Lost Trust

True intentions.

If a man could know how true people’s intentions were, he would be God, and I mean that in every sense of the word. Imagine a guy offering to give you a thousand bucks. Imagine you knew why; you knew for what reason. You knew how it would harm you and how it would help you. Trust me, you would be invincible to emotions. Because intentions show character and character is what makes an individual.

 Sadly, no one knows how true a man’s intentions and that leaves every man in a dilemma of knowing with whom they can trust.But what if a man loss his trust. What if he finds himself sitting alone in an empty room full of people. What would a man like that be, who would a man with no trust be? Me. I was that man and yes, I had lost my trust, I had also actually found myself, sitting alone in an empty room full of people, there were people, but I didn't trust anything and I didn't want to trust that they were there with me in the room.

I guess you are probably wondering how much I had seen and how much I had been betrayed at 25 to no longer want to trust again. Well, take a sit.

I was still in my mother's womb when I got betrayed for the first time, a month-old embryo sitting quietly in his mother's womb and hearing his father say “you lie woman, you lie, that child isn't mine and I shall have nothing to do with it, and if I ever see you here with it again, I am going to strangle you to death". Sad right, not for me though because I had no idea about the words that were said, well not until I grew. I was three days old when I got betrayed for the second time. There I was with a face so lovingly innocent, watching my mother stare at me with tears in her eyes, I heard her sober silently to herself as she placed me quietly in front of the orphanage home, with a note by my side, a note I would later come across accidently, a day before I ran out of the orphanage at 17. She laid me down gently and then she turned her back on me, never to cross part. In other words, I was a three-day old boy who knew neither his father nor his mother, but that was cool, because then again, I didn't understand any of what was happening, until I grew.

I was a year, two months and ten days old when I got betrayed for the third time. There I was smiling sheepishly at this lovely young couple who held me in their hands. And they were smiling back at me too. I'd overheard them talking with the director that they were looking for a child, but hey I wasn't smiling at them so they could take me, hell if I even had any ideas in my head at that time. I was just doing what every child did, smile and trust the world. But the damned coupled had gone for the girl that slept next to me. Anyways, let us take a break there, because if I was to go on with how many times I had been betrayed and broken, I bet you would be dead on your chair with grey hair on your head while still reading my story. So let us take it all the way to the event that led to me finally losing it all.

Ilike I earlier said, I ran away from the orphanage when I was 17, because I couldn’t stand the torment I faced in there. I had fallen in lucky almost immediately. I had met with Mr. Moore, a man who almost made me believe angels were real. For all the years that I had spent with him, he had become both a father and a family I never had. He had provided me with shelter, food and had also made me an apprentice at his workshop. After four years of service with him, he had called me into his room one day. He had looked me in the eyes and he had said “son, I'm transferring ownership of the shop to you" no commas, just straight to the point. I was dumbfounded, lost for words to say. “You're joking” was the only word I could manage to say. But he wasn't, becauseright in front of my eyes were the shop documents and in the document was my name boldly written and signed. I was overjoyed. “But if you're giving me the shop, what about you, how would you cope?” I asked. “Well, I do have some savings saved up in my bank, and I'm already getting too old, don’t think I can carry on what this work anymore. The strength is gone. For the time being, I'll be staying with an old friend of mine, Infact I'd be doing that tomorrow”. He said. I was too excited to ask who.

But that excitement was short-lived. Two days after Mr. Moore left the shop with me, a loan shark company came to compound it. The story was that he had taken a loan and refused to pay back, but that wasn't all, he had also used my name as a next of kin, so the little savings I had was also taken. Sad right. True for the first time I really felt betrayed, hopeless and lost. He was a man I was willing to trust my life with.

Anyways, long story short, I tracked him down to t

he hotel he was hiding at and I left a knife in his guts, figuratively and literally. My first murder. A murder that unleashed a chain of more deaths. After I had left the hotel, I made my way to the orphanage. With a mind clouded by pain, a mind left emotionless, I found myself hacking my way through everyone that crossed my part. Fifteen people murdered in one night, all killed by me, and then I had picked up a phone, and I called the police. I wasn’t planning on getting away with murder.

So, there you have it, my story being read by the judge who passed a death sentence on me, while my body dangled from the rope I was hanged with.