Home of the Portland Tigers.
Walking past the redundant sign and past the main doors, I make my way towards where (I think) my locker is.
I can only hope that this year will be more productive than my previous ones. Well, it better be. I only traveled across the country to get an actual fresh start. I can’t believe I let last year get so out of control… my hands get shaky just at the thought of it, and I’m grinding my teeth without even realizing it.

I sigh and count to three in my head.

1...2...3.

Opening my eyes again, I crack my knuckles and attempt to open my locker. I was never any good with these stupid locks. Am I supposed to turn it to the right first? I could have sworn that would’ve opened it. I don’t even need the damn thing right now, I’m just trying to get it open so I can have somewhere to put my-

“HEY! I need that, please, just give it back guys…”

Glancing down the hallway, I notice the source of the disruption. It’s always some nerd getting picked on.
What is the point of picking on those who can’t fend for themselves? Clenching my fists I take one last swing at my locker, and wouldn’t you know it, I broke the door. Son of a-

“Hey Sam, let’s take him on a grand tour of the freshman bathrooms” I hear some idiot say with a snort. I toss my bag towards my now-broken locker and saunter towards the bullies.

“Hey guys, how’s about I take you on a tour through the detention hall?” (I try to be witty but it just doesn’t work).

The one with the letterman’s football jacket and the least pimply face stiffens up and glares at me.
He looks like a wimp.

“Wipe that look of your face before I uh, hit it, or something.” he says. Goodness, not too bright either.

I was smirking without realizing it.
“Oh, alright.” I say with a straight face. Why did I walk over here again? I glance at the geek and I remember. “What do you have against this guy?” nodding my head towards the redheaded kid with a pocket protector reaching for a rather expensive looking calculator.

“Nothin’,” the one called Sam, says. “He just looked like he needed a good pal” he smirks while putting him in a choke-hold.
I can see the fear in the kid’s eyes; I hope he doesn’t wet himself. That’s all he needs.

“Well…You don’t seem like the kind who needs another friend so why don’t you just back off alright?” I instinctively flex my jaw and shoulder muscles to make myself look big.

All six of ‘em puff out their chests and start to get ready to fight, when Sam starts walking away. And of course, they all walk away with him without a second thought, like a shepherd herding sheep. I glance over to where Sam was walking to just to see what distracted him…oh. Well, she’s pretty. Sort of.

“Hey man, you alright?” I ask whilst kneeling down to help him gather his things.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m Oliver, by the way.” He extends his hand.

“Peter.” I half-heartedly grin and shake his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sitting in an empty, dark room where the only light comes from the artificial illumination of a computer screen, you’ll find the lonely man who watches his creation become its own person. The scribbling in his notebook will tell you the traits and acquired characteristics that he has found in his seemingly normal “child”.

He grins a yellow smile, stained by his addiction and a lack of concern. A tongue dances across them every now and again out of nervous habit.

Oh, my boy. Just you wait. Your fate is written. You must know you’re different by now, but you have no idea. Just you wait.
He chuckles a dry chuckle, and scribbles more notes while glancing at the monitor of his dusty yet high-tech computer, until morning comes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Walking to class this morning, I am greeted by a head full of red hair, slouched into my locker playing around on a worn looking calculator. Should I really let him try to befriend me? Oh, too late. He saw me. I try to walk faster in the opposite direction of him.

“Hey! Peter! Hey, remember me?!” he wheezes and runs on his stubby legs towards me. Taking pity, I slow my walk and put on a friendly face. I’ve always considered myself to be fairly decent looking, no acne, fairly straight teeth, and a decent neutral brown hair color. I don’t like hair. I shave it down to measly centimeter at every opportunity. I am somehow in peak physical condition without ever needing to work out, and I have more than above average reflexes.

“Hey, so like. I know we’re in the same first period math class now, so let’s walk there together!” He says over-enthusiastically. This is going to be a long semester, I sigh. I don’t want friends. I don’t need friends. Is there a polite way to say shove off? Walking slightly faster to try and steer him away, it starts to downpour. I can’t help but remember my least fond memory.


Cold days weren’t uncommon for Gildenberg. The place is as ugly as its name, the locals would joke. I don’t think anyone ever really explored the poor town like I did. Everything has its beauty. It is easy to overlook, I suppose. My favorite spot was a little creek that was shadowed by a gigantic willow tree, which I’d found one day while venturing off deep into the forest. I was about, well, 8, maybe. That was the day I’d discovered I was different. Not different like a spider or a slug, but different in the way that I did things that I wasn’t supposed to. It scared my mom most of the time. It just made my dad angry. He’d always said, “I knew we shouldn’t a taken a kid that wuddent ours...” Exactly like that.
I’m glad to be away from them, now.

I was different. I am still different; I can just hide it now, like I’m supposed to. I can’t be normal, but it’s a good thing I wear this mask. You can always change your mask, but unfortunately, that doesn’t, and will never change who you are.

My eyes burned at the memory of my self-discovery.

It was raining, and the creek had grown to be much deeper, and the water was running much quicker over the sharp rocks. I wasn’t as scared as I should have been. Pulling my hood up over my already drenched head and face, I leapt. I don’t know how far I had expected to jump, but I expected to land in the creek. I leapt a good 40 feet without even trying. Staring in awe at my own legs, I was terrified.
I ran. I had tried to run from myself, but I knew I could never run from who I now knew I was. I’d gone back to that creek every day to further test my abilities.
I am super human. Or maybe I’m not even human. I had no idea; but, I was strong and have extremely heightened senses. I don’t understand it. My mother and father were not supportive of my newfound abilities in the slightest. My mom thought I was going to destroy everything and everyone, and my dad thought I was still a useless piece of crap. They are the ongoing source of my anger and self-loathing.

I guess I must be clenching my jaw again because Oliver is looking at me with concern. I close my eyes and breathe. I breathe in the fumes of the cars that slowly drive past, and I breathe in the gross smell of the paper mill in the next town over.

1...2...3.

All better. I shoot a halfhearted smile at Oliver, “Sorry about that, what were you saying?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The lonely man, whose unkempt face is illuminated by his precious computer, has a trick up his sleeve. Writing a code to access the neural transmitter in the brain of his creation, he licks his teeth and holds a yellow grin on his face. Slowly, he floats his fingers around the enter key, to send his secret weapon. He chuckles at the thought of his boy destroying the hope of a nation. He taps send, with no remorse, or morality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


A deep pounding interrupts my thoughts. This isn’t just a headache. This hurts. My head is imploding, I know it. Dropping my bag, I fall to the floor, and black out.

I awake to a room that is not familiar to me, Oliver is sitting to my right. “Dude, where am I? And what the hell happened?”

I must’ve startled him, because he jumps, and says, “You just passed out randomly, so I got the nurse and we kind of dragged you to the nurse’s office. You’re heavy. Oh, and you‘re in the nurse‘s office. Hey, do you have your parents’ numbers or anything? The school can‘t get ahold of them.”

Disregarding his questions, I rack my brain to think of any reason whatsoever as to why I might‘ve passed out. Rubbing my temples, I list every reason I can think of. Dehydration? Possible. Wasn’t breathing? No, not likely. Migraine? Unlikely, but possible. Hit over the head? Ha, could be. I settle on dehydration and pull my body up out of the old rickety bed, which is much too short for my much too long body. I cringe. Everything that can hurt, hurts. What is wrong with me? I am frustrated beyond belief, and I hurt. I just want to lie down and die. Throwing myself back down on the cold, stiff table covered in a wrinkled sheet of paper, I close my eyes and count to three.

1...2...3.

I don’t understand. This usually calms me down. This only frustrates me further.
1...2...3...4.
I glance over at Oliver, who is looking at me with an amused expression.

“What, am I funny to you?” I angrily reply to his unspoken statement.

“Yeah, a little bit. What are you doing, meditating?”

“Sort of, I guess. Look, just leave me alone. I didn’t ask you to stay with me. I didn’t even ask you to be my friend, alright?” I say with my fists and jaw clenched.
“Oh… yeah. I guess you’re right. I just wanted to make sure you were okay…Sorry that I bothered you.” he replies with the saddest expression I’ve ever seen. Well, he’s certainly expressive. He gathers his books and shuffles awkwardly out of the nurse’s room. I hear his breathing deepen. He’s probably going to cry about this.
I chuckle.

Finally, I sigh out of relief. Maybe now I can actually find out what’s wrong with my head. Tapping into one of my extremely heightened natural abilities, I look into my own brain and try to find the one thing that’s off. Just pass the exterior and around to the back of my skull, I find something foreign and non-organic. Examining it more closely, I find that it is some sort of transmitter that I cannot control and have no recollection of having. If it weren’t encrypted, I could know what it does to my head.

I now have no doubt that is the source of my blackout; but what could it possibly do?



The next day when I wake up, I find that my head doesn’t hurt as much. It is a relieving thought, but I don’t know what to do about this transmitter still.

Glancing at my alarm clock and wondering why it didn’t go off, I’m filled with panic.

7:12 AM.
My bus is going to be here soon. Bolting out of bed and into some clothes, I burst out the front door, just in time.

Well, at least I didn’t miss my bus, I grumble in response to my stomach growling.

Oliver sees me and bolts the opposite direction as fast as his chubby legs will let him. I hold back a laugh. Frowning, I realize something. Just the other day, I was helping him with a bully situation, and now, I’m laughing at him? What is wrong with me? I need to apologize. Quickening my pace minimally, I’m able to catch up to him in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, Oliver, I wanted to apologize. Sorry for snapping at you yesterday.”

“What? Yesterday? What is wrong with you? That happened a month ago, and I am way over it. You realize that half the entire school is afraid of you, right? You need to chill out and examine your attitude.” He says this all very matter-of-factly. Letting out a sigh of relief, he trots away, again, as fast as he’s able.

What is he on?
There is no way I have just skipped through an entire month without even realizing it. Maybe I should ask an administrator, I barely finish my thought as my legs start running.

Bursting through the front office doors, I’m greeted by a surly face. Wrinkled and age spotted, I wait for her pale eyes to acknowledge me.

“Yes?” She hisses in my direction.

“Hi…I was wondering if I could speak to someone about…well. I don’t really know if this is true, but, have I been gone for a month?”

“You do realize that is a matter you would take to the attendance office, correct?”

“Oh, sorry to bother you. Thank you.”

Backing away from her desk, I make my way towards the attendance office. I need to calm down and collect my thoughts.
Oliver could just be playing a prank on me because he’s mad. That’s probably it.

“Hi, may I help you?” A much friendlier face smiles and awaits an answer.

“Yes, I just wanted to see about my attendance for the past month or so. Could you tell me if I’ve been absent or…?”

“Of course, what’s your name?”

“Peter. Peter Towers.”

“Ah, here you are. Umm, yes, it does appear you have not been in your classes, for the most part. You have been in detention nearly every day for the past month… Are you okay?” She says, glancing up from the computer screen to my increasingly shocked expression.

“Yes. Thank you.” I hurriedly back away and as soon as I’m out the doors, I’m running.

In my haste, I run into the greasy, pimple-faced quarterback. Sam, I think.

“Hey watch-…” He starts an insult, but when he sees it’s me, he freezes.

“Oh, crap. Sorry I ran into you, dude.”

“Oh…nah, man. It’s totally cool. My fault. Sorry!” He hurries out before walking as fast as he can away from me, taking nervous glances behind him.

That was weird. What have I been up to for the past month, and why can’t I seem to recall any of it? I need answers, but I have no idea where to find them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



The lonely man sifts through his video files, keeping recordings of the recklessness his creation shows in his school hallways. Letting his yellow grin slip from his face, he glances at the time. Deciding that it is time to go, he closes the screen of his most dear object and gives it a little peck, just above the “Property of P. T.” sticker.

I’ll be back soon, my dear.
He briefly grins.

Glancing into his bathroom mirror, he combs his few hairs neatly to the side to slightly cover his patchy-baldness and decides to shave, even though there’s nothing to shave.
Standing to the side, he examines his gut, or lack thereof. Frowning, he remembers his months of being beside the toilet throwing it all up due to his pointless treatments; he sees no point in eating anymore. However; today his stomach was rumbling louder than usual, probably due to nerves, he snickers.
Straightening out the wrinkles in his dark blue suit, he makes his way towards his front door.

Clutching a worn, once-brown briefcase in one frail hand, he gets on the abnormally large Greyhound bus and heads for Portland, Oregon with a yellow smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I don’t really know where I should go, do I have detention again? Shoot, I don’t even know where the detention classroom is. I guess I’ll just go to class like normal.

“Oh my goodness, you are so much better than I could have ever imagined.” I hear a gravelly and shrill voice mutter from behind me.

Quickly turning 180 degrees, I am nearly face to face with a small man with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen. Letting the corners of his mouth pull up into a nasty grin, I can barely keep my eyes off of his rotten teeth.

“Surprised to see me? Oh… How rude of me, you do not know who I am. Well, Peter Towers, I am Peter Towers. Senior.”

Shocked and appalled I stammer, “How do you know who I am…and why do you have the same name as me? Who are you?”

“Well, Peter. I just said who I was. Stop being such an awful listener. You and I both know that you can hear 100 times better than the average person.”

What? He should not know that. How does he know that?

“Oh, of course I know what you can do. I created you. I drew every single one of your genomes myself. Difficult and consuming work, but oh my, so worth it.”

“I wasn’t created, I was born. I don’t know who you think I am, but you are wrong.”

I knew it. I knew I wasn’t normal. Maybe I could think more clearly if he’d wipe that creepy grin off of his face.

“Well, Peter. You are obviously in denial. It is going to be okay, come with me. You need to fulfill your purpose.” He gestures towards the front doors.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, you creep. Leave me alone before I knock your ugly white head in.” I say while clenching my fists and broadening my shoulders.

“I didn’t want to have to do this…” He sighs whilst pulling out a small remote control.

Um, what? I have to get out of here. Oh man, my head is pounding again. I have to fight it. I have to stay awake this time…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I really need to stop passing out…oh crap. Where am I now? Pulling my torso up, I realize I am restrained.

“Don’t move. You are to remain strapped to that table until you learn to behave. Not only that, but you need to respect your creator. Your master, if you will.”

I remember now. What does he want for me? And he’d better be kidding. If he thinks I’m going to call him ‘master’, he’s dead wrong.

“Now, now, Peter. You are going to do what I ask of you. I do not care if you do not want to, or if it is against whatever morality you have created. You will do whatever I say.” He snarls in my direction.

“Well, at least prove to me that you created me. I am just supposed to trust a stranger’s opinion?”

This ought to distract him for a few moments. Where is the exit? How can I get out of here?

“Don’t forget, Peter. I created you. I know how your mind works. You’re trying to think of a way out of here. Let me show you the exit.” He turns me and this stretcher with rusty wheels towards a dark hallway.
I happened to get a glimpse out of a window, it’s dark outside. How long have I been here?
“I wouldn’t fight me, if I were you. I created you. I created everything that you are. I created your whole identity, Peter Towers. You are me; but so much better.”
“You’re wrong. I am not you. I might have come from you, but I am not you. What do you want from me?”
“You are my poison. You will hurt the world. You will show the people of the world just how unfair everything truly is; and you have no choice to do otherwise.”
My head gets woozy again, and I feel myself fading away. No.
I can’t this time, I can’t. Using my own sense of will-power, I think of Oliver, I think of how I showed him kindness.
“You’re wrong, you know. The world is very fair. Good things do happen to bad people, and vice versa, but that doesn’t define what kind of treatment anyone truly deserves. Why would you want to hurt the world; because you’ve been hurt? Instead of being bitter, you should look to prevent any type of harm towards any other person. You of all people should know that people never deserve to be hurt.”
My head is clearing up. Maybe I can focus entirely on breaking this binds.
“No, you are the incorrect one, Peter. Not enough people take responsibility for their actions. They deserve any treatment I see fit, I am the one in control. I control you.” He says, pushing the remote control button once more.
I can overcome this. I am not weak, in any sense.
“You will suffer for making others suffer.”
With one last yank, I am able to yank myself free and I spring forward towards “my creator”. Taking hold of him by the neck, I lift upwards.
“You don’t ever deserve the power to make someone feel pain, regardless of how you’ve been treated. You will never hurt anyone, for as long as I live.”
His voice is strained, and his once pale face turns into a deep red. With his last breath, he spits out, “Good… you have done well. You have fulfilled your purpose.” And with one last grin, his body goes limp in my hands and struggles no more.
I am no murderer of any kind. I am a hypocrite.
What have I become?