounds friendly enough, but I shake my head as try to speed up my pace. She could be under cover police, and I could easily kill her, but I don’t want to if I don’t have to.

I shake my head politely, keeping my head down, and speed up my walking a little bit. However, she’s stubborn, and speeds up her car to match my pace.

“Are you sure? Where are you going? Do you need a place to stay?” The girl half yells. So as not to make a scene, I stop, and so does she, then I climb into the front passenger seat despite the side of me that’s still paranoid she’s undercover something yelling that this is a very, very bad idea.

“Do you watch the news very often?” I ask the strange girl.

“No. I don’t even have cable, only ever watch Disney movies. Why?” She asks as I lean my head back into the headrest in relief, making sure my face stays in the shadows of my hood.

“Just wondering,” I say. God, the A.C. feels so good.

“So do you need to go somewhere, or do you need somewhere to stay the night?” The girl asks, and I reply with my own question. “Do you live on your own?”

“Um, I live with my brother…” She says, taken back by my strange question.

“Do either of you have any family or friends coming over any time soon?” I ask her one more question, knowing I sound super shady, but not caring much at all.

“No…” She says, clearly confused by how many questions I’m asking.

I decide that her house should be safe, so I tell her that I need a place to stay. Although, with all my strange and privacy-invading questions I just asked, I’m surprised she’s not smart enough to kick me out of the car.

We drive to her house in silence, and she drops me off there, telling me to feel free to eat whatever and watch or play whatever, then she leaves for the grocery store. Wow, is she stupid. Has she never heard of robbers? She basically just gave me an invitation to do whatever I wanted and leave with no one to stop me. She’s lucky that I’m not anyone else or all of her valuables would’ve been gone, along with myself. But onto more important matters. Shower, I thought desperately, because I was honestly surprised that the girl hadn’t passed out and gotten us into a car wreck while she was driving because of the stench radiating off of me.

I take a shower that probably raised the water bill, and the A.C. bill considerably, because of how hot and long it was. once I get out, I grab a towel from a cabinet that is in the bathroom, then realize that I have no clothes to put on other than the rags that I had on originally. I dry off, then cover up the bottom half of me, hoping the girl’s brother isn’t under the age of 13. I’d probably be able to fit into the boy’s clothes if he’s older than that. I’m fairly small for my age, which makes sense if you think about the trials I’d have to go through to get a decent sized meal.

I explore the house, looking for the girl’s brother, assuming he’s home. After looking in a couple rooms, I find the boy in what looks to be his room, sitting on his bed, reading a comic book. He looks up in surprise, and then confusion turns to horror as he sees me.

I shush him, and then whisper yell, “Relax! your sister dropped me off here!” Man, A.C. feels good.

The boy looks at me, sighs, and says, “Where’d she find you? The grocery store?”

“Actually, I was walking on the side of the road and she became annoyingly insistent that I get into her car so she can take me to where ever I needed to go.”

The boy sighs, and I try to keep from laughing. “She likes to help people, but she never knows when someone’s gonna end up calling the police or hurting her because of it. Speaking of which, how do I know you won’t hurt either of us?” the boy asks, and I let out a small laugh, thinking of all the people I’ve killed on accident. OK, I guess accident isn’t necessarily the right word, but, I mean, I don’t do it on purpose, so what else do I call it?

“I didn’t hurt your sister, or threaten her at all. Does that count?” I ask, staying at the doorway.

“You could be waiting for when she gets home to screw up the both of us,” the boy says, and I let out a sigh.

“OK. I’m not gonna hurt either of you,” I say, then after a short pause, I add, “on purpose. Is that good enough for you?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“The last part, about it being on purpose, didn’t sound too promising.”

“Well, it’s the best I’ve got to offer,” I say, and the boy sighs again.

“It’ll work, I guess,” he says, and then looks up at me. “Why were you searching the house?” he asks, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“I was looking for you, hoping you wore clothes that I could fit,” I say simply, still aware of the amount of suspicion in his eyes. He hopes off the bed, then moves to a dresser and opens the drawer, which is what probably holds his clothes. He throw a pair of underwear at me, followed soon after by a t-shirt and jeans. They might look a little short on me, because even if I’m skinny, I’m a little taller than average for a 23 year old. “Thanks,” I say, wishing I could wear one of his jackets that I saw in his closet, but knowing he’s not comfortable around me, and that I might seem needy or rude if I ask. I go to the bathroom, get into the clothes that the boy’s letting me borrow, and then grab my old clothes. Wow, it even feels good to have clean clothes, even if they’re a little short. I throw my old clothes in the garbage can that I find in the kitchen, then walk over to the couch, and pass out.

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