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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2077088-Heroes
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Dark · #2077088
Psychic learns how to become a hero.
Some peoples' thoughts are made up of words, sentences strung together running jumbling through their minds. Other people think in actions, they picture what they are going to do. They watch little films of what they think will happen or they watch memories. Some do both. Less intelligent individuals usually have mental silence for long periods of time with short burst of thought. Then you have people who's minds are like a radio station on shuffle, always running here and there with words, sentence, pictures and things so strange it is difficult for me to describe. I know a lot about how people think because I can read minds. It happens fairly randomly things have to be just right. I have to be in a good mood and fairly stress free and some people are impossible to read no matter what others are as easy as turning on a radio. The harder someone thinks about something the easier it is to pick up. I can't turn it off it's like trying to ignore someone who is talking right next to you. You can imagine I try and live a solitary life. It's hard to make connections when you hear what others are thinking about you, even people who love you don't think nice about you all the time. It defiantly has its perks, I used it to increase my financial standing and I use it to stay out of trouble. I had just picked some ice cream when I read a mind so foul, it was all black and crimsons. I reeled, my hands to my head. The few thoughts I read kicked me out of his mind ruining my mood I couldn't hear him anymore. What I saw was enough though, he was thinking of murder and rape. I saw him standing over a hole, throwing dirt in on top of crying girl who was covered in blood. He was thinking of blood, children's' blood, dripping from the edge of a serrated knife. He craved more, he was in a hurry to get home so he could be with her. He was a friendly looking man, wearing a black oxford, jeans. He was walking to his car with a smile on his spectacled face. My cone of ice cream laying unwanted and forgotten on the cement at my feet. He was getting into his car, I made a terrible decision, I decided to follow him. Driving behind him nonchalantly, we drove through a strange neighborhood, he slowed and stared as he passed a group of children playing in their yard. I had to make sure he claimed no more children, it was up to me to ensure no more children suffered the fate I had seen in his mind. He pulled up to a regular looking house. I drove past while he pulled his car into his garage. I parked my car a few houses away and began walking back to him. I felt like a watcher in my own body, I watched me approach the door, shaking, possessed of a madness I did not know I was capable of. I pounded on the door, peering in through the glass I saw him approach. I felt my body tense up, he answered the door hesitantly, confusion playing across his features. Before he could do anything I said "No more." His confusion only increased.
I came to covered in blood, standing in a strange bedroom, I recalled nothing at all, just crimson flares. I could smell the sick scent of blood. I jumped into his shower and washed the blood of my body. I went to his closet, to steal some clothes so I didn't have to wear my bloodstained clothes out. I opened the closest and was startled, a young girl tied up and gagged lay crying on the floor of his closet. I quickly shut the door… I walked back into the living room trying to figure out what to do and came across the body in the living room. The man lay facedown in a large pool of blood, it had splattered all over his furniture and walls. His arm was bent at a grotesque angle, and there was a large knife laying near his corpse and bloody footprints back to his room. I quickly threw the knife in the sink and ran hot water on it hoping to clean off my fingerprints, I wanted to clean all this up so the girl wouldn't see it but there was no way I could do it all quickly. I ran to the garage, I searched for something to help me dispose of the mess. I found a few half empty bottles of liter fluid and a five gallon jug of gasoline. I ran back into carrying my prizes. I poured the litter fluid into a large bowl and I put a candle in the center. The candle's wick was about an inch above the litter fluid. I figured the fire would start when either it ignited the fumes or the wick reached the liquid. I set the bowl right by his body and poured the gasoline all over the room, I just hoped it wouldn't evaporate I build up some of the smashed furniture near all of this. I wanted it to be a spectacular fire, one to wipe away what I had done. I started it all and I rushed to the closet and grabbed the girl. I decided to head out the back to spare her the sights in the living room. She was young maybe seven, other then a black eye she seemed okay. She was scared at first but once she figured out I meant her no harm, she latched on to me and wouldn't let go. As we stepped into the backyard we saw that there was little to no grass in the backyard it looked like a giant mole lived back here. Half filled holes littered the yard, piles of fresh turned dirt all over. I covered her eyes and quickly rushed towards my car. We made it to the car, I had to pry her off of me so I could get in. She looked terrified until I got in the car with her. As I drove by his house I looked at his front windows trying to see if the fire would start. We waited another fifteen minutes until I saw flames begin to lick at his front curtains, the thick black material dancing as flames climbed them, as soon as I saw this I started driving at a regular speed towards the police station. The girl had fallen asleep while we waited and she stayed that way all the way there. When we arrived I realized that I couldn't just waltz in with her in tow. There would be to many questions. So I gently shook her and when she woke I tried explaining it to her that I had to leave her here but that I promised she would be safe. She started crying, I told her it wasn't safe for me to go inside. She looked up at me and whimpered "But you are one of the good guys?" I tried to explain the police might not see it that way. She asked me if I was trying to protect my secret identity, like the super heroes on TV. I told her that was exactly it. She got excited, she wanted to know my hero name, I told her I hadn't picked one yet, so she could make one up for me. She called me Hope.
© Copyright 2016 Darrenn Deffenbaugh (lyee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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