Page 43 of The Heart of a Villain

The animals get so tired of chasing me around the land my enemies have no idea about, while I know every nook and cranny of it. In fact, they’re probably the ones who send all these animals after me, in hopes a beast will tear my flesh bit by bit.

However, no matter what happens, I won’t die because I made a vow on the day my mother died.

I promised to kill them all and have my revenge, and I refuse to go until it’s achieved.

The past two years I’ve been alone. More men arrived on the island, hideous people bringing children with them who suffered and suffered, judging by the cries echoing in the night and their faces whenever they brought them outside.

They also had women, badly beaten up, who tried several times to escape but always ended up lying on the ground with a bullet in the back of their heads.

At first, I wanted to help some of them, to show them the way to the waterfall and at least save someone.

But they never went with me—or worse, screamed their lungs out about an intruder—apparently too afraid to go against those fuckers. Maybe they damaged their psyches so much they no longer believe in goodness.

God knows I don’t because if goodness existed in this world, I wouldn’t have suffered this much.

My heart pangs painfully as familiar anguish fills my heart at remembering how they threw my mother’s body into the ocean, letting it float away. All I could do was stare at it because they stayed long on the beach, drinking and laughing around a bonfire.

Just cast away as if she never existed. They even burned all the family albums.

Loneliness sinks into me from every corner, and I hate the weakness it inspires within me, so, shaking my head, I munch on my apple down to its seeds, getting as much nutrition from it as possible, while the beast barks again. I know I have to do something before these fuckers show up.

Whenever I stay in one place for long, they tend to come looking, hoping to kill me—or worse, do all the shit Jim wanted to do to my body.

He frequently yells at them to search harder whenever he knows I’m hiding in the bushes, but they can never locate me, even in the waterfall.

It’s my only sanctuary on this land because everywhere else, I have to watch my back.

Finished with my apple, I snatch out some dried meat from my bag. Although I hate it and cry every time I need to kill an animal, I have no other choice. I only do it to distract the dogs. Otherwise, I never touch it.

“Hey, beast!” I yell, and the dog barks again before I dangle the meat, swinging it from side to side, its eyes watching it innately as its body freezes. “Catch!” I draw my arm back and then throw it away with all my might several feet away, and it races right away toward it.

Without wasting time, I slide down the tree and then run with all my strength farther into the forest, passing by various bushes and flowers, mindful of not stepping on anything poisonous.

My lungs burn for some oxygen, but the sun has almost set on the horizon, which means I have to get to the cave as fast as possible.

Finally, I jump through the leaves toward my sanctuary and stop by the ocean, breathing heavily and kneeling to scoop some water to wash the dirt from my face, wincing when the salt hits my bruised skin.

Although at this point, I have so many—from climbing trees, hunting, and occasional deep bites from the dogs—all over my body and my bare feet that I’m used to them.

The scars will never fade away, and I don’t wish for them to. They remind me of what was done to me and my family, an offense I will never, ever forget or forgive.

They also show me in all their glory that I’m a savage and a villain destined to live this life alone and suffer for sins I’ve never committed because I cannot even imagine functioning in the real world as a normal person ever again.

My soul no longer exists within me. It’s soaked in darkness and madness, consuming me slowly every single day.

I sometimes forget my name or how to speak some words because I haven’t conversed with anyone in such a long time.

And the water always dripping in the cave gets on my nerves, urging me to succumb to this oblivion calling my name that says maybe my suffering has no meaning anyway.

What can an eleven-year-old boy do? The only justice will be killing these men, but to off Jim, I have to have a little more strength.

The whirlpool of distress and agony surround me, making it hard to breathe, while I do my best to hold on to something that failed me time and time again.

This life of mine, in which no one gives a fuck about me, even my own twin, who I can never seem to forget.

Maybe they’re right when they say love and hate are the same emotions, just on different amplitude charges.

Sighing in resignation at my sore muscles, I lean forward to scoop more water into my palms before going to rest in the cave, when I freeze, my stomach dropping.

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