I wonder why I choose to tell this story. Is it because part of me hopes someone will believe it? Is it to warn others not to chose my path, maybe a cry for help? Or is it perhaps what... "it" wants? To let others know of it. One way, or the other, be it of my volition or not, I am compelled to tell my story. Whichever way it is interpreted, I suppose is for the listener to decide.
My story began the way one would probably suspect, with an outcast, a boy with only a handful of actual friends, and a large fraction of the school out to get him. That boy was me... roughly five years ago. I was that misfit child that just about everyone spread rumors about, called names the most often, and picked on during the bus ride home. Such was how it seemed all my life. I've lasted through a great deal of schools, and was bullied by at least one person at each and every one of them. And from middle school, into my freshman year in high school, I was bullied by possibly the worst of all my tormentors, a tall and thin boy named Zeke Evans. He was a boy that you'd see at first glance and assumed he grew up in the city. He seemed to have a problem with everyone in the school, but it felt like I suffered his wrath the most. The last thing I could ever want was to endure him for a full school year. I wanted him gone, and I nearly got my wish one day.
It was the middle of the day, and I was in advisory class, just doing some homework before it was time to go to my next class. In the middle of my math homework, I noticed Zeke handing a small black container to a classmate. I wondered what was in that container. The first thought in my mind was that it was drugs of some kind. I'm sure it's easy to guess what I did next. I went to the principle and told him what I saw. True, I didn't know for sure what was really in the thing, but I was just too anxious and angry to really care. But whatever it was, it must have been somewhat important, because the next day, Zeke came to class, perhaps in the most vicious state of anger I've ever seen him. He was ranting about how he was getting suspended for a few days because someone snitched on him. Naturally, I tried to keep my head down, but in time, one of Zeke's friends overheard me whispering it to my friends, and went straight to him.
Predictably, everything went to hell after Zeke found out about me ratting him out. For the following months, he turned practically the whole school against me. Every single class I went to, I was verbally and mentally attacked by someone. To the whole school, I was a pariah, a villain practically threatening to inconvenience them. I just wanted the torment to end, in any way possible.
It was the middle of November, a rather quiet, peaceful evening. Of course to me, any time away from the torment of school was peaceful. I was at my computer, sort of going through the motions, looking up any updates that happened during the day. I was in the middle of checking on my Facebook account. It was an account I made a point to use a fake name for, after all, I was being bullied enough in real life. But anyway, I was getting through my business on Facebook, confirming what little friend requests I got and answering questions, when someone invited me to a chat. The username was just "Zix66" and the profile image was just two red dots in a completely black background. I guessed that I'd feel like a jerk if I declined his invite, and chose to chat with him.
Zix66: Hello friend.
Envious: Do I know you from anywhere?
Zix66: Oh no. This is the first time, I assure you.
Envious: Ok then. So what is it you want to talk about?
Zix66: I'd like to talk about the past few months you spent at school.
His response certainly surprised me. But I just quickly came to the answer that this guy was someone from school.
Envious: Ok seriously, who's this?
Zix66: Just someone who would like to help you.
Envious: Forgive me if I don't completely believe that. I know you're not one of my friends from school, and virtually everyone else is after me.
Zix66: Like I said, I'm not from school.
Envious: You'd have to be if you know about my past few months in school.
Zix66: However I know about the situation isn't relevant. The focus here is turning things around for you. You've endured a hellish nightmare that lasted day to day. You fear going to school every morning because the other students are waiting to mentally devour you. Be honest with yourself, friend. You want this nightmare to stop.
I was getting increasingly intimidated from this guy. His description was spot on really.
Envious: Suppose what you were saying about me was true. What could you do to help me?
Zix66: It's more about what you can do.
Envious: ...Ok. What can I do?
Zix66: I know you're a fan of collecting costumes every October, and keep them under your bed.
I was more shocked than earlier. It was true that I collected stuff from the Halloween shop yearly and kept it under my bed, but this guys would have had to either been in my family or stalking me to know that.
Envious: How did you know that?
Zix66: Call it a lucky guess.
Envious: Bullshit. Nobody but my family knows that.
Zix66: Well as I already said, what matters is your salvation from the bullies at school.
Envious: Just how is my collection involved with my school problem?
Zix66: You'll find out very soon. Go to your room, and pick out a look of your choosing, and return to the computer.
Envious: Ok, this has to be some kind of crappy prank.
Zix66: Come back with your look and find out.
To this day, I wonder why I cooperated. Was it to prove this was some elaborate prank? Did some part of me believe that my problems would go away after doing what this guy said? Perhaps I was afraid of what else this guy knew and just wanted him to go away. Well I guess it no longer matters why I did it. I went into my room and pulled out a large tub of costumes from under the bed. I grew up a lover of Halloween and monster movies, that's my best explanation for why a fifteen year old boy would have stuff like this under his bed. Anyways, I decided to pick out the more mismatched look. I chose a ghostly stretched mask, a pair of bright red demon gloves, and a black hoodie with black jeans. Any monster fan would consider this both fake and comedic. Heck the palms on the gloves were a black fabric, so there's no way they could possibly be on a hollywood monster movie. I returned to the computer, my parents giving me a goofy look on the way to it. I sat down and continued the conversation.
Envious: Ok, I have my look all picked out. Now what?
Zix66: Well done. Now all you need to do is touch my profile picture.
Envious: Seriously? Just touch your picture?
Zix66: Humor me. I assure. you'll be surprised.
Now I knew this guy was pulling a hoax. But for the sake of calling his bluff, I did as instructed, and placed a finger on the profile picture.
Upon touching the image, everything blacked out, almost as if I passed out. However, I could hear things happening. I heard... crashes... scratching... and screaming. I regained consciousness to find myself in an unfamiliar place. A light was flickering above me. I was in some other room... in some other house. I took a good look around to see... blood... spattered over the walls and floor. At my feet was a horrifically mangled body. Most of the face was torn off the skull, but there was enough for me to see this corpse was... Zeke. His one leg was bent the wrong way while the other was missing. Both of his arms were gone and there was a gaping hole where his heart should be. I wanted the torment to end and I despised Zeke, but at this moment, looking at my tormentors brutally mangled corpse, I was shaking violently, to the point where I threw up onto the floor.
I reached up to wipe the bad taste from my mouth, only to be touching my nose... and with really long nails. I looked at my hand to see I was wearing my demon glove, but it looked... different. The skin looked more realistic, the nails were more detailed, and the palms were no longer fabric, but black skin. I pulled back the sleeve to find the seam. To my utter shock, there was no seam. The glove just continued up my arm. I couldn't believe this. I had to still be dreaming. I began exiting the room, looking for the door outside. Each room I passed was either empty or had some kind of horrific massacre scene in it. I came to what seemed to be the bathroom, and entered. Immediately, I looked to the mirror. I was looking at the ghostly mask I put on earlier... but there were no eye holes. And what was more disturbing, the mask was... emoting. The mask was making the exact same expressions I was. I unzipped my hoodie to see my bear chest, and was horrified to see the colors from my gloves and mask were blurring together. The was no human colors... just red and gray.
I just couldn't believe what I was seeing. I turned on the water, hoping a splash could waking me up. All it really did was wash off... blood, blood I was just now noticing. It didn't take long for me to piece it together. Zeke was laying on the floor brutally murdered... by my hands. And not just him, but his family. I murdered a whole family. I couldn't take much more. I rushed through the house looking for the exit. I managed to find the door and ran out, only barely noticing my surroundings. Before me was the road I took home from school. With all the strength my legs had, I hurried back home.
As I continued down the road, my house came to view. I took a moment to catch my breath, my tired legs shivering from all the running. As soon as I recovered, I came closer to the door... to find the door was barely hanging on it's hinges. The lights in the living room were flickering, just like in Zeke's house. I prayed that somehow my family was alright. Oh God PLEASE let them be alright! I darted in the house to find... what I feared did happen. My Mom and Dad laid in a puddle of their own blood... their heads... smashed together... and their limbs missing. My sister... was ripped in half, her jaw just barely hanging to her face.I didn't even see what happened to the pets, and I consider myself lucky not to have. I stepped into the middle of this twisted scene and fell to my knees. I could feel countless tears running down my face as I looked down at my clawed hands. It was all to obvious, not only did I kill Zeke and his family, but I murdered my own family. The computer I was on earlier flickered on. To my shock the screen showed Zix66's profile picture, but it took up the whole screen, and the facebook chat box came up, only it was red with black typing. I reluctantly approached the computer.
Zix66: You're looking good. And it seems you've been having fun.
Envious: Y-You did this?
Zix66: Actually, you did. When you touched the screen, you invited me to reach... a side of you.
Envious: What the hell do you mean? What side of me?
Zix66: Isn't it obvious? The side of you that nurtured itself from your growing rage, the side that you felt every time you were picked on... the side that wants to murder.
Envious: But my family! I never wanted to kill them!
Zix66: They were merely in the way. Your other side wanted so much to slaughter and mutilate, and your family was in your way to your enemy.
I shivered so violently, an emotional wreck, it felt like hours trying to type in the keys.
Envious: What the hell are you? Zix66: No one special, I assure you. Just a "Miracle Worker" of sorts And my work here is done.
With that, the screen shut itself off, and the living room light finally popped, living me in the darkness with what remained of my family.
It's been five years since that twisted day. Since then, I've burned down my home. It just felt like the right thing to do. I'm still trapped in this twisted form, living away from society. I've grown increasingly paranoid that the "other" will resurface, and I murder more people. He's still there, waiting within, waiting... to kill.