I wish I could tell you how I feel.

Normally, I'm not one for words. I hide my true feelings behind a mask of indifference and dark, dark shades. Only when I'm asked a direct question will I respond. Even then, it's only usually a grunt in the affirmative or negative. Depending on the case. Or indeed the question.

Cool, calm and collected.

That's me all over.

When I was a young boy I was penniless. My mother was a whore. I don't mean that figuratively. She genuinely would sleep with anyone for a price. She said she did it to put food on the table. Which was true to an extent. It just so happened that the food never made it to the table. It was squandered on drugs. For her. As a child I would beg anyone I met. Not for money, just for food.

Unfortunately one day I begged the wrong guy. A guy who happened to be on his way to see my mother. I was nine. He pulled a gun on me. Shot me right though the shoulder. It was the last thing he ever did. In a blind rage, I disarmed him. Don't ask me how I did it. I like to think it had much to do with adrenaline. Whatever. In any case, I pulled the gun from his greasy mitt. Shot him in the balls. Then through the skull. Didn't even break a sweat. Picked his pocket. Left him to rot.

I feasted well that night. First time I ever tasted beer. Happens all the time in the slums. Drunken kids. Kind of sad. Like robbing innocence before innocence even has a chance to develop. Whatever.

I was big for my age. I started on my way home after I ran out of money. I was drunk. But still coherent. A man was walking behind me. I still had the gun. Had been carrying it in the waistband of my jeans. Like all the gangsters do. To make themselves look cool. Yeah you know the type.

So this man was walking behind me. I dodged down an alley. He followed. I went a different route home. He still followed. I realised that this man was going to kill me if I didn't do something. I turned round. Faced him.

He was a tall man. Black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Small dot in the middle of his forehead. Like a sniper dot. He eyeballed me. I eyeballed back.

'I saw what you did tonight.'

I wasn't expecting him to talk. I was taken aback.

'…'

Even then I didn't speak much.

'You're young, but we can train you. You will never starve if you join us.'

'…'

'Do you know who I am?'

I eyeballed the black suit.

'Turks?'

'Correct.'

'You want me to join the Turks?'

'It's not a question I ask lightly. Yet I am impressed by you. Your behaviour tonight was something I have never seen in one so young. I am impressed to say the least. You move with speed and grace. With proper tuition you would be a force to be reckoned with.'

In my entire life, I had never received a compliment. It was strangely liberating.

'Thank you.'

'I am also impressed that you have manners. Something so hard to come by in the offspring of the whores, especially in this sector. May I have your name?'

Up until this point I had no name. My mother when sober would refer to me as Boy. I did not hate my mother but I felt no love for her. His question put me on the spot. Looking at me expectantly. I came up with the last thing someone had called me. The liquor store clerk.

'Rude.'

'A pleasure. I am Tseng. Do you accept my offer?'

'…'

'Well?'

'Yes.'

Tseng trained me well. Within six months I bulked out. I could break a man's jaw with one punch. I spent up to four hours in the gym daily. I learned all manner of combat. I have a love of boxing. Predominant now as much as it was when I was Boy. I'm a crack shot with my gun. I can handle an EMR with the skill and grace of my counterpart. Although he excels. Whatever. We all have our strengths. Lightning is my element. Apparently. I'm issued with the regulation lightning materia. I nurtured it. Took me three years but I mastered it. Go figure. I can make a bomb out of anything.

I'm intimidating. It's the glasses. People cant see my eyes. Immediately they become distrusting. In that split second I can snap your neck like a twig. Your loss.

I can do anything I want. I'm well paid. I have the respect, admiration and slight awe of my peers. Tseng knows he made the right choice. He's never doubted me. He kept his promise. I have never starved since I joined.

I found my mother many years after I left. The drugs had ravished her. She was raving. Half dead, half alive. Only she didn't want to be alive. She kept screaming. I did the kindest thing I could. I put a bullet through her skull. I don't know what I felt. I'm not good with words.

You may think I'm sad. You may think I'm lonely. You're wrong.

I have everything I ever wanted. I have everything I need.

Except the ability to express my feelings.

All things considered though, it's something I can do without.

For now anyway.