CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Girls. Jamie had always spent far too much time thinking about them.
He followed, not far behind. He sensed that she had sensed him. Amazing how that works, he thought. You learn more of what they're thinking, the longer you study them. It becomes a sixth sense. He felt the knife underneath his jacket.
It went back to when he first started to feel sexual feelings. He didn't even recognise what he was feeling at first, and wondered why his stomach churned whenever he was around a girl. He didn't like it. He didn't like the way they made him feel. They reduced him to nothing but a bag of nerves. He began to strongly dislike the feelings, to consider them to be wrong. He had an obsessive personality, even then. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He grew to hate girls. He feared to ever be around one. He saw the way other boys his age were around girls, so confident, so cocky, as he went through his teenage years. They just made him feel sick. He didn't feel like a man at all. He had few friends then, he didn't enjoy the same things they did. He has none now.
She kind of half looked back. Oh yes, she knew. He stroked his knife.
His brother had told him about another boy they knew being stabbed once, when they were very young. His brother had gleefully told him, seeing how scared it made Jamie, how the attacker had driven the knife into the boy's stomach and twisted it. He kept repeating the last part, twisted it, twisted it. Jamie could think about nothing else for months, nothing but the knife being driven into that other boy's stomach and twisting. He could feel the knife twisting in his own stomach everytime he thought of it. It felt very much like the way girls made him feel.
Was she walking faster? It would do her no good. She still had to go through the park. He'd catch her there.
He couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to be stabbed, after that. Then he couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to stab someone. Maybe his brother. Maybe a girl.
She was at the path leading into the park, the way she always walked home.
As he'd grown his hate had grown too. He'd never had a girlfriend. Even in adulthood he felt exactly the same around girls as he had aged twelve. Worse, in fact. So he avoided them. Whenever one passed he felt a shudder. He had to think about stabbing her to stop himself feeling the same pain.
What was this!? She wasn't walking through the park, she was going around it! Jamie was worried. He felt the imagined knife twisting in his stomach and clutched the real one. He had a decision to make.
He hated the way they smiled. Jamie never smiled and mistrusted anyone who did. They were laughing at him, the smiling girls. And maybe they were right too. He remembered when he'd decided to take driving lessons, years later than was normal. He wanted to prove to the world that he could do something normal. His first lesson had been an unmitigated disaster. The driving instructor had been a middle aged woman, a smiling middle aged woman. He couldn't concentrate on the driving, all he wanted to do was wipe the smile off her face. He had to pull over so he could be sick at the side of the road. He'd never taken a driving lesson again. The day after he'd seen a girl driving by with a stupid smug (he thought) smile on her face. Laughing, at him, she must have been. So small, so pathetic, yet she could do something he could not. He had wanted to destroy her.
She took out her phone. He decided. He ran towards her. She heard him and shouted, but he kept running. She ran into the park in desperation. He allowed himself something resembling a smile, a mad evil smile.
He'd begun stalking her a month ago. There was nothing special about her really, she could be any other girl. They were all the same. But she had a big smile. And it was convenient, the way she walked home. He'd taken to carrying a knife with him when he followed her. He knew what he was going to do. There was really no other option. He'd never been normal. He couldn't have a normal life, not like the smiling people. Not like his brother who was now married with two children, completely unaware of the damage he'd caused to Jamie's psych. But he could kill. At least he could do that.
She was running for home, not running to hide. How sweet. She couldn't outrun him on her pathetic short little legs. He grabbed her from behind. She struggled. She was weak. He put his left arm under her throat and took his knife out in his right hand and pressed it against her back.
"It has to be the stomach," he said. "I hate you."
"Who are you!? Why are you doing this!?" He'd never expected her to talk. Amazingly he'd never even really thought of girls talking, just smiling. He shoved her roughly to the ground and looked her in the face. She wasn't smiling now.
"I'm a man!" he said. "A big strong man! Ha ha! Not even I believe that!"
"Please, leave me alone, please!" she cried. So pathetic. He actually felt sorry for her and guilty. He hadn't expected that either. He could feel it again, that feeling in his stomach, the feeling of the knife being driven into it. He transferred it to the desire to drive the knife into her stomach. He tried to, anyway. The guilt was still there. He approached.
"There's a twist in this tale," he said. The feeling was stronger than ever, the feeling both to stab, but also the feeling in his stomach. It was telling him to drive the knife in, to twist it...but into who?
"Please...no..."
He felt the point of the blade against his own stomach. YES. It was the only way to make the feeling go away. It wasn't girls he hated, it was himself. He was the small pathetic one, not them. "Smile for me," he said. She did not. "Sorry. An unreasonable request." His hands shaking, he drove the knife into his stomach.
Well, again, he tried to anyway.
It was harder that he'd imagined. He'd never stabbed anyone before. It didn't go straight in. He cut himself a little. It hurt a lot. He hadn't imagined it hurting, he'd just imagined the sweet release he'd feel when he was twisting it deep in his stomach. The girl was getting to her feet.
"Don't!" she said. Was she actually trying to get him to stop from hurting himself? No, she was mocking him, laughing at him, the way they all had been, all these years, she had to be. Without thinking he slashed again, at his own mouth this time.
"YAAARGH!" he screamed, in pain and also in an attempt to scare her. She ran now. The thought came to him that it would be easier to ram the knife into his throat...
"Oww, what's going on, did you hurt that girl?" a man with a dog said, walking in the direction the girl had ran off to. He spotted the knife in Jamie's hand then let go of the dog leash.
"No, no, I HAVE TO DO THIS!" said Jamie through his pain, as the man ran at him. Jamie pushed out his hands violently to stop him. He'd forgotten, just for a moment, that he was still holding the knife.
And now it was sticking in the man's stomach.
Jamie stared for a moment. The dog barked. Then Jamie did the only thing he could think of. He pushed the knife in further and twisted.
It actually did feel good.
He followed, not far behind. He sensed that she had sensed him. Amazing how that works, he thought. You learn more of what they're thinking, the longer you study them. It becomes a sixth sense. He felt the knife underneath his jacket.
It went back to when he first started to feel sexual feelings. He didn't even recognise what he was feeling at first, and wondered why his stomach churned whenever he was around a girl. He didn't like it. He didn't like the way they made him feel. They reduced him to nothing but a bag of nerves. He began to strongly dislike the feelings, to consider them to be wrong. He had an obsessive personality, even then. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He grew to hate girls. He feared to ever be around one. He saw the way other boys his age were around girls, so confident, so cocky, as he went through his teenage years. They just made him feel sick. He didn't feel like a man at all. He had few friends then, he didn't enjoy the same things they did. He has none now.
She kind of half looked back. Oh yes, she knew. He stroked his knife.
His brother had told him about another boy they knew being stabbed once, when they were very young. His brother had gleefully told him, seeing how scared it made Jamie, how the attacker had driven the knife into the boy's stomach and twisted it. He kept repeating the last part, twisted it, twisted it. Jamie could think about nothing else for months, nothing but the knife being driven into that other boy's stomach and twisting. He could feel the knife twisting in his own stomach everytime he thought of it. It felt very much like the way girls made him feel.
Was she walking faster? It would do her no good. She still had to go through the park. He'd catch her there.
He couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to be stabbed, after that. Then he couldn't stop thinking about how it would feel to stab someone. Maybe his brother. Maybe a girl.
She was at the path leading into the park, the way she always walked home.
As he'd grown his hate had grown too. He'd never had a girlfriend. Even in adulthood he felt exactly the same around girls as he had aged twelve. Worse, in fact. So he avoided them. Whenever one passed he felt a shudder. He had to think about stabbing her to stop himself feeling the same pain.
What was this!? She wasn't walking through the park, she was going around it! Jamie was worried. He felt the imagined knife twisting in his stomach and clutched the real one. He had a decision to make.
He hated the way they smiled. Jamie never smiled and mistrusted anyone who did. They were laughing at him, the smiling girls. And maybe they were right too. He remembered when he'd decided to take driving lessons, years later than was normal. He wanted to prove to the world that he could do something normal. His first lesson had been an unmitigated disaster. The driving instructor had been a middle aged woman, a smiling middle aged woman. He couldn't concentrate on the driving, all he wanted to do was wipe the smile off her face. He had to pull over so he could be sick at the side of the road. He'd never taken a driving lesson again. The day after he'd seen a girl driving by with a stupid smug (he thought) smile on her face. Laughing, at him, she must have been. So small, so pathetic, yet she could do something he could not. He had wanted to destroy her.
She took out her phone. He decided. He ran towards her. She heard him and shouted, but he kept running. She ran into the park in desperation. He allowed himself something resembling a smile, a mad evil smile.
He'd begun stalking her a month ago. There was nothing special about her really, she could be any other girl. They were all the same. But she had a big smile. And it was convenient, the way she walked home. He'd taken to carrying a knife with him when he followed her. He knew what he was going to do. There was really no other option. He'd never been normal. He couldn't have a normal life, not like the smiling people. Not like his brother who was now married with two children, completely unaware of the damage he'd caused to Jamie's psych. But he could kill. At least he could do that.
She was running for home, not running to hide. How sweet. She couldn't outrun him on her pathetic short little legs. He grabbed her from behind. She struggled. She was weak. He put his left arm under her throat and took his knife out in his right hand and pressed it against her back.
"It has to be the stomach," he said. "I hate you."
"Who are you!? Why are you doing this!?" He'd never expected her to talk. Amazingly he'd never even really thought of girls talking, just smiling. He shoved her roughly to the ground and looked her in the face. She wasn't smiling now.
"I'm a man!" he said. "A big strong man! Ha ha! Not even I believe that!"
"Please, leave me alone, please!" she cried. So pathetic. He actually felt sorry for her and guilty. He hadn't expected that either. He could feel it again, that feeling in his stomach, the feeling of the knife being driven into it. He transferred it to the desire to drive the knife into her stomach. He tried to, anyway. The guilt was still there. He approached.
"There's a twist in this tale," he said. The feeling was stronger than ever, the feeling both to stab, but also the feeling in his stomach. It was telling him to drive the knife in, to twist it...but into who?
"Please...no..."
He felt the point of the blade against his own stomach. YES. It was the only way to make the feeling go away. It wasn't girls he hated, it was himself. He was the small pathetic one, not them. "Smile for me," he said. She did not. "Sorry. An unreasonable request." His hands shaking, he drove the knife into his stomach.
Well, again, he tried to anyway.
It was harder that he'd imagined. He'd never stabbed anyone before. It didn't go straight in. He cut himself a little. It hurt a lot. He hadn't imagined it hurting, he'd just imagined the sweet release he'd feel when he was twisting it deep in his stomach. The girl was getting to her feet.
"Don't!" she said. Was she actually trying to get him to stop from hurting himself? No, she was mocking him, laughing at him, the way they all had been, all these years, she had to be. Without thinking he slashed again, at his own mouth this time.
"YAAARGH!" he screamed, in pain and also in an attempt to scare her. She ran now. The thought came to him that it would be easier to ram the knife into his throat...
"Oww, what's going on, did you hurt that girl?" a man with a dog said, walking in the direction the girl had ran off to. He spotted the knife in Jamie's hand then let go of the dog leash.
"No, no, I HAVE TO DO THIS!" said Jamie through his pain, as the man ran at him. Jamie pushed out his hands violently to stop him. He'd forgotten, just for a moment, that he was still holding the knife.
And now it was sticking in the man's stomach.
Jamie stared for a moment. The dog barked. Then Jamie did the only thing he could think of. He pushed the knife in further and twisted.
It actually did feel good.
