I'd wear that...
"Anthony! Come to dinner now!"
"Yes, aunt Margaret."
"The family's all here!"
Anthony looked up into the mirror, his vision blurred by heavy tears. The young man gave his jet black hair one last comb, and set to work adjusting the spotted blue and yellow bow tie his aunt had ordered for him. He hated it, but he dared not disobey her. "ANTHONY P. MARTIN! DON'T YOU KEEP ME WAITING ANOTHER MINUTE!" His aunt's voice sent a jolt of fear through his entire body. "Okay, coming!"
As he moved slowly down the hallway, Anthony wiped his eyes and composed himself, ready to smile for the party guests. He had lived with his aunt for as long as he could remember, and he hated her. His aunt Margaret was a strict disciplinarian and Anthony was only allowed to do two things:study, and pretend to be happy. His parents were an enigma, and all he had ever seen of them was the small portrait of them that hung above his bed. He lived every day as Anthony Martin, a troubled young man trapped in his aunt's selfish little game.
"Hi there, sweetie. Go sit over by your cousin Lola." "Yes, aunt Margaret." "Very good." Lola gave a slight chuckle to her sister, Jamie as he walked toward the dining room table to take his seat. "Sup, dork?", she sneered, "Missing mommy again?" "Look at his bow tie! What a loser!", added Jamie. Anthony said nothing. He knew how that would go down. He would tell aunt Margaret that they were bothering him, and she would give him a speech on the proper way to treat a lady. He was the only boy among the family of four, and he had never been allowed to do anything that his aunt said "would be outlandish or offensive." This included sports, as well as any other form of social interaction outside of school. Anthony reluctantly scooted closer to his cousins and some other family members he could not name. He heard a defining click as a snapshot of the family was taken. Anthony hated them all:his cousins, his aunt, and the world. And he would exact revenge.
The bell made a shrill ringing sound and a mass of excited tenth graders poured through the door of the Biology lab and into the hallway. Anthony followed shortly behind them, his gaze fixated upon the ground. "Hey, Martin! Why don't you go join a circus?", yelled a familiarly intimidating voice, "They could use a professional loser like you!" He began to walk faster, but it wasn't too long before two boys grabbed him and pinned him to the wall. "Go away!", he pleaded. The boys responded with amused laughter. The taller of the two began to finger Anthony's bow tie. "Nice tie, freak.", he said sarcastically. His name was Alec. He had mercilessly bullied Anthony ever since the first grade. They had gone to the same elementary, middle, and now high schools. "Please don;t hurt me.", cried Anthony in a sheepish tone. He began to tear up. "Oh we're not going to hurt you, it's just funny when you cry." Alec and his partner pushed Anthony to the ground, and the bell rang for the next period. Within seconds, they had disappeared down the hallway and Anthony, still crying, sat alone on the cold tile floor with his face buried into his arms. He'd had enough. Today, he would leave school early and never come back. He would run away from home. But first, he'd have to pick up his first place science project from the Biology lab.
Anthony was no athlete. He was just under 5'2'' and was scrawny compared to most of his classmates. They'd always been mean to him, the boys and the girls. But the one thing that was undeniably true was the fact that Anthony Martin possessed an impeccably brilliant mind. So much so, that his reasoning and his vast knowledge of human psychology frightened his teachers.
The boy turned the brass doorknob slowly, as if to prevent being overheard by Dr. Ferguson, his Biology teacher. He gave a light sigh of relief when he entered the lab and found that no one was inside. The young man's eyes jumped restlessly around the room as he frantically scanned it for his project. "There you are.", he exhaled as he started towards it. Anthony's project had been disguised as a study of memory and depressive disorders, centered around his research of how the brain reacts to certain sounds. But it was much, much more. Of course it looked like a walky-talky, but Anthony had designed a device that no one would fathom could be constructed by even his mind. He gently unscrewed the small, shiny ball from the top of the project and studied it between his fingers. "We'll get them.", he whispered, "We'll get them all."
"Hey, mister, how much for that set over there?" Anthony pointed towards the clean white tuxedo which graced the front window of the tuxedo shop. "What do ya need that for, little guy?", replied the shop clerk, a balding man in his late fifties, "You already got a pretty nice bow tie." The clerk slapped his knee and began to laugh uncontrollably. Anthony frowned hard at the man. "Woah, take it easy, little fella....take it on the house." "I thought you'd come around.", he replied indignantly, "...How about these shoes here?" He made a gesture towards the pair of shiny black Florsheim dress shoes on top a shelf behind the counter. The clerk walked over, took the pair down from the shelf, and placed them into a nice-looking shoe box, pushing them gently across the counter. "Take em too, I guess." "That's right." Anthony packed his tux and shoes into his backpack, careful not to wrinkle the clothing. "Oh, mister? One last thing. Can I switch this polka dot tie out for a black one?....There's just something about black." "Absolutely." Anthony untied his bow tie and handed it to the clerk. An expression of pure ecstasy had come over his face as he grabbed the new black one and placed it into his backpack with the other "purchases". "Gee, thanks mister." With that, Anthony walked out of the shop, leaving the dazed clerk by himself in the quiet doorway. "That guy was nice....good save.", thought the boy. Next, he would stop at the nearest house and ask for the bathroom. It would give him a chance to change into his new getup and it would also give him a chance to test out his little revenge project on a living subject.
Anthony knocked on the door of a quaint little town house and waited for a few minutes. Through the slightly opened door emerged a brown-haired, middle-aged woman. "May I use your bathroom, ma'am? I'm new to this area and I seem to have gotten lost." "Why, of course.", she replied in a sympathetic murmur, "It's right here on the left. Do you need a tele-" Before she could finish her sentence, Anthony had forced his way through the entryway and into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He was pleasantly surprised that she had not asked about his overflowing backpack. "Here we are.", he said in an excitedly low voice. Anthony removed the blue polo shirt his aunt Margaret had forced him to wear for the last four years. He studied it in the mirror. "No wonder people laugh at me....they won't be laughing for long." With that, he threw the shirt into a waste basket under the sink. Anthony then removed his khakis and put on the smooth white tuxedo pants with a nice white dress shirt he'd gotten with the set. Over his hands, he placed a pair of shiny black leather gloves he'd carried in his backpack to school that morning before slipping on the new dress shoes. Next, he donned a white gentleman's cap to match the new tux. "Sharp as a razor.", he said reassuredly to himself as he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Finally, he applied the black bow tie around his neck. "Nothing manlier than a black tie....That's it! Blacktie....Dressed to kill. Anthony Martin is no more. ONLY BLACKTIE LIVES NOW!" A maniacal laugh broke out of his soul. "I wonder if this lady has ever experienced torture of the mind.", he thought. "Is everything alright in there?", said the voice of the hospitable lady from the entryway. Anthony did not respond, for he was far too enthralled with the image he saw in the mirror. "Now, we get serious." Blacktie swiftly dug the small, shiny ball from his project out of the pocket of his old khakis, and pressed it to the center of his bow tie. To his great delight, it attached itself as planned and blended in flawlessly. He felt his pulse quicken and a surge of powerful energy flow through his body. He cackled loudly in a state of corrupted bliss. "Showtime."
Blacktie exited the bathroom to find the lady standing in the entryway, her arms crossed, and a glint of annoyed curiosity in her gaze. "Weren't you just-" "Shhhh." He pressed a glove-clad finger to her slightly parted lips as his own lips curled into a devious grin. Blacktie gently pinned her to the wall. "What is your name, lady?", he said in a low and sinister whisper. "Abby.", she replied, frightened. Blacktie gently stroked her pale cheek with a single gloved hand. "Abby? That's quite a lovely name. I once knew someone named Abby. We were acquaintances for a short while." His whisper grew more menacing by the second and his eyes began to glow a bright blue and the bow tie began to blink the same color. "She was my mother." "Your mother?", questioned the distressed Abby. "Yes, very good, Abigail. And do you know what happened to her, my darling?" "No." Abby's voice began to tremble as a few light tears welled up in her eyes. "She died." At that, the lady burst into frantic screams. "Help! Help! Who are you!? You monster!" "I am no monster, Abigail. I am only Blacktie, here to take you on a journey through your memory. And here to break you. Now, Abigail, look into my eyes." Abby struggled to look away and to close her eyes, but some unnameable force prevented her from doing so. Her screams became heaving sobs as she forcibly stared into the glowing pools of blue. "Very good, Abigail. Very good indeed." Abby saw her childhood at the Booker Street Orphanage. She saw the other children get adopted while she was left behind. She saw herself, just a ten-year-old girl, sleeping on the sidewalk without a place to go for the night. "Make it stop!", she cried as she collapsed into a sobbing heap on the hardwood floor. "What a shame, Abigail. No one to go to. No one to call your parents....I relate." Blacktie snapped his fingers and the blue light left from his eyes and the bow tie stopped blinking. His victim laid motionless on the floor. The dapper young villain stooped down to examine the corpse. "Oh, Abigail.", he began quietly, "You make quite a lovely doormat." That devious grin once again filled his expression. Blacktie then grabbed the black pearl necklace from around his victim's neck. "At least you had good taste in pearls....There's just something about black."
He stood back up and stepped over the body and towards the front door. He spotted a black crow's-head cane propped up against some umbrellas in a corner behind the door. "Why, hello there." He gently snatched it up and studied the eyes of the crow. They shone a bright and eerie blue. "Splendid. Just splendid." Next, he made his way over to a small table in the entryway where he found a black spiral notebook and a golden fountain pen. He set to work scribbling down a few names, and then held the paper up to meet his judgmental gaze. "Very good then." He quickly thrust it into his pocket with the pearls. Blacktie straightened his tie and cleared his throat as he turned to give a waving gesture in the direction of the silent entryway. "Goodbye, Abigail.", he exuded softly. Cane in hand, he turned the doorknob and waltzed casually into the cool night, leaving the door slightly open with his victim's corpse laying inside. The outside world looked the same as it had before he'd put on the tux, but nothing was quite the same at all. For once he was the one winning, and the world was the loser. Blacktie felt a gentle breeze land against his face, and gave a deep breath as if to congratulate himself on his new-found power. "Now then, a final visit to my dear Aunt Margaret. A real final visit."
TO BE CONTINUED.
