The Nerd in the Corner

Chapter 8: A Despicable Memory

Gun. Invented in China during the 9th century, it is a weapon of destruction used by people to harvest billions of lives ever since its manufacture. One of those was a man that Cheshire and I killed to rob him of his possessions. Not the wisest decision I ever made. Still, just like my partner in crime at that time mentioned, we did it for the sole sake of survival.

But did we really have no choice? Did the world really forsake us so much that we had to resort to such measures? How did his family — if he even had one — react to the news of his death?

It's been seven years, yet I still have no answers to these questions, except that it's already known to me that his family was absolutely devastated. His mother didn't take the grief well. She hanged herself on the tree her own son diligently grew for the past thirty years.

I was not proud of myself for being able to wield such a weapon even if that was in a world that falsely advertises peace.

Nor was I proud of myself for taking the life of another in exchange for my own, yet at the same time, I do not regret living.

But sometimes, I wonder to myself if he truly deserved it at that time. After all, a man born with a silver spoon in his mouth could never hope to understand what hunger feels like. How desperation can consume the mind so much that it casts aside your humanity and dignity.

While this country claims to be an advocate against violence, they sure had no problems reproducing toys modeled after a tool that they deemed inappropriate enough to pass it off as illegal. Anyone who was caught in possession of it would be arrested except in the cases of self-defense. In fact, such toys are so widespread throughout the nation that even the middle-class family I'm offering my cleaning services to has a whole room dedicated to them.

Imagine dedicating a ten-meter square space just for legal replicas of guns. Oh, well. At least this one doesn't make your soul leave your body, although it still contains bullets. Bullets that are made out of foam.

As I thoroughly make sure to annihilate every speck of dust and dirt present within the kids' toys room, the memories I have so carefully tucked away were silently resurfacing. Therefore, focusing on the task at hand was proving to be difficult. But trying harder to turn my attention away did not seem like an effective solution. It quickly became a reason why I began recalling the events that transpired that very night.

Very well. It seems that this circumstance cannot be avoided. Perhaps I've run away for too long already, and it's now time to face reality.

Carefully placing all the stuffed toys in their designated containers, I took a deep sigh and went into auto-function mode.

"Th-This just doesn't seem fair, Cheshire..." My voice cracked and faltered. Articulating my opinions was a struggle in front of the looming shadow of authority before me.

"Fair?" she questions, anger rising in her face. "Do you think any of that matters now?! I'm sure he's lived a pretty happy, normal, and fulfilling life that all of us here in the slums can't possibly hope to dream of, so what's wrong with giving up his life just to feed two kids?!"

A small sound of plastic vibrated within the four walls as the broom hits the Optimus Prime toy. I reached for it and put it back along with the others.

"It's just th-that—"

"Eliza, that's enough already!" Cheshire snapped. Her eyes glared at me, and if looks could kill, I would have been reduced to ash by now. "I don't wanna hear any more complaints from you, understand?!"

Nodding was all I could do against her. In front of Cheshire, I was powerless and weak.

During my elementary days, a lot of my classmates used to mock my eccentric food choices, especially those who were in well-off families. Although they seemed so cozy in their pathetic thrones, they never possessed enough courage to go beyond anything verbal; one glare was more than enough to make them scamper away.