I mean, on the deepest, most fundamental level... I'm just. Literally wired wrong. I mean, Jack says I'm not, I'm just more in touch with... I mean, humans are animals, just like any other animal, right? And not just animals, but predators. Pursuit predators, sure, but that still counts. Jack says I'm just more in touch with that part of human nature.
But I'm not wired to be good. Because I am more in touch with that shit, I guess. Because humans are animals, but they're also more than that. We can reason and make decisions—I'm not a religious man, but the knowledge of good and evil, that's just as important to being human as all our animal instincts.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I'm fundamentally a predator. And the things that I want... the things that I like... they're not good things. What I did to H— to him, to your boyfriend, your ex–, I mean, on the stairs... It felt better than anything I'd done before, short of sex. It made me feel so alive. Because I was finally doing the kind of thing I've wanted to do. I made the decision to be the person I always was and to stop running from it. And I did it for myself, to finally take control of this shit. To do something like that for myself, not for—
[He's quiet for a long moment.]
My mask, as you call it... it's me too, you know. It's not Real Steven, but Real Steven isn't a creature that's fit for public consumption. Nice Steven... being him for other people is second nature. It's who I was raised to be. My parents... they were really good, kind people. Naturally kind, like Charley—at least, I think so. Fuck knows I've made so many stupid assumptions lately.
I thought for years I'd been pulling the wool over their eyes about the kind of person I am, that I'd tricked them into thinking I was good inside like them... but Charley told me when she was here over the weird weekend that they knew. She'd overheard them talking about me, after the damn Fetch replaced me. I thought they couldn't have, because wouldn't they have sent me to a shrink otherwise? But they knew. They just thought they could raise me in a way that even if I wasn't good inside, I could be a better man than I had any right to be.
[He's quiet again for another long moment.]
Maybe it could have worked if El Pecador hadn't taken me. That's his actual name, my Keeper. It means what I signed to you, 'the sinner'—I always assumed he'd named himself after the great El Santo, 'the saint' and certainly he wore a gold copy of the famous silver mask...
Anyway. Maybe I could have kept trying if he hadn't happened. But he did and...
I was supposed to take care of the others he took. They were to fight each other and the things he brought in. I was supposed to take care of them the rest of the time, because he couldn't be bothered with their upkeep. And I did. I made sure that the rations were all distributed and that they were healthy and that they kept to their training regimen.
They were quite literally in my care. And before matches...
He used me. I think it was because it amused him to. But he used my hands—
He took a little part of their life force, their energy. He'd pick at least one of them. Sometimes more. He'd use my hands to take it and they'd still have to fight, even though it left them feeling half-dead. And I had to watch it all. I always had to watch.
It felt good. So good. Because what he had me steal... it went to me. And after a while he didn't have to take my hands. They'd grown long by then anyway. They didn't need him to make it happen. They could steal life on their own. He would just tell me and I'd do it. Because he was the Lord. And it always feels good when you do what the Lords tell you, even if after you feel like shit afterwards because you just preyed upon the people you're supposed to take care of.
[He sounds like he's close to crying, even if he still won't show Hythlodaeus his face.]
You want to know why I'm not a good man? Because I spent five years preying on the people I was supposed to protect and it felt good. The only moral my parents didn't need to teach me is that the people who are your own shouldn't get hurt and I betrayed it before every goddamn match. By the end I was— there was this awful part of me that almost looked forward to it!
I. Wasn't going to leave. With the others. I told them that I didn't deserve to. But Polly... she picked me up and carried me for the first hour. And I didn't want to alert El Pecador and get them caught if I tried to stay behind after that. And then later, when there were all those hedgebeasts, the ones that looked like alebrijes... There were thirteen of us, including me, in the escape. Seven stayed behind to fight so the rest of us would get away. I would have been the eighth, but Polly grabbed me again. I don't know why she thought I was worth it.
I still don't.
Anyway. We wandered what seemed like forever in the Hedge, until... I started to feel it. The way home. So I led us home. Even though... it wasn't their home. Just mine. And I'd been replaced by a construct, a Fetch, who couldn't even be me right.
I was no one, an illegal, a non-person, for two months. And I still wanted to do it. Take people's energy. I was hungry to. That's how it felt. A softly gnawing hunger. I don't feel it now, not in this body. But I did during the weird weekend.
[He lets out a shaky breath.]
We lose a part of us when we're there. I guess I got luckier than most. I just lost the illusion I could be anything better than I am.
Maybe that's why I'm so angry with H— him. Your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Maybe I'm jealous that he still can think he's good, morally superior even, even though he does shit like steal bodies and treat people like they're less than nothing.
no subject
[He can't quite meet Hythlodaeus' face.]
I mean, on the deepest, most fundamental level... I'm just. Literally wired wrong. I mean, Jack says I'm not, I'm just more in touch with... I mean, humans are animals, just like any other animal, right? And not just animals, but predators. Pursuit predators, sure, but that still counts. Jack says I'm just more in touch with that part of human nature.
But I'm not wired to be good. Because I am more in touch with that shit, I guess. Because humans are animals, but they're also more than that. We can reason and make decisions—I'm not a religious man, but the knowledge of good and evil, that's just as important to being human as all our animal instincts.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that... I'm fundamentally a predator. And the things that I want... the things that I like... they're not good things. What I did to H— to him, to your boyfriend, your ex–, I mean, on the stairs... It felt better than anything I'd done before, short of sex. It made me feel so alive. Because I was finally doing the kind of thing I've wanted to do. I made the decision to be the person I always was and to stop running from it. And I did it for myself, to finally take control of this shit. To do something like that for myself, not for—
[He's quiet for a long moment.]
My mask, as you call it... it's me too, you know. It's not Real Steven, but Real Steven isn't a creature that's fit for public consumption. Nice Steven... being him for other people is second nature. It's who I was raised to be. My parents... they were really good, kind people. Naturally kind, like Charley—at least, I think so. Fuck knows I've made so many stupid assumptions lately.
I thought for years I'd been pulling the wool over their eyes about the kind of person I am, that I'd tricked them into thinking I was good inside like them... but Charley told me when she was here over the weird weekend that they knew. She'd overheard them talking about me, after the damn Fetch replaced me. I thought they couldn't have, because wouldn't they have sent me to a shrink otherwise? But they knew. They just thought they could raise me in a way that even if I wasn't good inside, I could be a better man than I had any right to be.
[He's quiet again for another long moment.]
Maybe it could have worked if El Pecador hadn't taken me. That's his actual name, my Keeper. It means what I signed to you, 'the sinner'—I always assumed he'd named himself after the great El Santo, 'the saint' and certainly he wore a gold copy of the famous silver mask...
Anyway. Maybe I could have kept trying if he hadn't happened. But he did and...
I was supposed to take care of the others he took. They were to fight each other and the things he brought in. I was supposed to take care of them the rest of the time, because he couldn't be bothered with their upkeep. And I did. I made sure that the rations were all distributed and that they were healthy and that they kept to their training regimen.
They were quite literally in my care. And before matches...
He used me. I think it was because it amused him to. But he used my hands—
He took a little part of their life force, their energy. He'd pick at least one of them. Sometimes more. He'd use my hands to take it and they'd still have to fight, even though it left them feeling half-dead. And I had to watch it all. I always had to watch.
It felt good. So good. Because what he had me steal... it went to me. And after a while he didn't have to take my hands. They'd grown long by then anyway. They didn't need him to make it happen. They could steal life on their own. He would just tell me and I'd do it. Because he was the Lord. And it always feels good when you do what the Lords tell you, even if after you feel like shit afterwards because you just preyed upon the people you're supposed to take care of.
[He sounds like he's close to crying, even if he still won't show Hythlodaeus his face.]
You want to know why I'm not a good man? Because I spent five years preying on the people I was supposed to protect and it felt good. The only moral my parents didn't need to teach me is that the people who are your own shouldn't get hurt and I betrayed it before every goddamn match. By the end I was— there was this awful part of me that almost looked forward to it!
I. Wasn't going to leave. With the others. I told them that I didn't deserve to. But Polly... she picked me up and carried me for the first hour. And I didn't want to alert El Pecador and get them caught if I tried to stay behind after that. And then later, when there were all those hedgebeasts, the ones that looked like alebrijes... There were thirteen of us, including me, in the escape. Seven stayed behind to fight so the rest of us would get away. I would have been the eighth, but Polly grabbed me again. I don't know why she thought I was worth it.
I still don't.
Anyway. We wandered what seemed like forever in the Hedge, until... I started to feel it. The way home. So I led us home. Even though... it wasn't their home. Just mine. And I'd been replaced by a construct, a Fetch, who couldn't even be me right.
I was no one, an illegal, a non-person, for two months. And I still wanted to do it. Take people's energy. I was hungry to. That's how it felt. A softly gnawing hunger. I don't feel it now, not in this body. But I did during the weird weekend.
[He lets out a shaky breath.]
We lose a part of us when we're there. I guess I got luckier than most. I just lost the illusion I could be anything better than I am.
Maybe that's why I'm so angry with H— him. Your boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Maybe I'm jealous that he still can think he's good, morally superior even, even though he does shit like steal bodies and treat people like they're less than nothing.
I mean. I'm not a good man. But I have standards.