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Member
Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Israel
Gender: Male
Posts: 15
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Self-Esteem. A short story
this is a short five page story I worked on for about a week. it's my first I really ever managed to finish. I happy and unhappy with it. I could really use as much criticism as possible.
Self-Esteem, a short story by Joe Parker
He walked into the room dripping drops of blood on the redwood floors.
His heavy boots made a heavy sound with every heavy step. Standing there before the threshold of the bathroom he looked behind him, at the trail of blood that led up until where he was standing.
“I have to stop doing this to myself, " he sighed. He looked at his watch. The digital numbers were flashing 4 A.M. He took a mop from the kitchen and cleaned up the red liquid he spilled all over the floor coming in. He stepped into the bathroom and washed up.
He knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight. That last one was tough, he thought to himself. But he couldn’t handle my left hook. His knuckles were still raw. He tried to wash the blood off in the sink but he just couldn’t seem to get them clean.
He sighed and fell onto his bed immediately falling asleep.
"Jack! Its seven thirty, get up already. You have to stop staying up until four o’clock in the morning." He heard his mother cry from the other side of the door. He couldn’t stand how Jessica always patronized him like that. He felt his resentment for her boiling. He took three breaths and reminded himself why she does these things to him. She loves you, she wants the best for you and she doesn’t know any better. He got up and stepped into the bathroom. He lay bent over the sink. He was wearing the cloths he wore last night, they were pretty clean, no need to change the thought. He stared into the face that was looking back at him. The man he was looking at was pretty, strong, he liked how this persons jaw curved perfectly creating that rich WASP look, he liked how his brown hair glided perfectly across his forehead, how every-- his eyes were so puffy and black. That needs to be fixed. It will later. He washed his face and brushed his teeth.
He sat blank eyed on the bus. Looked out the window, look out to the sky, he enjoyed how the sky was an ever changing painting, how it was endlessly interpretable. One of the clouds reminded h-- "Jack, are you alive?"
He turned away from the window and looked into this person's eyes. Round, blue wi--
"Jack! Wake up man!"
"Oh... sorry Sam." He felt ashamed. He shouldn't be feeling like this.
" Its okay... Just stop with the zoning out man. It really freaks me out sometimes."
The bus came to a halt.
"Sam, I kill people." He said as he got up from his seat and rushed outside. He wanted to avoid confrontation now. He would have to avoid Sam all day.
He stood in front of his classroom. He had to get a grip on himself; he had to stop looking away from life. After six years one would truly have to detest life in order to keep up what he does. Class president, up for prom king, highest GPA in the city. He was accepted to Berkeley. Shut up and get a grip on yourself. He kept on saying to himself as he walked into his classroom. He noticed one of his better friends, Mike. He really is a great guy. He has to be such a great friend. Jack smiled to him, his wide million-dollar smile, the one where he shows all his pearly whites, the one he used to reassure himself into sanity.
“Hey man,” Mike greeted him. Mike was such a great guy; he was captain of the football team. He was his best friend at school.
“How’s this season going? You beat the Lion Cats?” the perfect vision of sanity.
“It’s been a rough seasons since Jason’s had that knee surgery.” He has no idea who I am. The bell rings. I can revert back to myself, Jack reassures himself.
Jack sat at the front of the class. It felt uncomfortable to be in the spotlight like that but the teachers liked him better when he was up front, it was easier to hide when you’re out in front of everybody. The teacher smiles and nods at Jack. Jack is such a good student, the teacher thinks, as he takes out his books.
He walked the hallways. He still wasn’t sure which room he’s supposed to be in. It’s getting harder, he knows. Sam stood in the hallway with a stack of books in her left arm. Her blue eyes were hard to look away from. He was dreading this.
“Jack, what was that in the bus?” she said sternly.
“What are you talking about?”
Sam pushed her blond straight hair away from her face as she took a step forward.
“ I believe it was that…” she cleared her throat and took another step closer “you kill people.” Jack smiled. He wasn’t sure about what to say next, heck, he wasn’t sure about anything right now. He swallowed.
“Do you really think I could hurt a fly?” this was getting uncomfortable, Jack felt uneasy, unsure about his actions. He had to get out of this he had to get away.
Jack started to back away. He felt bad he couldn’t tell her to truth. He felt bad he wouldn’t be able to talk to her again. He felt bad.
It was midnight. It could have been later but everything felt like midnight when you’re walking the streets alone with an agenda like Jack’s. He slept most of the afternoon in order to escape that shitty feeling he had been feeling all day, the disorientation, that six-year-old-lost-in-a-department-store feeling. He kept an even pace in order to keep himself on a low key. All those sicko’s and weirdo’s you hear about on the ten o’clock news are out right now, the ones who steal children, who beat old women, the ones who kill people. He walked towards an alleyway. The yellow street lamp covered him in a deep embrace. This is where he’s supposed to be. He leaned against the brick wall. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew where he was and what he was doing. He knew what the outcome would be. He was more aware of himself than he ever has been in his life. He turned and shifted his weight back to his feet. He turned and stepped into the darkly lit alleyway, his pace strong and sure. He saw his target. The man was old, maybe thirty, maybe fifty. They always look old. He was curled up under his home, a cardboard box, unshaven and filthy. This thing was dirty and disgusting. It hasn’t seen a warm meal or a shower in months. Its clothes had the stench of Goodwill on it. This thing wasn’t right. Jack kicked it, a light kick, just to wake it up from its sickening sleep. It coughed, God the germs. The thing looked up at Jack. It was terrified. Jack kicked it in its teeth in order to get that smug ugly look off its face. The thing bent on fours coughing out a mix of blood, teeth and saliva. Jack kicked it in its stomach. It flew a few inches off the ground. This ones gonna be fun thought Jack, such a fucking pushover. Jack grabbed it by its collar and pushed it against the wall. He punched it three times in the belly each time it gasped for air. Blood ran down its mouth. There was so much hurt in its eyes. Jack, rammed his elbow in its right eye, blood splattered from the eye. Jack looked deep into the now damaged retina. “Please,” he gasped, “please stop.” The old man said in a weak helpless voice. Jack snickered. This reminded him of the first one when he was just thirteen, so sad, so filthy. Jack smiled and began to beat his faces until it was so deformed you couldn’t even fathom that this used to be a person. As the old man in front of him lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood, urine and feces. Jack bent down to feel for a pulse. He was gone. This old man who lived in a box and never hurt a soul was dead.
Jack stood over the body, clenched fists dripping blood, knuckles raw, he had blood all over his clothes, none of it was his, he wore the blood proudly like a badge, like a war hero would wear his medals. He was a god. He turned around with a wide, proud smile on his face only to be shot down. Sam stood in the alleyway entrance a horrified look on her face. It reminded him of the look on the old man’s face just before he beat him to the bloody pulp that lay behind him.
“Why?!” she cried out to Jack. He didn’t even seem to feel sorry for what he just did.
“Why did you hurt him?”
“Because I needed to.” Jack said plainly from the other side of the alleyway, she had caught him off guard.
“What?! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m sorry Sam, I wish you didn’t see me do that.” He was sure of himself. He spoke in the clean powerful tone he always does. He felt no remorse.
“Jack, I don’t understand,” she said as she found herself feeling closer to him. She took a few steps forward.
“Why did you hurt that man?” She refused to admit that the man was dead despite the beating she just saw. She refused to admit that Jack could kill anyone.
He took a few steps forward, his chest upfront and high, and his movements clear and precise. He held her arms as her head bent down tears running down her cheeks. He held her close.
“I didn’t mean to Sam, it was an accident” he was lying straight through his beautiful white teeth.
“I just don’t know what came over me. It wasn’t me.”
“You were so cold, I wanted to yell, to stop you, I wasn’t sure it was you anymore” she said as she held on tighter. Her face buried in his strong chest, tears mixing in with the blood on his shirt.
She looked up. That warm look on his face was so comforting.
“We have to get him to a hospital.”
“We have to get away from here, I—we can’t stay here.”
“But—“ she was cut off by the strength of his embrace and the touch of his lips on hers. She felt his warmth; this was the Jack she’s known since childhood. She pulled away, he’s never kissed like that before, he’s never kissed her but she felt safe, she felt right.
No,
This isn’t right,
He killed somebody.
He killed somebody… right?
Sam was lying in here bed face up. Tears were running down here cheeks, she could taste the salt in here mouth. She must have been lying there for hours. It was morning now. That much she could tell from the light creeping in from the window. She got up and wiped the tears from her face and looked at the time.
Five A.M. This just isn’t right. She thought to herself. He… he killed someone for no reason. Why? Why would he kill that man? She sat down on her bed hugging her legs. She rocked back and forth. She was about to reach for a box of tissues just as the phone on her desk rang.
It was Jack. That much she could tell from the hour it was.
“hello” she said as she sniffled from her nose.
“Sam, we need to talk.” It was Jack.
“Talk.”
“Sam, you have to understand that what you saw last night… you can’t tell anyone about.”
Jack sounded serious.
“Fine, I won’t tell anyone.” She was lying to herself.
“Good…” jack wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not.
He couldn’t believe her. That much her could tell. What to say to her now was a whole new mystery for him.
“Jack,” she said in a tear filled voice. “Why?”
“I… I can’t explain it… I… I had to.”
“Why damn it?” she said almost enraged.
“Sam… just shut up and go to sleep okay? This is hard enough for me as it is.”
Jack knew the answer. Jack has known why he does this ever since he did the first time.
He remembers the feeling of complete disarray as he was walking the streets after he heard his father died. He remembers the young beggar begging him pleading to him. He remembers the first strike at the young beggars face. He the blood from his mouth felt warm and almost comforting as it splattered all over him. He remembers how after the kid was dead he felt so attune everything was more clear everything made so much more sense. He felt no remorse for the child. He was proud of his death. He didn’t need to rationalize because it all just fell into place. He’s needed to do this ever since his father died and since then he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop.
“Sam, I love you. Let’s talk about this after school please.”
“Bye”
She hanged up the phone and stuffed her face in her pillow. Weeping.
Why jack? Why?
The door to the main corridor in school opened. People, kids flooded through the loud roar of laughter and the mumble of talk with it. Jack stepped through the threshold pacing, slowly, a light smile on his face. No kid walked with him, just around him. His presence was staggering a man amongst men. Everyone loved him, they smiled at him, an aura of light almost hovered around him, no one speaking to him everyone just accepting, revering his near godly presence. It was this odd yet amazing feeling of grace whenever someone looked at him passing by. It was almost like a silent consensus that he was not like them. He was better. They felt touched when he spoke; he spoke gracefully and sweetly, an aura of confidence and leadership oozing out of him. This was the Jack everyone knew; this was the true face, the true presence of Jack.
He sat in the front of the class. The center of attention, although he didn’t speak a word the waves of attention and adoration from all that surrounded him were poring in.
Sam sat in the back, introverted and silent. She wasn’t really there.
Who are you Jack? She said with her gaze to the back of his neck.
He was in fact the Jack she always knew the Jack that loved and adored since the 7th grade. But there was a new light about him. She was in love with him. She always has been. He was “Mr. Popular”. She remembered how she used to look at from her silent corners how she envied his ability to speak his mind; how she wished he would speak to her. She remembered the long nights of longing for his presence, just his presence. There was something so comforting about him. She could never really understand what it was. It was his self-esteem, the confidence in his walk, the power in his speech she thought to herself now. It was his feeling of safety he gave you when he spoke to you like you were the only person that mattered in the world. She remembered fondly the long phone conversations she would have with him.
She felt wrong, she hated herself for liking him and she detested herself for loving him.
He was a fraud, a wolf in sheep’s wool. He would walk amongst men with this aura of goodwill and love about him while deep in the depths of his soul he was a maniac. A lunatic. A psycho. A burden on humanity. She didn’t hate herself. She hated him and everything he pretended to be, His lies, his walk, his speech, his stance. He was wrong, not her, not Sam, but Jack.
Things are clearer now, Jack thought to himself. He was sitting in class just between classes. I’m happy like this. This is how it should be. He knew he was lying to himself, he knew that if not today then tomorrow he’ll have to do it again. It’s not that he felt guilty; all the guilt in the world was worth this amount of happiness. And he was happy. Just as he closed his eye and relaxed in his chair and he managed to crack a smile he heard his name. “Yes?” he said with his eyes still closed. “Jack is a monster.” He opened his eyes and noticed that everyone around him was looking up at the speaker on the left upper corner of the room. “The Jack we know is a lie” the voice continued. “He’s not the charming boy we all know him as. He is a ruthless cold-blooded killer “everyone around him was looking at him they all had disgust and confusion in their eyes. “He kills. He kills with his bare hands, he kills old people, he kills kids, and he kills just so he can stay normal. He kills defenseless people so he can get a rush.” They were all looking at him. They saw him. He was so ugly. He looked like a freak. “He’s a freak. He feels no remorse for his victims. He feels good, proud after every kill. He’s a monster.” he was a monster a freak of nature, everyone had hate in their eyes, he saw his own reflection in one of their eyes. Jack screamed. “NO! NO! NO! NO!” He screamed as he got up flailing his arms violently across the room.
“He’s not normal.” The voice went on “he is not even a person”. Tears were gushing out of Jacks eyes. They can’t keep looking at him. He franticly looked around the room for an escape, for somewhere to hide. The door was closed he wanted to hid under a desk but they would find him there. He looked straight ahead at the window. He saw his beautiful escape. He rushed towards the window knocking back people in front of him and jumped. He didn’t feel the glass of the window cut him, he didn’t hear the screams of the kids or the glass shattering all he could see is this one cloud that reminded him of S--.
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Take A Chill Pill Bill
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Perhaps you could change it to something like:
