Thanks again for reviewing. I'll cover every single request given, in case there was any confusion as to that. One more note; feel free to mention/request a character that's already been used, just with a different scenario. Enjoy ^^
Matt
(For kittycatty0328)
I have a confession to make...
I was the pretty one, nobody ever denied that. The pretty little rich boy; pretty enough to be a girl and spoiled beyond belief. But that was all. A bit dim, they said. Airy-fairy. Never to amount to anything. And all of that was pretty much true. I didn't have many friends; I was too rich, too pretty...too much of an outsider...too spoiled, too different. I didn't really care; I lived in my own little world with the family cat from the age of about seven. It wasn't as though I was bullied, I was simply left alone. Good. They weren't like me. They didn't get me. The feeling was mutual.
Mom and Dad never had much time for me either. I was about ten when they split, and they were both so busy spoiling me to show who was the better parent that neither of them took the time to be the better parent. I went to Dad. The cat went to Mom. I hated them for that. I didn't need their attention, but Boots was my companion, and I wanted her. Dad told me he'd get me a new cat. Got me a black one named Tess. I hated it. They'd taken my companion, so I made one of my own.
I'm not crazy. I knew that 'Matt' and 'Matthew' weren't any different. I knew that I was talking to myself. But Matt was different from me. He was cooler than me. More dangerous. He took what he wanted and didn't let parents and other people push him around. I wished I was Matt.
As I became a teenager, I suddenly gained attention. The girls liked my pretty face. The guys liked my money for cars and booze. They called me 'Matt'. It felt strange, but I liked it, and I let them. I got my first motorbike at sixteen, which shot up my popularity even more. Had a lot of sex, drank a lot. Enjoyed myself. Felt like I fitted in. I didn't need the other me anymore. It wasn't right for me though. I wasn't like them.
There was this one girl, Cindy, when I was about eighteen. Aspiring actress, and to me the sexiest thing on the planet. I wanted her, and by the way she spoke and acted I could tell she wanted me just as badly. And there was this one guy, Jack, who wanted her too. And I could tell from the way she spoke and the way she acted that she wanted him just as badly as well. He hated me. I hated him. He threw a party in a beach hut; didn't invite me. I went anyway. Saw him kissing Cindy through the window after not being allowed in.
I'd been taught from the crib to go and get whatever I wanted, and taught well that enemies were to be shown no mercy. And so I went to the nearest convenience store, bought a lighter, and torched the place. Easy enough with a wooden building like that.
Nobody died. But the party broke up as everyone ran away. Nobody noticed me. I sat at a distance, watching the flames flicker and the coughing people run and I was thrilled.
Walking home after the fire was extinguished, I shuddered. What was going on with me? That wasn't cool, I wasn't an arsonist. Someone could have died. I hated them all, but I didn't want their death on my hands. A cold thought ran through me then. Matt? No, don't be a fucking nutcase, Matthew Engarde. They'll have you locked up.
When I was nineteen, speeding around on my bike, I heard a miaowing in an alley. I screeched to a stop, and spied a street cat and her kittens padding about. There, in the throng, was Boots. Not literally, of course; this kitten was male and much smaller than Boots had been, but I knew at once that I wanted him. And so I walked over and took him.
The mother cat sprang at me, scratching at me and yowling as soon as she realised that I was talking her baby. I was defenseless with the kitten in my hands, so she got a good few scratches into me before I could push her away. I sat the kitten in my helmet on the back of the bike, staggering, half-blind, back to the mother. I know I would have walked away before, but something was stopping me now. A rage filled me, mingling with the excruciating pain - doctors would never fix my eye - and I got my own back on the thing. I don't know if I killed it, but I have the suspicion that if it wasn't dead before I left, it was soon after.
As I played with Shoe later, I felt disgusted again. But not sorry. Never sorry. It had deserved it. I had taken what I wanted.
I got into acting soon after, ushered by my so-called-friends on my looks. I knew I was a good actor. I was hiding him from everyone. Hiding me from everyone. Did I ever feel anything for Celeste? Honestly, other than a raw sexual attraction - and there was plenty of that - no. She was a pawn to me, to Matt, to me, to him, like I, he, we had been for our parents. For us to take what we wanted, Matt and I, as it should be. And she died, and we thought that it was over, Matt and I. But it wasn't over for us, of course.
Now we're sitting here in this jail cell, with psychologists and psychiatrists and everyone else telling us about this disorder and that disorder, but we know they're all full of shit. There's nothing wrong with us. Juan got what he deserved. Celeste got we she deserved. That bitch Adrian should have went down with them. We simply took what we wanted.
We're going to die soon, probably. But at night, we sometimes separate, and as he slumbers, Matthew Engarde has a nightmare-filled sleep. Just as we know he deserves for being in our way.
...I have no idea who I am.
That was really creepy to write, especially the end part. Just to make sure everyone's clear, it is the same character speaking throughout. Reviews/requests make for a happy author~