• The following links are links to following chapters of this selection:

    Part 1 Prologue

    Part 1 Ch. 1

    Part 1 Ch. 2

    Part 1 Ch. 3

    Part 1 Ch. 4

    Part 1 Ch. 5








    The days have gone by so tediously lately. Not they haven't before, but it seemed especially so for these few days.

    Mary's been gone sense Wednesday. She was at her house with the flu, but if you can do the math, stomach flu usually last a few days. Our project was due on Friday. The equation? Failure.

    And as I came back home on Thursday, the feeling of raging hate was boiling in my soil, as I came up with reasons to hate Mary more.

    She's not sick, I thought, glaring out the window of the back seat. She's pretending to be sick. She's probably been hurt by what I said yesterday. What a wimp.

    And as I traipsed into the house, my mom beamed at me, as she always did, and asked,

    "How was your day?" I ignored her, and charged upstairs, and strolled onto my bed, as I always did. An unwelcome knocking sound came from my door, and I glanced up at it.

    "Tom?" I heard my mom say. "Can I come in?" I rested my head back down on my pillow, and replied,

    "No. Go away." But, of course, she came in anyway, which was something else I hated about everyone. They always seemed to ask a question, and then do the opposite of what you say. If you have your mind set, don't ask the question in the first place. She walked over, and sat on my bed, right next to me, as she always did when she was going to have a talk with me. Way to be cool, mom.

    "So, how's the project coming along?" she asked, seeming to grasp for something to talk about.

    "Fine," I said, still facing the ceiling. She touched my shoulder lightly. I groaned, but other than that, made no reaction.

    "I was talking with Mary's mother yesterday over the telephone. She didn't seem very happy." She paused for a second, probably expecting me to say something, but when I didn't, she continued,

    "She was very upset. She said that you tore up her daughter's papers." I faced towards my mother, and growled,

    "That little...snitch. She told on me." Suddenly, my mom's attitude began to change dramtically, as she excalaimed,

    "And for good reason too! What has she ever done that was cruel to you?" I looked at my mom, my eyes burning with anger as I said,

    "It's not for that reason I don't like her. You don't understand--" Suddenly, she lept up to her feet, and exclaimed,

    "Your absolutely right, I don't understand! She's done nothing but good to you, and how do you repay her? You tear up her work that she did for you into shreds. That, son, is what we call malicious, cruel, and despicable behavior!" She paused, wait for me to say something, but when I didn't, she walked towards the door. She then stopped, and twisted her head to face me, as she said,

    "Sometimes--sometimes some of the things we do we might regret in the future." Still staring at the ceiling, I muttered,

    "I won't regret this. Trust me." She turned back towards the door, and as she clasped onto the handle, she continued,

    "You don't know what your future has in store for you." Suddenly, she snapped, "And if not for anyone else, if not for Mary, than for yourself, because at the rate your going, I am definitely sending you to boot camp tomorrow." And with that, she waltzed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

    And as I laid there alone, something happened to me that's never happened before. I was speechless, thoughtless to what she had just said and how she had just said it.

    I felt...hurt, wounded by the crossness of my mother. Never had she been so strict without apollogizing minutes later.

    I actually stared at the door for the next hour, expecting her to come bursting in, sobbing and apollogizing, and reassuring me that she loved me.

    But the door didn't open, and I was left there, laying on my bed, alone. And I thought to myself, was it right? Did she deserve to have those papers shredded? And I started to doubt if I was playing my game right...if my philosophy was even correct about the game.

    I shuddered, and suddenly, there was a different person the hate burning inside me was pointing to.

    The hate was pointing to...me. All my life, I hated everyone around me, being the self centered creep that I was. And I had neglected to even consider the one who was wrong about everything...the one who really should be hated was me.

    "Why was I thinking of this right now all of a sudden" wasn't the question. "Why had I taken so long to figure it out" was what I was wondering.

    And then, right there on my bed, I did another thing that was a first.

    I cried. I cried myself to sleep.