DISTRUPTION
Bad Guy has a nice dream until he stops by a certain someone. And that’s someone’s not fun. At all.
Ooh boy, what a day for writing a fanfic of something I just discovered on Pinterest.
Not that it was something mindless, I mean, I came up with a gijinka design for Bad Guy. Surely’ll release it (on my socials) at least tomorrow, because I can’t resist these, haha.
Maybe I’ll do more?
After preparing myself for the day, I leave my apartment to ruin everyone else’s like I always do. Suddenly, I see my city tinted in red alongside the streets on fire, buildings collapsing one by one, mountains of crashed cars and people beating the shit out of each other, be it with their own bodies or weapons.
I never thought I’d see that kind of scenario in my life, so I dance a ballet-like choreography to the screams while gracefully avoiding bullets that go faster than thunder itself, most of them aiming at me, until I stumble across a little boy with his head down, only to be my childhood self when he raises it, making me take a step back terrified.
“Why did you do this?” He whimpers, almost sobbing.
I don’t want to at all, yet I start remembering my childhood days, specifically when I would imagine stories with the plushes I had alongside the violent yelling and punching of my parents in the background. Because of that, it was impossible for me to study in any way. Explaining my situation didn’t help since it would become the subject of mockery from some kids.
Things stayed the same in middle school, but one day walking back home, I saw a group around my age stealing a businessman’s suitcase. When both ran away, some money flew over, I picked it up and bought some noise-canceling headphones with them. That single event inspired me to do more like bullying disadvantaged kids -sometimes to the point of suicide-, raping peers I had a crush on, vandalizing sacred or important monuments, etc., successfully avoiding accountability.
However, nothing lasts forever: I moved to the city right after turning eighteen, but it’s more condemnable there, hence why I got scared of being caught; obviously without leaving my “asshole” lifestyle behind.
I look back at the brat then pick a knife from the ground and start stabbing him in the head multiple times while he cries blood hysterically.
“Shut your bitch ass up, you fucking kid.” I mumble in my teeth.
Then, I wake up in the soulless white vintage bed of mine, struggling to wake up, still upset with that sensitive creature.
I don’t care ‘bout what anyone says: evil is, and’ll always be, the only way I can find joy.
