Okay, this is my first ever contest entry. I hope this is what I'm meant to do. It is the story of a pedophile. Please review. Thank you ~
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I like to think of myself as a rogue tiger, stalking along the dead grass towards my prey, a young cub, maybe two if I'm lucky. It gives me a sensation that I can't escape. Power. And when I've locked into my twisted mantra, it expels the guilt. I move on after I've quenched my urge, to a new place. The next town, perhaps.
Having the ability to actually take hold of something so fragile and use it to my own means gives me such an adrenalin rush. The fact I can crush an innocents purity is something I admit to being proud of. Some say I'm sick, demented and foul-thought. I say I'm at the height of my ability. Who else can say they can single-handedly take down a child from a highly patrolled area? It's all a game to me.
Yesterday was my most recent hunt; he had no idea it was coming. I followed him for a few minutes, my heart jumped every time he looked back over his shoulders, his expression one of fear. Fortunately, he spun an idiotic move, turning left into an alley. I picked up my pace and turned left, to find the boy trying to scrabble up the mesh fence that led to the other side. When he realized I had drawn near, he had turned and gave a blood-curling scream. The look of crazed horror in his small blue eyes had almost made me feel sorry for what I was about to do. Almost. I stepped forward and in a matter of moments, the struggling became a blur and soon I was relieved of my desire. It's at that moment of time, with the child in my arms, that I wish it would never end. And then I had let the limp child fall from my clutch onto the concrete and backed quickly out of the alley. Down the street was my parked car, a nonchalant, dark blue buggy. I approached it coolly, making sure I was not one bit of interest to any passerbys, then I stepped in and drove off.
Stephen Rouley is my name. I am notorious and the least conspicuous on the playing field. In my life, a buzz was the closest friend I had. Often after an attack of privacy to the innocent, I would go undetected in a town or two away. I would stow away in a homeless shelter, pretend to be mute and sometimes mad, and that would usually establish my anti-social antics to the public who seemed to want to come and chat. I hadn't been ratted out yet. Not yet. My life remains on one golden thread, and that thread is barely hanging in.
My problems have become a little too hard to handle, and for now, I remain off the radar in a rubbish dump, three towns over from my previous day's doing. No doubt my work has been published all over, and families have taken extra desperate measures for the safety of their children. I sit brooding now. My brain whirs. It hurts and I groan, clutching my head. Painful memories sting my present and I'm dragged unwillingly into the past. It's 7th grade now, and the jock boys are bullying me in front of the girl I happen to be crushing on. Just before the jock boys connect my nose to the floor again, some one steps in, and I find myself in the safe arms of a 12th grader. He leads me away, after a few nasty remarks to the jock boys, and I find myself outside the old boys bathroom. It is away from sight, and I look up to the 12th grader to thank him. His name is Kurtis, and his chiseled face is surrounded by blond curls. I am almost lost in the deepness of his blue eyes. I open my mouth once more to give my thanks but he briskly steps forward and his palm collides with my nose with a sickening crunch. I find myself crumpled on the floor, a trail of blood leading out my nose. I'm too blind with shock to feel anything he attempts. I lay motionless on the floor, my head rolled to the side and every nerve numb inside me. I focus on the puddle of rain water beside my head. Watching intently, it takes me a few moments before I realize something dieing inside me. The spark in my emerald green eyes dull and everything seems to darken. Brown spider legs fall into the puddle of water and I tense. Then I realize it's just my hair and my breath comes back. Suddenly I'm sucked back into the present. I'm sitting amongst the pongy rubbish in the dump, and the familiar wave of misery washes over me once again. I decide right then and there I don't just hate blue eyed kids- I despise them.
I'm like a bad car, love isn't auto. To experience it I must do it manually, with my own two hands. And even then its my own diluted impressions on what love is or must be. I wonder where Kurtis and those jock boys must be now. And that girl. With families, possibly. I ponder if I've crossed the path of them, and not realized it. Remorse seeps through me, flowing like poison in my veins. I didn't want a life like this, unlike most pedophiles who have the mental problems triggering their attacks, mine are of revenge. Just simply revenge. If I'm messed up, I want others to be messed up, grow up the way I was forced to. In secrecy of rape. And some times, I feel guilty.
But then I remember I am a rogue tiger, stalking along the dead grass towards my prey.

