Control Comes from Within

“Would you like to sign up for our membership rewards program?” the middle-aged woman behind the counter asked me.

“No, I’m good, thank you,” I told her, as I grabbed the plastic bag with my energy drinks and pretzels in it, and folded the receipt she handed me into my back pocket.

She nodded at me and faintly smiled as I turned and left the convenience store, the bing-bong of the automatic doors sounding behind me. A slight buzz in my pocket drew my attention as I shifted the bag to my other hand so I could pull out my phone. Checking the newest message made me sigh, both out of relief and exasperation.

Great, I thought to myself. Another tutoring request. There was nothing overtly bad about tutoring jobs, besides the somewhat meager pay that seemed inversely proportional to the amount of work it required.  Honestly, editing and translation work might be better. At least I can do that from home, in the comfort of my sweatpants.

Sadly, I knew I would have to accept the job if I wanted to make rent this month. Which meant dealing with curious and vitriolic kids, not to mention the concern and suspicion of their parents and the time needed to devise a lesson plan and syllabus, on top of everything else I had to handle. Oh, and the upcoming deadline for the project I was working on that I had to meet by tomorrow morning, in roughly eleven hours or so.

I sent a message back, accepting the tutoring job and mentioning my fixed rates. Unfortunately, the app I was using to find job offers, that basically acted as an intermediary, only permitted payment upon the completion of a job and with the acknowledgement of both parties. Apparently, it was to prevent frauds and con artists from taking advantage of the app, but there was more likely another motive there, one that I was too tired and apathetic to think of.

I could feel yet another headache building up, so I started making my way to the pharmacy while I massaged my forehead with my empty hand, hoping that maybe this time the medicine would alleviate it for long enough that I could at least finish my current job. I put my phone away and tried not to think about the possibility of my headache being a precursor to something worse.

The headaches had gradually been getting more persistent over the years, ever since I was ten, and every doctor I had been to said there was nothing wrong with me, despite the plethora of tests I was subjected to and had to pay for, out of pocket.

Oh, but I should definitely go back if the symptoms flared up again. After all, you can’t put a price on being healthy.

Or at least, the people who don’t control the so-called ‘healthcare’ industry can’t put a price on it, I bitterly added.

It had been a while since I had a few days to truly relax, so I pledged to take some time off after my current workload was finished. The old fallback of binging on whatever recommended webnovel or series popped up on my ‘For You’ feed was a good way to just enjoy something while turning my brain off. Honestly, this last-minute rush was becoming something of a habit, as my procrastinating became more and more prominent. Stopping the habit would need me to be serious, which I had a problem doing. No matter what happened to me, I just…couldn’t take life seriously.

Oh, there were moments, like now, with having to deal with the urgent issue of rent, where I became a bit more anxious, but in general, I just didn’t care. About anything. Any dreams or ambitions I once had were obliterated, and the process of finding new ones only to have them crushed over and over again was painful.

So I stopped.

I gave up. And somehow, that idea took hold and gradually became the cornerstone of my existence. I was just…aimless. Going through the motions. Living day to day because I was told to. And I didn’t have an issue with that, because I couldn’t see a purpose to it all.

At times, the thought of doing something more…permanent…crossed my mind. A short drop and a quick stop, as they say.

But I never acted on it. It was always just a…concept. A dusty cardboard box in the back of my mind that I rarely opened up.

The changing of the traffic lights and the resultant honking of horns brought me out of my mind and back into the real world. I strolled through the intersection and was just turning the corner onto the sidewalk of the next street, when the glare of the setting sun reflected off a glass window and blinded me, making me flinch and cover my eyes reflexively. “Son of a …” I cursed.

I took a couple seconds to rub my eyes and blink rapidly to try and get rid of the giant phantom sun silhouette that appeared when I closed my eyes.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one blinded by the glare.

No sooner had I gotten my vision to normal than I felt someone bump into me, followed by a high-pitched yelp.

“What the hell! What’s wrong with you?”

A woman wearing some weird cross between a poofy ballroom gown and a revealing swimsuit was on the ground, presumably the source of the bump I just felt, her hair and makeup done in what I could only assume was a legitimate attempt to imitate a baboon. She took her heels off as she picked herself up, taking out her phone to look at her face, presumably to check that her ‘look’ was intact.

Once she finished, she turned to me with a glare on her face.

“So? You gonna apologize or what?” she asked me angrily.

“...Me? I’m sorry, but-” I started to say, as she interrupted me.

“You’re sorry? So you’re admit you’re wrong! Then give me some money as compensation right now, or I’ll call my lawyer and sue your ass until you wish you were dead!” she threatened me, loudly and without any rationality.

Honestly, even if she did sue me and somehow manage to win what little I owned, it would most likely be significantly less than what the legal fees would cost her. Somehow, I got the feeling she wouldn’t much appreciate my informing her of that.

I looked around for any witnesses to try and quickly invalidate her, but there were very few people in sight, one of the reasons I chose this time of day to go out for snacks. My introvert tendencies to only go outside at statistically improbable times of interacting with other people had apparently backfired on me unexpectedly.

Turning back to her, I said, “Look, you’re fine enough to threaten me. I’m sorry, ma’am, but I have to go. Have a good night.”

I started to walk past her to go home, but quickly approaching was a human goliath. I stopped in shock at seeing someone like that, all norms of polite society and political correctness gone out the window as my eyes took him in.

Seven feet tall, bald, and wearing a black formal suit and tie that barely managed to conceal his bulging muscles, the behemoth jogged past me and half-kneeled to talk to the woman. “Okay, I got it. Sorry for making you wait, babe. We better hurry if we wanna be fashionably late like you said,” he said to her, his voice bass-deep and a bit gravelly as he kissed her on the top of her head.

“Baby! You’re finally here!” she exclaimed in relief. “That guy pushed me down and tried to assault me! He was about to run away!” she pointed at me as she whined at him.

“What?!” I shouted.

The indignation of the accusation pushed aside the shock I felt at seeing the tall guy.

What the hell is wrong with her? I didn’t do anything like that!

Before I could even form my next thought, I was on the ground, lying on my back with the wind knocked out of me. The unexpected pain, coupled with the blow I didn’t see coming, ensured that I couldn’t do anything to stop the tiny foot that began to repeatedly stomp on my stomach and groin, or the fist that alternated between obliterating my face and my ribs.

I tried to go in the fetal position, curling up to at least cover my head with my hands, but the giant hands coming my way put a swift stop to that. All it took was a quick grasp of both my hands and a slight pressure, then my wrists crumbled and cracked. I swear I could feel the bones disintegrate inside me. A reflexive scream of pain escaped my mouth before someone decided they didn’t like that and a blow from the side of my head made me bite my tongue, shutting me up quickly.

It only took a few seconds and a false accusation to give me a complete makeover. One second I was just a random guy, statistically average at five feet ten inches and slightly overweight, and the next I was a lump of tenderized meat consisting of bruises, broken bones, and a probable concussion.

I struggled to draw breath, tears, sweat and blood rolling down my face. The pain was…overwhelming. Excruciating. I couldn’t even think of anything, the pain that I had become demanding every bit of my attention. One of my eyes was swollen shut, and the other was nearly there as well, a tiny sliver all that I could see out of. I couldn’t think of a single body part that didn’t hurt. Even the tiny spasms of my muscles made the pain worsen.

I was brought out of my introspection by the voice of that bitch who started everything.

“Hey, everyone! It’s Lady in Red, back again! If you’re surprised that I’m streaming again so soon, you’re not the only one! I was just on my way to the charity gala, looking fine if I had to say, when all of a sudden, some SAVAGE attacked me! I was almost graped by this disgusting, ugh, when my boyfriend saved me! Say hi to the viewers, baby!”

“Hey, guys, I was just doing what a real man should. Anyway, link to my channel is in the - “

“Yeah, so anyways, here’s the creep who thought he could get away with molesting me in broad daylight! I think we can get this guy cancelled by tomorrow if someone can find out who he is.”

A bright light blinded what little vision I had, and even the small instinctive movement to close my eye sent another twinge of pain through my head.

“I just wanted to remind all my female subscribers who watch me to be safe at night! Assholes like this,” she stopped talking long enough to kick me again, “are the reason people feel the need to take away women’s rights. If you want to…”

I couldn’t tell if I tuned out the rest of her words, or if I legitimately fell unconscious. All I knew was that the next thing I heard was a standard outro used by streamers and content creators worldwide and the sound of a truck passing by.

Even if I somehow live through this, my life is basically over. Medical bills plus me likely being crippled plus the death of my reputation, not that anyone knows me, plus whatever else the world wants to throw at me, means I’m toast.  Heh heh, at least the headache is no longer the worst pain I’ve ever felt, I thought to myself grimly, my lip curling upwards by itself.

“Are you smiling, asshole? How about I give you something to really smile about?” the goliath’s deep voice brought me out of my thoughts. Somehow my assailant mistook the curling of my lip for a smile. And he did not like that.

I wasn’t exactly a fan of what happened next.

There was no warning. Just a flash, a loud pop, and a searing pain near my kidney. My throat had long since turned raw from the countless attempts to scream, and the sad excuse of a sideways roll elevated my pain further than I thought possible.

And yet again, a certain someone decided they didn’t like that.

“Go to hell, you piece of shit,” the goliath said, his voice steady, as if physically dismantling me took less effort than a typical workout. A wet glob landed on my neck, followed by another.

“Yeah, asshole, that’s what you get for messing with me!”

The declaration was followed by a final small kick to the stomach that nearly killed me. I gurgled a wad of spit and blood as I tried to scream, but only managed a pathetic whimper.

“Come on, baby, we should go now. We don’t want to be too late to the party,” the woman said nonchalantly, slightly gasping for breath.

The click-clack of her heels and the resumed conversation between the two let me know they had walked away from me.

Leaving me to die.

I was never a particularly emotional person. I usually concealed my feelings behind a mask of indifference and apathy, as I had learned the hard way that expressing your feelings rarely had a positive outcome.

But as I lay there with the lifeblood draining out of me, pain blanketing me like a blazing cocoon, I felt anger like never before. Who knew it would take literally dying for me to dispel my apathy towards life? The irony brought a ghost of a smirk to my face, causing another stab of pain.

My penultimate thought before dying was hope that the outdoor security camera I recognized had recorded the incident. With any luck, those two would die in jail.

My last thought before I died was, I swear if I live through this somehow, I’ll kill those two.

As fate would have it, I did manage to eventually fulfill that goal, but it took a long, long, time before that happened.