Disclaimer: noun 1) A denial or disavowal of legal claim 2) A set of words said to save one’s own ass
Disclaimer: Whoever is underage who is reading this, you have little or no right to be reading this unless you have had your parents and/or siblings shot down or in a drunk driving situation. And even then little. I am not responible for looking over your shoulder and I am not saying your thoughts or actions go unnoticed and I cannot be held responsible. Nor do I condone any sexual fantasies or lifestyles in any way. People can do as they damn well please. I do not mean offense to any groups or minorities that read this.
Chapter 1—Matthew’s Day
Matthew has had a really crappy life, if you were to ask him, and he says “fine”, he means, “I am having one of the more sucky days of my life”. He’s not a bad person, he’s actually barely human at all, and no, he doesn’t look like a five foot centipede, he looks just like me and you, it’s just that he doesn’t have emotions, and if you see him smile, run... very fast. Well, I’m just getting ahead of myself here, let’s have a quick summary of his life.
When he was eight, both his parents were killed by a drunk driver, Ted Randal, that night when he learned of this, it may have been summer, but he was as cold as winter’s heart inside and no sadness or joy touched him. When he was almost twelve, his sister and brother, whom he was living with because they were through college, were gunned down in a bank during a robbery, Robby Denker, for the next few weeks it was just like that last night, complete cold except for a longer period and he was even colder than before. The two people were sent to prison for life without parole.
Till he was eighteen, he was shunned from foster home to foster home, and each time, he felt less emotions for himself for others and he never showed any. On his eighteenth birthday, he found out he was adopted, and after not finding one lead to his biological parents, he gave up and sunk back farther into an unfeeling being. He was completely emotionless and cold to the heart, if someone looked into his winter blue eyes, they would flinch from the lack of feeling and would avert their eyes from those blue ice chips.
Noone could ever make him smile, the funniest joke didn’t touch him and didn’t soften his face. The saddest song didn’t make his eyes lessen there intensity. A maniac could hold a gun barrel to his face and he wouldn’t even move a muscle or be phased at all.
He was exceptional at school because the emotions that impaired other students didn’t slow him. No bully could beat him because because he ignored all pain, he was a perfect computer when thought predominated anything that needed to be done. The only thing he had left in his whole body was his Will. Will to survive. Sure, you may say, “yeah, I have that too” but no you don’t, Matthew has survival instincts, it’s just that if he was stabbed or anything, he wouldn’t let himself die. When he was sixteen, two bullets went through his skull from an overly sadistic student, Darrel Makel. Darrel was commited to an insane asylum the next day, possibly for life. Everyone took him as dead until he was brought to the morgue, his heart started and since the bullets passed through, they only had to operate to repair the entry and exit holes.
While unconcious, he saw/felt all his loved ones, pets, brother and sister, and parents calling him from a bright source of light. He rationally knew that was death and all suffering would end once he touched it. It was pulling him with all it’s might and he was slowly moving towards it. All he had left was his will to live, and he wouldn’t die from a sadistic student on the rampage, a pack of elephants maybe, but not a student with a gun. He pushed all that he had left to move from that light and it slowly faded and the pain and feeling of concious life returned to him, and so did his pain.
The doctors said he was going to be a vegetable until he woke up five minutes later still with the holes in his head. There was actually two bullets one hitting the frontal lobe and one hitting the back going in sideways through the head. Both times it grazed part of the brain, the Cerebral Cortex or senses center (if that’s not what it is and anyone of the readers are doctors I would like to hear what it really is, smart ass) and the optical nerves in the back. The doctors replaced the bone and he said he was “fine” (note beginning of the story) and they sent him home to one of the last foster homes. After a few weeks of recovery, he started feeling something strange coming through any bruises or cuts, a very slow and faint tingling but always persistent and it always stopped when a wound was completely healed.
Slowly, he came to figure that it was the cell regeneration and each time he had a paper cut or bruise, these feelings grew stronger, and he could actually seize control of his healing. He could heal a small wound in little under a day of continual concentration and it grew faster as the days, weeks, and months wore on. At seventeen and a half he could feel every action of his body from the churning of his stomach to the feelings of ejaculations of his penis and could soon control all actions from stopping blood flow to activation of passive parts of his brain to his erection size (and he could make it grow BIG.)
His control grew and his brain power/ability grew and as he was working out one day, he figured out a better way to remove fat and turn it into muscle and keep it that way, this took him a whole year of work. He was muscular, a genious, a physiologically advanced man, and he was emotionless. He was a step from a god. For now.
—Years pass
Over the years he grew to be the college valedictorian and obtained a job at a medical hospital for research of the brain and mind, and got out of college a lot earlier than normal (he knew a lot more than most textbooks or people could ever dream of at that moment). Even though his life seemed to look up, his eyes never lost there intensity, nor did his face ever soften from those stony features even in sleep. One day he was conducting the usual speech to some freshmen and sophomores and something happened he didn’t expect.
“Now in addition to this enormous anger, the mind will go through several stages, fear, longing, lonli—” he said as he was cut off by a woman in the third row that was crying loudly. He sighed and said with his low charming (but ice cold) voice,“Yes miss...” as his eyes darted to the seating chart,"...Garinger, do you have something you wish to say to the class?”
She just kept crying and she said in a shaky voice,“My mother went through this disease and now I know what she felt.” As she talked he walked up the stairs and walked down the aisle to where she sat and cried noisely. “You have no idea how much pain and anguish any person goes through” he started with his voice, as loud as anyone ever heard it, the loudness of a normal person speaking.
“I have felt torment to break any soul to shards, and I have felt and tasted fear beyond terror in the eternal void, a tiny step beyond conciousness and another before death. You could not begin to imagine what it is like, hearing your loved ones crying out for you to come into the warm light, to embrace death and give yourself no other chance of living. I should have died years ago from two bullets passing through my skull but I held on, with a fingernail’s grip to the land of the living, carrying myself back this illusion of happiness, this place of horror more ghastly than any hell anyone could see or feel. I have felt what it is to feel these things, possibly like everyone else who has seen or felt the same thing, but I tell you now to shut up, suck it up, and control yourself through the rest of this class.” he commanded, and she did.
During the speech his eyes darted from person to person, till those frigid lenses looked into that young woman’s eyes into the depths of her core and on the last sentence piercing her very mind, manipulating her soul into obeying that sentence.
She quited down instantly and watched him with and intense sadness as he walked down aisle, down the stairs, till he turned and sat crosslegged on his own desk, with the room so quiet he could only hear his breath and his heart beat. He continued his talk as if there wasn’t even a disturbance or loss of time, but as he talked, his inner mind was thinking, How could my words be strong enough for her to stop that incessent bawling of hers? I wonder did it have something to do with me or something I did? He continued to wonder, but thought nothing more on that subject, because he was a heartless machine.