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I was alone in the woods one day, in the middle of the night. I wanted to get away from home and my abusive mother, so I do this quite often. Normally, a simple walk alone in the woods at night was nothing more than a pass time, but that was not the case this time. It was about five weeks ago. I met a guy in the woods who wore a mask and a hoodie. His arms were scarred up and he only said "I am nothing." As he ran away from me, he carved a symbol into trees; a symbol that looked like "lii" with the "i"s dotted with the letter x. I never forgot that guy, he didn't harm me but he did want to hurt me, I could tell by the look in his eye. I went back home that day wanting to forget that night ever happened. My mother comes out and pushes me against the wall and then she just walks away. Her shove towards me left quite some pain in my head. I went into my room and went to sleep.
About one week later, I found the local newspaper delivered to me and there was an excerpt that stated "Ian Heart Found Dead at Avis Park." The picture shown was a man wearing a bloody mask and a hoodie: the same clothes on the figure I saw in the woods. So his name is Ian Heart, I thought to myself. Good thing he was found, I never told anyone about that night at the woods and I had a feeling this person would be trouble, I was right. Turns out he was an insane murderer. I have no facts about him, such as his birthplace, hometown, criminal record, nothing. All I knew was that he was insane.
The next day at school, it was a typical day: a shit load of homework and bullying for being the "emo kid." Every day I am ridiculed for my appearance. It makes me sick how people can be so insensitive and judgmental for absolutely no reason. Why just that day I ran into Donnovan, a kid who bullies me, in ther bathroom and he decided to punch me in the gut. Eventually I found myself being cut by Donnovan with him saying "You like that, you fucking emo? You like cutting your arms?" I never once self-harmed.
I went home wanting to confront my mother about this, but what the hell would she care? Why would she even give a fuck about what Donnovan did to me? She didn't. She just sat there in the kitchen drinking four or five beers getting drunk off of her ass and of course yelling at me about her goddamn childhood and saying she wishes she never gave birth to me. What a bitch she was, I never even wanted to say "I love you" to her because it obviously wasn't true. I never understood how she grew up to be the person she has become, but she's just another worthless human. I went into my room, slammed the door shut and suddenly, I blacked out.
I awoke several hours later in the bathroom, somehow standing up. I looked down and I screamed in terror. How could I not? What with that knife in my chest I couldn't just stay calm. But it was strange, I didn't feel the pain, ever after looking at the knife. I felt absolutely nothing, so I moved it around, the knife still in me, and I pulled it out. Still, no pain at all, as if I were invincible. Suddenly the urge to hurt myself came on, so I took the knife to my arm and I slashed away the skin, letting the beautiful blood pour out of me, one by one, cut by cut, it felt good. I wanted to keep going, keep slicing away, so I stayed there for hours slitting away my skin on both arms and legs, pretty soon I lost a lot of blood. I lost so much that I should have passed out, but I didn't. In fact, I stood tall and firm, cuts everywhere, I wanted more. One final slit of the blade to my neck and the blood dripped out of me with slow, painless drops. I looked in the mirror, smeared my blood on my face, and smiled. I turned off the lights and I laughed. The night was so young and yet so beautiful.
I walked out of the bathroom as if nothing happened. I got myself cleaned up and the pain started to settle in. I thought to myself "Why have I done that? I could have gotten myself killed." When suddenly, I took a step and felt something on my foot. It was a mask. The mask. The mask of the figure in the park. There was nothing special to it, it was an old hockey mask, completely clean and white. On the inside of the mask, written in marker were the words "I am nothing." It came to me! The reason I cut myself so violently was because of him! This Ian guy must have gotten me to do it, because I knew that wasn't myself, most people like me, when they're hurt, the self harm once or twice, but me, I would never self harm. This Ian guy must have been a self-harmer, which explains the scars on his arms. I even remember seeing a big scar on his neck, just like the one I gave myself in the bathroom. I remembered while I was in the bathroom I wasn't myself. But It couldn't be what I thought it was, it couldn't have been possession. There was no way Ian Heart could have possessed me I thought. But then what came over me? Certainly it wasn't my mother's neglect, no. But what was it?
I walked out and my mother gives me a dirty look. An evil look. A look that says "I hate you." I hate her so much, the lifeless look in her eye, the idiotic choices she makes, everything. Maybe I was an idiotic choice of hers. She walked passed me and I picked up the mask and looked at it, as well as the knife I found in me. I nearly stumbled back to my room, feeling the pain really settling in now. I collapsed, barely making it to my bed in one piece. The bleeding continued and got everywhere on my bed. Suddenly, the mask- it vibrated. Felt like it moved. The bleeding on me got worse, but I felt it come over me again, the feeling in the bathroom. I shed my blood all over the mask until I just passed out. I slowly closed my eyes and heard myself laugh. I fainted.
I heard voices and sounds throughout the night.
"I've lost you."
[clanging of plates and glasses]
"Never again victimized"
"Fuck you all!"
"I'll see you in Hell."
"I am nothing."
I woke up the next morning with the pain on my body due to the scars and I loved it, I embraced it. I woke up with a smile on my face and thoughts in my mind. I should have been getting ready for school, but fuck that. Why would I need to do that right now? I went out of my room and saw my mother in the kitchen with a knife, my knife. The one I used in the bathroom. She turned to me, held the knife up to her chest and said "I always hated you." She stabbed herself. Good, I thought. Unfortunately she was still alive. "Wait," she said "help me, Derek! Please I'm sorry."
"Oh, I'll help you!" I said. I took the knife out of her chest and started stabbing her. The violent thrust of my arm brought pleasure to me and pain to her. She screamed in agony wanting me to stop as I continued. "Do you feel it? Feel it, bitch?" I stabbed the shit out of her and if felt even better than slicing away myself. One final sentence I said to my mother before I killed her was "I'll see you in Hell." And I killed her. The hellish, sadistic look I gave her said only one thing: I enjoyed the murder.
I ran back into my room not even caring about my action. I put on a hoodie and grabbed my FOXHOUND bag, put it on my belt, left my room, and I filled it. I packed the bag with some food and water, grabbed the knife from the bathroom, put it in the bag, took the mask, and finally, I grabbed it: The perfect weapon. I ran away.
Here I am in a victim's house. I broke in and killed the family and decided to write my story. With the father being the final victim of mine, he asked who I was and I only replied with "I am nothing."