The Villain Diaries | Teen Ink

The Villain Diaries

October 30, 2014
By CallieMarie SILVER, Salem, New Hampshire
CallieMarie SILVER, Salem, New Hampshire
7 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
I was not born to be forced.


The Villain Diaries


I want it to be known that none of this,  absolutely none of it, was Gage’s fault. It was entirely mine.
The world is an unkind, imperfect, and bitterly cruel place. And, if you allow it, it raises you to be the same. That’s what I did. I allowed myself to be morphed into some sort of evil, a person who can lie, steal, and, with one exception, even kill without so much as blinking. Gage didn’t. Instead, he collected the world’s negativity and spun it until it became something beautiful, something worth loving; a spider creating an intricate, perfect web, making something out of nothing. Gage was one of the people who refused to see anything but good in the world, and even after finding out who I was, what I did, he saw good in me. I can never repay him for that. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Oh God, what have I done..


This is supposed to be a confession, a collection of my final words. A story of my life and, by default, my crimes. As far as confessions go, I have two of which I am truly ashamed. One; I am- was?- irrevocably in love with Gage Taylor. Two;  I murdered the one person in the world I have ever truly loved..

I didn’t choose to be like this. I know I previously mentioned allowing myself to become the despicable human I am today, but as an infant, which I suppose is when all this started, I didn’t have a choice. Like many other renowned children throughout history, I had had my parents career thrust upon me. I was, in a sense, doomed from the start. From the time I could walk, I was picking pockets and scamming money on the streets, swept up into a whirlwind of crime before I could even count to ten.


And you know what? I was good. I was a damn good criminal until he came along, and I enjoyed it. The rush of power that accompanied each crime, the exhilaration of constantly running to avoid capture was alluring. It’s like a drug addiction, each petty crime leaving the owner itching for another, better fix. I, like so many others on this godforsaken planet, am undoubtedly power-hungry. So I stole and I conned unsuspecting civilians until it wasn’t good enough.


On my fifteenth birthday, I received my first gun. I killed a man two months after. Though I must say, contrary to what seems to be a popular opinion about me, I don’t like killing. I’ve stolen countless items from countless people, cars, money, jewelry, you name it. I’ve smoked, I’ve drank, I’ve set fire to buildings. I’ve gotten into fights in which either I or my opponent was nearly dead, the blood that soaked my clothes impossible to get out, much like the memories were impossible to erase. But, I never enjoyed killing. I’d like to think that’s because I am, deep down inside, a good person. That’s what he would say, but I know better. Regardless, I never killed for fun. Only when an opportunity presented itself in which I had a true incentive for killing did I do so; after all, meaningless violence is just as useless and unliked as the end slice of a loaf of bread. I could never see the appeal in meaningless killing, only seeking vengeance when I or my family were wronged in some way. Until, that is, I learned about a boy, the son of a very powerful politician. My parents, being the charming people they are, wanted to solicit money out of this man. And I, always eager to please, eager to be accepted and treated as an equal, said I’d help. I was the youngest of our group, and no one felt I was responsible to be in charge of a crime, but for some reason, they gave me this opportunity. And I took it. If only I’d known then what would happen, maybe I could’ve spared us both the tumultuous relationship and the bitter end, spared my parents their now lasting hatred for me. Maybe our paths would’ve crossed another way, at a different point in time. But it’s too late to find out now.


  I didn’t plan to fall in love with Gage. All I ever wanted was to please my parents, and doing that required me murdering a stranger. If only it had been that simple.

It was early in the morning when I first heard about the plan to kidnap, and later murder, Gage Taylor. Instantly, I was in. A born and bred criminal, I felt sure that this would be perfect for me. Get the boy and get out; how hard could it be? Not to mention I’d finally be allowed to accompany the others on larger heists. So, I did it.
For a fortnight, I followed him around, unseen, and learned everything there was to know about him. I learned his physicalities- about my height, which is an average 5’6, brown hair, and the lightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen- a sincere contrast to my black hair, which I had been dying since I turned thirteen, and murky brown eyes. I learned how he drove himself to and from school every day, arriving home late on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, a result of basketball practices and dinners with friends. The night of the kidnapping was a Friday. I waited in the bushes for him to arrive, the Taylor family’s large mansion-like home looming over me all the while. It was menacing, light pouring out from each window illuminating the ground and threatening to give away my hiding spot, shadows thrown onto the lawn seemed to glide towards me each time one of the numerous residents moved in front of the windows. The waiting was seemingly endless, and what appeared to be hours of crouching and waiting for Gage’s arrival was, in actuality, mere minutes. Just when I thought for sure I would fail, jump into my getaway car alone and fail my parents, he arrived. Up the winding driveway he drove, two small headlights lighting the way. I couldn’t breathe, positive I would screw something up. In hindsight, I suppose I did screw up, just on a monumentally larger scale. The plan worked flawlessly. I snuck up behind Gage just as he was locking his car door, and struck him precisely on the back of his head with the barrel of my gun. Then, before another person happened to walk by the windows and see the ongoing commotion, I grabbed his arms and put them around my shoulders, then proceeded to half drag and half piggy-back him to my car.
Then, with Gage safely secured in the back, the silver duct tape over his mouth appearing to shimmer as it reflected the cars lights, we took off. We drove and drove, the starry sky above endless and beautiful. Luckily for me, Gage didn’t wake up until we reached our location; a deserted warehouse that was so easily overlooked and crumbling apart so much that the city didn’t even mark it as condemned, they simply trusted people to not enter. I stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind me, then I grabbed Gage and again managed to miraculously maneuver us inside, where we would be temporarily living until it was time for me to kill Gage. At that point, he was nothing special to me. Just another one less person taking up space, as far as I was concerned. At least, that’s what I told myself. Truthfully, his name had sent shivers down my spine since my first day of watching him, and the idea of spending an indefinite amount of time living together thrilled me more than it should’ve. Much like my career choice, when it came to Gage Taylor I was doomed from the start.


He didn’t wake up until the next morning, meaning I had unintentionally hit him very hard. Unexpectedly, when he did wake him, he didn’t yell. He didn’t cry or scream or demand to know who I was and where we were. Instead, he looked down at his duct taped wrists(the same substance had since been removed from his mouth) then looked up at me and very calmly said, “Seems like I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.” And then he laughed. I was bewildered; never in a  million years had I expected this boy, my captive, to make his first words to me a pun of all things. From that moment on, I accepted that my feelings for Gage were more than unusual for how a captor should treat their victim. The way I felt about Gage scared me more than anything else in the world. I was always so stoic, cold as ice with a mouth that could spit fire. I was hostile, withdrawn, calculating.. and in love. This new emotion had been so suddenly sprung on me that I had no idea how to react, so naturally, I got angry.


“Do you not realise you’re going to die? Shut up!” I yelled, and, surprisingly, he did. But he kept a stupid grin on his face regardless, like he wasn’t afraid of me or the situation he was facing. And he wasn’t. Gage was the only person who had ever treated me like a normal, good person. All my life I’d been feared and respected, two things I’d craved. But never had I been cared for. And Gage, sweet, naive Gage, loved me.


“What’s your name?” he asked me, wide blue eyes regarding me with nothing but curiosity, voice dripping with confidence as if he wasn’t the slightest bit concerned with the state he was in. I did not want Gage to know my name, or anything about me for that matter. But the force drawing me to him was stronger than gravity, and I couldn’t fight it even if I wanted to. So, reluctantly, I told him, “Arabella.”


In total, we had three weeks and four days together. Twenty-five days to fall madly in love and practically throw away my whole life. His constant puns and happy stories, which I pretended to hate but really loved, made me look forwards to each day. Even after I removed his restraints, somewhere in week two, Gage didn’t leave me.
I told Gage I was going to kill him. He knew from the start that that was my job; hold him hostage and kill him. But he believed I wouldn’t do it. I loved Gage with everything in me, but I was already going to be in trouble as is, offering him countless opportunities to escape, and I am not the type of girl to betray my family for a boy I barely know. Gage knew that.


On the twenty-fifth night they came, completely catching us off guard as we lay there together in the dark, trying desperately to grasp what was happening. My family had come, and Gage was going to die.


They were supposed to warn me before they came, tell me what was going to happen. But they barged in on us, and, being completely unprepared, we were together. They were furious. Someone, maybe my mom, grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me out of bed and onto the cold cement ground, screaming at me. Gage was left in bed, looking completely bewildered and still half-asleep.


Everyone was yelling at me and my parents, telling us we were nothing, we were useless. And it was my fault.
I had to redeem myself. That’s all I knew, all I could think. At that moment there was no Gage and me, no love. There was only my mothers face above me, shrieking about what a disappointing failure I was. And, dazed from my abrupt wake up and all the activity going on, I raised my gun, aimed directly at Gage, and pulled the trigger.
The shot cracked through the air like a whip, diminishing the hum of noise being emitted from all of the voices and leaving a smooth silence in its place.The noise was so strong and surprising, it hushed everyone’s shouts as Gage flew backwards on the bed, hand going to cover the wound in his  chest.


“Oh my God. Oh my God, Gage!” I screamed. I rushed towards him, crying and hyperventilating.
“Arabella?” he questioned, and looked at me with those eyes, so full of fear and utter betrayal.
“I’m so sorry Gage, I didn’t mean it.” I cried.
And he simply looked at me and sighed, accepting that he was a dead man walking, before holding out his hand which was covered in blood, and  whispering, “Seems like I’m in a bit of a sticky situation.”


I half-laughed, half-sobbed and grabbed for his hand,  breath shaking as I tried to get my last words to him, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I love you so  much Gage, you’re going to be okay I promise I’ll make this better.” But he was already gone. I shot Gage straight through the heart, and killed him. I kept my promise.

I loved Gage more than anything, and if given the chance I would do everything over again. I told him I would kill him from the start, but as soon as the bullet made contact with his body, I knew I had betrayed him. Gage believed in me, he loved me and thought I was a good person. And now, I have to keep my second promise to him. It’s odd really; I thought all I ever wanted was for my parents to accept me, but as soon as I achieved that, I realized what I really wanted was vanishing before my eyes. Something that was my doing.


Gage- I’m making things right. My trial is over, and I’ve told the police everything that happened. I’ll be executed tomorrow. I won’t let you down anymore.


Love,
Arabella



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