Tuesday, March 20, 2012


We’ll I was wrong, yesterday sucked.

We watched that door for hours but no one came out. I was beginning to think there may have been another way out and that the mark had slipped away on us. I had the great misfortune of being wrong. As the sun began to rise I decided I was done waiting and told Fracture to start for the motel while I deal with the mark. I got up there to find piles of canned foods. It looked like the mark had been here for a while and had no intention of going anywhere. That’s a pretty cocky move for someone living on someone else’s roof. And then I got a look at my sleeping mark and realized why he thought this was going to work out for him. He was about 9 years old.

The gravity of this took a good minute to sink into my brain properly.
How did a 9 year old get his hands on this much food?
How did he sneak it onto the roof of a hotel?
Why the hell was this mark assigned to me?

As far as I was concerned, this wasn’t happening. They could send someone else to take care of this. I already did the part of finding him. The next hunter would just have to come up and slit the little shit’s throat when I was good and gone. That’s what I kept telling myself as I pulled out my phone.

That’s what I kept mumbling as I looked down at my phone and realized my vision was starting to blur.
And then once more, the world went black…

When I came to my senses I found I was coated in blood. I was holding a… piece of the kid. I had mutilated him, but my knife was clean. I had carried out this gruesome scene with my bare hands. I was in complete disbelief. I had to close my eyes so I couldn’t see it or I was going to vomit.

This never should have happened.
Not like this. Not by me.
All I could think was that this was part of my punishment. The master must have made me do it because he knew it would hurt me. That’s why I’m alive right? So I can endure further punishment for my disobedience in my last life. So the monster I call master can teach me a lesion that I can carry to my grave.

Perhaps this is what I get for making rules for myself that I put above him. If I’m going to get through this, I’m going to need to be ready hurt more children.

It’s all very hypocritical of me anyways. I always justified the killing with the logic that no one life was worth more than another. Since I have already killed someone, I was being disrespectful to the dead if I wasn’t ready to kill absolutely everyone else. I never included kids in that everyone, but I guess I should have.

It’s got me thinking though.
What makes my life worth more than my victim’s since I keep surviving but they don’t?


  1. Perhaps your life isn't worth more than your victims. Who says you need worth to survive? This is a meaningless world, after all, so it stands to reason that even those with great worth can be struck down.

    I do have to question your master's reasoning in forcing you to kill a kid. This may work on you, but others would have a breakdown or may kill themselves at the thought of killing a child. It is one of our biological imperatives to protect children, after all.

  2. It's not necessarily the worth, Swan. We're all worth the same.

    Sometimes it just comes down to luck. Whether it's good luck or bad luck is your call, though.

    Me? I'm staying positive and calling it good luck.