The best

   He had always being that person. You know, the kind of man that’s always on top of everything and whom everyone thinks about. Many want to be like him and others want to be with him. But few have ever get close enough to really know him as he has being intelligent enough to keep it all separated, in order to keep up the illusion.

 Yes, an illusion. Because Martin, the perfect man, had always had to act and had always had to do things to stay where he was. Martin wasn’t only an employee, he owned the company and ran it for the last five years, after his father had decide, rather surprisingly, to leave control of his beloved company to his son. This had been a matter of discussion amongst the high class of the city and the commerce guilds but eventually all doubts disappeared when they realized he was much more than what he looked like.

 He had gone to school in Europe and had a keen sense of fashion. He knew every single member of the richest families on both sides of the Atlantic and he had more than one affair with many of them, men or women. Many would have looked over him because of him being a bisexual man but another surprise; people found this a very interesting trait, complemented by his great skills handling money and people. Because his most alluring trait was the fact he could make anyone do anything he wanted. Sometimes, he didn’t even have to ask.

 Some people thought it was all about his physical appearance.  He was tall, tanned but not too much, well dressed, manly but soft features and ideal in every sense. Many magazines had asked him to do photo-shoots and he had accepted gladly to all the offerings. He would even do them for free if it helped the company promote some new article that they wanted to push on people or simply to get everyone to know who he was.

 People love to buy things to get to be like someone. Because people are obsessed to be closer to their idea of perfection, which is actually the idea of the media. And Martin was exactly that. Once he was in every magazine, more than one man was getting their hair cut in the way he had it and stores selling the clothes he liked had their sales rise for a whole month. Of course, his company owned many of those stores so it was all a very round business.

 His father eventually died and his mother went away to leave in France. This left him with free rein, more than ever, over his company and his image. From time to time, he would let paparazzi’s come close enough to get a few shots of him, maybe alone or maybe with a young beautiful model or someone people would hate him to be with. Because his goal was to make people want to be that model, be that person who had the unspeakable honor of going around town with him.

 So what people didn’t know very well about him was that he was very manipulative of everything he did. Most people would never calculate every single movement in their lives as he did but it was not as if he had an option. From a very young age, he had realized it was best to be the one with power and not the one being ruled. And if his family’s fortune was of any help, he wanted to be that guy everyone admires for every reason possible.

 It was him who started, not only doing benefits and helping those in need, but he actually went to the orphanages, hospitals and retirement homes to help in any way he could. Martin knew that he needed people to admire him because it benefited both him and them: if they were in love with him, the earning of his companies will rise but also the amount of money he was able to invest in any charity he would like. So it was great for everyone.

 Once his family left, he was more and more controlling of the company but no one ever said anything because it became one of the best companies in the world in less than three years. Before, it had been an old and respectable company but now it was on top of everything. Besides, working there was seeing as the best that could happen to anyone. The pay was great and employees enjoyed many benefits, all which had been established by Martin. He thought that if they were happy, they would work harder and the company would do even better.

 In time, he started absorbing minor business and it became one of the top companies in the country. It was so powerful, that their endorsement in any way was almost a warranty of success. Martin, however, had never cared for politics thinking those men and women always had underlying intentions. He thought of himself of a more honest person than them and decided to be clear, stating that his company would never serve anyone’s political efforts. He would rather shut it all down before bow to a politician.

This was rather hypocrite from him because Martin had never really being honest about him. He had created a character, a sort of persona, who acted his life. But the real Martin, the one that had existed back when he was only a kid, had been trapped inside his brain and was never allowed to be outside, to be in control. He sometimes had minor breakdowns, suffering from flashes of depression. Martin’s acting had earned him a severe headache problem but people knew and were not surprised: with everything he had on his plate, he was allowed to have a headache from time to time.

 When he reached the age of thirty five, people thought he was finally going to get a wife but that didn’t happen. He was still being photographed with many beautiful men and women but he knew them all too well to have anything more compromising with any of them. The models were always dull and the pretty faces always hid stupid minds. And Martin, handsome as he was, was not as stupid fool at all. He would have wanted to meet someone like him, someone that had fought his way to the top and wasn’t afraid to do or say anything. Because that was another thing he loved about his position: he could have any thought about any subject in current life and people would always support him or, at very least, not even care.

 And, to explain it further, he was a self made man. In spite of his money, he had decided to become much more than he was supposed to be. All his life he had heard it from the media, from his parents, from the society he had been born into. He had heard of perfection and of the rulers and the ones that are ruled. So he decided, at a very young age, to be the one on top. To beat every single other guy or girl in that race and be the one to beat them all. That's who he had always wanted to be. He started learning about everything and finally, he came back from Europe as a new man that would change the world.

 Of course, there were people that did not trust him be he never worried about any of them. As far as he was concerned, they were only jealous of the amount of power he had because, after all, that is what people really look for. When improving ourselves physically, we are only seeking to have power over other, to be better than the rest. Because being better than other means that there is a sense of superiority and that always entails powers. And Martin thought that those that were too mediocre to improve were the ones expending their days criticizing his life and way of doing business.

  Martin acquired a big condominium in the middle of the city, on top of one of the tallest residential buildings of town. From there, he could see his office tower and the lives of many people below. He felt even more powerful than ever but it was then, only then, when he realized there was no one beside him to share everything with. No family, no real friends, no lover. There was no one with whom he could share his visions of the future or his passions. It was only a huge space, filled with riches but with no soul at all.

 When feeling like that, he would disguise himself and walk around the people on the street and he realized what he lacked was love. Not only romantic love but also every single kind there is in the world. Some people that were far from being like him laughed in the street and appeared to have the best time possible. They loved themselves far more than he would ever love himself, because he had no idea who he was anymore. He had renounced to his true self long ago and now that boy was lost forever.

 After a few outings, he decided to cut off all thought of that forever, focusing on the future of his company and how to enjoy life with all the power and money he had. Because, after all, he had made a decision all those years ago: he had decided to be perfect in every sense, to go to the gym and get a perfect body, to handle money correctly to have the most refined luxury items and clothes and teaching himself to be the business man his father had never been.

 He was going to be the best. And, according to him, he already was.

Hate

   They all hate him. I know I do. He acts all perfect and many people around here think he is just that: perfect. I bet he hide so many thinks beneath those stupid smiles and acts of kindness. No human person is like that; we all act of cowardice or shame but never just because we are good. We just want to be it so bad we go to great lengths to transform in those idiotic beings that just spit positivity.

 He’s a fake. I just know it. He gave everyone a present on his floor last Christmas and even organized a party for them, dressed as Santa Claus. And people danced around him like dogs under the hypnosis of a really good trainer. It was disgusting how they looked, as if they were in the presence of God himself or at least one of the many saints. And he even acts the part, always helping and doing and being all over the place.

 Was he fat as a kid? Or did his parents maybe hate him? No, of course not. That wouldn’t have happened to him. People said that he would speak of his childhood often, remembering how it was all easier. Ha! Easier than now, when almost every single idiot in this office building treats him like his a deity? I doubt it. He must have been one of those insufferable jocks, full of himself, with everyone cheering around just because he looked like some guy from a magazine.

 I always try to get away from people like that. All they do is treat people like the stupidest of pets, making them do, as he wants. He doesn’t even have to ask, which is even more revolting. They just do it, as if getting the reward of his smile was more than enough to feed their children or pay their bills. I’ve heard them, women and children worshipping him in the elevator, talking about how kind and sensitive he is.

 People will believe anything if they want to, even if it kills them. They’re not smart enough to feel, to sense. I laugh in my head overtime they organized that annoying secret valentines game. They always try to pull me into that and, once, I almost agreed to do it. At the end of the day, I’m not much more smart than they are and I do work here with them. But then they spoke of how that stupid fuck was organizing it all. So I just said no and left for my house.

 Days after that I ran into him. He smiled to me! As I was a friend or one of his dogs. I just got out of the elevator and went to the bathroom, as I had no need to stand more than a minute in the presence of that cheeky smug smile, expecting me and anyone else to do the same. I want him to know that we’re not all enthralled by his physical appearance and his effort to be liked by everyone.

 He wants us all to like him? Then he should behave like any other of us, just work and shut the fuck up. We don’t wanna know about his colorful life full of beauty, and style and drama that’s only dramatic to him. Of course, he has been employee of the month so many times, no one even asks anymore about the picture they take when you win. They even said he asked fro the pictures to be removed, as he didn’t want to be disliked.

 Funny he said that, if he did say that is. Because I don’t dislike him. I don’t. Don’t ever get me wrong there. I hate him. I fully and truly hate his guts. I hate his smile, I hate those pictures of everyone’s holidays they put up once on the company’s Facebook page. Of course he was on a beach somewhere half around the world, tanned and his body ridiculously fit and lean. It was obvious that he was perfect in every fucking sense. And I hate that.

You may calm me resented or that I envy him. Maybe, I would not know if that is so. What I do know is that a fucking hate that guy and everything he stands for. He makes people feel less than they are and then he just greets them and think that will make everybody feel better because, like the Pope, he stretches the hand of all those less fortunate. And those poor devils do think that they are his friends just because he smiles at them or because they hear one of his stupid little stories.

 I’ve gone to the doctor, the shrink that is. Believe me, I’m not happy thinking about that guy every day in the office. So I went to see one of those doctors and he says I’m obsessive and I’m looking to deep into it. He tells me I should just leave it at that and live for myself. But I can, I have explained to him. How can I have time for my own when I have to go to that damn floor everyday and hear him make one of his lectures to people.

 That doctor doesn’t know I feel ill, sick to my stomach every time I hear that man’s voice. Many people say you can’t really hate, that it takes something really strong to feel that for someone. I tell you, I didn’t take a lot for me to feel what I feel. And it is hate, and I hate that feeling too. I have a life, not much but I do have it and I don’t want to spend it thinking of some male model that parades around.

 He hypnotized me once, that doctor. I thought the idea was stupid but I let him do it, as I wanted peace for once on my mind. He said, after I woke up or however you name it, that I have dangerous tendencies towards criminal behavior and that I have deep problems rooted in my brain. Fuck, what an idiot that doctor is. I could have told him that myself, awake and for a cheaper price. Of course, I never went back to see him. I don’t need people charging me for telling me the obvious.

 I want to kill him. That’s what the doc meant. And I have thought of it many times, carefully. I do it before I go to sleep or when I daydream at work. Some days ago he came to my corner and asked me for some papers. I wanted to throw up, right there. Sick isn’t it? Then, as I reached for the papers without saying a single word, I imagined punching him to his death. How beautiful would he look like with blood all over his face?

 This is not good. I know killing is a bad thing, that’s obvious. But what can I do? Every single time I see him, that strange rush invades my whole body and makes me feel like I could really do it. You know? I’ve thought several ways to do it, all of them fun to me. Of course I don’t share this with anyone. People would overreact and say I’m mass murderer or some shit like that. And the truth is I just want HIM dead. I know if I do it, I wouldn’t do it again. No need to.

 The day after he asked me for those papers, I decided I would follow him to his house. Why? Easy: before he dies I want him to tell me what lies beneath that entire perfect surface. Because, as you know, I don’t believe for a second all of those nice little details about his life and how he loves everyone and so on. I know there must be something really rotten below all that beauty. There always is. No one is perfect in this world and, the better the cover, the nastier the secrets.

 So I followed him down to the basement, because he’s one of few that comes work by car. And then it struck me: it doesn’t matter. His life, what he has or hasn’t done. I don’t give a fuck about that. What I really care about is the image he gives to the world. He might fuck children, kill whores or spread STD’s. I don’t care. I care about that fake smile he gives to everyone he meets. I want that finished.

 Yesterday, I almost went for it. I went to the bathroom to pee and he went in to and went for one of the stalls. We were alone. He was whistling. The rush came back and I knew that was the perfect moment. I could strangle him myself with my hands, seeing his soul leaving his body and his smile finally disappearing from his face. But when I decided to do it, another man came in and I just went out, breathing heavily as if I had been running.

 Then comes today. The guy announce to everyone, as if he was the president, that he will be leaving us to pursue other endeavors. I almost went crazy when I heard about it. But then, I relaxed. My life could get back to normal and I could make all these thoughts go away. Him leaving would be my cure. And the only person that would ever know about this all would be me because here, inside my head, there’s only me. And I’m thankful for that.

Tropical nightmare

The beach was perfect, like the ones in movies or on brochures. Most times they are just less attractive, filled with smashed sea shells and lots of leaves laying around. Not this one though. It seemed it was cleaned every single day because it was impossible it was naturally perfect.

Truth be told, it wasn't very close to the road and tourists hadn't invaded yet. Only locals, like Pat, knew about these natural beauties no one else knew about. And that was the reason why I had come here with Kevin. We wanted an adventure but also clean bathrooms and a comfy bed. Well, we got it.

It was all Pat's doing. She was a native Hawaiian Kevin had met in work. He worked in a travel agency and many people were very interested in visiting Oahu and all other islands. Pat had been to Kevin's office offering the services of her family's company: they provided personalized tours for small groups or couples all over the state of Hawaii. They only asked for the visitors to fill an online survey to know their tastes and schedules and then the perfect tour would be assigned to them.

And up to know, it was perfect. We had visited pineapple crops and the most interesting sites of Honolulu and its surroundings.

Today, it was Maui's turn to amaze us and the beach had done just that. Pat told us she would leave for a couple of hours to visit a cousin not very far. That would give us privacy and time to enjoy the beach. We only saw couples there and not that many. We held hands and walked on the soft sand. After a while we took off our clothes and jumped in the water, leaving our things hidden behind a coconut tree.

The water was also perfect. We swam a lot, for a hole hour before we went back to the beach. We had something to eat and looked at the ocean, dreaming of one day leaving in or near a place like this.

Then I realized my phone and Kevin's were not in the backpack. I checked two, three times but could not find anything. We worried, as Pat had told us to call her at 4 PM, but how if we had no idea of the time of day. Actually, we had no idea of what her phone number was. I looked around for the cellphones as Kevin went to look for someone to lend us a phone to call but I found nothing and he found no one.

We put on our clothes and walked back to the road. It was a long trail through the trees, but Kevin said he remembered the way so I followed him, holding his hand but in silence. After 45 minutes of walking, we finally got to the road but it too was deserted. Something felt really wrong.

We waited and waited and the sun was going down and we worried more and more. We were supposed to be in a boat back to the hotel by then, but instead we were standing by a lonely road and darkness would settle in no time.

I told Kevin that we should walk, at least to be closer to a town or something and he agreed. Not much time passed when a car drove by. We made signs for it to stop and it did. We both jogged towards it but then I saw who was driving and who was sitting in the back.

I tried to pull back but someone grabbed by the arm and made me enter the car. Some other guy did the same with Kevin, forcing him into the back seat. The car drove off and we were not saying a word. We both knew what was happening but did not see it coming. One mistake, and we would be done for good.

I should mention I am a police officer. As such, I have captured and sent to jail hundreds of thieves, murderers, con artists and so on. The man that was driving was a drug lord who people thought had died in a helicopter crash. I saw the explosion myself and that was another reason for my silence.

Kevin also knew who he was because I almost died the day of the helicopter accident. One of the drug lord's men shot me but thankfully I received no serious damage. But Kevin was not fixed on that man. He was looking at Pat, who was sitting there, next to them. She just gazed at the window, as if she was on a car with friends.

Already dark, the car pulled off by a small house by the road. We were forced to enter, as well as Pat was. The drug lord then started talking about revenge and intelligence. Pat had led us to a trap, set by him to kill me. I had been a key member in the investigation against him and it was my testimony that had sent his wife and son to jail. Now, he wanted to get "even".

He thanked Pat for her help but stated that he couldn't leave any witnesses. She went mad when he said that and tried to attack him. One of his men grabbed her and the other shot her in the head, in front of us.

The man continued, telling us the house was soaked on gasoline and that we would die as he had supposedly died: on fire.

Before leaving, of the thugs, the one that had killed Pat, turned around and shot me in the right thigh and Kevin too. They weren't going to tie us but wanted to be sure we wouldn't escape.

The house rapidly caught fire and, before the smoke began to be unbearable, we heard them drove off.

The pain was too much and I had to drop to the floor before I fainted from it. Kevin had been shot in the waist and begged me to do something.

The fire was everywhere and we were already coughing and pulling back from the flames but it was futile. The place was made from would only and it wasn't a very big house. Options were scarce.

We were going to die.

Wandering

When I got to the top of the hill, I realized the street did not continue upwards. Online maps were not really accurate in many ways and this was one of those: they had marked a street but instead all I saw was stairs, very steep and almost endless stairs.

The other option was continue by a side street but that wouldn't take me as high as I wanted and I was hoping to take some pictures of the great view those buildings and houses had. But, then again, I had never learn to breathe correctly and that was needed for such a climb.

Suddenly, a dog appeared. He had a collar but I couldn't see a tag on it or any other human, besides me, nearby. The animal looked at me for a moment and then started climbing the stairs, certainly faster than I would.

I decided he was the signal I was waiting for. I inhaled deeply and started climbing myself. I felt it as an eternity and sometimes I could almost touch the steps in front of me. It was insane. I did not stop for a second as I was afraid I might fall but I tried to listen carefully: only one bird seemed to live around here, despite all the trees. I mean, it was a neighborhood enclosed by a forest.

The first part of the stairs finally ended. Yeah, the first part. I noticed I had arrived to an upper street but the stairs continued further up. I took some pictures with my cellphone, as it was an strangely peaceful place, and the continued my journey.

The second part of the stairs was a lot easier, although my breathing and my legs were already not pleased by me doing this athletic attempt.

From out of nowhere, an older man dressed in a bright sport clothing came down the stairs. As we crossed he said: "Good afternoon". I greeted him the same way and we continued to our destinations. It was not very common for people to greet you on the street, at least not if you weren't a potential buyer or something.

I got to the real ending point of the stairs but did not stop. If I did my feet would hurt even more. Most appropriately, I saw the dog again. That black fur, almost like a sheep, was unmistakeable. What was weird is that the dog was siting down, as if he was waiting for me.

When I approached to pet him he got up and walked toward a private path. It was a curved lane belonging to a big house on top of the hill. I could see the house from the point from where I was standing but one had to walk all along the curved lane to get up there. There were no stairs or any other pedestrian access.

The dog disappeared and I thought that was the end of my adventure. Well, it was fun. A normal street ended right there so I thought I would go down the hill through it.

Suddenly the dog reappeared, now on the high part of the hill, in front of the house. Even more, he barked at me. At first I only waived and turned to head home but the dog barked again. I did this twice more to check my theory: he wanted me to enter the house. And I thought "Why not".

I walked to starting point of the curved lane and noticed there was a gate just a few meters away. When I got there I realized no security guard was there so I just opened the gate and entered private property. It took me only some minutes to get to the garage area of the house, were my furry friend was waiting for me.

The moment he saw me, he moved towards some stairs that lead to the main entrance. When I got there, I did what I came to do: took several pictures of the beautiful afternoon and the mysterious place I was in. I took pictures of the house, the curved lane, the lonely gate and the place were the steep stairs ended.

Suddenly I felt cold and a voice spoke, icy as the wind:

 - She's waiting for you. Please follow me.

I turned and saw a tall black man. It is weird to say this but he seemed perfect, both physically and in looks. His suit was impecable and his face was smooth and his eyes the color of the trees.

The man turned around and entered the house. The dog followed him inside, as well as I did.

I was indicated to wait in a large room. There was a fireplace on one side, a beautiful tapestry on the other and in the third wall, opposite the entrance, a large window from where I could see the woods behind the house.

I took my cellphone out and started taking pictures. Then a new voice startled me and I dropped my phone. I turned around and saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: she was tall, brunette, big honey colored eyes and skin the color of caramel.

 - You finally came.
 - I'm sorry, I... I think you're mistaken.

The woman smiled. She came neared and then, unexpectedly, she touched my face. It might have been that I was nervous, but I distinctively felt an electrical charge when she touched me.

- You look different. - She said.
- Different?

She smiled again and then turned and walked to a cabinet. Inside, there were many bottles and glasses. She grabbed some and poured two drinks. She asked me to sit on a sofa by the window and she sat near me. I tasted the liquid she had poured: it tasted like whisky.

 - Who are you? - she asked.
 - Who do you think I am? - I asked back.
 - You're a friend. A friend that will help us.

Then, I started feeling dizzy. Maybe the climb was too much for me after all.

 - Help you?
 - Yes. We need an imperfect being to test our last creation.

Imperfect? Who the hell...?

 - Creation?
 - Yes. A serum that makes you...

And then I lost all my functions, as if someone had shut down my body. I could still see and feel and hear but very faintly. I was slowly going away and there was nothing I could do.

The last word I remember hearing was "perfect". And then, I was.