Disclaimer: You know it. I know it. Lawyers know it. I own nothing.
Chapter 1: Remembrance
They didn't always hate me.
When I first came to the city, they saw me as their last beacon of hope, even with the ugly scars disfiguring half of my face. I was a symbol amid their hopeless poverty. I was the breathing, flesh-and-blood embodiment of the success for which they so desperately strived.
I was the ticket to freedom. I was the way out of a life reduced to scavenging piles of decaying garbage to survive. I saw their pain and empathized. God knows I wanted to help them, that I really tried to. My life's ambition: doomed to ultimately fail.
Huh. Looking back now, I can't figure out why they didn't hate me then. They should have known that I would ruin their lives. They should have told me to leave the moment I first stepped into this living hell. But they didn't.
We were all fools.
We believed that we could elevate this filthy city into a higher realm. We thought that our wills would be enough. And look where we are.
I don't blame them for hating me. I only blame them for feeding their hatred the wrong reason. I didn't kill that kid.
I suppose I should explain.
When I entered the city, I came as the kind, benevolent doctor, the Samaritan that everyone celebrates. I treated their illnesses and their wounds and even their emotional woes. I had all my supplies neatly organized. What can I say? It was my last shred of sanity in this crazy reality. Sometimes I hardly believed that it was real.
Anyways, for several months, I lived in relative contentment. I did my good work and fed my precious ego; thank goodness, it's left me now. And then the drug lords took notice.
Really, I should have known that it was coming. I was a threat to their business. With me around for hope, their most valuable commodity was no longer needed. And so they took action.
One night they sent three of their men to raid my stores and to frighten me into submission. I take it they forgot just how massive I am. But there was a boy among them. He was the one who did their bidding.
When I heard the commotion and saw him snatching my medicine, my temper exploded. Without thinking, I snapped his neck like the twig he was. Why didn't I stop myself? I knew who he was, a local boy, a beloved son, a patient of mine at one point. Why did I let my anger overwhelm my good sense? To this day, I still don't know the answer.
After that night, they never looked at me the same way. They stopped seeking my care. They called me monster whenever I dared to peak my head out onto the street. In many ways, I suppose I am. I worsened their condition.
They turned back to the drug lords, who welcomed them with higher rates and crueler deals. Why, why, why? Why didn't they still fight? Why did I remain in this uncontrollable nightmare? The city sucked the last of the tender heart in me and replaced it with permanent festering anger.
Monster. That is what I have become. I even have the scars to prove it.
It has been a long night. The blaring alarm clock beside my head agrees. When I smash it with my enormous fist, I remember my place and the sins I have yet to repay. Sighing, I lift myself from the dirt floor and stare at the broken components. Maybe Alfred will have another one in by now. Guess it won't hurt to check.
I gather what little I can trade and step into the dawn's grey light.