October 31st, the date of Halloween. Everybody knows it. To many people it represents different things. To some, it's just a night to go out to do drugs and party, to others it's an excuse to get free candy, and to some it's just a night to go out scaring little kids shitless. I didn't really fit into any of those categories. I didn't have any friends to party with, I had allergic reactions to most candies, and I couldn't intimidate a squirrel with my small stature and arms that looked like, and were about as strong as twigs. Although this may sound strange, on a night like Halloween, I preferred to spend my time in my local cemetery. Yeah, I admit, it really did seem like I was searching for trouble, but anyways, I loved the serenity of the area. No sugar-high children screaming like banshees, no saccharine aroma clogging my nostrils and closing up my lungs, and most importantly, no teenagers high off their asses harassing me or acting like complete fools.
No, the graveyard had none of that. My only company were that of the dead. Hell, they at least knew when to shut up, and they certainly never got on my nerves. Every single year without fail I would go to the graveyard and just take in the silence. My parents, like the imbeciles they are, never even noticed my absence. For all they knew, I could be shooting up on heroin or being murdered and they wouldn't even give a damn. No, my dad would be too busy getting wasted and my mom would be too busy cheating on him. Fucking hell. Although, I can't really complain. Halloween was always my favorite night of the year for that reason. No screaming, no crying, no pressure, just silence. But just because of my luck, of course, my one night of freedom had to be ruined by some dumbass teenagers whose life goal was to just get high and be total jackasses to look cool in front of their friends. I still remember the situation like it was yesterday.
There I was, just minding my own business, taking in the silence, when in the distance I saw a spark. No, not a spark, a flame. Within seconds that flame turned into a fire, and that fire into a raging inferno. When I saw this, I was infuriated. What made the people lighting the fire think they had the right to infringe upon my one night of peace? I wasn't having any of it. I stormed over to the wall of flames and saw a group of teenagers, aged around 17 or 18. I surveyed the scene before moving in more. They were all sitting in a circle, and some weird material I had never seen before was at the bottom of the flames. As I ambled closer, I noticed a noxious stench pervade throughout the air and invade my nostrils. It was unlike anything I had ever smelled before, and is certainly something I never want to smell again. I also took a moment to notice their outfits. One of them was dressed up as a hockey mask wearing killer resembling Jason Vorhees, another one just wore a bag over their head, and another was a man in a suit with a troll mask. He was singing some strange hymn, and although it was hard to decipher, I was sure that it was a tune I had heard before somewhere.
Although I was taken aback at first, I was too furious to realize that what I was about to do was bat-shit insane. I'll make a long story short. What I did was... okay, you're probably going to stop listening once I tell you this... I simply walked over and cussed them all out for being obnoxious pricks that ruined had ruined my night. Sorry, it's the truth, and I don't know what I was thinking. Needless to say, I immediately regretted that decision. The leader of the group, the man in the troll mask, whispered something to his friends, and then slowly got up.
The troll mask's two friends walked over to me and before I could make a mad dash towards my house, I was grabbed, ripped down to the ground, and tied up. The two guys sat me down and held my eyes open with their dirty, mud soaked fingers. The obvious leader of the group, who I'll just call "Troll" began talking to himself. From what I can remember, he said something along the lines of, "perfect, I needed somebody for this stream..." Those words shook me to my core. I noticed he had a black backpack behind his back, and from he it he pulled out a laptop. He turned it on, typed a few things into it, and then faced it towards me. He sat there, his two goons holding onto my eyelids with an iron grip. They let me blink every now and then so that my eyes didn't burn to a crisp, but only for a few seconds, then it was back to pain. He just sat there for a few moments and pulled a small pocketknife out of his jeans. He flipped it open, and walked over to me. With his voice muffled by a mask, he instructed his two henchmen to lay me on my side. They did as they were told like the idiots they were. Troll then tore my pant leg and dragged his knife across my leg. I attempted to scream out in pain, but the guy in the hockey mask wrapped his hand around my mouth, suppressing my cry for help. He then tore off my shirt and drove his knife into my back. He carved something into my exposed back, I couldn't tell what but by the sensation of pain in certain areas I knew he was writing something. He then turned my back towards the camera and laughed.
In the midst of laughing I heard him say, "All right, bud. It's been fun, but it's time to end this with the grand finale for all of my fans watching at home!". His friends then grabbed me by my hands and feet and dragged me towards the fire. They stopped inches away from it to completely cover my body in rope, binding my arms and legs to my body. Troll then aimed the laptop towards the fire and instructed hockey mask to push. He did as he was told, of course, and to my dismay pushed my face into the flames. After this point, I just remember feeling the worst pain I've ever felt, like my skin was melting off of my bones, and then everything going to black.
Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital, my mother and father bedside, a somewhat disturbed and saddened look on their face. On the other side of my bed sat a doctor, who flashed me a smile and then told me what had happened after I blacked out. Apparently, I was left lying in the flames for a minute or two until the police came and tracked down the sadists that attempted to murder me were streaming the damn thing on YouTube! Of course, it was taken down quickly after it was set up, and the police were able to track their location. I wasn't sure what I was more angry about. The fact that I was nearly killed, or the fact that I was nearly killed by a group of mental rejects.
I went to make a face of anger, but was met with extreme pain instead. My doctor advised that I didn't move my face for the time being and offered me a mirror so that I could see my wounds. I was horrified when I saw the monster I had become. I was hideous, permanently scarred by a bunch of retards. I thought about how my future practically went down the drain. How I would be seen as a freak, how my chances with any girl who wasn't blind were gone, how I wouldn't be hired for any job unless I wore a mask, and how any and all chances of a social life were completely demolished. I just broke down and cried, or at least tried, but I couldn't conjure up a single tear.
There I was left, mutilated, destroyed, turned into a monster because of some psychopath teenagers. The only retribution I got was watching them get sent off to jail, but that happiness was diminished immediately once I found out they weren't even getting a life sentence. They destroyed my life, it's only fitting that they got the same treatment. Bullshit, that's the best word I can use to describe that situation.
After weeks of waking up to stares and looks of horror from my own fucking parents, I just decided to up and leave. Honestly, it didn't even seem like they cared. Nobody did. Not my friends (or lack thereof), my parents, or even my fucking school cared about my disappearance. It was during this time that I realized that Halloween wasn't the only time the graveyard was quiet. Hell, every day it was like that, serene. So that's where I've been, Mom, Dad, my classmates and teachers. Fuck it, you guys wouldn't be reading this, nor would you even fucking care. No, I don't want you to either. I don't want you to break the silence, I don't take too kindly to that. You can ask the newest additions to my graveyard about that, I'm sure their charred bodies would love to inform you on the outcome. This is my domain, and I won't allow you to intrude upon it. That is, unless you want to be a part of my routinely bonfires...