《No One Like/s Albert》


 1 - My Life

    40 to 41 years of my life I¡¯ve lived here in Boca del Locura and though I¡¯ve had the intrusive thoughts, I¡¯ve never acted on them. I never thought that I would one day kill someone. Say what you want, I know I was responsible for what happened. No other way around it.


    I never did fit in. I mean, I wasn¡¯t born here, but I consider this place my home and I can¡¯t imagine myself living anywhere else. You would think that after so long someone would have less of a problem improving on their social life despite that.


    Throughout much of my earlier life, I was often kept indoors and was only allowed outside under my parents¡¯ strict supervision. For my education, I was homeschooled because according to my parents, the education system wasn¡¯t the best and it was a way to keep me safe. I didn¡¯t like it, but what kid would like school? Not many I¡¯d think.


    I got the education, but safety on the other hand, strangers weren¡¯t the ones I largely feared. My parents would use belts, wooden spoons, and their own bare hands on me for a range of reasons like lying, crying, or not being able to tell time by looking at the hands of a clock. They especially loathed and highly discouraged any of my screaming or yelling in the house. I wouldn¡¯t dare try to avoid corporal punishment, otherwise it¡¯d be worse by the time they¡¯d inevitably get me. Seriously, I lived there, so where do I run too?


    I remember one time when one of them slapped the back of my head so hard for talking back, my face and teeth slammed into my dinner plate, nearly chipping my front tooth. After being sent to my room, the other came in and reminded me how much the both of them loved me. They stopped hitting me as I got older, but they still found ways to place me under their thumbs, often through threats and mind games.


    It sickens me how I now hear them judge other parents who would do the same exact things they used to do to me. I remember so many of the bad things I¡¯ve admitted to doing throughout my life and I learned from my actions. Meanwhile, all the things that my own parents did to me gradually changed from their personal badge of honor because ¡°I deserved it,¡± to something that they ¡°couldn¡¯t possibly do to their own child.¡± Odd thing is I still love them, yet I despise them for their cowardice and hypocrisy even today.


    Don¡¯t know if it was from all the years of horror stories my parents told me about what could happen to me if I ventured outside of the home and family, or if I was just doomed from the start, but I¡¯m very socially awkward. I¡¯ve been raised to be nice and accommodating to anyone I meet, but there are certain mannerisms that make my attempts very difficult or off-putting. I feel a deep discomfort looking directly into the eyes of another. I¡¯ve learned to overcome that these days, mostly by looking at the nose of the person I¡¯m speaking to them, since it makes it seem like I¡¯m making eye contact. No such work around for my other foibles unfortunately. I tend to mumble, it¡¯s not uncommon for me to saying something wrong without even noticing for hours, and I stutter and stammer when I get stressed.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Then there¡¯s my physical appearance, which I¡¯m not all too happy about. Parts of me have either patches of shiny skin, or dried cracked and bleeding skin, occasionally leading to infections. One leg is a little shorter than the other. My spine slightly curves out of proper posture. I¡¯m a bit hairy, which has proven to be a problem at times with ingrown hairs. People have a hard time understanding what I¡¯m saying, not just from my mumbling, but because my tongue is larger than my mouth. Speaking of which, I have slightly yellowish teeth no matter how well I clean them. I¡¯m mostly boney except for my gut, which always made me feel fat even when I was at my skinniest.


    I¡¯m not much of a catch mentally either. Usually when people chew ¨C always whenever they make loud noises while doing it ¨C I¡¯m repulsed looking at them doing it, and I feel a dull, gnawing pain deep inside my brain and ears, which overwhelms me with extremely violent and intrusive thoughts. Then there¡¯s my compulsive need to do certain things, otherwise I¡¯d get overcome by anxiety about something bad possibly happening. I also would have this fear that sometimes, in where people can tell what I¡¯m thinking, which certainly doesn¡¯t help the social awkwardness. Always got the feeling that people secretly never really liked me. I think about it more now, and it may have never been unfounded after all, along with my other feelings of paranoia.


    I could feel all this paranoia, anxiety, and stress bubbling up and buzzing around in my head whenever I¡¯m at work. What would bring it out the most wasn¡¯t necessarily the work itself, but those on the managerial team. They¡¯re just like nearly all the others I¡¯ve had in my jobs before; despite all their talk about how they¡¯re on your side, your top advocate, your best friend, and how anyone working for the business are family, every one of them a company man through and through. Your advocate indeed. The only ones they truly advocate for are themselves and those above them. Learned a long time ago, anyone who tries selling you that bill of goods either, hope to someday become as big and lousy as their boss, or they recently bought a bridge in Brooklyn for a steal, if you know what I mean.


    They would do what management typically does to their workers, like gaslighting employees into taking responsibly for executive incompetence and management¡¯s shortcomings, being condescending, or reminding us that we have ¡°privileges, not rights¡± at work, all while trying to act all buddy-buddy and that they¡¯re just like the rest of the rank-and-file schlubs. There is however, one who was the worst out of the bunch. That one was Jasmine B.L. Laden.

 2 - That A-Hole Supervisor

    Jasmine B.L. Laden. She looked like a trashy, blonde, rotting Jack-o-lantern in clown makeup, being used as an ashtray, and had the personality of one to boot. If you saw her at a store, she¡¯d be the one carrying around the ¡°Let me speak to your manager¡± type energy, which is funny since she is basically a manager. She was a supervisor who was part of the management team and jockeying to be its biggest jackass.


    She seemed to have it out for me in particular. To her, I didn¡¯t tackle certain tasks quickly enough, while I¡¯d tried to take care of a much larger workload. I would get it all done at a better pace using procedures proven to be more efficient and accurate, if she didn¡¯t threaten me with disciplinary action for not using by-the-book procedures. Not that there were rules against it what I did, but just because she wasn¡¯t happy with it. She treated me as if I¡¯m lazy for trying to decompress in between long bouts of work, while she plays games on her phone and looks up memes and houses on the internet almost all day. Oh, and how she loved yelling and talking down to me. Even the thanks she¡¯d give me when she did, were so insincere bordering on sarcastic.


    To be fair, Jasmine was a jerk to every one of us under her supervision. She¡¯d say it was how she was raised, but she¡¯d then be all sweet and soft spoken whenever the manager was around. It was exactly how she was the morning of the incident. Everyone on the floor were told to stop working to have a meeting. It entailed Jasmine scolding us as the manager watched, interjecting every so often to act friendly. This came off the day before when the janky-ass printer network decided not to print, causing everything to pile up and throw everyone off. Got the impression during the meeting that corporate wasn¡¯t going to do something of worth, so management wanted to act like it was entirely our fault and not make any real mention of the network yesterday. I remember her saying, ¡°I¡¯ve been too lenient on you all.¡±


    Funny, since she was yelling at me for taking a mandatory break later than I usually take, because I had to catch up on a load of overdue work thanks to some other problems we had occur.


    With the meeting over, it was getting near noon, and I decided to take my toilet break early, so I could go straight to my lunchtime afterwards. I usually take ten to fifteen minutes, but I finished much sooner on that day. I was passing by the breakroom to sign out for lunch when I overheard management and coworkers talking. I wondered why they were taking their lunchbreak early like I was, when I noticed they were all speaking to Jasmine, telling her things like, ¡°You¡¯re pushing too hard, ease up a little¡± and, ¡°You must remember that there is a balance.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    First, I thought they were giving warnings about overworking, until I heard one of my colleagues talk about how a cousin had to report on the aftermath of one of ¡°their¡± rampages. Officially, it was reported as a workplace shooting, but what really happened to those seventeen people that day was far more gruesome. It was so bad that none of them were allowed to have open-casket funerals. The culprit had to be put down by the authorities, and that cost them over a hundred bullets and a few officers.


    Then, the manager told how only months after the incident, the town where it happened ended up getting wiped out by an out-of-control wildfire. She elaborated to Jasmine that whenever ¡°one of them¡± dies, if there are no others like ¡°them¡± living around the area, whichever community ¡°they¡± called home faces ruination only months later. This however can cause a cascading effect if there are none alive so to stabilize the natural order within ¡°their¡± radius of influence. Events like the Black Death, Krakatoa, and the period from 536 to 575 AD, were all due to ¡°their¡± low population numbers scattered across the world at those times. A low world population of ¡°them¡± must be in existence in modern times, which was why it seems everything is going to pot now. Despite attempts to properly track the numbers worldwide to better manage ¡°them,¡± not many governments were honest in their reporting, since people would generally avoid communities that has ¡°one of them¡± as a resident.


    This whole time, I had no idea who ¡°they¡± were. Then Jasmine said, ¡°It would have been nice if someone warned me before I moved here. Now that I can¡¯t leave, I¡¯m just making the best of bad situation by getting what I deserve, having to deal with that THING lurking around!¡±


    It was at this moment, a sudden thought came to me, like: Oh God, it wasn¡¯t paranoia!


    There were occasions throughout my life, when it was late at night and I was tired, but I couldn¡¯t go to bed from one reason or another. It was during those times, I could¡¯ve sworn I saw something from out of the corner or my eye that would startle me. I¡¯d quickly turn to see what it was, only to find myself alone in the room by myself. I would just blame my paranoia, but now it turns out that there¡¯s likely a connection between all the misery I¡¯ve been put through and whatever I saw those nights. Whatever it was, there is more than one, and they lurk outside of everyone¡¯s periphery, I thought.


    I entered the breakroom, and everyone went straight to the usual phoniness and aloof posturing I¡¯m used to seeing, except for Jasmine who immediately left the room. I had no idea on why no one would tell me about this thing¡¯s existence, but I was determined to find out that night and I had just the person in mind to get an answer from.

 3 - Waiting in the Parking Garage

    I saw her that night, as she exited the building and headed to her car. As I was thinking to myself about what to do next, she stopped and looked around, almost like she knew I was nearby. When she continued moving to her car, she quickened her pace, which made me decide to pursue her. As I followed her, she hurried even faster, and I did the same to keep up.


    It was when Jasmine pulled out her keys near her car when I finally yelled out for her to wait. She reacted like someone hit her in the back of the head, causing her to drop the keys under the vehicle. She seemed to immediately dive to her knees to look for them, but then turned around covering her eyes with her arm and screamed at me to stay back. I tried calming her down from a distance as I let her know it was just me, but it only seemed to stop her from screaming. It was then I thought to myself that thing might¡¯ve been there with us, so I quickly looked around. Once I felt the area was clear, I told her that we were safe. Jasmine snapped back at me in confusion, saying that she had no idea what I was talking about, yet she was still covering her eyes.


    I asked her why she was covering her eyes, even though there was nothing around to hurt us. She laughed and said to me, ¡°Why are you so afraid? You¡¯re the one who¡¯s going to kill me!¡±


    I had no idea what she was talking about. Could¡¯ve been some misunderstanding, like that one time I misunderstood an immediate order of hers more as a request that I could do at my convenience. After getting kindly threatened by the manager on her behalf, I wanted to smooth over the issue, so I apologized to Jasmine. She didn¡¯t even really properly accept my apology. She said nothing and instead, gave the Robert De Niro face and a nod. You know the face. The face stretched downwards by the dropping of the jaw, while keeping the mouth closed. Of course, I was still pissed about it sure, but I swear causing harm was the furthest from my mind. I just wanted to ask her questions.


    I asked Jasmine to clarify, but to her it didn¡¯t matter what my intentions were, because according to her, the fact that I existed meant that I was a danger to everyone and everything. ¡°Great misfortune would befall whoever or whatever you held dear or with great esteem.¡± she said to me.


    In fact, Jasmine said causing me distress and suffering can bring others fortune. It was how she was able to buy a house and get a raise earlier this year. I thought about all the horrible people and things I¡¯ve heard about. It seemed like bad things grew, and bad people got richer, more famous, more successful. What¡¯s that, famous entertainer with a well-known public history of abuse? You¡¯re about to be convicted for taking advantage of these women and children throughout the years sexually? Well, we just so happened to find this technicality that gets you off scot-free! Enjoy your twilight years in your own bed! Before you go, care to advertise for our product so we can spill more forever chemicals into the environment? What¡¯s this Mr. CEO? You were involved in an extensive money-laundering scheme that left hundreds of millions of poor people up Shit¡¯s Creek without a paddle? This just in: Key witnesses and whistleblowers are either mysteriously dead or disappeared. You¡¯re free to go on business as usual! Don¡¯t forget your golden parachute in case some disaster does happen next time! One more thing, help us block making nuclear plants safer and more efficient. Nothing they did seemed to come back and bite them, like they were immune to whatever terrible thing they did.


    I then thought back on all of which I truly liked. All the food, businesses, and shows I enjoyed would all either discontinue or heavily degrade in quality. Could be coincidental. Then I thought about the times how I felt that my colleagues at work have been trying to avoid or take advantage of me. I probably wouldn¡¯t be as suspicious if they accepted my invitations to my weekend and holiday get-togethers, instead of having plans that day or had to cancel last minute because something ¡°just came up¡±. It would certainly explain why they¡¯d do obnoxious things to the point of driving me away. I then thought back on one of my more depressing memories. I was part of a social group once. Yeah, I don¡¯t even believe it at times, but I managed. Ran into them at the only comics n¡¯ cosplay convention I¡¯ve ever been to, and we hung out a lot afterwards. They were almost like the family I wish I had. Then the pandemic hit. We tried finding ways to stay in contact, but things incrementally happened. One would be too tired to do anything, a few stopped answering altogether, one fell in with a group of incels, two stopped participating because of drama between one another, and the final two got arrested and sentenced to prison. Soon, the group ceased to exist, and I was alone yet again.


    Was this the reason why so many people would either act aloof, feign friendliness, and not reach out, or be total dicks towards me? Was this the reason why my own parents would torment me? All the uncalled-for rudeness, disrespect, and hostility? Were they all trying to protect themselves from me?This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I thought of something at that moment and asked Jasmine, ¡°If I hurt those I like, why are you so afraid then? I don¡¯t like you.¡±


    That was when she told me of two ways I¡¯d hurt others, regardless of how I felt towards them. The first was by having no direct interaction with a person, place, or thing within several months. For example, if I moved away or died, and no others like me were within that vicinity to fill my role, that area and virtually everyone living there would suffer greatly after a time. The residents must manipulate me through occasional pleasantness or mishaps to keep me from moving away on top of the balancing act between my social isolation and required torment.


    The second was by using my eyes. Jasmine said to me, ¡°The strength and resilience of you freaks are outmatched by the amount of damage you can do with your eyes.¡±


    Around this time, I got sick of her referring to me as if I was something other than human, and as if I was part of something that was abnormal. I yelled at her to stop othering me, and she reacted as if I hurt her ears before she screamed back at me that it was all true. I don¡¯t know if it was from just wanting to humor her, or if I was legitimately curious, but I asked her, ¡°What does my kind look like then?¡±


    She described me as being, ¡°¡­covered in patches of slimy or dried, cracked and bleeding, infected skin. Hairy with a lopsided posture, with a humpback and one leg shorter than the other. Paradoxically fat gut, yet spindly limbs and hands. Voice can¡¯t settle one a standard tone and pitch, while a large tongue hangs out of a mouth that is nothing but a mess of flesh and nasty yellow teeth. Every thought is a loud whisper, every normal conversation is a shout, and every yell is a siren of nails scratching on a blackboard with the blunt force of a mallet.¡±


    Thinking on it now, she never described the eyes, instead going on a rant about how ¡°things like us¡± were brainwashed by a society that cared so much about reinforcing positive self-reflection and self-esteem that we can¡¯t see how hideously inhuman we look. She also couldn¡¯t stand that we are all not referred to as ¡°it¡± or ¡°creature.¡± To her, we had no business being among the general population and should just all die alone like the unlovable abominations we are.


    I got so angry when she said that to me. I wanted to know the answer, but I refused to accept something as ridiculous as me being any less human than the typical person. I didn¡¯t want to accept that I was somehow behind the ills of the world, and that I deserved a life of misery and stagnation. I wanted to not just prove to her, but myself, that she was wrong. So, as calmly and softly as possible, I said to her, ¡°For years, my parents taught me that a true adult takes responsibility for their actions and admits to their mistakes. As I grew up and kept to that belief, I would¡¯ve never guessed that so many ¨C even my own parents ¨C wouldn¡¯t qualify. But you know what? For you, that¡¯s going to change tonight. You¡¯re going to look me directly in the eyes and tell me the truth, whether you like it or not.¡±


    I never saw her so scared before when I said those words. Jasmine grabbed a chunk of broken concrete and lobbed it, hitting me on the side of my face, which set me off. She tried crawling away under her car, repeatedly telling me no and threatening to have me fired. While I pulled her out by the legs, off the ground, and held her still, I found myself trying not to laugh the entire time because she sounded like a scared chimp. She tried fighting me off, but I finally got two of my fingers on her eyelids and pried them open, making her give off one last big, shrill, terrified shriek. Afterwards, she didn¡¯t make any more noise, nor did she fight anymore.


    I began asking her a question, but her eyes became all cloudy, her hair began turning white, and a side of her face began to droop. It freaked me out enough to let her go, but she progressively worsened. Jasmine appeared to try heading back to her car, but she sounded as if gasping for air, like her skin becoming tauter was somehow making it harder for her to breathe right. Her bones were even breaking as she stumbled pass her vehicle and flipped over the guardrail of the parking garage¡¯s view to the streets. I rushed over and looked over the edge with enough time to see her smash apart on the pavement below.


    People on the sidewalks, who heard the noise, ran over to see what happened. They were all talking to each other, but one of them looked up saw me, then screamed and covered their eyes in a panic. Everyone else who gathered began running away. I still remember some of what they were screaming:


    ¡°He¡¯s finally on a rampage!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look in his eyes!¡±


    ¡°Run or he¡¯ll kill us all!¡±


    I was backing up away from the railing, trying to piece together what I just did, wondering what to do next. That was when I saw it out the corner of my eye; the thing that haunted me during the late nights. This time I noticed that its shape, the one I¡¯ve only just realized at that moment, resembled what Jasmine described earlier. I swiftly turned my head, hoping to finally get a good look at what was truly behind all the misery. Like all the other times, it was me alone, this time looking in the reflection of Jasmine¡¯s car window. Always the reflection. All by myself. Just me.

 4 - Mr. Ross

    ¡°Mr. Ross¡­Mr. Ross¡­Albert.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sorry doctor, I got a little lost in my thoughts there.¡±


    ¡°What happened afterwards?¡±


    ¡°I waited for the cops to arrive so I could turn myself in. Got convicted of fifth degree murder and sentenced to go to court mandated anger management and therapy. The coroner determined that Jasmine¡¯s death was from an unrelated stroke.¡±


    ¡°Yet you still blame yourself for her death? Mrs. Laden was a very hard person to work with according to many who knew her. Her medical history is rife with not listening to healthcare professionals, chronic smoking, and suffering from heart attacks and the like. Jasmine likely would¡¯ve died that night either way.¡±


    ¡°That was no stroke I saw! I caused it somehow! I know it.¡±


    ¡°You pleaded not guilty in court though. If you believed you were responsible, why not plead guilty?¡±


    ¡°I never meant to hurt anyone. I just¡­ I don¡¯t know, maybe I did¡­¡±


    ¡°Listen Albert, you¡¯re blaming yourself because the idea of having no control over anything in life terrifies you. That need to control and find meaning behind a chaotic world, is what drove you to cornering Jasmine to get answers you sought. This magical thinking is your attempt to absolve yourself of what you knew was wrong, by saying killing her was the misstep, rather than seeking her out after work to begin with. Having no ill intent, and the fact you got off easy, doesn¡¯t change that.¡±


    ¡°But what about all the stuff she told me?¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°Must¡¯ve found out about your insecurities and foibles from you in passing somehow. It was certainly an attempt to protect herself, by telling you what she thought you wanted to hear so you¡¯d leave her alone. They were just lies. You want to know how I know?¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re looking directly into my eyes now.¡±


    ¡°I am?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and you¡¯ve been doing so since our first session. See, no curses or conspiracies, just magical thinking, that¡¯s all. By the way, our current session is up.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it is? Okay! Thanks for everything, doc. You don¡¯t mind if I shake your hand?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind at all.¡±


    ¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­¡­..


    ¡°Doctor?¡±


    ¡°Is Mr. Ross gone, Mrs. Soliz?¡±


    ¡°Yes, he left after scheduling his next appointment.¡±


    ¡°Good! You have the hand sanitizer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got it.¡±


    ¡°Great, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Doctor¡­¡±


    ¡°Hold on, let me take these earplugs out. These small ones are hard to see, but they¡¯re such a pain in the ass to remove. Okay, you were saying?¡±


    ¡°Mr. Ross told me that you made eye contact with him. How is that possible without dying?¡±


    ¡°He tends to automatically stare at your nose without even noticing. The times he does look you directly in the yes, you¡¯re safe for up to a minute if he isn¡¯t under duress. Couldn¡¯t do it soon after he lost his job due to the incident, but he¡¯s mostly fine now. The county¡¯s board of commerce wants everyone to hold off hiring him for a few months to accelerate economic growth. It¡¯s likely too long of a waiting period for him, which might place us at risk. There¡¯d be a lot less problems if people bothered to read the informational brochures when they first move here. No offense Mrs. Soliz.¡±


    ¡°None taken. You¡¯re very brave for doing this job. To place yourself at risk in each session, working to convince him that his paranoia and anger are playing tricks on him.¡±


    ¡°Not all that difficult. The trial probably scared most of that curiosity out of him. My job is more to make sure he doesn¡¯t seek out answers again. Just remember to keep his view of you at the level of an acquaintance, so he never feels like we could be friends. It¡¯s part of the reason why I tell you to focus on keeping yourself busy and making nothing more than small talk whenever he¡¯s around. A shame really. Mr. Ross seems like an okay guy when you get to know him and follow the rules of interaction. Only real problem is that he¡¯s kinda gross.¡±