The final confession.

The Mind of the Beast.

It's Owen, you fag.

It's not Son of a Bitch, it's not Mr. Milligan, and it's not Young Man.

I like to feel things. I like the feel I get when my fist collides with the side of your face. I like the feel of pain between my fingers and power in my actions as I throw you through the glass windows and watch you collide in sweet agony. Scream, little girl. Scream, boy, as I take away whatever manly dignity you once felt you had. With every punch I give, with every forceful collision I manifest, do you take notice?

Do you see me?

Do you really see me?

My father's in the military.

Surprised?

I sure as hell wouldn't be.

Have you seen the shit I've pulled?

He commands me to "man up."

So I put on my football jersey and pound against the grass. I run and jump and push and tackle. I feel my breath start to weaken and my legs ache with strain. My body collides and I can feel a slow blue-black burn.

But I just hit back harder.

He commands me to "control your women."

So I grab the nearest lady and fool her with money and pride in givings. I can make you my Bitch. I will own you.

And then I will take you and run away because he-

He commands that I "survive."

And surviving at home is something I can't do, never can do. And I just want to leave this place and find my own little hideaway and take you there and be with you-

But he'll find me. Us. Our little slice of heaven sliced away from reality and replaced with hell.

My hell.

My freaking hell.

How fucked up would it be if I told you he was proud of me?

He is god-awful proud of me for doing what I do.

He tells me I'm the only one with my head screwed on straight.

He doesn't know that I feel that a few screws are loose.

The only time my mind is quiet is when I'm at the Ravine, smoking a doobie in my right hand with a beer in my left. It's past midnight, Fitz as already headed out to scope out the Edwards' residence to make sure Clare hasn't runaway yet and that she hasn't hurt herself with all the screaming and yelling. He just cares for her, he comes from experience. And I approve. Because he's looking after his woman.

Future woman.

And Bianca has headed out to blow off some steam in one of the far off corners of the Ravine to wrestle with a few girls. Their own private fight club. And I approve. Because she's toughening up for some chick.

And as I sit there, dark air around me with a chilling sting, I think about what my life has become.

Shit.

I don't have a reason for living.

Fitz has Clare.

Bianca has her girls. A girl.

My mother has my father.

My father has the military.

And I have nothing.

Zilch.

Completely nothing.

I've lost the will to fight. There is just too much of a repeat. Owen fight boy, boy go to ground hurt. Hurt in Owen hands feel delightful. Boy tattle tale. Owen caught and suspended. Dad awfully proud. Dad awfully proud.

There's no livelihood in making Dad proud anymore.

Because it just never seems to change the situation that I'm so desperately attempting to miraculously transform through prayer to an unknown God. Because regardless of how proud Dad is, he never stays home.

He'd never retire for longer than a week to stay home and be Dad.

He's only home twice this year.

And he calls a few times in between.

What's sick is that regardless of his parental teachings, I still want him around.

I hate myself for wanting him around more.

There's no life in women. After Drew came in and Alli was crying and I just got mad and then I woke up. Something clicked.

I'm just looking for someone to understand me. To want me.

Like, really fucking seriously want me.

I'm so fucking sick of being alone. I'm so fucking sick of having everyone leave me.

Can I be philosophical here? Or, let me be blunt. All of this loss of life...I think it's my consequence.

It's the consequence I get for listening and obeying my father. It's the consequence I get for never trusting myself and having the confidence to stick up to him.

I know that now. I'm just a pawn in an old man's game.

If I could take it all back, I would.

I'd apologize to Adam and tell him he's a bigger man than I could ever be.

I'd apologize to Alli and tell her she's a more in-control woman than any of the other women I have ever been with.

I'd apologize to Riley and tell him that he's a real warrior survivor and always will be.

I'd apologize to Fitz and tell him that I should have given him a place to stay that first and only night he showed up at my door, swollen lip and blackeye, looking for a harbor.

I'd apologize to Bianca and tell him that she's going to find the right one on her own without my misguided help.

And in the end I'd apologize to you, because you I have mistreated the most. I've been nothing but hurtful to you, and now as I seek even the slightest redemption, I know I don't deserve it. But hand to God in hope, hand out to you in begging-

I'm begging you, please don't believe in my charade. Don't fall trapped in my actions and hate.

It's just a feigning replication of my father's ideals.

I'm just a machine to his warring desires.

I'm waiting for this man to end. I'm waiting for this bully to fall defeated. I'm waiting for this fucking Owen that I am to finally die.

Please don't leave me.

END.

That concludes The Mind of the Beast. Please leave a Review. I would love to read what you think.