Amanda still wouldn’t speak to me. I told her she could run with the tools if she wanted, that he would have killed me anyways, that I was sorry I had to do that, but nothing got through so I just fell quiet too. Honestly, sometimes she reminded me of Faith a little too well.

This time of caring for my concussion -and myriad of other wounds- was about as awkward as the last time, but in a much different way. Because if she didn’t think I was a lost cause before, she certainly did now. It would be refreshing if that was all it was. But the thing is, for some reason, despite killing a soldier who wanted nothing but to do good for human society in exchange for my own selfish desire to live as a human-endangering anomaly, Amanda still stayed with me.

…Hm. People tend to develop a pattern in their relationship with others, especially true for those with trauma. Maybe the Faith parallels aren’t a coincidence after all. A sweet and moral young lady paired with a monster she can’t help but want stay with, either to prove the monster has a gold heart, or pity, or whatever else. It wasn’t one to one, cuz no two people are the same. I’m pretty sure Amanda doesn’t have the same level of trauma as Faith did, and she definitely doesn’t have the same idolization.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. With nothing else to do, I’d taken to writing a diary in case I did, like a lot of other corpses did. Maybe someone will find it interesting when they find me with a bullet in my brain. Not a lot of records of the thoughts and feelings of anomalies after all. I opened my eyes and continued writing.

I am not a monster. I am a human. No one is a monster, everyone is just a human. I know that, I just, ugh, it’s habit. Faith always chided me about it. And I know how hypocritical it is that my self views don’t reflect my views on others. I always found people with low self esteem annoying because of that. CBT theory puts it well, the thoughts and behavior and logic are only used to justify their own worldview. The same is true with me. Feelings are hard to parse through by myself though. Even if I know some things aren’t true, the little gremlins can be awfully convincing with no other voices -aka Faith- saying otherwise.

Speaking of which, I really don’t understand my feelings about this whole baby’s-first-murder situation. Why am I trying to justify myself in killing Eustice if I’m convinced I’m a monster anyways? I tell myself he was going to kill me or whatever, but I know there is a chance that wasn’t true. And even so, there might have been a chance to talk him out of it, or make up some lie about the anomaly being the masks and not me. If I’m an amoral monster, shouldn’t that mean I don’t care if he was innocent or not?

…Maybe I don’t want to be a monster. Maybe I don’t want to keep proving everyone right about me. Maybe I want to make Faith proud to have been my girlfriend.

…Fuck. I fucked up. I fucked up big time.

Shitty shit shit fuck crap son of a bitch cuck

I can’t go back from fucking killing a dude! I can’t just go “Oh oopsies, teehee!” I’m going straight to double hockeysticks to get ass-to-mouth fucked by a hot iron spike! Fuck me! I shoulda just deepthroated that gun right then and there. God fucking damnit.

Water dripped onto the pages, making the ink bleed annoyingly

The worst fucking part is I know for a fact that I don’t regret it. If I were to go back, I’d do the same damn thing, every single time, all because I’m too scared to die and not smart enough or optimistic enough to try to solve problems with anything other than violence.

Am I really the lost cause everyone sees me as? Am I better off not even trying anymore? Am I even capable of change and growth at this point?

…

Wait a second.

I paused. Everything in me was screaming that this was a bad decision. The wrong choice the protagonist makes, trying to solve the problem in the wrong way. Avoiding the problem or trying to fix it indirectly without actually getting to the core of the issue.

But does it matter if I make a bad decision if “I” don’t exist anymore, and someone better magically takes my place?

…

No. Even if I am capable of growing it would take too long. I’d hurt too many people. I need to change now, and unlike with most people, I have a way of actually doing that. Decision made, I clicked my pen with a palpable sensation of relief and began scribbling away the details for the new me.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

A childhood with unconditionally loving parents. While not knowing much at first, they talked with various experts and did research to know how to handle my adhd. Even when I got into fights at school, and showed signs of something darker, they never gave up. Taught me how to focus my goal-oriented and selfish mindset into something capable of integrating into society. Had a loving girlfriend, Faith, despite not being able to relate to her personal struggles.

Insecure about being different, having to work hard to fit in. Ashamed of being dumb, or “wasting my potential” as the teachers called it, and failing at things other people do all the time.

And most importantly, with the help of years of discipline from martial arts and good parenting, I’ve learned that when I inevitably get confrontational, the golden rule is to never do anything that can be traced back to you. I spent my childhood learning the trade of manipulation, setting up pranks, or blackmail, so that if my callous side rears its ugly head again I know how to stay safe when I go about it. Thanks to these changes and more, I graduated high school and was onto pursuing an internship for anomaly field work from there.

There. Arguably small changes to make the core of my identity stay the same, while also making me a much better person. A person who, despite their flaws, is doing their best to shape themselves into a better person. A person with simple insecurities, which aren’t as hard to work around or heal from as actual trauma. A person who won’t get into dangerous situations and worry their girlfriend. A person who isn’t a pushover, but does their best to get along with society.

…I should be excited, happy at the prospect of getting a new start in life.

So why were those pesky drops of water still falling onto the pages?

The door opened with a soft click and I jolted, snapping the journal shut and wiping my face out of instinct. My back twinged horribly at the motion, but the sheer vulnerability of being seen like this prickled the back of my neck and made my skin crawl. I pushed those feelings down, and called out to my redhead friend,

“Amanda. I know you don’t want to but we need to… talk…”

Azure eyes stared into mine, love and sadness present in equal measure. She smiled helplessly, framed by that bob of brown chin-length hair, and languidly crossed the room to sit on my bed. The last time I’d seen her, I was too shocked to fully take in her appearance. Now, my eyes devoured the look of that cute button nose spattered with freckles, the round face, and even that chin she’d hated so much.

So many emotions erupted from my heart that any sound I tried to make only came out as choked noises from the lump in my throat. She grabbed my hand, and I couldn’t hold back the sob that ripped from my chest as I lunged to grab it with two hands. That was the final straw, and my walls shattered like dominos one by one as I lunged forward, pain be damned, and clung to my girlfriend like a goddamn baby.

“I’m sorry I’m so sorry! I ‘m sorry I can’t I’m so sorry!”

She didn’t say a word, just holding me tight and rubbing gentle circles around my sore back. I don’t know how long I continued like that. Her frame held in my arms felt just like I remembered it, the painful nostalgia and loss mixing with my self pity in a vicious cycle that jump started the tears and snot multiple times. By the time I was finished, my voice was completely shot, and my headache was redoubled with a vengeance, and the sheer emotional exhaustion had me feeling I’d gotten run over by a car.

Faith’s hand gently caressed my head, combing through my hair. When she sensed I’d finally calmed down, she finally broke her silence.

“Do you know why I’m here?” She asked lovingly, the patience in her voice unmistakable.

I thought about it and guessed, “Because you don’t want me to be someone else?”

She hummed, “That is an answer.” She conceded.

I smirked. “But it’s not the right answer, is it?”

“Nope! Think a little harder, I know you’re smarter than you think.” God, I missed her voice. She trained hard to make it as soft as it is.

I closed my eyes and pressed my head into her abdomen. I was basically sprawled out on her lap at this point. Why would Faith be here? That wasn’t the real question. The question is, “why do I want her here?” And while there were obvious reasons, I knew that the real answer was…

“I look up to you. I listen to you. I pushed you to love and take care of yourself, but you were the one always holding me back when I needed it the most. Like those shitty dramas where the bad guy’s love interest is his moral compass, but less one sided.”

“Better! Why do you listen to me though?” She chirped cutely. Gah, this girl! How was it possible for anyone to be this adorable?

“I listen because I love you.” I replied immediately.

“Daww, cutie! That’s not it, but I love you too.” She leaned down and kissed my head, effortlessly producing a whirlwind of sorts of emotions swirling in my chest and stomach.

I shoved those feelings down and focused, really pondering the question. I listen because I love her, that’s definitely part of it. But she’s right, there’s something more. Something personal. It’s…

My mouth moved before my brain could catch up, “I want to do better. I want to be a good person not just to make you proud, but to be worthy of you. I want to prove you right for believing in me even when I never could. I know you love me unconditionally. It’s different than when I tried vainly to meet my mom and dad’s increasingly petty standards. I want…I want to be able to say that I’m proud of myself! I want to be able to say that I’m a good girlfriend! And…”

I looked up. One moment I looked into brilliant azure, the next I blinked to see green irises staring down at me, framed by a mane of red hair. But I wasn’t surprised. In fact, I had known the entire time, ever since that first concussion.

“I want to be able to say that I’m a good friend, too.”