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He was born on August 13th, 1989 to Sullivan and Margaret O'Hare. His full name was Marcus Tyler O'Hare. His middle name being respectfully, if not uncomfortably, dubbed after his deceased "younger" brother, who had died shortly after his mother gave birth to him.
Marcus grew up an only child to a tired father and a cheerless mother. His father worked long hours as a miner and his mother rarely went outside. He had to learn how to take care of himself, as when he was young his mother was often removed from reality. In short, his childhood was rather melancholy. Despite this, Marcus reached adult-hood quickly, especially in his environment. One with his circumstances had to learn to grow up quickly, or be broken by the system.
Marcus was often teased at school for having slightly alcoholic and distant parents, and everyone thought he was "dirty", since his father worked in the mines. He was also very short and scrawny all through elementary and middle school. Marcus was always happy, though. He was always filled with hope that things would get better.
It was junior year and the school-year was ending shortly. The weather was warming and the days were elongating as summer approached. Marcus reached home around four-thirty and knew his mother was asleep. He moved slowly as if he were trying to make what he was doing even more deliberate than it already was. Marcus tied his long, thick ebony hair into a ponytail. He hated it when it got messy. He made his way to his room and went into his closet.
He pulled the rug from the floor and loosened one of the wooden boards. His toys lay in there and he reached in with gentle hands to pluck out a small rabbit he had found dead in his backyard a few days earlier. He had always loved rabbits. Their soft, velvety ears and innocent, wide eyes. He sometimes wished he was one. He set the animal on his lap and he then pulled out a sharp little scalpel and a pair of tweezers.
Marcus took the scalpel in hand, and turned the rabbit on its back. His body shivered as the sharp edge broke through the creature's delicate skin. It gave way so easily, tearing like scissors against wrapping paper. He marveled at the feeling and before he knew it blood had pooled in the palm of his hand wear he struck the blade. His breathing shallow and eyelids fluttering in sick enthrallment. He took the scalpel from his hand and spread his fingers, watching the cut expand.
Marcus smiled, the feeling he got from it. The complete control over everything he ever felt. He had never felt control over his life until then, until he could completely control the pain he felt. That wasn't it though, and he realized this as he stared into the insides of the rabbit. He wanted to be able to control fate. To become something more, something important. To become something someone was destined to have in their lives.
He took to finding and killing the rabbits from then on, and after that he no longer wished to be one.
"Please Marcus, I want to go home," she said, her mouth a straight line as Marcus stopped the car.
"But... Miranda, don't you want to go to the movie..?"
"I want to go home Marcus," she repeated. Her voice was stern.
The teen frowned. He knew the date had been awkward. The pair had gone out to dinner first at a local deli. Marcus was handsome and sweet, but he was also quiet and cold. Everyone really was afraid to approach him. Yet, Miranda had said yes to the dinner and drive-in movie.
He had tried to kiss her and it had made her feel uncomfortable. She had pushed him away despite his protest and a wave of guilt washed over him when he noted how much she didn't want to be there.
Marcus parked a little ways down the street from the deli and stared at the dark street in front of them. He turned to her, "I'm sorry.. Please, can we go to the movie? I feel bad, I shouldn't have invaded your," he paused, "personal space."
She spun around to meet his eye finally, "Jesus, Marcus are you freaking retarded?! Take me home! I don't want to be here!" She was raising her voice.
Marcus cringed and began driving. He continued driving until he realized this wasn't the way to her house. Marcus lost control of his body as he drove up past her street, much to her protest. He passed the drive in, and passed the town line. She was growing panicked and he felt her delicate hands punching his arm as hard as she could.
He swerved off of the street and the girl screamed as they hit a large bump before the car skidded to a stop.
Marcus flew open the car door and marched quickly around to the passenger seat, all the while pulling his hair up into a ponytail.
His fingers tangled themselves into her hair as he dragged her from the car. Her screams echoed throughout the darkness of the canyon. He drove a foot against her temple.
He had ripped off her blouse and she sobbed violently now. She was very ugly when she cried. Blood inked from the side of her head as she squirmed on the ground. His hands wrapped around her neck and he squeezed. He kept squeezing as her face went from red to white and from white to purple. All the while he continued ramming his knee into her belly, up into her ribs.
Once he released her he stumbled backwards and he could see himself doing it. Her face was twisted in anguish and her eyes bugged out like a dragonfly's, just as when he had been doing it. He slicked his hair back with a sweaty palm and tried to catch his breath.
It took him a good fifteen minutes of deep contemplation to realize what he had done. Then he screamed. He threw himself upon the girl's limp body and cursed to the sky, pulling at his hair. Tears streamed down his pale face and it took him a while to calm down again.
He took her by her feet and dragged her back into the car before continuing to drive down the road until he came to the place he was looking for. He took a deep breath and slammed on the gas, flying towards his target.
He opened the car door quickly and hesitated; but as the car rolled quickly to the edge he jumped out, landing a few cuts and bruises on his arms and face when he did. He slowly got up, panting and watching as the car slowly sunk into the murky water. He took a shaky breath and pulled out his phone to dial the police.
"Marcus, you know you won't be able to make it out there.." his mother's voice was condescending. Oh, how he hated that wretched tone of hers.
He smiled, though, "Mom, I'll be fine. I'm seventeen."
"You're leaving so soon after Miranda's death and you're a fragile boy.."
Marcus sighed, "Please, I'm fine. I need to... get out, for a little while." He shrugged and smiled at his mother. He had grown to hate her even more now that he could see what a domineering old hag she was. How dare she try and manipulate him and suck him back into this horrid old town.
His mother sighed defeated, and turned back to go inside the house, "Goodbye, then. Leave me here alone." There she was, that narcissistic, manipulative, disgusting...
His poor father had to live with that ungrateful b****. Poor man..?? No.. lucky man. He had died earlier that year. Maybe the old witch would off herself after he left, he couldn't bring himself to do it. It was his mother (regretfully) and he had morals, you know.
Marcus closed his eyes tightly and turned on his heel and began to walk down the street to the bus stop, not knowing where he was going or when exactly he was getting there.