2: Do NOT Trust Him, He's a Liar!

By Bea Bongat

Nighttime, on a park bench, notebook and pen in hand. Using the street lamp as his light source while furiously writing sentences of ink on said notebook. He looked… angry, ready to punch someone if he needed to relieve stress. One does not condone violence, unless one is in a desperate situation, then by all means go ahead. “Do not trust him! He’s a liar! He’s nothing but a deceptive son of a gun who likes

twisting stories to have people feel bad for him! Do NOT trust him! Trust me!”

It seems whoever he’s writing about did something to really piss him off this time. One wonders… what scandalous affairs had that person committed this time? 

One recalls the time when his younger brother had taken the friends he fought so hard to keep, all because the poor thing felt left out. That couldn’t have been the case as he made sure his diabolic other half never tried doing that ever again. There was also that time his satanic humanoid destroyed his biggest chemistry project because mommy and daddy found out their youngest son set the school lab on fire, and on purpose too.  Their youngest had cried; “I am but a wee infant, mama. Surely you do not take me for some kind of scoundrel, papa?” If the youngest’s parents were a wee bit wiser, they would have noticed their youngest had not meant any of the words at all. But his older brother was not easily fooled, as he naturally knows him the best out of everyone. If their parents were not going to whoop his thick skull back straight then his older brother would gladly do so with glee. “He’s been like this since we were kids! Whenever I hung out with my friends, he always felt like he needed to insert himself into our conversations. Like, excuse me?? Those were my friends, couldn’t he have found some friends of his own?! Why does he need to whisk mine away when I worked so hard to sustain the level of friendship that we had that day?!” That was true… he always snuck into conversations and hangouts between them. So much so that he was able to finally take his brother’s friends away. One wonders if they were ever much of a friend to his brother, considering how they believed him over his brother so easily. “Not to mention his “restless jokes” as he likes to call them! He compared me to Ellie, our dog! The same dog he himself killed because he “accidentally” knocked our dog into a pothole which directly led to a sewer! "Yeah… we never saw her again. I really miss her, she was a good corgi. Not only that, but to avoid telling our parents the truth about Ellie, he instead lied and just told them she ran away while we were playing in the backyard! Ellie didn’t need to be pulled into his schemes! He should have left her alone!” He continued to furiously write into his journal that he would never admit to having, especially if confronted by his family members. They would all look at him with mocking stares, as if he was nothing but a disappointment in their eyes.

‘Oh my! It seems our nephew has become a wimp!’ 

‘Really? I thought he’d know better than to vent his feelings into an inanimate object.’ 

‘Surely he didn’t think he’d go far with expressing his feelings through poetry?’ "… Yada yada yada. Just imagining what Aunt Ceccil would say if she found out about how her nephew is absorbed with his stupid hobby of talking to inanimate objects makes me… Whatever. Now’s not the time to think about insignificant past events. What really irks me is the fact that he freely mentions our experiences during the game. If there are people who've never heard of his story, it’d probably be for the best. He isn’t exactly the most trustworthy narrator. Besides, his ‘sympathy-gaining story’ has a lot of loopholes in between events. But no matter, I’ll try to keep my side of the story as short as possible. Wouldn’t want to trauma dump just like my brother.” “‘... discovered the game, it was by accident.’

No. No it wasn’t. You purposely peaked my interest and led us to our demise. You knew I had the urge to question everything yet you didn’t prevent all this from happening. You could have pulled me away and reminded me not to talk to strangers, but you didn’t! THAT– was the problem. You kept purposely making it obvious you were going to that game, with or without me. You knew I had the sense to follow you around to clean up your mistakes!” “‘... both knew our fates were sealed.’ YOU sealed our fates! You lead us both to our demise and you know it! We wouldn’t have woken up in a room full of strangers if you had just gone home with me! We wouldn’t have witnessed people dying due to their lack of creativity if you didn’t insist on leaving me alone!! And we wouldn’t have had to say goodbye to each other during each passing game just in case we’d never see each other again if YOU had just never turned out to be this way in the first place!!!” “... Don’t even bother saying you would trade your life for mine. We both know if you had the chance to leave, even without me, you would have taken it. All we both did was stare at each other in disbelief as one of us got taken. Even the fact that you glossed over everything else, proves that you only ever think of yourself.”

December 9, ####

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The pen he was writing with stopped moving as he ended his entry. He closed the journal and slipped the pen inside. He sat up right on the same bench he always used when writing. It was starting to get bright… maybe it’s time to head home.