I'd been walking around for quite a while. The wind had died down from the intolerable speeds it had been going at earlier in the afternoon. The sun was setting, almost out of sight. The purple and pink that illuminated the sky had since been decreased to a dark lavender waiting to be swallowed by the night. My future was looking bleak. If just committed one of the most heinous crimes a man could commit. My fingerprints had been scattered around the room. Footprints that appeared as though a frightened man had left them. For I was one. As soon as I had killed him, I had instantaneous remorse. What was I to do? My life would cease to a halt. Even with this gargantuan error, one must stay optimistic in a time of dire need. May death be an improvement, for my existence had been nothing but miserable before.
Born, but not raised. Foster families would insist I leave almost as fast as I had arrived. Stones were thrown at the schoolyard. I would be called “Freak,” and “Monster.” It wasn't just those who were infamously infuriating. The tutors would blame me for being picked on, stating “Either stay by yourself or learn how to be a human. You are scaring the other children.” I’d dealt with such humility my entire life but at some point, I’d decided it was enough. I’d had it. I left the outside world with my only friend, Hubert. He'd been my faithful comrade since our first foster home. Mainly because I'd been the only one to notice him, and he the only one to approach a child of such monstrous proportions. By the time I'd reached eight years of age I'd been 6 ft tall for half a year. Doctors wouldn’t see me. I was shunned. Even if I hadn’t been, I lacked the funds.
Hubert and I, we'd only had one to look up to our entire lifetime. Bruce The Brute. As we were young he was the most talented boxer we'd ever seen. He didn't win all of his matches, but when he did, he had smothered his opponents. We often sat outside what was then the telephone and radio shop attempting to make out what the quick talking man with the raspy voice was casting. As we aged we grew. I believed to have reached my final height at a towering 7’5. As we aged Bruce the Brute seemed to lose to more and more of his opponents. By the time we were eighteen he had had his short lived fame and had since retired. We suffered through even more years of torment. We still sat at the radio shop listening in on boxing matches. But we never found anyone who ever came close to the level of amazement Bruce the Brute conveyed. Hubert and I had enough of our misery and went to the phone company. We asked for the address of Bruce “the Brute” Garrison. The woman had hesitantly given us the address and phone number of our hero. It's as if we couldn't leave the small building soon enough.
We had dashed out as swift as possible. We reached his apartment arriving there in what seemed as a matter of seconds, never breaking our sprint. I took a breath and knocked on the door, three evenly spaced times. The man who had been our savior stood in front of us inches away wearing silk pants and an undershirt. He stood in awe for a mere few moments followed by a motion to follow him. I introduced myself and Hubert. As I was speaking for Hubert, his mood seemed to have slightly changed. After that, the conversation seemed very rushed and had very limited details. As we left, Bruce gave me an address to see a medical professor conducting a research project and to make sure I brought Hubert. If my hero said it was a good idea, it must be. We walked there. Taking back alleys to avoid stares and screams of terror. We strode inside the brick, ivy-covered, building. All there was to be seen was periwinkle. It seemed as though even the light fixtures gave off the unnerving glow. Everything, but a woman in red. She had a cigarette in hand, the smoke wouldn’t have gone past the tip of her nose if she had put it in her mouth. She didn’t even blink when she saw me. And, for the first time, anyone had ever done this, she smiled at me. He gave me an iron clad container of pills. I asked if I and Hubert were to share, but he insisted he would be taken care of soon. Hubert and I went to one of our normal rest spots, the child urchins tended not to bother us. Before I went to bed, I told three pills as the professor recommended. I awoke to see Hubert gone as if he never slept. I found that odd considering we’d never been away from one another. I called his name- no response. I began searching the entirety of the city for hours, which turned into days. Hubert was gone. It seemed as though he would not return. It was someone's fault for Hubert to have gone missing. And I knew exactly whose. Bruce had acted strangely the second I introduced Hubert. It was him to cause the disappearance of the only friend I had ever come to know. I instantly was overcome with rage. I hadn't made any other plans, but I knew I would end him. Somehow, someway. I ran. I picked up a switchblade I had found on the way, practicing the motions in the air. I slithered up the fire escape. Sneaking in through the window. I stood over him. Asleep on his couch. I hid the switchblade behind my back.
“Bruce the Brute,” I had bitterly awoken him. He seemed to have no recollection of who I was, but it instantly hit him.
“You're the boy who came to see me a few days ago,” he yawned.
“You're the man who killed my best friend,” I pulled him up by his shirt collar, “Murderer” I whispered in his ear as I shoved the switchblade into his spleen. I believe he said something, but I couldn't make it out over the fluids building up in the back of his throat. I realized what I had done and did what came naturally. I ran.
I later decided to clean up the crime scene. Making sure it was completely spotless. I planned on turning myself. Then they tried his son. The boy who had never known right from wrong. He still would have been the prime suspect if I hadn't cleaned up the scene. Then he came out as innocent. Innocent! That's when I decided to turn myself. Headlines read along the lines “Monster finally jailed!”
The defense attorney pleaded for insanity. I was then taken to a special sort of prison. All I know is that they took all my belongings and grimy clothes. A treat really. They took the pills, no bother as I would have run out quite soon. They put me in a room, and never bothered me or Hubert again