Filth.
Do you know how filthy something can actually be?
Most people can bear a little untidiness. Some can’t even handle the lightest spec of dust.
As for me, I’ve lived surrounded by grease my entire life.
My name is Alicia Doigtdefée, and I have no idea how old I am.
You see, I was born in a dirt poor family, one that couldn’t even afford the bills while living inside a trailer. But it was never because of a lack of job, or some form of injustice.
My parents were spending addicts.
The moment money came into their pocket, they had the urge to spend it away for some stupid bullshit. Not that I’m much better, I barely ever touched money, but each time I did, I got rid of it in an hour. Much more efficient than a serial killer at disposing body, that’s what I am, I think.
So, you know. If they didn’t bother taking care of themselves just for the thrill of playing, why would they care about their daughter? I was made aware early on, I was just an accident. A rip is why I was born, and I got beaten for any time they felt like fixing their errors, ripping my skin and sanity apart.
Most of the time, I was locked into a room, alone, yet surrounded… by all the useless junk they bought. I wasn’t showered, almost completely unfed, unkept in check too, I destroyed more stuff than most before I could even count. Each time this earned me a beating because of excuses like: “This could have been useful!” No it wouldn’t have been. “I was attached to it.” No you weren’t.
But I didn’t care, because this would give me some kind of attention. Sometime they’d take me to the hospital if the beating got too much. But I think my parents were kind of important people. That’s why the nurses never bothered to ask questions or send me away. Or maybe the orphanages were all full of other failures? These are the only explanations I have.
Most of my deciduous teeth rotted away, replaced by imperfection that would sometimes hurt. I also decided to cut my hair myself using whatever tools I found inside of that room. It was getting hard to feel that weight full of parasites and grease over my head. Then it lied there for several months. Until one of them decided to clean it up after the smell got worse. Regarding my clothes consisted of my father’s, too big for my malnourished body, a cap, too wide for my small head, and some shoes he bought out of compulsion. They hid the misery better than the dresses of my mom. Perfect.
I was looking more like a boy than a girl at this point. But since I wasn’t allowed out. Why care?
Over time though, the health issues started to pile up. Especially around my arms. Some wounds got infected and I had the urge to scratch it away, as the itch was getting unbearable. It wasn’t the only area touched though, pretty sure I’m sterile now, however it was the most visible as I was now forced to constantly wear bandages around my arms and change them regularly.
This seemed to be the final straw for my parents. Maybe… Again I’m not quite sure what went down.
Simply put: At night, during a troubled sleep, I heard rummages around the house.
This intrigued me so I woke up and slowly crawled towards the door. Sadly, I didn’t have the strength to back off the moment I heard unknown voices. Right when I understood something was wrong, two men that seemed gigantic compared to my frail stature, entered the room and started to grab a hold of me.
A catatonic shock, some absolute fear, or maybe a drug… However it happened, I only know I fell unconscious and woke up some hours later after getting yelled at. I felt like my head was about to burst open, yet no cry or sadness came from me. I think this was genuine happiness?
I didn’t even care about their explanation. Whatever that institute, “Le Rêve Ensoleillé”, was like, it was sure in my mind to be better than being stuck in a room all day. I could finally go outside.
Yeah… so much for that disappointment.
The only cool thing was that it was a castle repurposed as an institute.
But the more time I spent here, the more pure air made me suffocate under my own anxiety more than a closed-off and stinky room could ever do. I think I hate people, that’s probably it.
Basically, my parents REALLY had enough of me, yet didn’t want to admit to their own faults as people. So they decided the best course of action was to send me to an institute for naughty kids. That way, they could save face while I got mine carved on the sidewalk.
Obviously I’m being hyperbolic.
Kinda.
But the thing is, this institute doesn’t treat any of us as people, just “bad people” that needs to get corrected. Whether there’s an addiction, physical or psychological problem, we get yelled at for it. We’re constantly under extreme stress, so I can’t imagine how badly it affected the older kids.
Obviously, when I arrived I was immediately made the scapegoat of the others’ frustration. Why? Simple. After being forced to wake up from whatever comatose state I was in, my mind still numb, I was dragged to the office of whoever directed this mess. However, he cut his welcoming speech the moment I entered the room, due to horrid my stench was. To be fair, I got so used to it now, I can’t even tell if I genuinely smell awful or not.
His eyes narrowed in disgust and scorn. I don’t remember what he yelled after. Maybe something about how undisciplined I was. This led to the two men who dragged me in, forcefully making me bow by pushing my head down. It hurt. Then my parents complained about me as well, saying how much of a brat I was, referring to what one time I stole money as a good example of my character. Then all five of them yelled at me to answer something, over and over for how long.
Their voices continued to ring in my ears hours after.
Eventually, over my lack of reaction, they decide to take me and forcefully make me shower by trying to strip me down. That’s when I struggled. I hate my body even to this day.
Scars.
Evidence of undernourishment.
That filth that corrupts and itches.
I didn’t want strangers or my parents to see this shameful display. So I punched and kicked and scrapped and bit. One guy got hit in the eye, it’s still visible to this day, so he hit me in the guts, I don’t feel bad.
They interpreted my resistance as a hatred of water or something. They got it wrong but it’s not like I expected them to understand, especially if my parents were filling them in on my well-being.
Still, I lost the fight and got stripped down. It was horrible, to feel myself naked, without clothing or bandages to hide this body of mine. What made it worse was their reactions. Disgust, yells, more yells, insults, I didn’t quite get everything because my brain was shutting down. I felt like I was leaving my body behind. It felt nice for a moment before a slap brought me back to reality. I think I was bleeding at this point, or maybe my eyes were just tired from crying. It hurt like hell. I don’t like sleeping.
In the end they dragged me into the dorms with the others, explaining I’d have to rethink my behavior before being allowed to use the showers again. Actually I think it was because they thought the filth was contagious. That’s the first image the others had of me. A new kid with clothes sloppy put back together, too big for her, and disgusting. I don’t think I ever felt this ashamed in my life.
At least in the dark little room nobody had to bear seeing me, and I didn’t have to care about their judgment, now I had too. I wanted to shoot, I mean shout something. The urge to break stuff came back in full force. Especially when I saw that really tall kid, who’s name I’d come to know as Conrad Levis, shield a younger kid’s eyes, Ambre de Flandre, from my vision. I wanted to break his hand.
Over a few months, I never got that bath. What I got instead is the right to be the target of every bullying possible. Everything is violent here. Shouting is the prescribed way of talking. If you’re soft-spoken, become friend with someone strong, or get fucked. I wasn’t really seen as human.
The nicer kids had looks on pity on their faces, the worse one of hatred either at my weakness or what I represented to them. Every human is kind in the same way, we all feel good because of similar things, but we are all bad and flawed in unique ways. Mine is that I’m disgusting.
Sometimes there was this girl, Marine Henry, who was being nice to me. She kept calling me by male pronouns though. Maybe because… no that’s a stupid thought.
I never bothered to correct her. I just wanted some form of affection, to think I was worth existing. So I accepted not being myself, because being anybody but myself felt better. Especially since I wasn’t worth an actual human. Milo Yunova, Lilian Caboche, Maxwell Cunningham, Jamie Woods, Floriane Ost… They are also outcasts, yet they are either ignored or have someone to take care of them.
But me, when I was myself, not pretending anything, I was alone.
Alone against the more “active” students, those that partook in every activities proposed by the staff, and that very same staff who made sure that for the longest time, I’d say at the bottom of the institute’s hierarchy. To be fair, unlike others, my parents didn’t want me to heal or whatever, they just wanted me gone. These people, they could whatever they pleased with me.
That’s when I took notice of a certain guy. He was probably the most violent here, judging by the smile plastered on his face when anything remotely dangerous was happening, I’d say he’s the closest thing to a sadist I ever met. But he only took part in a beating when it was directed against me, where he made sure that each one of his punch counted. He didn’t hesitate hitting me in nasty spots.
At this point, I was so used to bruises and filth all over my body, that the only question plaguing my mind was: “Why?” None of his actions, none of his quirks, nothing made sense to me. It all seemed so monstrous. There was no way someone this rotten actually existed. As to not lose more of my sanity, I decided to dedicate my free time to answer my question. To entertain myself. I think. But on the first evening where I started to stalk him, while he skipped over diner and stayed alone.
“I can take notice of you just by your smell, y’know.”
Any attempt at being discreet had been shattered in a few minutes. I didn’t know what I expected honestly. The Filth was at its strongest. I was scratching my arms every minute or so even though the dried blood and crusty infected skin were all I could feel. Regardless of my cover being blown, I didn’t feel any kind of fear so I simply decided to stop this charade and meet him face to face.
That was the first time I’d gotten a good look at him.
He was… unremarkable at first glance. I wasn’t very tall, naturally due to malnutrition, yet his height was only slightly greater than mine. His hair was dark, healthy but shaggy. His skin was neither clean nor atrocious, a comfortable norm. Also, despite the fact I knew he could throw a punch, he looked pretty scrawny. It’s as if he was made to look as bland or inoffensive as possible.
Now that I think about it, I never really noticed him apart from those burst of frightening euphoria. He was always blending in with the more violent kids who’d “steal the spotlight” or be by himself on his phone. A phone… how stupid of me… It never really dawned on me that him having access to his phone at all time was a red flag. He was the only kid “allowed” with one outside of down time… well as you’ll see. It’s more like the staff can’t do anything about it.
Going back to this encounter, his clothing did intrigue me because it looked fancy, a bit too fancy actually. A white Kodak shirt with a jean jacket over it, his pants were some kind of slim design probably Levis, and he had beige Timberland boots. There was also some sort of very loose blue and black neck-warmer on him, hand-knitted I’d say, one that he’d hide his face in when stressed. A tic I noticed once when he genuinely got caught off guard by something out of my ear range.
Now, apart from the fact only rich kids would have access to this type of wardrobe in this hellhole and this rare species would mostly stick together, what bothered me was how pristine and clean his clothes were. Apart from the neck-warmer, which was probably done by an amateur, nothing was out of place or damaged, even if the style itself looked a bit too flashy for me.
For someone such as me that grew up surrounded and covered in filth, I felt this attraction towards his clothes, a fascination, something I needed to touch. So I stared. I stared at the fact someone in such a rough place, could keep his clothes clean, free from any abuse or fight.
He took notice of this. Bothered with how long I was taking. “Are you really so disgusting that you feel some kind of fascination over proper clothing?”
The moment the insult left his mouth, I snapped out of my trance, I felt his piercing gaze on me so I looked up.
He was definitely unremarkable, I thought.
I was almost disappointed the man who intrigued me turned out to be some boring emotionally unstable teen. One that was thrown away by his family, like all of us down here.
But when I saw his gaze.
Pure malice shining through his thin pitch black irises.
A crooked grin was distorting his face when I flinched.
I knew, as my guts were twisting, this guy is trouble. But I stayed because at this point, any feeling was better than numbness. I was disgusted by all of my being, I cursed the universe for the shitty hand I was dealt with, sometimes I dreamt of smashing something that wasn’t inanimate. Anger or nothing. Those were the two states I was always in. The childish enjoyment I felt in the room, smashing useless piece of garbage or trying to read whatever text I’d find in boxes, was long gone.
So being… afraid? excited? aroused? I don’t even know… It was just so enticing. Finally I was alive, I had the confirmation. Just by putting my meager life at risk. How so mesmerizing.
He spoke again. “What’s the matter? Can’t speak? Afraid I’ll hit you again?” He got closer. I didn’t back off. No point in turning away now.
“No…” I coughed. My voice was hoarse after failing to use it for so many years. “I… want…to…stay…”
Those words were weak and didn’t seem to carry any weight to outsiders. But to me, a proper sentence coming out of my mouth was truly special.
I saw the emptiness overtaken to his eyes for a brief moment. I was starting to get him. I thought. His eyes would light up at the slightest controversy, the slightest fight, and he adored chaos, because this would distract him from his emptiness.
But the moment I wanted to smile, thinking that alas I met a kindred spirit, he hit me straight in the face. Then again. And again. And more.
Until I was left barely conscious, breaking down in sobs.
He immediately stopped himself from punching me when I started to cry.
I heard him mutter: “That’s better.” Before giggling.
Then he lend me a hand, the creepily calm smile he always had on his face most of the time. One that was so unnatural, his eyes were forcefully closed as to not betray his true intentions.
I took his hand. I had nothing else to do and slowly got back up. The pain was just in my head.
His voice was full of joy now. “Sorry about that! I was feeling really down. I needed it.”
Was seeing me suffer his way of uplifting his mood? But why only me? Why help me just after?
Those are legitimate questions I should have asked myself on the spot. But at the moment, I remember only thinking that: “He needed me.” So I only felt some kind of pride and I smiled again.
He kept his eyes closed before going ahead of me so, I had no idea what was going on in his mind but when he took my bandaged hand without a second thought to pull me up the moment before, I didn’t care about anything else. I was in heaven, a wrong, twisted, and creepy heaven, but at this point, I couldn’t care less if this guy was Lucifer, Satan, Gabriel or Uriel, I just knew he was clean, and a twisted paradise was better than a filthy reality.
He then looked back, his face still contorted into an unnatural expression. “You stink. You should get a shower.” My only thought was that he cared about me.
I had even more trouble speaking due to how hard he beat me. “…can’t…” was all that got out.
He looked incredulously. “Why?” No aggression or mockery just an itch to know more.
I wanted to tell him everything. But I was too battered up. Some blood got out of my mouth. “…g…grounded…” I stuttered.
He laughed, a bit too hard, a bit too forced. “Really? You got grounded so badly you can’t use the showers, on your first month?”
So only a month had passed, I thought. Spending all days in the locked room messed up with my perception of time so badly, I was feeling like I knew this guy for ages at the time. In reality I was practically a stranger to him.
Maybe I wasn’t the only person he beat up for his enjoyment.
The thought made me sad.
I didn’t wonder why I felt sad then.
I still don’t now, despite my clearer state of mind.
In the end I simply nodded. He clapped his hands together. “Well! That explains it! I thought you were just an uneducated pig, but you’re actually not! Let’s get you freshened up.”
The relief I felt at this moment far surpassed any kind of offense I could have taken from his insult. I was about to finally get clean, the filth could go away somewhat, the infections laid rampant in this icky body, but I could still feel water on my skin. I craved it, hot or cold, it wasn’t important.
Then his grip tighten around my arm, it genuinely hurt me due to how sensitive it was, it made smile again. “I suppose you do know though… how things work around here?”
I was out of breath already. Just the two words from earlier deeply affected my throat. A squeaky pathetic sound was the only thing I could muster. It amused him. “Answer me.” he commanded.
I could only let out a “Yes” almost inaudible, still it sounded like music to his ears. “Good. I’ll let you know what this favor is in due time.”
I actually can’t grasp how long our exchange lasted. Because it was actually past our curfew now. The night had settled in during this encounter. I didn’t know the layout very well, let alone at night, so I was at his complete mercy.
How deplorable of me to not have felt the slightest bit of fear, instead just focusing on his hand. The same one that crushed my arm and beat me a few seconds earlier. Was I so desperate for human connection? Actually, yes. That question was stupid.
Surprisingly though, he actually took me to the showers. In the institute, there’s only one room dedicated to them for “students”, he told me, there’s just specific times for boys and girls. Although it didn’t matter right now. Certainly not.
I already guessed it was forbidden for us to not be in our dorms at this hour. But this suspicion got confirmation when I heard a loud scream. It sent me into a panic attack, I think, because I latched onto the boy’s arm and buried my face in his body. He didn’t budge at the voice though, nor did he push me away. I didn’t understand what this guy was saying. He screamed far too loudly. I just know he was one of those that shoved me into the showers.
“Ah, Pom. Pleasure to see you in this lovely night!”
That was when I lifted my head slightly upward as well as my cap to see if I was actually correct.
And I was.
He had no fear. He wasn’t the slightest bit worried as the big guy approached us. He even humored him.
I found that amazing.
I couldn’t even register was the other guy was yelling, too busy admiring the man in front of me. “Listen Pom, I’m just showing the newbie around. He couldn’t even get a shower on his first month. Let him have that at least, alright?”
Oh… I thought. He also thinks I’m a boy.
I couldn’t care less. Just like I didn’t listen to a single thing this “Pom” guy said.
I did become concerned when he started to grab him by his shirt. He wasn’t. “Oh, Pom, Pom! Calm down my friend… Don’t you remember our deal? No ruckus when I do something illegal. You wouldn’t want your little “hobby” to be revealed to everyone, wouldn’t you?”
The man spit back aggressively, while trying his best to remain composed. “Listen here you little shit. You’re lucky to not be alone. The entire staff said they’d close their eyes if I “accidentally disciplined you too harshly”. You’re walking on thin ice with your shtick. The moment you show any sign of weakness, you’re dead.”
I still don’t know why, but in that moment, I grabbed that guy’s arm with all of my strength. Fueled by some kind of despair, maybe fearing he’d be taken away from me, I managed to get out a small. “Let…go…” I also am not sure of what my face looked like, but the both of them seemed surprise. The one I was interested in, thankfully was delighted.
“Look, Pom. Let’s leave it at that, alright? I swear to not break anymore rule tonight.”
With a look of intense hatred exchanged, the man pushed my arms away, and let go of him. He then cursed under his breath while we both proceeded into the showers.
This guy, I still didn’t know the name of, lit up the room before turning towards me. His smile didn’t seem as forced as before, though I’d hardly call it natural. “You were pretty cool back then. Guess you do have a spine after all!” Then the malice came back. “Too bad you’re using it in meaningless situations.”
This made me blush so I pushed my cap downward and stuttered. “…You…cooler…”
He let out some sort of “awww” sound and removed my cap to pat my head. The moment his hand made contact with my greasy and uncleaned hair, I just felt this overwhelming wave of happiness, I wanted to cry. I wanted his patting to never stop, despite how pathetic that sound. I just needed it.
Sadly, it had to eventually come to an end. So he removed, and made a show out on how to activate the showers. I laughed when he accidentally turned one on himself, he got annoyed but didn’t comment on it. He also showed me the different washing machines set up in a small room adjacent to the showers.
It all seemed so funny, how normal all of this was. It’s strange how the guy that beat me up, was also behaving in such a way where I felt like we were two friends. I felt comfortable. The bruises that he inflicted on me today, the cuts from years ago, the constant Filth, all of that pain was gone just by casually talking to him. It was funny. So, so, funny. A fuzzy kind of funny.
Until he asked me to undress so he could put the clothes in the washing machine.
Of course, I was so stupid. If we believed we were both guys, he would have assumed there’s no real problem to undressing. I should have told him sooner.
But the funny thing is that… my gender wasn’t why I didn’t want him to see my body.
It was still because of the Filth. “…it’s…”
He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
I finished my sentence. “…filthy…lots…of…disgusting…” I was shaking more and more.
I was about to cry just by talking about it.
He laughed.
It made me shiver, my head was hanging low, my arms were covering my body more than the clothes.
He laughed again.
I felt my knees losing their strength.
He stopped.
I fell.
“I already know that. Man. You smell so horrendously, everyone can spot you from miles away, you hair is so greasy I can still feel it in my hand moments later, I was literally trying not to barf when you latched onto me, never do that again by the way, and your teeth are fucked beyond repair.”
I cried, he smiled. All that peace I felt, it just vanished into thin air. I started saying something: “Your…”
He cut me off with a yell and a laugh. “EH? SPEAK LOUDER I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”
I winced, I hated loud, but kept going. “…heart…is…filthy…”
It seemed to faze him for a second. Light left his eyes, before he kicked me, and it shone again.
Then I said something.
Something that neither he nor I could understand. “I…love…you…”
Why? I don’t know. I was feeling so many contradictory emotions. I don’t know why. But this was the prevalant one. The first boy to be nice to me. That’s how I respond. I hate it.
So he kicked me harder.
Still I got up and kissed him.
He bit my tongue.
I was crying. I think it was from happiness. “Take… responsibility… for… this… girl…’s… first….”
Then I fell unconscious as he looked at me with an empty stare I couldn’t comprehend.
Nor could I understand just how obsessed I got with this boy.
I was always bad with emotio… Scratch that, I was bad at everything.
That was just me, Alicia Doigtdefée.
When I awoke, I was laying on one of the bench in the showers room naked apart from a towel wrapped around me. My first instinct was to find my clothes, but I stopped because I felt… cleaner, even the bandages around my arms were changed.
I heard his voice next to me. He was sitting in the opposite direction. “So you’re a girl?”
I hummed softly.
His voice had lost all sorts of emotion. “What’s your name?”
“Alicia…”
He simply responded. “Tao.”
I finally had a name for that face. So I smiled again. I wanted to thank him too for the bandages, ask how he knew to make them so perfectly, but I was out of breath again.
His voice, as bland as ever, added: “Your clothes are getting dried. Wait around here. It’ll be done in a few minutes. Then we’ll be able to go.” I guess I blacked out for longer than I thought.
His tone was then somewhat bitter. “We’ll never speak to each other ever again, got that?”
I didn’t, so I grabbed a weak hold of him. He grunted. “Stay…” I asked.
He punched me. “I won’t.”
I managed to get out. “Please…”
He didn’t do anything this time. “Why are you here?” He asked.
I couldn’t answer. “…don’t…know.”
I was met with his arms around my neck. “Why? WHY ARE YOU HERE?” I flinched at the yell but couldn’t respond. Either because I was about to pass out again, or because of a lack of oxygen.
Realizing this, he withdrew and backed off in an instant. What a nice person. He cares about me, were thoughts flooding in my head. “This can’t be right.” He muttered. “You… you must have done something! Anything, just a bad deed, the one too many to your parents!”
I coughed. Then I got closer to him. He seemed scared. I don’t know why. I just love him. I think. I think that’s the truest of all true. You get closer to the ones you love. My voice was hoarse. “Living.”
He was shaking. “I… lived… too… long.” I sung. That’s how I’d calm myself but it seemed to unnerve him. How badly did I look? How badly was I scarred? For the unwavering to falter in my presence?
A quiet alarm rang inside the dimly lit room. “Your clothes.” He said, before going to retrieve them.
He threw them at me. “Put them on.” He commanded. Although emotionless, I could feel some kind of pity in it… or maybe I was just imagining it.
I did as I was told and felt whole again.
He tried to speak, probably to order me to live, but I attached myself to him with a hug. He tried to hit me, but his arms were locked and his kicks didn’t hurt as much. “…talk…more…” I asked.
He gave up and talked about a while. “About what?”
I responded quietly: I want to hear more of you. I want to learn more about this place. I want to make you understand how badly I needed your affection, fake or not, especially now that you know who I am. I’m desperate for more. I’m craving for more. I’ll do… “anything.” because that’s the sole thing which came out of my mouth.
He didn’t do anything for some moments, but ultimately spoke: “This place is hell.” Yes I know.
“Only bad kids are sent here.” Yes I know.
“Those that are so horrendous that our parents couldn’t handle anymore.” That’s what I-
“But sometimes… kids like you, Milo or Ambre, are also abandoned.” What?
“You could make the argument that all of us had irresponsible parents.” And?
“But you three, you’re just pathetic, mistreated, infants that never grew up.” So? I’m still-
“You never deserved anything bad in your life.” No. I…
“You shouldn’t have been sent here.” No…
“I’m sorry.”
I was against his body. It felt weird for someone to actually apologize for how they treated me. I began to shake, and wail, and my voice never fully returned. He put his hand in my hair again, this time it was clean thanks to him.
It was still night when I stopped crying, but it seemed like hours had passed. I couldn’t even stand properly. So we sat again on one of the bench of the room. He wasn’t looking at me.
He asked: “Do you even know your age, Alicia?”
I shook my head, he sensed the movement and sighed. “Do you even know how badly your body is damaged? By diseases I mean.”
I simply let one word out. “hurt…” He visibly shook when hearing this.
He wanted to tell me something, but shut himself. I didn’t pry. I never did.
However, he didn’t stop asking questions. “What did you wanted to be as a kid?”
I pondered the question. I never asked myself what it’d be like growing up in the room. Growth just came because my parents still had the heart to feed me as a toddler. They didn’t care, but weren’t monstrous enough as to let a baby die in their house? Or maybe it would have been too inconvenient. I think. I… don’t know… Do I even remember my parents correctly?
Everything just blend in my heart and my head, even more nowadays.
After a long silence, I simply said: “happy…” He shuddered. “musician…” having in mind that little box I’d play with for hours on end at the room.
There was another drawn-out silence, one I decided to cut myself. “you? How…?”
He turned to face me with that same forced smile he wore all of the time. Did he even do it on purpose? I wonder. “Well, I could tell you.” Please do.
“But there’s not much point.” To me there is.
“How I came to be sent here, becoming obsessed with violence, drama, conflict, finding out secrets… There’s a reason, a cause, sure.” One I desperately need to be hear to feel closer to you.
“Yet it’s just a story I’d use to earn sympathy from you.” I don’t mind.
“I did it multiple times before screwing the person over.” I don’t mind.
“But you three, I can’t bring myself to hurt you any more.” But that’s my purpose… being hurt…
“So, it’s better if you don’t humanize me too much.” You’re right, you’re already perfect.
“I prefer to play the irredeemable sadistic monster.” You’re my prince charming.
Like a creepy crawler, I went on top of him while he was ranting. I was craving his affection. I needed more and more and more. I had to kiss him again just to feel it, and maybe do like the parents did sometimes after a big fight to make up. But he punched me away again. His face lit up a smile as he saw me wince, before looking horrified. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t mind.
It was starting to get stale though.
He didn’t give any more grand theatrics, or maniacal laughter, he was starting to get boring. Maybe if I told Marine about my real gender, she’d love me in a similar manner? Maybe those rich kids would too? Maybe these Milo, and Ambre, guys are actually sadist that can love me?
Writing these thoughts down feel weird. Especially since I’m still attracted to him.
But they’re also part of me.
They’re also part of who I am.
Me, little, pathetic, infantile, Alicia.
The one that craves attention the most, in the end.
Ah.
I think I just met the Devil, and tasted the Apple, they seem more welcoming than anyone else.
Pain, happiness, sadness, the more I think about these concepts, the more I wonder if they even mean something. To me, at least in that moment, I just fluctuated between being noticed and unnoticed, special to one person or to no one. I wanted to do everything to taste it again.
So in this room, I asked: “Tao…what…is…your…dream?”
His eyes were empty, but suddenly lit up, his grin was coming back. “Burn this institute to the ground, it and all of its residents, teachers and students, giving them all fitting retribution for their crimes.”
A massacre, that sounded insane, it was actually. I muttered: “need…help?”
His face contorted even more, to a mix of horror and jubilation, the joy creeping on his face was clearly his dominant feeling. However, he said: “Don’t kill anyone. Let me handle it. Just watch on the side.”
I didn’t understand why. I didn’t even bother to ask why he wanted to do this. But I agreed regardless.
That’s when we finally left the room. He showed me the way to my dorms, and we parted ways.
For the following weeks, I didn’t encounter anymore trouble. I was free to shower, to clean myself, to even brush my teeth. I still had the infections but I could mitigate them and I was happy.
I think I can proudly say I’m easy to please.
The life at the institute was still punctuated by harsh reprimands, insults, violence, but I found a sort of newfound joy in this, I even got along better with Marine so it felt on top of the world despite spending most of the day getting beaten. It was funny.