My Story, as it Should be

I will not tell you my name.

You may guess it within reading this.


It was a normal day, just relaxing at home for the weekend. I had just eaten breakfast: perfectly cooked pancakes along with eggs and hash browns.

My mother called for me to come to the living room. She didn’t say why. But I listened anyway.

I was walking down the hallway when a sense of uneasiness washed over me, chilling me to the core. Something didn’t seem right…

I continued my way down the hall, eventually coming up to the living room.

My mother had a smile plastered on her face as she announced to me something horrifying: “Look, you have visitors,” she said as she gestured towards them. 

“What are they doing here, Mother? I told you about them before,” I growled at my mother.

“But they claimed to be your friends. Just give them a chance, it’d be nice to see you finally have friends.”

I couldn’t lie, it did seem like a nice idea to finally have friends, people I could talk to, especially in my mental breakdowns.

“Fine, whatever,” I groaned.

My mother made me show them around the house and suggested I invite them into my room. I couldn’t deny, my mother had given me the death stare. When we had entered my room, things didn’t seem so bad at first. They were not nice, but they were not mean.

They would go through everything and every belonging of mine. But they wouldn’t hit me as usual. Something that caught my eye was one of my bullies, Jared. He was just standing there. A look of fear and apologies on his face.

I was about to ask him what was wrong, but just then, Mike pushed me.

“Really think I was here to be your freakin’ best friend? Ha! Who’d wanna be friends with a mentally ill person like you? Maniac,” Mike told me as he pinned me to the floor.

He signaled for his friend, Billy, to come over. Billy had brought out a pack of matches and tore one out. He then lit it and handed it over to Mike. Mike held it close to my face, the little flame’s heat gently lapping against my skin.

“Ever wonder what really is hot? Or how much heat a person can stand?” Mike asked me. “Well I do. How hot can you stand?” He lowered the flame even closer to my face. “Hahahaha!”

Jared pulled out a small container of gasoline from his pocket and threw it to Billy. Mike smiled at me then looked back at Billy, signaling him to go pour it. I screamed and pleaded for them not to do this.

They didn’t listen.


The fire. It was so hot. It had started in the guest restroom and continued to my bedroom.

I couldn’t warn my parents, the figure had started too quickly. The three boys ran out before the fire had started.

Both of my parents had died in that fire. I was just simply injured.

Every night I was in the hospital, I would cry myself to sleep, asking myself why couldn’t it have been me rather than my parents, the only ones that have ever loved me, the only ones that ever cared.

I became even more antisocial. Avoiding even the slightest interaction with society, afraid I would be killed, afraid of losing someone again.

And slowly my sanity went away with my social interactions.

Little did I know with my actions, I’d reach the point of insanity where my only friends would be the blade, this blood stained white hoodie, and my painted smile.

The smile.

The one I cut into my cheeks to I am seen as happy. So I am happy. Feeling the pain the blade brings makes new feel human. Because my humanity has slipped away as well.

I slowly lost my grasp on everything.

I remember all I tell to my victims, the ones I have suffered for, is for them to go to sleep, to rest. To sleep and never wake up again.


One day, I had encountered my old friends, you know, the ones that had burnt my house and family. They were terrorizing another person. Turns out, they all ended up living together, which made my job even easier.

One night, I decided to come after them. I followed them to their house.

I wore my painted smile to this event.

I casually walked in to the tiny complex, scaring them.

I told them, and I quote:” Look at what you have done to this sad, sad maniac. Remember? You burnt my house, destroyed all hope of love for me. And I thought we could have been friends.” I laughed at that thought. “Friends…. Never stay by your side, never stay with you and support you.”

“H-hey m-man, it isn’t like that! We didn’t m-mean to hurt your family, bro! We j-just wanted to have a little fun!” Mike cried.

I laughed at them, they were so helpless now. So weak. Such a shame.

“Go to sleep.”


So, yeah. That’s my story. You know how it goes on from then. Blah blah blah, death and so on. Let’s hope you understand. Now…

It’s your turn to go to sleep.

  • Trevor Palos

    I like it very nice well done

  • Francesco Villacres

    Jeff the killer… A classic!!

  • Adreamytr

    Very well written. I enjoyed the story.

  • Haylee

    Thankyou all for the support. This was the first story I decided to actually completely write and publish. And it is great to have this positive feedback!!! 🙂