The Rise Of Calamity

Sitting in a car in the middle of the night, I took a deep breath and looked at the starry night sky through the windshield window with a longing and lost gaze shimmering. A gun was taped to my hand, and without an ounce of hesitation, I pointed it towards my temple and put my index finger on the trigger. 

Looking into the mirror, I could see my face, which was full of acne scars. My black hair looked extremely unkempt, with scruffy hair and unequal sides. I had a lean body that was slightly defined due to my regular workouts, yet despite that, my body was thin enough to be called unhealthy, looking almost like a malnourished athlete beyond their prime. 

Even though I was in my early 30s, the dark bags under my eyes made it seem like I was in my 50s, while the well-defined wrinkles on my forehead from constant frowning only further verified the theory I was beyond my 30s, even if I wasn't. 

I was covered from head to toe with black clothing. Behind me was a 3-story house, big enough to inhabit 3 families within it and still have room for guests. Its windows were smashed in, and flames burst out, slowly but surely destroying everything in its path. 

The people outside could be seen running out of their houses in a panic. While most of them were covering their agape mouths with their hands, others were hurriedly taking out their phones while quickly mashing three numbers and putting their mobile devices next to their ears. 

At the same time, there were those who used their phones to record the situation, yet in the end, I cared for none of them.

For me, this situation all started when I was barely 7 years old on the day my mother passed away from a heart attack. I mourned and cried for 3 days straight, yet no one came to console me, not my father, not my aunties nor cousins from either side of the family, no one... 

I decided to skip school for a while and spend time with my father, yet my father's face showed no sadness, just indifference. Whenever my father looked at me, I could not help but feel scared... His eyes were cold... No. They were indifferent, something that, despite seeming less significant, was much more impactful to the young me.

I would only eat breakfast and dinner while spending the rest of the time sleeping, working out, and playing video games. All of this was done in the hopes of dealing with my grief, yet instead, I found myself running away from the very obstacle that I needed to truly accept my mother's passing.

One month later, my father married another woman that I had never seen before. This woman was gorgeous and had eyes full of joy and vigor, yet despite her demeanor, the only thing I could do was look at my father with an ounce of hatred... A hatred that stemmed from my understanding that my mother's passing had not affected my father in the least.

Every time we made eye contact, my father's face would turn from one of pleasant joy to one of indifference. It was a face one would make when seeing a homeless man on the side of the street begging for money. The face of absolute indifference, where the person could not care if the one they were looking at were to live or die.

My father would make it a point to play with the children of his new wife and neglect my existence. Their mother did the same thing, and therefore the children obviously followed suit.

The main prosecutor was my older step-sister, the oldest of the three children that abducted my family's house. There were two other siblings, both younger than me. My step-sister would constantly flirt with me even though there was an age difference, but she didn't care. 

She would continue to torment me, yet after seeing that her advances did not affect me in the least, she resorted to beating me senseless before telling her mother that I tried to "touch" her. Even though the parents knew exactly what was happening, they would only punish me while my step-sister, Dalia, would get away with everything. 

All I could do was try to ignore her as well as I could. 

After a year of being tormented by everything and everyone around me, one of the boys became old enough to have their own room, and therefore I was kicked out of my room and sent to sleep in the basement with all my belongings. 

The basement was full of cobwebs, spiders, rats, and insects, yet I decided to deal with it. It was quite spacious, yet I had to constantly clean the place and block holes that allowed rats to enter my room and remove cobwebs. For the next 3 years, I spent my time doing the same things as always. 

I would wake up, go for a run, and work a few jobs here and there. I would then get home and get a bucket of water to my basement with some soap to use after working out, and finally, I would play a few video games on my old phone. 

My computer had been taken away by my stepmother and given to my younger stepbrother. 

After turning 11, I decided to call the domestic abuse helpline service and report my parents. The services decided to send over an observer just to find there was nothing wrong. 

Due to not having a SIM card, I had to call Through the Landline telephone, which caused me to be quickly found out by Dalia. Dalia's mother swiftly took action and covered everything up while at the same time making me seem like a spoiled child. After that incident, I promptly took a beating from my stepmother and her daughter every day for a month for "neglecting" all that they had "blessed" me with. 

When I was finally 14, I started going to high school. After taking those beating, I decided I wanted to move out as soon as possible, so I started studying day and night while still maintaining my normal routine and squeezing in 4 hours of sleep when I could. 

This was all in hopes that I would find new friends in high school that would give me love and care that my parents didn't give me, yet I managed to forget that I hadn't interacted properly with people for the last 7 years, therefore not knowing what the people my age liked nor knowing if they and I had in common. 

On the first days of Highschool, I found people who were being nice to me, showing me around. Yet, what I had mistaken for kindness was them seeing how much of a pushover I could be and what was the best way to manipulate me into becoming their slave. 

Unfortunately for Me, the answer was simple. They just had to act like they were my friends, which quickly plunged me into the chaos that is high school, and I was completely oblivious to the imminent threat hovering over my head. 

The lack of interaction would make me easier to manipulate and lie to. Even if I discovered their schemes, I was already too deep. They had taken all precautions to make sure that I was as isolated as possible from everyone around me. They made it seem like everyone else was the bully, and they were my only path to salvation, yet in the end, it was all a lie.

Isolating me made it so I could not report what was happening to me to anyone, while at the same time, their manipulation tactics made it seem like everyone around me was out to get me, and all they were doing was protecting me for a small fee.

The fact that my family despised me was a known fact throughout the school due to me, unfortunately, having to go to the same school as my senior step-sister, Dalia. Dalia would not stop harassing me even in school to the point she would go out of her way to make my school life as miserable as possible. 

Her boyfriend, Derek, was not much better as I would usually join in on the "fun" his girlfriend was having, which quickly made me a complete outcast in less than a day.

Eventually, I would find a teacher in my second year who was willing to treat me like a normal human being. That year I would achieve a feeling I felt for no one other than my mother. Love! Yet, it was a different kind than mother-child love. 

I had fallen for her. 

I might have been anti-social and lacked common sense, but I knew when I saw a good-looking woman. My teacher's name was Emily Dawson, normally called Miss Dawson by the students. She was a beautiful woman with wavy black hair going down to the waist. 

She had light brown eyes and a dazzling smile comparable to no other. Her slim figure was a contrast to her well-endowed curves in all the right places. She had an oval-shaped face, with the only imperfection being a small mole near the corner of her eye, on top of her cheekbones. She normally wore a shirt and blazer (black and white) with a pencil skirt (black) up to her knees. Yet the reason I had fallen for her was simply an appreciation for her not ignoring me, a love not meant to last. 

At the age of 16, I had come to my senses and finally had enough of the bullying. Dalia's boyfriend would send people to harass me even after my graduation. Yet one day, after enduring so much, I finally snapped. Surprisingly, I did not lose myself to my own rage. Rather, there was a strange flicker deep within my dark brown eyes, resonating with a violet tinge. That flame flickered with determination, and from that day onwards, I would learn martial arts through the use of the internet. 

Unsurprisingly, however, it took me an extremely long time to even perfect the basics due to not having anyone assess me, yet I strived forwards for almost another year till I hit the age of 17. 

I had finally wanted to take revenge on my bullies and fight back when I got the chance to, and that chance came Rolling to my feet. 

The main Bullies of Derek's Gang would attack me on my way home near the alleyways, but this time, they had another thing coming for them. I had prepared multiple weapons over the months, like a baseball bat, a knuckle duster I had bought illegally, and a knife if things went south. 

The teenagers in the alleyway were eating like usual, yet unbeknownst to them, my violet eyes pierced into their souls. My expression had formed into a twisted smile, and I could not help but fantasize about beating them to death.

I quickly snuck up on them, and to the surprise of everyone there, two loud 'BANG's of vibrating metals were heard behind them, just to be followed up by a cracking sound after the second bang. 

The plan was to take them completely by surprise, hoping that they would hesitate for a few more seconds after having two of their members knocked unconscious, and it worked. 

I swiftly swung my bat in an upwards motion to slam the tip of the bat on the chin of the leader. The other 3 members did not stand idly, though, as they quickly attacked simultaneously. 

Cursing my ignorance, I tried to step out of the encirclement in which I had planted myself in. I swiftly swung again, hitting the man that was previously behind me, opening up an escape route out of the alleyway as the two others started to run towards me. 

I thought quickly and tried to predict their next spot and use their own momentum against them. The fact that they were running as fast as they were meant that the one being aimed at by the bat couldn't dodge in time due to not being able to stop fast enough. The bat whizzed through the air making a low-tuned whistling sound before smashing the boy's face and throwing my head onto the wall. 

The other boy threw a punch towards my unguarded ribcage, which I took gratefully. This time, a small blurry object was coming into the boy's line of sight, and it smashed his jaw. The bat completely destroyed his jew and knocked him out cold.

I used the pushing momentum of the punch to my ribcage to increase my own momentum. I shifted my feet with speed, twisted my leg and bottom half of my waist, and finally sent the momentum up to my shoulders and, finally, my fist. With so much power in a single punch, any normal human would have been injured if not knocked out, yet the knuckle dusters I was welding made me worry if I had killed the boy in an accident. 

The moment I got home, I was brimming with excitement and felt like my worries had been taken off my chest, yet, this feeling only lasted a day just to find one group of bullies and harassers being replaced by taller and older ones who would constantly beat me to a pulp every week just barely allowing my wounds to heal. 

For the next year, I did not stop learning martial arts; I constantly switched from boxing, taekwondo, and even systema, which would come in handy in real-life situations where honor and pride were something to scoff at. 

I had not lost my motivation, yet some part of my hope had been crushed. I constantly found myself fantasizing about being born into a loving family. Slowly and unintentionally, I had been losing my humanity, becoming numb to most things and untrusting anyone and everyone. 

Due to my repeated routine of studying for at least an hour a day, I finished the final exams with flying colors with straight A's in every subject I did in high school, yet somehow my achievements were overshadowed by the mediocre grades of my little brothers and the slow growth of my sister's acting career. 

I went through college and university in what seemed like a flash. I struggled to get a job due to my "lack of experience" and was forced to work several part-time jobs, something that caused me to slowly neglect my wellbeing.

The acne scars I had accumulated over the years didn't bother me, yet they made me quite sour to the eyes. My hair had receded slightly, and some had turned white, while the creases engraved on my forehead were deep enough to make anyone think I was an old man. I had a slightly unkempt beard with white strands here and there and a large scar on my right cheek from one of the beatings I had taken when I was in high school. 

I finally landed a job which I was at first pleased with, but I quickly found myself regretting ever choosing to work there. The hell that I experienced back in high school was beginning to show its signs in my current workplace, and I could do nothing about it. That day, I lost another portion of what made me human.

All my step-siblings had been blessed by good lives and loving parents, yet they were the worst human beings I could think of, and that rage alone allowed me to move forwards. I constantly found myself thinking of ways to kill them or to simply make them suffer, praying to every god I could think of to make my wish come true, yet clearly, I was doing something wrong as none of my prayers came true.

My pleas for justice went unanswered, and my life drastically became worse. 

The memories of my constant torment in high school came flooding back. 

My work life had given me an almost nostalgic Deja Vu feeling. Yet, all my pain resurfaced from deep within my soul as the violet flame flickered vigorously within me. 

For years I would go Through the same experience as my boss would persistently make fun of me. This was constantly done out of spite and also as a motivation for other workers to not be like me and work harder. These actions slowly chipped away at my patience, and eventually, I snapped...