OK I know it has been a while but! I bring you my big project I have finally deemed myself far enough ahead to post this, and so I bring you…


Insanity's company

1991, Jack, age 8


The teacher at the front of the class continued to drone on, never noticing (or caring) that half the class was asleep.

It is here surrounded by "normal" children that we see a young boy, Jack Napier. Although he is, now, just a child he will grow to be the psychopath they all fear.

But for now, at least, he is just Jack.

Eventually the bell rings, wakening up the sleeping class and signaling the end of the day.

'Great' Jack thinks, ' time for my daily beatings.'

Jack is of average height and size; he has dirty blond hair and green eyes. Outwardly there is no reason to hate him, but children are cruel.

They hit him because, after years of being beaten, he has learned to keep quiet.

Jack stumbles home, not that its much of one.

He had a home, with loving parents, but his father died. Then his mom met HIM. The drunk beat her into submission and now runs her life, beating him for the hell of it.

Jack stumbles in from the cold. His stepfather is sitting in his recliner, predictably drunk and laughing at his appearance.

Jack is covered in scars, cuts and bruises some are newer than others, but it really doesn't matter. Today he is sporting several cuts and a black eye.

He tries to walk, stumbles and falls his waning strength giving out.

His stepfather roars with laughter. Somewhere his mother whimpers in a weak form of protest.

"SHUT UP YOU DIRTY WHORE!" his stepfather yells "why I put up with you I'll never know." He mumbled, raising a half empty bottle of whisky to his lips as he finished this statement.

"Don't yell at her" came a soft, pain filled voice.

At first the ugly drunk is surprised, the child spoke, then…

"You think you can tell me what to do! You little bastard!" he sprang from the chair to the boy, cowering on the floor, picked him up and pinned him against the wall at eye level. " you. Think. You. Have. Any. Say?" he screams punctuating his words by slamming his step son against the wall.

Unnoticed, Jacks mother stands and screams at the drunk "Stop! Your killing him!" the man throws the small boy across the room and turns to his wife, advancing slowly, scared she grabs a knife, the drunken man just laughs.

"you will learn, bitch, you and your bastard son."

Still scared, still watching Jack sees his step father wrestle the knife from his mother's hands. He watches horrified as he turns the blade against her mocking her, laughing.

"Stupid cunt, you make this too easy."

Then she is dead, he blood coating the drunken animal's hands.

Jack sits, his mouth agape, silent tears running down his face while his step father laughs, until a broken sob breaks the sound.

"why so serious son?" he asks in between heaves. " Don't you see? Its funny! She wanted to help you! Now!" he cuts off, laughing. " Now! She's dead!" he doubles over, still laughing.

But seeing his "son" still crying he is angered again. "Why! So! Serous? Child. Why! So! Serous?" the man steps slowly forward, muttering insanities.

Jack tries to run, tries to move but he cannot, he is to sore, to tired and to scared to move. Soon the man is upon him.

"Why so serious?" he asks again, picking up Jack's frail form. "let's put a smile on that Face."

The blade, still stained with his mother's blood is shoved in his mouth and he cryes out as his right cheek is sliced, then again when his left side is carved again.

The man drops the bleeding child on the floor, muttering something that sounds like "jack-o-lantern" to himself.

Jack passes out, his blood dripping to the floor.


The sun shown on the child's face, hurting his eyes. Groaning he sits up, the memories of last night coming to him, accompanying the pain in his mouth.

Before him lays the knife, glimmering sickly in the morning sun, a grotesque thought passes through his mind.

'Kill him, it would be easy… so easy…'

'But I am no killer…' he tells himself, still his hand, white with blood loss, grips the knife.

Slowly he moves it back and forth, watching the light play across the bloodied blade.

'He disserves it.' A voice in the back of his head tells him. 'You feel the pain in your mouth, and he killed your mother… you know he deserves it.'

He clutches his hands to his head, blood from the knife getting in his hair.

"shut up!" he says quietly, the voice laughs and fades.

Jack, now calm looks around the place he once called home. His eyes find his step father, sleeping on the couch.

Unconscious of his actions, he stands and walks to the sleeping figure, and watches him in his slumber, a silent battle filling his head.

'kill him!

'No! I am not a murder'

'Do it!'

'No!'

'Kill HIM!'

'NO!'

On the couch his step fathers stirs, silencing the battle.

As Jack watched his step father woke up.

"Wuz teh fuz append to urace?" he slurred.

Jack used to deciphering the mans slurs mentally translated the mans speech to: what the fuck happened to your face?

"you"

the man's eyes darted between the boy and the knife in his hand, memory slaming into him. The confusion on the drunk's face was quickly replaced with outrage.

"You little Bastard! You were going to off me weren't you!"

Startled Jack backed away.

"NO! I swear!"

"Bull shit!"

The man jumped off the couch making a grab for the boy.

"COME HERE YOU WORTHLESS PICE OF SHIT!"

Jack ran from the man, into the bathroom and tried to lock the door, but the older man was too fast.

"And now son, you die."

The man leapt forward, intent on killing his only remnant of his family, but he forgot about the knife.

The same knife that he used to kill his wife and scar his step son, was now plunged deep into his heart.

The man landed on the floor with a sickening thud. Jack dropped the knife, unbelieving of the sight before him.

Panicking and breathing hard, he ran to his room, intending to pack, but he was not passed the bathroom mirror before he stopped.

The cuts.

They made his mouth seem twice as large as it used to be, clotted blood traced where scars would surly form, making a permanent smile on his stricken face.

Slowly jack walked forward, touching his face gently.

"no one can see these, it would make me to obvious." He turned to the cabinet above the sink and began dressing the wounds. He ignored the pain, and the blood colored water. And cleaned and dressed the cuts the best he could.

He went to his room and grabbed his back pack, dumping the now useless school books, he replaced them with anti bacterial ointment and bandages from the cabinet as well as a small pillow and jacket, 2 pairs of jeans and 2 tee shirts. Before he left he raided the house for money, and found 3 hundred dollars in all. With a soft sigh he donned a ski mask and left the decimated house.

And so it is that Jack Napier entered the world.


I hope you like this, I worked really hard on it, please review! They are my life blood!