Subjects of My Sanity - Part 2 by Terrasa
Standard disclaimers apply
~Subject Four~
I wonder what my voice sounds like now… it can no longer be
what it was, the voice of a five year old. Though I can still remember
what it sounded like clearly in my head, screaming at the mutilated
body on the ground, screaming for my sister to wake up. My sister…
she was like my mother… the one who raised me, fed me, showed
me what ‘manners’ were.
She was also the one who taught me words… and how to use them…
I think that is why I do not use them now. I mean… what is the
point in using words if they were only meant to please a dead person?
This voice is meaningless now that the person who taught me how to
use it is dead! She’s dead!
No matter how much I try, I can not erase the horrible image of my
sister’s mutilated body, her naked mutilated body… which
told me one thing… she was raped… and that her killer
was a man. They never found any fingerprints… they never found
one piece of hair that could bring forth the killer. All they had
was a child, the only witness, who has never spoken one word since,
and refused to even speak to the police. Why? Because it was pointless,
they weren’t going to find the guy… not off my description.
I had walked in just as the… ‘thing’ was leaving.
Just as he was uncovering himself from the lifeless lump of blood
on the floor. It was a monster… with his hunched over back,
blood spattered on its filthy body. His face… I could barely
see, but I could tell that it had scars… maybe burn marks. To
me at the time… it was not human.
So how were the police suppose to catch a demon? It was impossible…
so I kept my mouth shut. I would just have to find it on my own…
that was my little five year old self’s goal. But, I’ve
never seen anyone… anything… that resembles him at all…
my mission was destined to fail.
But I still do not speak… I will not speak until I can go to
my sister’s grave… with news that her murderer was dead.
She would not care for me to go otherwise… she would have wanted
her life to be revenged in anyway possible. Yes, vengeance.
“Welcome son, sit down, sit down.” I walked into the
dusty little office that was suppose to be the Principles, a little
surprised. I guess I had thought it would be different… it seemed…
junky.
“Now, I understand your situation… but you are going
to have a tough time here…” He paused slightly, probably
in nervousness over my not responding behavior towards his words.
My eyes were pinned to the tree outside the small window, trying hard
to imagine myself anywhere ‘but’ here. “…
I mean, with your non-talkativeness and all.” I think that was
suppose to be a joke, because he burst out into what I would assume
was a ‘manly laugh’.
Freshman year… I had made it to high school. Though I still
don’t know just ‘how’ I had managed it without speaking.
The teachers had a hell of a time figuring out that I would ‘never’
answer a question when called on. Though… they always made exceptions
for me… because I was always their top student.
Once, I heard a teacher talking, saying how sad it was to have a
genius of a boy who could not express himself with words. Their all
stupid… they have no idea what they are talking about.
Which brings up my favorite point, talking is meaningless. If I could
get by without it… then there was really no reason for it, now
was there?
I’ve learned a great deal from not using my voice as others
would… I can listen. Not like you think… over the years
I learned that I was able to hear, and understand, everything that
goes on in the classroom. Ten people could be talking at once and
I could catch and process it all in my brain. The sound waves of a
whisper cant be heard all that well, but for some reason, I know what
the people are saying… maybe I can read lips?
“Trowa Barton.” My first hour teachers sharp voice brought
me out of my thoughts. She was doing role call, but my hand was just
fine where it was so I didn’t really feel like raising it. Plus,
she probably already knew who I was, anyway.
Yup, she already knew who the voiceless boy was. Everyone ‘always’
knew who I was, it was good for gossip. Dragging her short fat frame,
the teacher hunched angrily over to my desk. Ok, so I lied. She was
actually tall and thin. Surprisingly attractive for a teacher.
Her eyebrows raised as her dark eyes met mine. “Mr. Barton?”
I shook my head, silently telling her that I was not Mr. Barton. She
rolled her eyes. “I would advise you to at least raise your
hand to acknowledge your presence if you are so unwilling to use your
perfectly good vocals.” She snapped, walking to where she could
lean over the metal desk and stare straight at me. I wonder if she
was purposely trying to sound like some high class intelligent lady.
Whatever she was doing it was ‘definitely’ not getting
through my thick skull.
I put up with this every year. Every new teacher I get thinks that
they can ‘break’ me…. or they would like to say
‘fix’ me. I am not some toy that they can play with…
and they will learn that soon enough, after the conclusion comes out
to be that I will never change for them. I will never see them as
anything other than a teacher, someone who feeds off the stupidity
of their students, thrives off feeling ‘smarter’ than
the mass of bodies in the room.
“Wufei Chang?” Was the next on the list for roll call
after some girl named Dorothy, who was sitting next to me. My eyes
flick slightly to the left, getting a good look at the small Chinese
boy and I studied his features to store in my head in case of later
use. His hand only raised half way, telling me he was definitely not
a promising student. His clothes also said something about him…
poor… dirty. I did not feel sorry for him though, I never do.
They can feel sorry for themselves if they wish, but no one will ever
get ‘my’ sympathy.
There seemed to be some very interesting students in my class this
year, especially as I heard the woman call, “Treize… uh..
Khushrenada.” A long thin hand shot out into the air and I could
see the owner clearly, a tall student whom held his chin out high
in what I assumed was self pride. I would have laughed, if I remembered
how, as he winked at the teacher. The poor woman’s eyes widened
and she had to turn away in order to hide the appearing blush on her
cheeks. I made a mental note to classify one Treize Khushrenada as
a ‘flirt.’
“Duo Maxwell.” The teacher called after recovering her
calm. A very energetic boy stood, flashing his big smile at the lady
while attempting to bow and introduce himself thoroughly to the class.
Some girls giggled at his odd behavior… I decided to classify
him as the class clown. There always seemed to be one of him in every
class, now wasn’t there? What was odd about him was his extremely
long hair, braided tightly behind him. His black clothes reminded
me of the Chinese boy, but this person you could tell was well groomed.
“Z… uh Zechs… umm Mar…”
“Zechs Merquise, my lady.” A tall blond stood, his long
hair swaying slightly behind him. Interesting, I think long hair in
men was popular these days…
“Thank you Mr. Mar… Merquise.” The teacher stuttered,
looking flustered from her mistake before calling, “Lucrenzia
Noin.”
What was with everyone and standing up? Weren’t you only suppose
to raise your hand? Anyway, this Noin girl stood and her dark eyes
bore into the teacher seriously, “Yes, ma’am?”
Well, this was too much for the poor teacher… she couldn’t
seem to figure out what to say. “Uh, Noin, this is role call…
saying… saying you are present will be enough… pay attention
next time…”
“Yes, ma’am.” And that was all that was said from
Ms. Noin for the rest of the hour. I decided to classify her as an
Army Brat.
A blond girl named Relena Peacecraft was next on the evil list of
freshman names. She, like all the others, stood… but her focus
wasn’t on the teacher… nor on the majority of the students.
No, her gaze was on a Japanese kid sitting in the back, his eyes closed,
ignoring everything around him.
“Yes, I am Relena Peacecraft.” She stated. I could see
the disappointment fill her eyes as she sat back down, knowing that
her attempts to catch the eye of the Japanese boy were futile.
An attractive looking girl name Sally raised her hand shyly as her
name was called. I noted how her eyes would dart around her surroundings
nervously and how she would jump slightly as someone near her spoke.
Interesting… but I didn’t dwell too much on her behavior.
After one Hilde Schbeiker… there was actually someone who captured
my interest… which is a big compliment seeing as I rarely acknowledge
anyone.
“Qua… Kua.. Ka…”
“Quatre Winner.” A soft voice said from the back. My
head had to tilt a little to the side in order for me to fully take
in the boys appearance. A short blond boy sat, eyes looking to the
teacher almost like he was bored with her. I don’t know why
I was a little taken aback by him… maybe it was because his
head turned slightly and he looked straight at me, bright blue eyes
widening in question. Damn, I had been caught staring, but to my surprise
he just smiled at me before turning back to half listen to the teacher.
I could clearly see in his body language that he was uninterested
in his surroundings. And for some reason, I could not think of what
to classify him as.
“Heero Yuy.” Was the last on the list. His name was spoken
and I automatically looked to the Peacecraft girl to take in her dreamy
smile. The slightly built Japanese boy just nodded his head, eyes
finally opening to show his cold dark blue ones. They stared at the
teacher… well, more like glared at the teacher like she had
interrupted his nice nap. This… was definitely the classes problem
child.
I mentally smirked, my outer appearance showing nothing of my amusement,
this was going to be a very interesting year.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
~Subject Five~
I cannot see their good. I can only feel their bad. The horrible
nature of people is clear to me, I know what they can do, what they
will do with themselves, they are all horrible. Everyone is born evil,
and I can only see them as that.
I am cold. Because of my hate for others. Don’t get me wrong…
I’m not stuck up over myself, I think I hate myself more than
anyone. So why cant I just be like others? Make friends and go on
living knowing that at one point I will turn into the evil that we
all become. Because I don’t know how. I don’t know how
to stop this hatred of others… stop picking out the flaws that
people possess. My eyes are blind to good… only seeing the bad.
Perhaps I am a devil.
Shit. Its freezing. I would rub my arms down my sides enthusiastically
trying to warm myself up, but I can not bring myself to do it. I can
not bring myself to do anything in front of these horrible people.
What if they were to look at me… look at me and see the person
that I really am? To look inside of me like I do them. To see the
puppy killer…
Yes, I killed a poor innocent puppy once. The cute little bundle
sleeping, minding its own business on the side of the road. That was
when I first noticed the sinfulness inside of me, the natural killer
I was suppose to become. My father was one, my mother was his accomplice,
so why not pass the genes down to the son who wishes he hadn’t
been born from these people?
But that is life, you have no say in the choosing of what you will
become, right? Shit, I am going to be a killer… so who should
my first victim be? Maybe I should slit the throat of that blond girl
who keeps staring at me. Or cut her eyes out to teach her a lesson?
I cringed.
Thinking about that is painful. I know I shouldn’t fight the
scared feeling inside of me, because I have no say in the matter of
whether or not I will be a murderer. It was destined, like we are
all destined to die. I don’t know how I know… I don’t
really care… but it all started with that puppy.
The dark blood, I can still see it as it was, slowly drying on my
hands. The knife that I used, dropped in shock to the floor. The whimper
of the dog, laying there, on the ground slowly dying away.
I knew then. I am a born murderer.
Even the orphanage where I live, people talk. That’s where
I learned that my father had killed thirteen people. Thirteen people
before bearing his only son. Such an unlucky number, huh? To be born
after the deaths of those people… to be the outcome of such
a mass murder. He was executed soon enough though, to pay for his
crimes. Along with my mother, she died in some prison brawl while
doing time.
And do you know what I think of all this? I am happy that they are
dead. So that I do not have to ever meet them, so that I will never
have to leave the safety of my orphanage. Is it wrong for me to like
someone’s death? I think it would be… but not for me,
a murderer doesn’t mind death… so I shouldn’t mind
it… I shouldn’t mind…
“Don’t touch, don’t touch!” My eyes rose
from their position staring at the lunchroom table, to the boy yelling
across the room. His hands were waving madly in front of him to fend
off the attacks against his… hair? “No one touches my
braid!” He whined, rubbing the brown piece of hair softly and
bringing it up to his lips to whisper something to the lifeless object.
Weird.
This boy was strange.
Didn’t he know that he was causing people to look at him? Didn’t
he know that his loud voice could be heard throughout the whole cafeteria?
Why doesn’t he mind being looked at… why doesn’t
he seemed bothered by the whispers… whispers calling him a freak
for having such long hair.
He must be stupid.
That was the only explanation I could think of. There was no way
that the stares he was getting wouldn’t bother him… it
wasn’t possible, yet he didn’t even seem to notice…
he must be dumb. Dumb to not realize the annoyed glances…
Why am I even analyzing this?
Why do I even care what happens to a boy across the room?
Because he is strange…. he is weird… I cant help but
find him fascinating.
My eyes widened on their spot on the table as the word ‘fascinating’
played around in my skull. I had never found someone to be interested
in… that was just not me.
No… I am not fascinated with him… I am not… I am
not.
Yes I am.
Shit, I hate my brain sometimes. My stupid mind that thinks things
for me… tells me things, makes me feel foreign emotions…
the emotions I don’t want.
Curiosity. That was new… I was curious as to what made this
boy tick.
Funny, I hadn’t called many people evil today… hmmm oh
wait, I did call that Relena girl a freak in my head, that counts
as evil, yes?
Yes, that boy is also a freak… he is evil.
Evil.
I should not associate with him.
Why am I telling myself this? I had no plan to associate anyway,
right?
Right?
Shit, I just wish my brain would stop working… stop functioning…
shut down so I would become a vegetable. Hmm… how could I turn
into a vegetable… drown and kill blood cells? No… maybe
I should sleep in a car when the temperature outside is over a hundred.
But, that is a whole year away, summer that is.
“Heero?” I look up from the brown stain on the lunchroom
table to see none other than Ms. Stare at me Peacecraft standing beside
me. Shit, I had let my defenses down in my moment of thinking…
stupid brain, stupid head.
“Heero, I was wondering if you…” I didn’t
hear the rest of what she said, I didn’t want to. My feet picked
me up from my position and ran me over to the door.
‘Run away!’ My head yelled. My legs, taking the hint,
pushed through the door and I was now successfully free from all evil
presences of the stuck up rich girls.
Evil, that was what she was. I don’t want to be around such
an obliviously ‘evil’ person such as her. It was quite
obvious, with the dead animal hanging from her shoulder, skinned and
wrapped to form a nice matching purse for her high heeled shoes.
I was almost free of the loud noises coming from the food distribution
room, when I bumped into something… or someone, for the ‘thing’
my body had crashed into made a loud ‘oof’ sound. The
sound you make when the air is knocked out of your lunges and you
clutch your stomach to stop the annoying pain. Yeah, something like
that.
“Fuck, elbowed me right in the stomach!” I didn’t
even have to raise my eyes to the voice to see who it belonged to.
I already figured it out by the volume intensity of it.
Violet eyes looked up to me angrily from his position on the floor.
Braid swinging back and forth as he stood up, brushing the imaginary
dirt from his pants. It was the hair care boy, the one who had a problem
with people touching his braid.
“Hn.” Was the only reply I would give as I turned my
back, picking up my speed from before in order to lose the strange
braided boy. I could faintly make out the angry curse the boy gave
to my retreating back, not that I really cared that he was calling
me a ‘fucking bastard’… right?
Shit. This was definitely not my day. Well, what can you expect a
first day of your ‘freshman year’ to be like?
*******
TBC
*******
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