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.

Over the lights

The young guy was there, just looking through the window, sitting on the edge of the frame. He was looking somewhere beyond the buildings, the streets, the people and their noise. It seemed he was looking at something that wasn't there or he maybe even not really looking, just wondering.

 - Sorry. - I said.

I put the papers I had been asked to look for on the desk. The boy immediately turned around and looked directly into my eyes. For lack of a better word, they were mesmerizing: not blue or green or honey colored. They were brown but somehow they were so much more special than any other brown eyes I had ever seen.

He smiled at me and turned his head again, returning to his wondering beyond this place, in which he obviously had no intention to stay. For me, it wasn't clear why he was there but my boss was handling his affairs. He was his attorney and I was the attorney's assistant. Not having come out of law school yet, I was trying to learn what made a lawyer a very good one but as of yet, i had only learned how to make a decent cup of coffee and how to juggle two boxes of donuts and three large lattes.

Then, my boss entered. Ms. Hoffman was a tall, intimidating woman. And to be honest, I was surprised to see her advising such a young guy. He had to be younger than me, I thought. But there he was, all worried. And her, she was in one weird mood. Normally, Ms. Hoffman would be yelling at everyone, asking for things, denying others and then asking for notes and data and so on. But today, she had been in her office all day until he came. And here she was.

 - How have you been, Tony?

So, he's name was Tony. He sat down next to year with me on the other side. They chatted amicably for a while, asking the same superficial things one asks a friend or a close acquaintance. This was extremely strange, as Ms. Hoffman had never really shown interest in any person, not employee or client. But there she was, asking him about his health and work.

For what I could take from the conversation, she had helped him emancipate himself from his family. The guy owned a billion dollar company. You know, one of those young brains of the new generation: they make an app and the next day they are giving money to Bill Gates or something.

He was not a friend of words, speaking only if he had to and not bothering to fake a smile, a thing that Ms. Hoffman was doing. It seemed so odd and unnatural. And, when the meeting passed its first thirty minutes, I started wondering what I was doing there. Besides handling papers from time to time, I was not doing much. She hadn't asked for coffee or some difficult number from ten years ago. She had just demanded me to be there.

Then the meeting was over. They were bidding farewell to each other when Ms Hoffman said:

 - Oh, I almost forgot. This is the guy I told you about. He's perfect for you.

At first, I was not sure I had heard it correctly. I tried to say something but then he looked at me again and all the words melted quickly. He just nodded and said "He'll do fine". Was I been pimped or something similar? Why hadn't she told me anything?

He came out first and she started walking after him but then I recovered my words and asked her what was going on. She only said that now I worked for him and that I should go after him and ask all the details about the new job. She said I could clear my post on the weekend.

So I stood there, for what it felt like ages. I had been laid off but at the same time I had a new job already. Confusing? Of course, but mysterious even more. I rushed after the guy and realized he had taken the elevator already so I had to go into a crowded one. When I finally arrived to the ground floor, I rushed out only to see the young man smirking, waiting leaning on a black car.

 - Get in, guy.

He got in and then I followed. It wasn't a limousine or anything but the car was beautiful inside and out and the chauffeur didn't spoke a word. Apparently, he knew the schedule by heart. He started to drive and then I noticed the young guy was looking at me.

 - Name?

For a second I doubted but then I finally spoke.

 - Ellar Ramsay.

 - Good. Call me Tony.

I nodded. Then shut up again. I had no idea what to ask or say. As a matter of fact, I didn't even know why I had entered a car without saying something before or asking the destination. I just sat there, looking through the window. If he really was my new boss, he would ask something at some time. Maybe lattes were also his thing.

The car stopped in front of a beautiful building. He asked the chauffeur to park it properly and come back the following day. The man only nodded in response.

When we got, Tony walked in front of me at all times. I just smiled or nodded to people in the building until we were alone in the elevator, taking us up to the thirtieth floor.

 - Did Ellen tell you anything about your job with me?

I nodded negatively.

 - Are you afraid of me?

That was one tough question. Although short and seeming fairly simple, Tony did have something very intimidating about him. His body language, his expressions, that way of looking at nothing, his eyes, ... He was really strange, even more than Ms. Hoffman. At least she was predicable. From this young fellow, no one knew what had to be expected and I suspected he was aware of this feeling he imprinted in people's mind.

 - I see you are. Good but not in your post.

The elevator opened and he stepped out. I followed, but stopped almost immediately: we were obviously at his apartment and it was really nice. It didn't look like one of those rich people's flats; all done by some crazy designer that thinks black is the only color in the world. No, this was a home, full of color and, obviously, feelings.

There were pictures, a lot of them. I saw Tony in some of them. And a man and a woman, probably his parents. I followed him through the living room and then to a corridor. I was sure he was leading me to an office where we would discuss the details of my new post but, once again, I was mistaken. We were in the bedroom.

It was lit by the pale light of sundown and when he switched the lights on, it felt as if the afternoon sun had entered the room. It looked beautiful. So beautiful it was, I had not realized he was taking his clothes off. Again, my words were lost. I saw his shoes, pants, t-shirt and jacket fall to the floor.

 - Pick that up for me, please.

He entered another room, probably the closet, and started singing. I couldn't decipher, or care about, which song it was. I took the clothes and folded them and then put them on his bed. What was I doing? Why was I just doing what he wanted instead of demanding answers or simply leaving?

I then realized I was breathing heavily so I decided to get closer to the window and try to slow myself down, to relax, to get my words back from him. As I calmed down, I saw the city unfold before my eyes, all the car lights and building lit up, all ready for the night. I remembered it was Friday night and I was being expected in a bar.

 - How do I look?

I turned to him and saw he had put on a tuxedo. He looked very sharp, except for the light blue socks he was wearing and his unshaved appearance. I felt him taking over me again but this time, I closed my eyes and spoke.

 - What am I doing in here?

He smiled and got close. For some reason, I shivered. I was scared.

 - Don't be scared. I'm not a maniac or anything. I get a bit crazy often but not really mental.

 - Do I really work for you?

 - Yes, you do.

 - As.... what? A prostitute? I don't...

Again, he smiled but this time I didn't felt threatened but relieved.

 - I do, actually. But that has nothing to do with it. I asked Ellen for a sharp, intelligent guy to be my       assistant. That's you.

What? Assistant? Again?!

 - I know you are her assistant. Or used to be, at least. Now, you are mine anyway. And I need you.

And then he did something I didn't saw coming. He took my hands and squeezed them gently.

 - I need someone I can trust. Someone that knows all of me and me of him. And no, not a                      relationship based on love or sex but on partnership. I own a small empire and I need a guy like you    to help me make it bigger and better.

So many thoughts were rushing into my head. I could even feel the blood going all over my body. I had to speak now but, again, all inside of me was blocked. My head lay low, at the floor. This time, I wasn't blocked because of him but because of the chance given by him to me. I had always wanted to be a lawyer, a great hero defending people from titans trying to steal their lives from them. But this man was asking me to be his shadow, forever probably. And just like that, without any explanation or details.

I raised my head again and looked at him, straight in the eye. When I saw him, I felt a connection. And I was sure I saw him feeling it too.

 - What do you need me for? - I said.

 - Grab me some dark socks and help me shave. I swear it gets better down the road.

Again, he smiled at me with that craftiness, that subtle way he had to get what he wanted by just using his eyes.

The only difference this time was that, without hesitation, I smiled back.

The past never forgets

His eyes opened, not so much at once. The light was too strong, blinding him, making him feel sick. He vomited on the side and then, noticed he was on a chair and he was tied to it, by hands and legs. As he couldn't turn so good, he had vomit stains on his new trousers, the ones he had bought for his first days as general manager of the bank.

 - Awake? - said someone behind him.

A young boy appeared in front of him. He was using a hoodie and jeans. The boy grabbed a metallic folding chair that rested against the farthest wall. He opened the chair in front of the tied man, sat down and smiled at him.

 - How do you like it?

 His voice was soft, to the point of being annoying. Somehow, the guy in the chair knew he had heard the voice before but couldn't put all the thoughts together. He felt his head pounding and an urgent urge to vomit again. But he didn't.

 - Alex Winston. You even have the perfect name for what you are.

Then he felt it: something liquid sliding down his forehead and falling on his pants. It was blood. He started to breath fast, finally realizing he was in danger.

 - You sure are slow. I'm afraid that's what a baseball bat does.

He wanted to talk but couldn't. The boy smiled when he noticed these attempts. His mouth stretched so big. Or maybe he was imagining it? He closed his eyes but the pain remained.

 - Trying to remember? Take your time honey. Meanwhile, let me help you.

The boy stood up and the tied man trembled. The boy smiled again and walked past the man. He tried to gather all his strength to free himself but it was useless. His arms and legs felt like noodles and his head wasn't exactly up for the task of walking. The small amount of consciousness he had told him that maybe he had been drugged too.

The boy came back with a cellphone on one hand and the bat in the other, drag it on the floor. The guy in the chair then trembled again and found it difficult to breath.

 - So, Alex... You're 32, right? General manager of the FN Bank... Sweet, huh?

The man stood still and only breathed heavily.

 - What? Something to say before I begin?

But Alex said nothing. His body couldn't help him do nothing.

 - Ok then. Let's start. You're a naughty boy, aren't you? You like boys and girls, metrosexual, a player. But do you remember? Do you have the capacity to feel? Both really great questions.

He then got near and Alex shivered. The boy laughed out loud. He raised the cellphone on his hand and showed the displayed image to Alex. It was the picture of a girl, maybe twenty years old.

 - Remember her, Alex? Do you ?

Alex didn't remembered. And his attacker saw that on his face: he punched him in the stomach so hard, he started vomiting again.

 - While you do that... - He browsed to more pictures. - ... do you know him?

He grabbed Alex by the ear and made him watch: the picture was now even more grim. It was the one of a dead boy, probably the age of the mad young men that held him there. But Alex did not remember.

 - You fucking piece of shit.

Alex thought he was going to be hit again but, instead, the boy went back to his seat. His way of moving, his expressions, everything about that guy was disturbing.

 - I have three others but first I want you to speak. Tell me your father's name. Now.

He had to gather all his energy. It wasn't much. But he managed to say one thing: "Robert". The boy was evidently pleased. He stood up and got near the chair. Alex shivered again but the guy only grabbed something from below the chair: a bottle filled with water. He opened and told Alex to be still: he poured some liquid into his mouth and watched as he drank.

The water made him feel better but, suddenly, memories came rushing to his head and, in return, the headache was bigger.

 - "Always watch behind you". Isn't that a great lesson? I sure learned it.

He watched Alex to the eyes and Alex new he had to do the same, or he would stand no chance. The guy smiled again but this time hatred could be felt, as if it had a temperature, a very low one.

 - Water makes miracles... Now, do you remember them? Or... do you remember me?

Yes. He did. But when he realized who the boy was, they both kept silent as, in the distance, sirens could be heard.

 - Well, that's my cue to get the fuck out. And please, never forget my face.

He stood up and left the cellphone on the chair. He then walk towards Alex and kissed him in the mouth. He didn't close his eyes as he did it. It only lasted a few seconds. After that, the boy disappeared behind him.

As he felt a bit stronger, he began trying to release himself and only managed to burn his wrists. Then, just minutes after his captor had left, a team of policeman and special forces agents stormed the building he was in.

The first they did was take the phone from the seat. They only released him from the ropes when they had checked what it apparently contained.

He told them he didn't remembered anything and that the guy that had kept him there, a young man, had hit him with a bat and punched him too.

 - You could catch him. He left only minutes ago.

Then, a police woman entered the premises. As she checked the cellphone, she asked for Alex's father and apparently browsed through images and documents. She finally looked at Alex and walked to him.

 - I'm Sheriff Janice Jones. It is my duty to inform you that were putting you under arrest for the rape  and murder of, at least, four people.

Alex didn't hear the rest. He was being handcuffed when he realized what was on the cellphone. It was the one thing he had dreaded for years and that guy, that young man...

They had met years ago in a party and bonded over drinks. He was an innocent, idealist guy. But Alex wasn't. And he did what he had always done and that was his downfall.

The woods

No one dared take the road through the woods. Although much shorter than the others, people tried to avoid it if possible. It had been built almost a century ago but it was only widely used for a couple of years before the wood grew darker and thicker and much more dangerous.

So an alternative road, by the side of the mountain, was built to avoid the forest. That road had a lot of curves, cliffs, and almost doubled the other one in length. It wasn't uncommon that, on a harsh winter or on rainy days, the door got blocked by mud and rocks falling from the mountain. The two towns would then be disconnected and all trade or travels between the two had to be postponed.

On one of those bad days, Sammy, a young woman looking forward visiting her family in the other town, got with her car to the mountain road but soon realized it had been blocked by big boulders. She went back home and , sadly, sat by the television set and thought of her family.

It was going to be a surprise visit but now it couldn't be done. Although... She went to her studio and grabbed a map of the region. The map marked the mountain road as a primary road. Meanwhile, the one in the woods had only a few segments drawn as people had no idea of its current state.

Sammy knew the road wasn't good for cars, only for small vehicles, motorcycles or pedestrians. But none dared enter the woods. What she noticed was that if she got out in the middle of the day, she could get across the woods in less than 3 hours. The journey normally took seven hours and that was not an option now.

So the next day she decided to dress properly for a hard walk and got to the point where the woods started. It wasn't strange no one was around as she begin, walking by the old road, covered in dead leaves and puddles of mud.

With her she only had a backpack with clothes and food, her cellphone and the map folded inside. That was it. She wore hiking boots and a thick jacket and thermal pants. It had stopped raining in the morning but she knew she had to walk fast in order to get there soon.

The first hour was incredible easy. The road was plain and almost no rocks or trees where lying across it. She could almost imagine the old carriages and horses going through the woods.
However, the place was really creepy. She knew it was around midday, but the son could almost not be seen. The foliage was thick and the trees had grown in all sorts of shapes. Almost no flowers grew there and she heard no animals in the vicinity.

When half of the walking was done, she realized the road ended and two different paths began from there. At that point she got her map out and spread it on the ground. It was hard to make a choice but she thought the best option was the clearer path, the one in the left. The map seemed to confirm it. So she began to walk again.

After just a half hour, she was walking through trees. The path had finished a few steps ago and now she only saw thin trees with big treetops. She felt lost but knew that the only option was walking in a straight line. The forest had to end at some point and it was likely the town was not far from there.

But when she started walking a cracking sound stopped her. She gazed around but so nothing. As she but one foot in front of the other, the cracking sound came back. And again and again. So she turned around.

Nothing. She decided to walk faster. After a few minutes she arrived in a clearing and there was a cottage there, the kind a lumberjack makes. Now Sammy was petrified. No one had gone to the woods in almost a hundred years so why was there a house in the middle of it?

She was very curious about it but decided not to investigate further. She continued to walk but now she heard as if someone tap a window. She turned and so no one there.

Now she was almost running. Sammy was not an athlete so her feet where killing her already but she knew she had no time to waste.

After a while, the trees began to feel more and more separated and she could see the sun, pale and cold but bright enough to make her feel safe. She decided the town could not be very far so she walked with a smile towards the edge of the forest but then rain started falling. As if someone was pouring buckets and buckets of it.

Then the cracking sound again and, in the middle of the downpour, Sammy felt someone touched her shoulder. She screamed and ran for her life. She only stopped when she felt the day had gotten brighter.

She removed the hoodie of her jacket and realized the rain had stopped and that she had arrived at her destination. She could see the tree line. Sammy was on a hill and from there one could see the town. She smiled but then she heard a laugh and turned instinctively.

There, by the nearest tree, there was a small boy. He only smiled and waved at her. And Sammy waved at him. He turned his back to her and she did the same and each one parted.

Sammy got to her family's house but did not share the story with them. She invented some lie and kept the strange smile of the kid in the woods for herself.