*Story of My Life

Intro: I am happy to say that I completed NaNoWriMo. It was close at the end but which is why there wasn't a story last week. Now that I have completed the novel I need to start on another one. This story is something I've had bouncing around for a year or so. I hope there is enough of a conclusion.

Killion sat on the bed with his feet tucked under him. Three men occupied the rest of the space. They weren't large men. Their presence was almost suffocating. The body art, piercings, and scars gave them bestial looks. But, it was their attitudes, their confidence, and their mental determination that pressed down on him. They were also his surrogate fathers, his teachers. Fighting techniques from Buckston who had the fewest scars. Investments and gambling from Shaw who always has the best stuff. Acting and literature from Alejo who changed his name every day. No one could tell where he was really from.

"You've been here for five years," Buckston said. "The rules of the prison state that you share your story with three witnesses."

"Do I have a choice?" He wanted these three, but wanted to put it off.

"Flip for it?" Shaw held up a coin and let it roll across his knuckles.

Killion gave him a flat stare and the coin disappeared but his grin widened.

Alejo drummed his fingers on his arms. "I don't know why you even asked." The Spanish accent fit the name, as expected. "Narrative. In third person."

"Really?" Shaw asked.

"Training in everything. Wasn't that what we agreed upon?" Alejo said.

"Just don't make him act it out and that is fine," Buckston said.

"Fine. Just go." Shaw said.

Killion closed his eyes and pictured the scene. "The gavel pounded down the sentence and Killion let out his breath. He had known what the answer was going to be before he arrived at the court, but he'd held on to a small sliver of hope that fate would be changed—"

"You're starting at the end of the story," Shaw said.

"Don't interrupt," Alejo said. "Go ahead."

"An officer laid a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't sure whether it was suppose to be restraining or reassuring. Not that he posed a threat to anyone. When the guard led him through the pushing throng in the realized that the guard was there for his protection. One face in particular caught his attention, a young woman. Tears streamed down her face and hate burned in her eyes."

Killion stopped talking and made a show of drinking from his glass. That face still haunted him.Just get it over with.

"She pushed through the crowd and grabbed Killion by the collar.

'How could you. He was only trying to help you.'

'It was an accident.'

'So they say.'

"She spoke the truth. He had planned every careful moment which had put this girl's brother in a coffin. It was supposed to have been his father in the coffin, but saying that wasn't going to change anything—"

"Father? Whose father? Yours or the boy's?" Buckston asked.

"Shush." This was from the others.

"Father wasn't true. Uncle was the politically correct term. Monster was the term Killion used in his head.

"He had everything set up perfectly. Killion was to get trapped and lure the monster into an accident that would leave everyone in peace. Maiming was expected, death was hoped for. No one had believed him when he said what the monster had done so this was the only way. The monster was a genius and had inadvertently taught Killion everything he needed to know to pull this off.

"The man didn't even have to try and save him. He had all the trip lasers set up a hundred feet away. The man came running but stopped just short of the trap. Killion watched and let out one last scream hoping the man would just take another step. He didn't. He turned away. His friend wasn't supposed to be there but he ran forward to help, thinking him really in danger. Killion's shout of warning came too late. It was a brutal death. Had the court realized it was planned they wouldn't have thought him innocent.

"A slap across his face. He was brought back to the courtroom. The girl was pulled back by another guard. The monster stepped forward. His face drawn and concerned. He placed a hand on Killion's shoulder.

'I'll see him home.'

"The monster stopped at the haunt on the way home. All of the tools Killion had used were found here, they were the least damaging. The man's latest prey was still lying around the room.

'Maybe I should let you join me. You did really well on that boy.'

"Killion snapped. The man was bigger, stronger, and smarter, but wasn't prepared. It only took those few seconds to end it. When he called the police he explained the situation and the next time when he was in court they treated him like the murderer he felt. He was tried for all the bodies and didn't raise a complaint. He should have stopped him."

Killion reached for the glass and frowned when he saw it was empty.

"How many had he killed?" Buckston asked.

"I knew of twenty."

Shaw sat down on the bed. "That's rough. Sorry it happened."

Killion looked up and smiled. "I'm not. The monster is dead and I have learned a whole new set of skills." He removed a brick from the wall by his head and pulled out a sheaf of dusty papers.

"What is that?" Alejo asked tracing the lines on the papers.

"A teleportation device. We're getting out of here."

"Out?" Alejo's accent slipped for just a moment. "I knew you were a special kid."

Killion looked around at the men, the least of whom was serving one life's sentence, and felt completely at home.

Maybe I'm the monster.