My hell, my punishment, was the USGA.
Punishment for my failures, for being wrong and for not knowing better.
My entire life was one failure after another.
I failed at school.
I failed at church.
I failed at being a happy child.
I had even failed at being a son right from the start, even if they didn't realize it until years later.
A failure.
So my parents took me to the priests to fix me.
They knew I was a failure right away.
Failed to fit in a body they expected.
Failed to bend my mind to it.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Failed to understand why I was wrong.
Failed to appreciate their 'help'.
I failed again and again and again.
Failure failure failure failure failure.
I tried to leave my body, to remove the stain of my existence, but I was once again a failure.
As expected of me.
In the end I failed to endure.
And so I ran.
Though I failed to truly escape.
“Sinful, that's what you are."
I know.
"Your parents loved and cared for you and this is how you repay them?"
I'm sorry mother, father.
"Ungrateful child."
I don't mean to be.
"Hateful child."
I'll be better I promise.
"Your existence is corruption.”
I’ll go away, you'll never see me again.
If I could just find a monster.
- Alexandra Summers
This room is my sanctuary and my prison. Four concrete walls, a bed, a bookshelf and a poster. Everything I need to hide away from the world, for my own benefit and everyone else's.
I pull my blanket tighter around me as I sit on my bed, the mattress is soft enough and the blanket warm enough that I don't want to leave.
It's been the same routine every day since I don't even remember when, scraping up enough motivation to leave my room. Most days it feels like everything is out to get me, the anomalies, the monsters, and even the people.
Especially the people.
I know that at my core I'm weak, that people have hurt me and will hurt me. But I can't stay inside, not if I want to prove that I'm not a burden, that I'm useful, that I'm not a failure.
So I move to the second part of my routine.
Dragging my uniform over to my bed I slip on the camouflage fatigues. The metal weave stitched inside sits comfortingly heavy on my body, the plate armor vest providing protection in more ways than one.
Inside this shell I'm still Alexandra, disgusting, pathetic, and useless. Yet I can play a part, pretend to be fearless and analytical and strong. I've experienced playing a far more suffocating role for most of my life, at least this one is something I want to be.
Outside this room I'm Alex and I'm a Hunter.