This has been such a long time coming. My heart beats with excitement, and for the first time in so many years, I finally feel alive. Soon, I will finally be able to exact revenge, to make those that hurt me hurt just as much. I stand on the outskirts of Camp Diamond, a sort of summer camp for grown ups in the middle of the forest and with a nearby lake, specifically those either going to college or on the way there. And with it being situated so far out, it is a haven for partying, drugs and fucking, all the debauchery that these fucking jocks get up to. But now it's time for them to get theirs. For ages, I have dreamed of this, to have them here out in the middle of nowhere, and I have a knife with which I will make them all pay. Oh, the thoughts I've had, of carving them up, making them scream and cry, begging me for forgiveness, but I will give them none.
While most of them are outside, around a campfire, surely preparing to engage in all sorts of perversities, I will begin by stalking the cabins to find my first victim. I need to get them isolated. And so, I sneak towards the first cabin I can see, a smaller one that seems to be for storage or something like that. But when I enter, I am met with someone I did not expect. I find myself, brandishing a knife with intent, staring at Edward, the one guy I did not expect to be here. And while I want to try and silently leave again, he spots me pretty much immediately. "...Dustin? That's you, right, Dustin? ...what are you doing with that knife?" he asks, a slight tremor in his voice.
Fuck. Now he's seen me. I really, really do not want to do this. "You... I... If I am going to do what I want to do, I can't have you stopping me," I tell him, getting closer and causing him to try and back away slowly.
But then, there is a sudden change in his demeanor. He stops. "I... understand. But... can we talk for a bit? I've earned that much, haven't I?" he asks me, a more determined, or perhaps resolute, tone in his voice now.
However, I'm not buying it. "You just want to delay me until someone comes here to stop me," I reply, taking another step forwards.
Strangely enough, there's no change in his expression. "You really think anyone of those horny drunks cares about the supplies? They don't even know this place exists, they can barely stumble to their own cabins. Come on, don't I deserve a little better than the others?" he asks, and he's very much playing to my beliefs here, telling me what I already think.
So I actually acquiesce. "Fine. We can talk for a bit. Don't think you're getting out of this," I declare, gripping the blade tightly, even though on the inside there's just the slightest seed of doubt growing as to why I haven't just killed him and what that says about my conviction.
Again, there's no real change in his expression, merely this unreadable, neutral expression. "Thank you. I know how hard you've had it in the past, being beaten by your father, bullied by your peers... an innocent outcast. If only you had had someone to take care of you. A real father, or maybe just someone like a father. The kind that would actually treat you like someone worth loving. Because you are," he says, which gives me pause. I thought I never mentioned being beaten to anyone, just kept it locked up inside.
"How... how do you know about my father?" I ask him, a bit stunned.
The slightest smile comes over his face. "You told me. Back during junior year in high school, when I tried to get to know you during that one project, you remember?" he tells me. Did I do that? Fucking hell, I can't even remotely recall, and I'm sure my expression shows that. "You don't remember? I do. ...You know, I wonder what would have become of you if you had someone that cared about you. Maybe you could have been an artistic type. I think you have the potential for it. I can see you writing heartfelt poetry, beautiful little bits of text that could touch people deeply," he then says. What is he doing to me?