Is Robin Hood a hero? Does doing something bad to help others make you a villain or a hero? That question has been weighing on me.

Hi Readers. My name is Casey Erikson. I read that journaling can help you process. That is why I am writing this. I should get a therapist like a normal person, but I’m not a normal person. I’m an outlaw who is fighting to save mankind. I’m also a fourteen-year-old.

I’m unsure if I should start at the very beginning or just start now. Since I have no clue, I’ll include my origin. I apologize if that’s the wrong choice. Feel free to skip it if you want. It won’t bother me; I’d do it too.

Don’t worry. I’m not writing the story of my birth. I don’t remember it and my dad is clearly lying about any version that he is telling. I know because there is no way that my cute burbling broke all the windows and his eardrums. He just likes to mess with me.

We’ll go back to when I was ten. We had just moved to the planet Vuln, and I was training so that we could fight back against our cruel oppressors…

~~~

July 17, 489 U.C.

I frowned at my plate. Gilfish and boiled tinuk were on the menu. The tinuk looked like mashed potatoes; the gilfish looked like fish even though they were from another planet. For those who haven't had the displeasure, the fish tasted a bit like shrimp laced with pure capsaicin. The vegetables tasted like carrots that had been grown in the fires of hell.

I gave the fish a prod and the vegetables a whack with my fork to express my displeasure with the meal. The vegetables mashed flatter. They also made a nice whump. My father ignored it.

I looked up from my food and looked at Dad. He was a built man of about average height with a large nose and bushy eyebrows. He was stocky and largely bald. I did not take after him at all. I took after my mother. She was petite, feminine, and looked like an alien. I wore an amulet to hide those similarities. It made me look like the most plain Jane girl that you’ve ever met. But let’s get back to the horrible food that was in front of me.

Since my father ignored me, I opted for a direct approach. “Can I have something else?”

“Eat up, Casey. You’re a growing girl,” my father replied, glancing up from his food. Sternness rested in his eyes.

I shot him a scowl. His mustache had been replaced by a thin goatee. It looked ridiculous, but I refrained from commenting as I studied his plate. Unlike mine, his food wouldn’t set his body on fire with the mana inside of it. He had delicious sausage, potatoes, and broccoli. That was the pinnacle of injustice.

“Can I have a tube meal instead?” I smacked my food with the fork again.

“Those are disgusting.” Dad ate a piece of broccoli without so much as a look at me.

“You don’t have to eat it,” I replied. “We can trade or split. That’s only fair.”

“I’m afraid not,” he rebuffed my offer. “Eat.”

“No,” I replied. Then I used my special skill. Like the ten-year-old I was, I crossed my arms and pouted. It earned me an eye roll.

“You will eat it,” he said sternly. “I will be locking the fridge.” And with that, Plan B was out the window.

“Dad, I hate it.” I tried to give him puppy eyes.

“It doesn’t taste so bad.” He ignored me by turning back to his plate.

“Please, dad?” I begged a little more. “We could cook something else.”

“It’s important,” my dad replied. “Do you want to be a magical girl or not?”

“Not if I have to eat this,” I muttered and pouted while looking at the food. I did not find it remotely fair.

Dad sighed loudly and looked up. “Eat. I don’t want to hear another complaint. The family has sacrificed greatly. You know that. We are counting on you.”

I swallowed and looked at the plate. You can do this. Just eat it. With magic, I can be normal. I can go to school. I can have friends. I won’t have to fear for my life. Clinging to that thought, I shoved it into my mouth and swallowed.

I tasted it for a millisecond. Then it was replaced by fire. Worse than the spiciest food, mana burned into my tongue. Then it spread through my mouth. I swallowed before I could spit it out. Then I felt it burn all the way down. I reached for my cup of water and downed it. It just spread the fiery mana around.

“What if I’m not compatible?” I asked my father.

Dad grunted. “You will be. Your mother was a guardian. You know that too. Now eat. We will resume training in ten minutes.” He turned back to his food.

“We trained for two hours,” I protested with righteous fervor. “That’s plenty!”

That set Dad off something fierce. With a glower, he began a lecture. “Casey, don’t start this again. I won’t stand for it. We have sacrificed greatly for you. It is said that those with magic can forge the universe itself. That they can become gods! We are surrounded by enemies. So, we must plan and prepare. We must save humanity from the fae and corrupt lords before they destroy us all…” His words continued in an unending stream.

I tuned out. I’ll admit it. While it was my fault for pushing too hard, I didn’t want to hear yet another rant about the need to acquire magic and usurp the corrupted lords. That was already on my list of things to do. Instead, I kept eating while daydreaming about earth food again.

“…And that is why we must sacrifice. So that we can take back what was taken from us. When you have the power, you can aid us all. We will make things right. We will remove those puppets in power. We will stop the fae from destroying mankind! We will raise humanity back to its glory! We will rule!”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“They monitor everything,” I replied without really thinking.

“Wrong! They try to monitor everything,” Dad said. “As long as you don’t consent, they can’t do it! Your magic will protect you! That is why you must not agree. That is why…”

I regretted getting him going again while finishing the plate over the next few minutes. While he had a point, I did not need a five-minute rant about it. I ate and nodded while ignoring his rant about the fae ending mankind and hunting us.

I finally emptied my plate. Then I stood and headed to the sink to wash up. Turning on the sink, I began rinsing while glancing around the small kitchen that was quite bare, meeting the eyes of my father.

“- I wasn’t finished, young lady,” Dad said with a frown.

“Sorry.”

Dad sighed. “You need to know these things. I know it must be hard, but it will be worth it.”

“I get it. Are you done eating?” I asked while looking at the table. It was a small wooden one that sat four.

“Give me a moment.” Dad rapidly shoveled in his meal. Finishing, he handed the plate to me. “Now, we will spar. Then you will go hunt for more food.”

I quickly rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher. I glanced towards the back window. The patio out back was littered with supplies for a garden. I glanced back to the kitchen. Dad hadn’t put up pictures. The house felt quite barren after our recent move.

“Training,” Dad said to pull me from my musings.

I turned and walked down the barren, off-white hall into a large room with a wooden floor. Practice swords lined the walls. I grabbed one of them. Turning back, I walked to the center and took a stance. Then we started sparring; my bare feet danced on the cool, wooden floor while I swung for him. He knocked aside my attack and countered with a jab. I parried and jabbed back. We began falling into a rhythm. Jab, thrust, parry, parry…

My focus drifted as I responded robotically. I imagined being back on earth with friends. We were out playing in a park. I was on the swings going back and forth as the sound of a truck filled the air. With a grin, I launched off the swings and raced towards the sound. Purchasing an ice cream sandwich, I took a big bite. Then I slammed on the ground.

“Ow!” I said while picking myself up. That one hurt. A glance at the clock revealed two minutes. I refused to believe that. Clocks are liars. Do not believe them.

“Stop staring at the clock! You’d be dead in a real fight.” Dad brandished the wooden stick that had hit my legs.

Reaching down, I massaged a welt. It stung and would bruise. “Did you have to do it that hard?” I asked with a frown.

“Yes. Do you want to die? You know how dangerous our lives have become. There are so many things that could kill you.” Dad’s eyes locked onto my own. He clearly was committed to that lesson.

“I know. I’m sorry.” I took a defensive stance as he began swinging again. I blocked his attack. Then I thrust at him. He knocked it aside. I stepped back to avoid the next… I managed to keep focus for another eternity before I was distracted by a siren outside. It was blaring. Then I toppled to the ground.

“You must pay attention,” Dad said. “Get another. And if you don’t land a hit in the first minute, I’m going to punish you.”

“I don’t like using two.” I scowled at the clock. It claimed that it had only been a minute; mentally, I let it have it. Rotten liar! You aren’t fooling me! I berated it for its tricks and desire to prolong training.

“Focus!” Dad yelled. “Get another sword.”

I grabbed another sword and came back. Filled with frustration and pain, I wanted to lie down. Since that wasn’t an option, I did my best to hit Dad.

Blocking an attack, I lashed out and hit him in the leg. Then I repeated it three times. After that, I got bored and decided to practice my dancing. I smiled as I recalled the dance class from a few years ago. It had taken an effort to convince him that it would be worthwhile. The memories of dance class surged, and I was back there. My feet patted out rhythmically on the wooden floor while my practice swords became instruments for my dance. I twirled around my dad while blocking his blade. I got a bit lost in the movement, pretending I was dancing on the stage as a little gold star. I flitted around another. I flew past a black hole. Then I saw stars.

“Ow! That really hurt.” Sitting up, I massaged my head and glowered at him for bonking me.

“Pay attention!” Dad barked once again. He shook his head. “You need to pay attention.”

“It’s boring,” I replied while standing up. The bruises and burning mana made the daydreams more appealing. “Can we be done now?”

“No! Do you think the monsters out there will just take a break? Do you think the guardians will? Vigilance! You must be able to fight for hours!” Dad lunged forward and resumed sparring rapidly.

I tried to keep focus; I really did. But within thirty seconds, he was in a pattern. The pattern combined with the sounds of things outside spelled doom for me. The bugs chirped. Someone walked down the steps. I landed on the floor, my bottom slamming on the hardwood. “Ow.”

“You have to focus, Casey.” Dad let out a breath of frustration. It was written all over his face.

“Can’t I go do something else? I need to do my studies,” I said, wanting to be done.

“Give me twenty minutes of focus and you have a deal.”

I groaned. That was at least twenty eternities. I forced myself to spar with both practice blades. It took a minute before my focus was on the brink of bursting. In an attempt to keep focus, I started hitting out a smiley face on his chest guard.

After two smileys, it was all I could do to resist the siren call of the clock. I began sparring to the beat. The beat seemed to just grow slower and slower. That’s when I started mentally cursing the thing to try to speed it back up to normal. The clock countered by slowing further, continuing its unending malice towards me.

As the clock refused to move, I dodged the oncoming jab. Then I looked at it and sighed as the second hand finally clunked once more.

“Focus!” Dad barked as he attacked rapidly. His blade lashed out quickly. I knocked it aside, sent a return thrust, and then parried his next attack with a yawn.

“Wake up!” Dad yelled.

I forced myself back to training. With blades deflecting the strikes, I began vaulting around the area. It was something else to do while being trapped in this endless training loop.

Wishing I had a montage spell, I almost went tumbling again. A feigned mistake was in order. “Good one,” I said while adjusting.

“Mistakes will count against the time too! Five more minutes! The next one is ten.”

“Get a clock that moves at Earth time!” I said with righteous fury, glowering at my nemesis on the wall.

“That one moves at earth time. Now, focus!” Dad ordered.

“It sure doesn’t feel like it,” I muttered. I began trying to hit Dad’s practice sword just to try to keep focus on something. That lasted thirty absurdly long seconds before I was bored out of my mind. Honestly, it was rough.

With a flick of the blade, I began trying to disarm him. It was something to do. After a minute, his blade clattered onto the floor. “Can I be done?” I asked hopefully.

“No.” Dad grabbed it and resumed. “I’ll remove the five-minute penalty.”

“If I do it again?” I wasn’t about to lose a chance to reduce the time. The clock had already betrayed me. This was my best option.

“Try me.”

I assaulted his hand in fury to reduce the time. The traitor clock went ignored as I parried, deflected, and finally knocked it away.

“Fifteen-second reward for that,” Dad said with a smile.

That got a groan. I wanted fifteen minutes. Still, I resumed and listened to that second hand again. Fifteen seconds did seem like an eternity. Maybe it was worth it. I pushed it again. The blade skittered across the floor. A smile spread across my face. Then it dropped as I looked at the clock. That rotten thing had to have gotten stuck. Or dad had tampered with it. That would be just like him.

“Only five seconds for that one,” Dad said as he thrust again.

“You sabotaged that clock. Admit it.”

“I didn’t.”

“Can we be done?” I asked, blocking another strike.

“No! If you ask again, you get five more minutes.”

I groaned and attacked him savagely. My will for it faltered as the boredom began its assault less than a minute later. My thoughts wandered. The unending battle over my attention was waged for the remainder of the glacially slow session.

The glacial session finally ended, no thanks to the treasonous clock. I put the swords away and bolted to my room. A giddy smile spread across my face. Spinning, I landed on my chair, kicked up my feet, and logged onto my computer. Then I began searching for my old friends, hoping they were online. The door behind me creaked open.