They asked me a lot of questions, saying it was "in my best interest" to answer in full and complete sentences. As I lie here tied down to this painfully sterile hospital bed, they tell me they "want to help."
Tell us, and we will help you
Bullshit. Even if I could, I wouldn't tell the likes of you.
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Then again, I'm here for a reason, just like you are.
A friend of mine once said something about how Fate draws our names from a fat ol' hat in this fat ol' universe, stirring us around and signing us up for whatever struggles the wheel lands on that day. Then, bam: we're squeezed out, naked (of all things), into the violent world. If my reason to breathe is to tell someone like you – someone I have never met before and someone I will likely never see again – my crap-tastic story, then so be it.
These doctors think they know me. They think they know what they need to say and do to make me better. To hell with you all. I've seen some shit in the last week, and I'm not about to be defined by some crackers with badges.
Who brought you here? How did you get here? Did you walk? Crawl? Take a cab? Where have you been for the last twenty-four hours? Who were you with? What were they wearing? How tall were they? How many of them were there?
Did they harm you in any other way than… this? Did you recognize them? Were their any women involved? Where they from this area? Where did they hide you? Did you fight back?
Do you have any idea who those people were?
Well, kind sir, yes and no. I know they were heroes in their own bizarre and sometimes stupid ways, but beyond that… no. I know nothing.
"He wore red."
One was a royal pain in the ass, another a gentleman lost in time. Oh, this one was a delicate flower but he turned into a monster when he was turned on. And this other only came when I called him, which was a bit of a pain, but he did his part.
"I didn't know them."
We flew. We danced. I was carried across the world and the seven seas to all sorts of wars and devastation. I saw Egypt fall in its height and I saw the back streets of London at night. I saw the past long forgotten and I saw the future.
"I don't know how I got here."
Okay, that one was a lie.
I got here because of something I should have never, ever done.
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Alright. If we're going do this, we need to clear something up right off the bat. There are ample things in this world that you don't understand and an ass-ton more that you will never understand. Chances are you wont be a billionaire, and you'll probably never find that "true love" or whatever the hell kids are told nowadays.
But that's okay. You see, that's what defines the difference between life and living. You're going to be a piece of crap some days, and others someone of value to society. Every now and then you'll forget that you're alive, and every few days you'll need to be reminded that you aren't all that special.
But that's okay. That's life, and the first step to truly living is to accept that.
This is me, taking that first step.
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I was asked by a number of people to continue the story, so this is me doing just that. The one-shot I originally wrote appears to have accumulated a lot of views and minor success, so I can only hope that I do you lot proud.