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People have been telling me that I became more aggresive lately , but they don't know what I went through , they don't know anything about what happened to me two Years ago.

On my sixteenth Birthday I found a Notebook that somebody left in the Classroom. I picked it up and asked the teacher if she knew who sat in that spot , she responded " No one. " I gave her the Notebook and went back home. I sat down at my desk and wanted to do my homework as I noticed my bag being more stuffed than usual , I looked inside and found the Notebook that I supposely have given to my teacher. I wasn't surprised to find it in there " I probably forgot to give it the Teacher and put it into my bag instead. " was what I thought when I picked it up. These things happen alot to me so without thinking about it I did my homework.

When I was done I checked the Notebook , it was mainly blank pages and some Maths Equations , but after a while I found something that caught my eye. It was a well-drawn Portrait of a girl and around her were alot of deformed Numbers. She was pretty I thought , her Mouth and Cheeks expressed indifferency , but her Eyes expressed rage. I noticed something piercing her Forehead , it was a deformed number , an One - shaped like an Arrow.

I didn't think of anything " creepy " or " dramatic " after I analyzed the Picture , I liked it infact. You don't see this kind of artistic skills very often and the somewhat confusing Vibe the Picture gave off sort of attracted me to look at it.

The next Day I put the Picture into my pocket looked at it whenever I felt bored at School. Everything was normal the following weeks and eventually I forgot about the Picture that was now just a folded piece of paper in my pocket. One day my Mom was ironing my clothes , I asked her to iron my pants aswell. She frowned upon me , not liking the fact that I want her to iron a pair of pants that she would consider dirty , but as kind as she is she did it anyway. After I got my freshly ironed pants back I noticed a little swelling in my pocket , I put my hand inside and pulled out a folded piece of paper. I unfolded it and saw the Picture that I had forgotten about. To my surprise I saw some brown lines that merged with the deformed numbers , those lines gave off a slight smell of lemons , so I figured it was some sort of invisible ink that children use. I took a closer look at the Picture and noticed the numbers  " 3 , 0 , 5 , 3 , 7 , 9 , 1 , 9 " spelling out " Concrete ". I didn't know exactly what it could mean but I put the Picture on my desk afterward , so I could see it every time I come home.

Again the next few Days were absolutely normal , atleast for me. After two Weeks people began telling me that I have become more aggresive lately. Of course I was wondering why people would tell me such a thing as I was known to be peaceful and calm. After a while I started thinking about this whole " Becoming aggresive " thing. At first I thought it's just their imagination but , so many people have told me this that there has to be something to it. I asked my Mom if she thought I became aggresive , she responded " ......Perhaps...". I wasn't surprised at that reaction , Mom loves talking in riddles , but also she doesn't care for me a lot. I decided to just live on normally like before and of course people kept telling me that I had become more aggresive.

One day I still remember very well. It was two months before my seventeenth Birthday.
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I was walking through a deserted part of my home town to look at my friend's old house and there I met her , the girl that was portraied in the Picture. I didn't recognize her at first glance so I wasn't shocked or something , though I had the feeling she was familiar. She looked at me with a smile , whispering " Concrete " into my ears and walked into a destroyed house.  This seemingly random statement confused me. I am a pretty uncaring person so I didn't follow her but kept on searching for my friend's old house. When I finally found his house I heard a voice and scratching noises , I went inside and looked around. 

In the bathroom I saw her again , the girl from the Picture. She was scratching deformed numbers into the concrete-walls " 3 , 0 , 5 , 3 , 7 , 9 , 1 , 9 " and that's where I finally remembered her face. I walked up to her and said " You look just like the girl on a portrait I found several months ago. ". She giggled and asked " This portrait?" and pulled out the same drawing I had at home. " Yes! " I responded, minorly excited. 

She ran outside and said " My name is Cindy but everyone just calls me Concrete. " , I followed her outside and said " Concrete? That's an odd nickname don't cha think ? ". " Will you help me ? " She asked out of the blue. " Wait , what? Why would I help you? I don't know even know you." I reacted immediately. She giggled shortly and her facial expression became the same as on the Picture. " Well , that's unfortunate. " She said before vanishing in thin air. 

I went back home , sort of enjoyed about the fact that I saw a real ghost , but also worried about my mental condition , as seeing ghosts is anything but normal. I couldn't sleep that night , thinking about whether ghosts are real or not.

The next day I told my friend about what happened and asked him if he ever heard of that girl. He said yes and told me about what happened to Concrete or Cindy if you'd rather. He said "You may have been wondering why this settlement is deserted , it's because of her , Concrete. When I was a child still there was a businessman who wanted to build an Amusement-park on this land. He tricked the people living there into selling their ground to him. A passionate girl called Cindy - known for her weird hobby of playing around with concrete - found out about this businessman fooling everyone. They argued and eventually the businessman forced everyone to leave , but Cindy didn't want to go , she stayed and in her anger she swore to kill this businessman if he takes a single step onto this ground again. The businessman said that it was unfortunate but it couldn`t be changed. That's when Cindy attacked him in an act of rage and tried to strangle him , as he was about to die she spared him , but he coldheartedly shot her and a few days later the businessman - in his cruelty - burried her in a concrete wall and wrote a bunch of numbers on it , marking the block for a building." I asked what those numbers were and he said " 30 ,53 ,79 ,19 ". There aren't many things out there that could move me , but this story certainly did. My friend also told me what exactly the businessman said after he burried Cindy in a wall of concrete " Well , that's unfortunate. ".

I started to think about how I could possibly help Cindy , but something was bugging me. Ever since I saw Cindy no one except my best friend would talk to me , everyone looked at me as if I had " Dork " written on my forehead. At one point though I began to seriously worry and started to wonder just what on earth was going on. It was almost christmas and I visited a shop near the deserted settlement , there were no other costumers aside from me. The walls , shelves and even the cashier had the same color , a faded out yellow that is almost white , just like concrete. I tried to leave the shop but the door wouldn't open. I turned around , the cashier looked at me and mumbled " 3 , 0 , 5 , 3 , 7 , 9 , 1 , 9 ". I looked at him and asked " Cindy ..... is that you? " I've got no response and so I sat on the ground , waiting for Cindy.

After waiting for about an hour , Cindy finally showed herself. " Why did you come back? " she asked curiously. " I want to learn more about you and what happened at this place. " I said. She then grabbed my head and I fell asleep. 

The next thing I remember are nightmares , nightmares full of pain and terror , nightmares in which I die. The people I knew started talking to me again , but whenever something happened they just said " Well , that's unfortunate. ". Weeks have passed since that and I grew to have the nickname " Concrete " because I somehow grew to like playing around with it.

A few days ago a businessman arrived in my part of this town. He said he wanted to buy this piece of land off us. I don't like the way he talks , and for some reason he drives me mad. Because of that , people have told me I've become more aggresive lately.



~An original story by CommanderShit.

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