If I Thought it Would Help I Would Carve Your Name Into My Heart

Chapter 1- My Face is Ugly and I Should Feel Bad

Yep. Yep they were still there. Giant scars ripping right across my ugly face. My nose was still long, and my thick red glasses still sat upon it. I was hideous. I was a hideous man.

I tapped the jar my heart sat in. It was still a heart in a jar, shocking. Right beside it, the picture of me before the wreck, my arms around my now dead girlfriend Jenni's waist. She was Vietnamese-American, and her face was gorgeous. If you can't tell, I'm not just ugly, I'm an ugly abomination to mother nature.

I walked down the cracking, splintery stairs that creaked with every step. Jenni used to like to slide down the railings.

We had so much hope in this building, she and I. I was going to be the doctor, she my nurse. When we bought it, her beautiful smile spread wide and I'd never been happier than that moment. It was one of the best in my whole life.

The car ride was to her mother's, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on her pregnant stomach. That was my new happiest moment, finding out I was supposed to be a father. The toys now gathered dust in my room, I didn't have the heart to move them.

A girl flung herself into the road intentionally. I swerved, not wanting to run her over, and ended up turning over and rolling down a nearby hill.

The doctors didn't save her. They didn't save my baby. They didn't save anything but the money from my bank account. I was fine, barely a scratch, minus a broken hand. Nothing ruptured or bleeding internally.

It was then I hated humanity. I hated the doctors who hadn't saved my girlfriend and child. I hated myself for swerving and killing them. But more than anyone, I hated the girl who attempted to suicide. Dumb bitch got my wife killed. My anger grew and grew.

Going back into present time, I walked into my office, beginning the process of getting my tools ready. What gullible runaway teen would I trick into my office this time? Or what sad looking homeless person would I trick into taking a free check up?

When I got home that night from the hospital, it really struck me. She was gone. I ran to my office in a fit of grief and stabbed myself in the chest, slowly cutting it. It hurts, so bad. Like I wanted it to. I felt around in my chest, looking for my heart. If I was going to die, I would want it to symbolize something. I wanted to escape humanity.

Ripping out my own heart, before collapsing on the floor. That's when I saw him. A handsome, dashing fellow in a black suit and fedora cap.

"They failed her, didn't they Smiley?" he said, picking up my still-beating heart.

"Why am I not dead?" I asked, before looking down at where I'd cut with my scalpel, watching it fix itself right up in front of me.

"Because, I see potential in you." What potential?

"Who, what even are you? Satan?"

He laughed at the question. "No, no. Satan is my bitch. Call me Zalgo." He grabbed my hand, shaking it.

I looked at my hand at the symbol still there while I sat in the decrepit doctor's chair, where all my victims met their fate. Two sharp ovals intersecting each other, an eye forming in the middle.

He was convincing. If I killed, in his name, I could finally show humanity what they did to my family. After all, I had a doctorate, and I knew where all organs and major arteries were. I could make it rather painful, don't you agree?

I stepped outside, scanning the streets when I saw a homeless elderly man. I put on my sweetest smile and walked over.

"Hello, I'm offering some of the homeless free checks ups, would you care for one?"

He gave me a dirty grin, his teeth stained brown. "That'd be great, boy." He followed me into the office, and I shut the doors behind me. No one saw or heard me out there, and that was what I wanted. No one would miss this man.

I led him to the soundproof office and shut the doors behind me. He wouldn't even know the brutality about to face him.

He was about to meet Dr. Smiley.