Juvenile

"You ready to cough up? cuz i don't wan' a repeat of what happened yesterday. Hear me?"

I hate his face, the way it stares down at me. His eyes are red with the flames of anger, telling me he knows what i'm thinking. He can get inside my head, he's trained to do it. He just doesn't know that i'm trained to do it too.

"Hear me?!"
"Yeah. I was just...thinking."

I think a lot here in my 6x9 cell. I think a lot about the day i slipped, and the day i eventually fell. It stings my eyes to remember, but i do so without fail every day and night. It was the day i became perfect.

"I didn't ask yer to think i asked yer to speak!"

I had worked towards that day for so long and i had succeeded through the process of elimination.

"No you didn't."
"I asked yer to cough up, aint it the same?"
"No. One you do with your throat and one you..."
I never paid attention in school, i didn't like my teacher, she was too academically driven. I heard she left the country the day after it happened, something about 'traw-ma'.

"Think yer funny don't ya? Think yer can outsmart someone just cuz you're 'perfect' now huh?"

"I am perfect. We made it clear when i eliminated the competition."
A grin drew itself across my face, i couldn't help it. I love seeing him get angry, watching the flames in his eyes grow bigger and bigger, hotter and hotter.

"No! We made it clear that you had serious difficulty in living among the normal!"

His voice was pschizophrenic. It had two personalities, much like he did. He had a clear, loud voice when he was angry, and a casual redneck voice when he was practising his usual psychology tricks. That's all i saw him as, a man doing his job. The emotion was just a entertainment bonus for me.

"You sound like a police officer. A figure with authority. You're my shrink, you're here to ask me why, not to judge me."

"Ah...well, In all honest truth,
Here comes the clear loudness.
"Ima here to make <u>you</u> judge people."

He relaxed, his face loosened and gained colour, the opposite of what his eyes did. I knew he hated losing things, especially authority.

"Only god judges people. No matter how perfect i am, i am no god. But thanks all the same."

His laughter made a terrible croaking noise. It was fake. He was trying to re-gain authority, after i had caught him out of his judgement. Adults often laugh at things you say to make you trust them. It's a pathetic system, it's happened a lot in my time here. I wasn't trying to be funny, i was being an asshole.

"Yer don't need to be a god to judge people.I judge people all the time and believe me when i say it helps with life. Yer know who to trust and who not to."
His psychology tricks really bore me. I know they're all about trying to make me a better person. The fact is, i don't need to judge people. Judgement is irrelevant when there is no competition.

"Can i judge you, godly one?"
He is not a god, I am just amusing him.

"Yer can tell me what you think of me, if that's what you mean. And i already know what you think of me."

"I think you're a man. A man with a job to do"

"Yer too right there."

"Then shall we get down to business?"

"Yer actualleh gunner talk this time?"

"I'm sick of waiting, waiting to get you worked up again. Last time it was an hour before i cracked you. I don't have an hour, i only have memories of what happened."
Waiting does bore me, especially when you have the same 4 walls to wait with everyday. It gets a little repetitive. I hate repetition.

"That's all we need, your memories."

"No, you need to take that recorder away from me."
Recording my voice is rude. It takes my voice away from it's rightful owner. No-one takes anything away from me.

"I need this as evidence."

"You need my voice to prove that i blew someone's eyeballs out of their face? or that i spilled all that blood on the classroom floors? People need their eyes to see what i've done and not their ears, If they did i would have killed the speakers."



The first to go, her pale blue eyes stained with innocence, glued themselves onto my eyelids. Her perfect face, her perfect hair, her perfect boyfriend, her perfect family, her perfect ambition, her perfect persona. We were friends, that was true, i loved everything about her. But she was everything i wasn't, she had everything i hadn't, she had potential to go far. It wouldn't look good, having her as a friend while on the path for perfection, would it? I knew she would be the first to go, i just did. She was the bottom layer, if i pulled her, the rest would go too.
Just before she hit the ground, i looked down at her face. It made me feel big, knowing that i did it. Her body made the most graceful noise as it hit the floor. It was a song that dove's fail to sing, it was too beautiful. I remember kneeling down next to her head and staring deep down into her eyes. They disgusted me, i knew what they saw in the mirror everyday, i knew that they had seen beauty too complex for me to understand. I took them out of their sockets with my gun. It was a great feeling, she could never see again.
By then her screams had faded, i almost prayed to god that they would come back. I wanted everyone to know what i had accomplished. Sure, they wouldn't be happy losing a friend but i think they would've congratulated me all the same. When no-one had, i realized it was because they didn't feel the same way about her as i did. It seems as though they weren't on the same path to perfection as me. It doesn't matter, not now because most of them died that day.
I was looking at her hair and how it's shine had diminished in the blood. I've framed the image in my mind. I was feeling great at that time, not an inch of sadness rose. She was a real threat. She had to go.