Alright as promised, here is James’ back-story. I thought it over a million times and there is NO way a guy like James would break down and explain his life-long tragedies to any soul. So this portion of the story just HAS to be by itself. It’s going to be told in a FPPOV of James but he’s not explaining it to anyone per se; just reliving the moments in his head if you will. Also it’s not actually showing a step-by-step of his life, but explaining and showing some of the things that basically happened – the important things.
Kay, hope this comes out alright. I’m brain-fried from school and on the mend… again. I just love waking up with a swollen throat in which I can’t speak nor eat! FUN times.
Anyways, enjoy the mini-chapter and ignore my rambles… Oh and be warned: Once you enter James’ mind, there is no turning back O_O
My life. Ah, such a glorious thing to reminisce on. If I could change it in any way, would I? Probably. It’s not the high, glamorous life one could possibly live, but it was my life and it shaped me into the man I am today. I like to think of myself as a… caring soul; one who could easily find the good in any situation… and then smash it with a brick! Most would believe that I was forced into such behavior and that my undoubtedly horrible life made me a monster. Oh, how foolish those people are. Sure I have been engaged in some turmoil’s just like the next, but it doesn’t mean I am how I am because of it.
To say I am unloving would be a fact to an extent. I believe that there have only been two people in my life where my heart actually ached for their attention. The first, of course, is my beautiful mother… Rose. She was perfect in every manner; no one could argue differently. She had a voice as soft as silk and her smile… oh her smile, it could quite literally lift your spirit.
She was such a gentle creature, most were unsure of how I became to be so, as one would say, evil. But isn’t that a bit much? I’d like to think so. I find myself no where near the superior of evil.
I am not one to laugh at a lot of things, unless I find it ungodly funny. In my life, the most hilarious man I have ever encountered was my own father – he was just too much to bare! He knew of my ways and how I reacted towards others. If any man could hate their own child, it was my father and his hatred towards me. Oh how I would laugh at his pain of knowing, where my mother was completely clueless. What made it even better was the fact that he wouldn’t say a word about it!
He would never say a thing because of his love for my mother. You see, my mother had a problem when it came to bearing a child. The doctors told my parents, that if she was to ever get pregnant once more… she would surely die. So, my mother took precautions and had her tubes burned – she just couldn’t risk it.
With this being said, my mother cherished me… her little miracle baby. My father, knowing how much I meant to my mother, would not do a single thing to get in the way of that – which made doing what I wanted so much easier.
When I was a boy, I would do petty things that could never measure up to who I am today. I killed animals that belonged to neighbors and school children. I found it hilarious to watch them beg with their eyes; then to smash their head in and watch their eyes pop out! My father caught me numerous times killing the pathetic creatures – he would do nothing. He knew that if he told my mother of my antics, she’d be crushed… or wouldn’t believe it. He cared more about his relationship with her, than what I did behind her back.
When I was the age of six, I considered my life the perfect one. I swore to myself each night that it would only get better than it was today! I could do what I wanted and destroy anything that got in my path! I was even so fortunate to murder a child walking home from school. Oh the look on her face when I smashed it with a rock… it was pure bliss.
Of course, like with any life, nothing ever stays on that road of perfection; there is always something to hinder your joy! For me, it was when my mother went to a very unfortunate doctor’s appointment. As casual as he tried to make it sound for my mother, there was honestly no easy way to tell her… that she had cancer.
Hearing that news put my father in a spiraling depression. He couldn’t think straight and he refused to even touch a piece of food. I was amused at my father’s pain, but I felt sorrow in my heart for my mother. She was the only woman that I ever cared for; she was my entire life. I have only shed an honest tear once in my life, and it was for the pain my mother experienced.
Of course through it all, she would tell me how much she loved me and that I needed to be a strong boy and look after my father. On the outside I agreed with her dying wishes, but in my head… I knew it would never come to pass. I cared nothing for my father and even my pleading, deathly mother couldn’t change my mind on the matter.
Eventually my mother passed on later that year. She suffered a great deal, and it caused my father to just lose his mind. I say he never paid me any mind before, but during her sickness… I don’t even recall him blinking in my direction – I was completely nonexistent. It never bothered me any, but it was the aftermath that made me loathe the pathetic man!
You see, not long after my mother passed… my father relinquished his rights of me. He shoved me into the system and the government allowed him to personally choose a place for me to stay. My father knew what he was doing but no one even tried to stop him. They didn’t care where I went or what happened to me… and neither did he.
I will never forget that unfaithful day when he dragged me by my hair across the lawn and yelled foul words into my face. How he blamed me for my mother’s death and said I was the devil and deserved to be tortured.
What a laughing matter that was! I was completely appalled at his mocking tone and his harsh words. I swore under my breath that he would rue the day. I kept my thoughts to myself though, because I’m not one to share my secrets with others. No, it would be a day he least expected…
After my father was through with all the held-back comments, he shoved me through the front door of that house… and then took off. The man, Chester Wall, was expecting my arrival. Apparently he was a foster home and he took in abandoned children. Oh what a laugh that was! He wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he was doing it for money and for children to get him off where others couldn’t. As I stated before, this man was way outside the means of actually fitting government protocol… but no one cared. They never visited the house, they never made sure I was safe. They just threw some money at a pedophile and everyone kept quiet. No one wanted to put up with children who were truly unlovable.
I could do a lot at my young age, but something I couldn’t do… was overcome this man. He was bigger than I and much stronger as well. He had swift movements and he was very quick to think – very conniving. When I thought I was one step ahead of him, he was already two steps in front of me. I could never outsmart him, so I was forced to do as he said. He controlled my life and everything in it; I had zero escape.
I wasn’t the only one in that life though; Robert shared the same pain as I did. He was abandoned by his drug addict mother at the age of three. Chester tortured Robert so badly, that he didn’t even know life existed outside of it. As I said before, there were only two people in my life that I truly loved. My mother was the first… and Robert was the second. You see, Robert came off as a child who was frightened and alone – which was true for the most part – but once you got inside of his head, it was simply mind-blowing. He shared my passion of killing and getting revenge on others; he found the sight of blood stimulating and he dreamed of killing Chester in so many different ways.
From the moment I met Robert he became my best friend and he became my brother.
Time was absent in a house where there was no peace. I never knew what day it was or the year; I was forced to adjust to a life that was tiresome and prison-like. I never attended school, nor did Robert. We were forced to learn and survive on our own… for the most part. I can only pin-point my intellect to genes. I could never be so smart if I didn’t inherit it from somewhere. Also, I learned quite a bit of skills from observing Chester and his way of doing things.
Living life was hard under someone who, in a sense, owned you. You had to follow orders, and if you didn’t… you had to pay the price. Chester, being who he was, didn’t just punish the guilty party. No, if one did wrong… both were punished.
Our punishments consisted of harsh beatings… and sexually pleasing Chester. He would make Robert and I rub him up and down; lick areas that were not supposed to be seen by young eyes. He would moan in pleasure by just seeing us in the buff and would get off by having each of… do certain things to him.
In my mind, I had always wished punishment stopped at the beatings. It was easier to deal with a bruise and a bloody nose…
Time went on and no children other than Robert and I lived this life – which was something that made me hate this country more. Why was it that Robert and I were the only ones to endure this pain? Were we such outcast in this world that we had to go through such crap and no one else? Where was our equal rights?
After a while though, it didn’t matter to us anymore. We already knew that once we were able, we were going to leave this country, this pathetic place, and find a life of our own. For you see, once Robert and I had hit our early teen years… we were no longer pleasing to Chester anymore. In the simplest of terms, our balls dropped and we grew facial hair… something that was repulsive to him. So since we couldn’t do our jobs anymore, he just took to beating us on a daily basis. He was frustrated and filled with over-whelming feelings that just couldn’t be released anymore – and he took that anger out on us.
Like I had mentioned before, Chester was a smart man; very clever with things. So obviously he would never leave a weapon out in the open for either of us to grab hold of; he wouldn’t even let us use a fork. So, as I grew older… I learned to be the one a step ahead of him this time. I found a piece of an old pipe that was rusted and broke in the basement… and I sharped it for months on end. Each night before I went to bed I would rub it against the brass frame of my bed and it would slowly wear down. So, one day I anticipated our evening beating… and as he took blows to Robert’s face, I grabbed my sharped pipe and slit his throat. I was done being his punching bag and I was done being controlled by a man! I was my own boss and leader; no one controlled me any longer!
I didn’t just stop at this throat though. No, that would be foolish of me. I let him have as many stabs as I felt he needed! I pulled in and out and in and out until he fell to the floor – choking on his blood.
I remember grabbing my battered friend off the floor and carrying him to Chester’s 1967 Chevy Impala. I had no experience driving a vehicle whatsoever, but I still managed to start it and take off down the long winding road.
I drove the old car to, what used to be, my home. I had planned on charging into the house and murdering my father cold turkey. I was in a rage; on a killing spree if you will. My blood was pumping and my eyes burned a fearsome red. However, I didn’t just barge through the door. No, I stopped and peered through the window first; I was curious as to what he was doing at this exact moment. I wanted to see if he felt sorry for ever abandoning me; for leaving me with someone who he assumed would kill me.
I was surely mistaken…
My father wasn’t unhappy, he was the complete opposite. He just replaced my mother… and ME. He could care less of what happened to me. I saw tons of pictures hanging on the wall of my mother but every single one had me excluded. He just pushed me out of his life and mind… and suppressed me into the deep, thick crevasses of his inner being.
Of course when I matured my skills and learned how to cover up a murder… I did away with my father and his slutty bride. I did, however, leave the child unharmed. I let him get thrown into the system just like I had. I could care less if he was my brother! But the thing is, life wasn’t hard for Greg! He was adopted by a loving family and lived a wonderful life. It burned me up inside to know that he was living a perfect life, even after his parents had died. I only knew that because I was now apart of the system once again – but this time by choice. I allowed myself to join the military as revenge to this pathetic country. It also supplied me with inside details and skills and they gave me funds… which I used to help Robert live a some-what normal life for the time being. He was smart in a lot of things, but so far lost in others. So I had to make sure my brother was alright, and I don’t mean that disgusting creature my father had.
I grew fast in ranks, and right before I was about to take over as general… I found a child on the side of the road. It was a screaming, helpless little girl with purple locks and shimmering eyes. Most believe I had sympathy for her, but I just saw potential. I needed an army of my own to help lead me into victory. Sure I had some followers, but why not raise one to walk in my path? Unfortunately the child never did me any good and only lashed back at what I wanted of her. It’s a shame she had to be so fond of my nephew; I swear I could have made some use out of her. But, you disobey… you die.
Speaking of my nephew… what a waste he turned out to be. Sure I got my laughs by making him suffer, in the way I wanted his father to, but still… I thought I would have gotten more out of him. It was quite amusing to watch him go through what I went through as a child. All the beatings, being raped, a poor, unfortunate child lost and controlled by a man. It’s the irony of things like this that put a grin on my face.
Plus as a bonus, I was the one who got him to go deaf in his ear! Oh, I was just trying to teach him a lesson… and it just all flowed together so perfectly. What made having Adam around even more enjoyable, is that his father suffered each and every day not knowing where he was. Adam believed I had no idea where they were and Eve… oh Eve… of course I knew that she showed Adam his worried family – nothing ever got by me. I just allowed them to live because their torture of losing their little boy… was just so pleasing to witness.
I have to say though, my favorite person to ever get revenge on… was Noah Terrey. Oh how wonderful it was to watch him suffer for what he put Robert and I through. I could care less about those pathetic siblings of his who caught Robert and had him thrown in jail, without Noah they would have never known!
Plus as a bonus to Noah, I got to sit back and watch his son do my biddings… and then take the fall for everything that I ever had planned. He fell right into my trap and I got to walk away unscathed. Well, I should say escorted away. After all, they had to protect the General from the bad, bad man.
And I say that, with much amusement.
Okay, so now I hope things are even a little more clear for you guys. Also, yes… Adam is related to James; he’s his uncle. You remember the guy you saw in Adam’s backstory? Adam’s father? That’s James’ half-brother. So really, everything that James experienced as a boy, he used to torture other people… but of course adding his own spice to things. James was never forced into how he was, he was just… always evil. Plain and simple.
Thanks for reading guys