had what kind of life?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Look, Seth. You wouldn’t be the first person to accidentally kill someone with that thing. It happened to me when I was your age and it’s happened with others. It’ll probably happen to you—and then we’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll clean up the mess and move on. You’ll learn from it.”
“You’re saying I’ll learn from killing someone?”
“I’m saying you’ll learn what not to do so it won’t happen again. That’s why I want you to train. Today, you’ve had a taste. He’ll, you’ve had a damn meal. Now, you need to find time to train. If you don’t, then you’re screwed.”
“Alright,” I said.
“And one other thing. I know how you’re tapping into it, but there are other ways. You don’t have to get all pissed off for it to work. You can actually be in a good mood and it will work. You need to create a relationship with it so it responds quickly to your needs. Remember, I told you to use it with your heart and with your head. I never said that you need to be ready to chop off someone’s head for it to work. When you master it, it will work as an extension of your thoughts.”
“How?”
Jim reached down to pick up another cat. “Figure it out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But I didn’t want to figure it out that day. I went home, had a quick bite to eat, which in this case meant finishing off the bag of chips I found in my parents’ booze-ridden pantry, and then I went to my room and stayed there. As day stretched into night, I could hear my parents pass by my door as if I didn’t exist.
Sometime after nightfall, they turned on the television and cranked the volume to the point that it was blaring.
They were watching “Dancing with the Stars,” likely at the demand of my mother, who once thought she’d have a career as a dancer even though she couldn’t dance to save her ass.
Sometimes, when I was bored and watched the show with them, I’d see on her face a sense of excitement clouded by a kind of longing for what never was. My mother once worked at as a bank manager and she was good at it—fastidious, polite, accurate. But when the recession hit, she lost her job and somehow found a way to claim disability in an effort to keep the money coming in.
I will give her this—there isn’t a week that goes by when she doesn’t call her old boss at the bank to see if they are hiring again. At least there is a part of her that knows she can’t live like this forever. But as for my father? Ever since he lost his job and gave himself over to the lower calling of the bottle, I’ve never held out much hope for him. Maybe he’d prove me wrong one day, but I doubted it.
I went to my door, locked it and then stood in front of the cheap full-length mirror that hung on the wall next to my closet.
I took off my shirt, my pants, everything but my underwear, and just stood there, looking at my joke of a body.
I was like a piece of thread, only thinner. There was nothing to me. I turned in front of the mirror and hated what I saw. I wondered what I’d look like if I had even a trace of muscle on me. If I had abs, stronger legs, bigger arms. I wore loose-fitting hoodies at school, so no one really knew what I looked like beneath the folds of fabric, though there was no question that I was skinny.
Still, if I was subtle enough over the next several days, I might be able to create a positive change.
In my mind’s eye, I pictured what that body might look like. I never wore T-shirts because they really showed how slight I was, but the idea of filling out one like so many of the other guys at school was tempting.
I looked at my chest and remembered what creepy Jim told me. I didn’t need to be angry for the amulet to work. I just needed to feel what I wanted, see it and then channel
I didn’t say anything.
“Look, Seth. You wouldn’t be the first person to accidentally kill someone with that thing. It happened to me when I was your age and it’s happened with others. It’ll probably happen to you—and then we’re just going to have to deal with it. We’ll clean up the mess and move on. You’ll learn from it.”
“You’re saying I’ll learn from killing someone?”
“I’m saying you’ll learn what not to do so it won’t happen again. That’s why I want you to train. Today, you’ve had a taste. He’ll, you’ve had a damn meal. Now, you need to find time to train. If you don’t, then you’re screwed.”
“Alright,” I said.
“And one other thing. I know how you’re tapping into it, but there are other ways. You don’t have to get all pissed off for it to work. You can actually be in a good mood and it will work. You need to create a relationship with it so it responds quickly to your needs. Remember, I told you to use it with your heart and with your head. I never said that you need to be ready to chop off someone’s head for it to work. When you master it, it will work as an extension of your thoughts.”
“How?”
Jim reached down to pick up another cat. “Figure it out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
But I didn’t want to figure it out that day. I went home, had a quick bite to eat, which in this case meant finishing off the bag of chips I found in my parents’ booze-ridden pantry, and then I went to my room and stayed there. As day stretched into night, I could hear my parents pass by my door as if I didn’t exist.
Sometime after nightfall, they turned on the television and cranked the volume to the point that it was blaring.
They were watching “Dancing with the Stars,” likely at the demand of my mother, who once thought she’d have a career as a dancer even though she couldn’t dance to save her ass.
Sometimes, when I was bored and watched the show with them, I’d see on her face a sense of excitement clouded by a kind of longing for what never was. My mother once worked at as a bank manager and she was good at it—fastidious, polite, accurate. But when the recession hit, she lost her job and somehow found a way to claim disability in an effort to keep the money coming in.
I will give her this—there isn’t a week that goes by when she doesn’t call her old boss at the bank to see if they are hiring again. At least there is a part of her that knows she can’t live like this forever. But as for my father? Ever since he lost his job and gave himself over to the lower calling of the bottle, I’ve never held out much hope for him. Maybe he’d prove me wrong one day, but I doubted it.
I went to my door, locked it and then stood in front of the cheap full-length mirror that hung on the wall next to my closet.
I took off my shirt, my pants, everything but my underwear, and just stood there, looking at my joke of a body.
I was like a piece of thread, only thinner. There was nothing to me. I turned in front of the mirror and hated what I saw. I wondered what I’d look like if I had even a trace of muscle on me. If I had abs, stronger legs, bigger arms. I wore loose-fitting hoodies at school, so no one really knew what I looked like beneath the folds of fabric, though there was no question that I was skinny.
Still, if I was subtle enough over the next several days, I might be able to create a positive change.
In my mind’s eye, I pictured what that body might look like. I never wore T-shirts because they really showed how slight I was, but the idea of filling out one like so many of the other guys at school was tempting.
I looked at my chest and remembered what creepy Jim told me. I didn’t need to be angry for the amulet to work. I just needed to feel what I wanted, see it and then channel
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