The False Anti-Christ

I remember when I first met her. I remember how we ran through the wild green prairies. I remember how she always had a smile on her face when she saw me. Now that I look back, it made sense when she would frown when I talked about our homelives or going home. Back then, I imagined that it was the reluctance of leaving her playtime like any other child would at the age of six. I saw her everyday during the summer from the time I was four until I was nine. My family would travel to the countryside during the summer for my father’s work for the government. She would always be waiting for me, hidden within the safety of the trees from the other side of the overly tall grassy meadow. She would come out as she saw me with the largest smile on her face and we would spend hours roaming the field, enjoying our childhoods. With how normal she seemed, I guess I never questioned it. I never knew what she was. I never in my life would have guessed that she was one of them.

One of those things. The cold and callous monsters who came after the cure of cancer was created. The cure was supposed to completely mutate the harming mutated cells within the diagnose body all at once. The procedure had a high death rate, but if successful there was no chance for remission since the body had been entirely mutated. With a cure for that plague, humanity was cursed with another. Children being born with abilities to manipulate the brain and not their own brains, but everyone else’s. These children were little demons who corrupted society to bend it to their own wills. They caused adults and other children to kill one another, destroyed building, and completely turn the world into total chaos. As the death count from the cancer cure rose, the birth rate for these children grew and humanity was getting outnumbered because they were killing us off on top of us already dying. No one knew what their existence was for, other than to cause pain and death. Now, back in the day, people ethically questioned about how can little children be evil, but they were. Like sociopaths, these children had no empathy and could not grasp the most common of emotions. That was what made them so dangerous to society. The UN banded together for the first time with a unanimous decision. To rid the world of the demonic babies by any means. This to the beginning of the Messiah War, a war of religion and ethics because of those who wished to protect those demons. People started hiding them and once they grew old enough, they would through the world into chaos. That began my father’s work. To study the horrid things and find a way to counteract their abilities of mental manipulation. The world was supposed to be at peace, but everytime it was calm, the storm that was these children would hit and ruin everything.

I was too young to understand. I couldn't understand how these things could come across as anything other than the monsters they were always portrayed to be to me. how they were portrayed to everyone within our society. I thought they would have horns or their eyes would be that of the hellish colors of fire. I imagined that as soon as you'd see one, you would know something was off and everything in you would tell you to run from these things, but I never got that from her. She was always just so happy and calm and she never made me question anything that was wrong with her.

I should have guessed something was off with her back then though. What child wears the exact same outfit everyday for five years? That light beige outfit that made her seem so dull and out of touch of life. It was a short sleeve t-shirt that had the symbol of my father’s company etched onto the sleeves and on the chest, above where her heart was supposed to be. She also acted like everything normal confused her. I would talk about the most common of things like coloring a rainbow or eating a pastry and she would have this look of total and utter confusion on her face. back then I thought it was just because her family didn't expose her much to the outside world because of the fear of those things. I didn't know that she was one of them. Just like my father, I had the savior complex as everyone who worked at his facility. I genuinely just wanted to help her. then the time came when I was ten and my father decided that we would stop going to the our country home.

Now here I was, seven years later, and there she was. Standing tall amongst the other wretched manipulating demons, My childhood summer friend. The one person I never expected to see again. Instead of love and hope in her eyes, There was a certain cryptic look that I couldn't place. It was nothing like our childhood. Once a girl that was all smiles now just had this look a blankness. She finally looked like one of them. She finally looked like the sociopath that she was born to be.

I watched her. I watched her as she slaughtered my entire family without a single moment's hesitation. I watched them all slaughter anyone down the street before my father had us hide in the attic, but every time I watch them, it was like they were in autopilot. She and those children busted into my family home Mike they were breaking open a gingerbread house. I had my eyes directly on her when she ascended into the attic. It was like she was in this state of hyperfocus. Nothing else mattered except for the death of my family. She cut down my father with a short kitchen knife that was commonly used by my mother to slice open our meals every night. When my mother tried to run, the girl grabbed my mother's head and slammed her into the corner of a table that we kept in storage. She made sure to finish the job too by stabbing them both with the kitchen knife repeatedly. She went to kill me next, but as soon as she saw me, and I mean really saw me, she hesitated. I noticed how her eyes went from blank to recognition, to finally confusion. It was almost as if she had no idea why she was there or the fact that she was even there. Why she didn't use her abilities to just manipulate me into killing myself, I don't know. That was what the other children did to those who looked at them. One thing that really puzzled me though at the time, was the fact that she was still wearing that last gift I gave her on that last summer that I saw her it was a small trinket that I one at a County Fair. A locket that she promised that she would have never taken off. In all honesty, I never expected her to keep it, not after all these years. Instead of killing me like I thought she would, she grabbed my collar, pulled me as if I was merely a sack of paper down the stairs to my childhood living room, and ordered for the children to get going to their next location.

She dragged me down to the car that was waiting for us, no, it was waiting on her. Next thing I knew, I was shoved into the vehicle, had a black wool mask pulled over my eyes, and blinded until we were taken to our next location. After we arrived, I was pushed along to this really dark and really cold room that I currently was in. There were hundreds of cells down there, I didn't exactly scream home. I didn't know whether to call myself a prisoner there or not. They took care of me, genuinely took care of me. They gave me warm blankets, a change of clothes, and a hot meal. It was more like I was a guest than someone being held against their will. She came down eventually it seemed like she was arguing with an older gentleman as she came through the doorway. They were arguing about keeping me alive. She argued that I was an asset meanwhile the man called me a liability and a means to an end. After a couple of moments of arguing she finally screamed for everyone to get out which they all did without a moment's hesitation. How she had that power, I couldn't tell you, because from my memories she was timid like a newly born fawn.

After a moment of what seemed to be breathing exercises for her, she finally turned her eyes over to me and let me tell you, she was not happy. She pulled up a chair and dragged it over to the front of my cell. She sat and stared well I think she tried to analyze me. Her maroon eyes, another signature feature of the mind manipulators, reminded me of a giant cat stalking its prey from those nature shows my father always made me watch. I barely a pinkie and I saw how she tended. After a couple more moments of silence, I finally asked her what she was planning to do with me add her eyes widened in surprise. She blinked for a couple of moments as she process my question until finally she let out a lone sorry.

I asked her what she was sorry for and her reply was, “For what happened while I was under. That's just how they programmed us. I’m sorry for what happened with Dr. Gallagher. I want to say he didn't deserve that, but that would be a lie. He was a shitty dad from what I remember. Although, I am sad about your mom. I don't know if she knew, or if she was just an innocent bystander in all this.” I glared at her to show that I was beyond angry a her words. How dare she? After everything that I did with her and after she slaughtered them without a hint of remorse. I clicked my tongue at her and she lifted an eyebrow at me while she hunched over and placed her forearms on her knees. She asked if I had a problem as if my family’s deaths wouldn’t have had an effect on me. I didn’t care if my dad was a workaholic and screamed at my mom and me all the time. He was still my father and she had no right to disrespect the dead.

I turned my head to escape her maroon gaze and exclaimed, “I wouldn’t expect a sociopath like you to understand.”

She scoffed. I did a side glance at her while she stated, “A sociopath? Please tell me you didn’t buy into that lucrative lie that the government sold.” I turned to her and asked what she was talking about and she explained, “Wow. You did but into it. I’m not surprise though. Your old man was one of the ones who concocted the lie many years ago.” I growled at her and told her to shut while exclaiming that the world was shit because of monsters like her and she released a dark and sinister laugh at me.

It took her a moment, but she got calm enough to say, “Monster? Me? That’s rich coming from the baby killers’ son. It’s your fathers fault for making us this way. He’s the one who would shock us until we used our powers to destroy so the government could instill fear and make them the heroes. Let me tell you the story. The real story of us. ‘The Mind Manipulators.”