SATANIC SITE

Episode 2

HERE you will know my first victim. I'll tell you about him. For a moment, I checked my soul. Thank goodness I am still in control. Also, repair if there are passengers in your body. Something you can't see with your eyes but exists and tickles you. At this point, I haven't been able to see them. But I could feel their presence in my space. And right now, it looks like they're taking a picnic. No noise anymore.

Okay, my first victim was my recuperative schoolmate. I can tell you a few levels below that bastard. He's a son of a bitch who I used to have to poke his pug nose. I call him Pesek. His face was like a pig getting hit by a tractor. It's just worse.

Speaking of school, hem, I don't go to a real school. I mean, I'm a street kid, so I don't deserve to be in a real school. I used to study for a few years in public school. But since my mother couldn't pay for the books and uniforms, I was kicked out. My grades aren't very good either. I'm lazy with the shitty rules that the principal made. Where is fun if you can't muddle? Should the shoes be black? I was lazy with the public school kids. They're mami's kids, snot anyway!

Long story short after months I did not go to school, finally there are young street children who care about the education of street children. They set up makeshift schools under bridges and on the edge of railroad tracks. I first came because of the prank. I never thought then it turned out they were fun young kids. I am so happy to be in school again.

It's just the pug that makes me uncomfortable. Already snubbed, the smell of fart, udel looks careless, yellow teeth, nails full of dirt, life again. Every now and then I wish that something fell off the bridge and hit Pesek's head. But it never happened, no matter how strong I imagined it.

I was one of the ones that was raided by him the most. Actually, I don't care if I'm the only one being raided. Just don't touch my close friends. Errata, my close friend. Yeah, just one. Name's Basuki.

I am resilient despite being small and thin dry. Please bother me all you want, I'll flinch like a mannequin statue, even if you do a whole week's sodomy against it. I know Pesek is bothering me because I'm the whiterest of the street kids who attend emergency school under the bridge. The sickly and scabbard-filled Pesek had a mission to infect me with his ugly illness. Yeah sure can't, roses can't be carrion flowers, man! At the very least, a withered rose is not a rotting corpse flower. Oh, what am I to liken myself to a rose. Dropping your self-esteem as a man only!

So, this Pesek always makes me a target to put upil and cut a scab on his knee. I had to steal the clothesline of the tenant complex more often. Wouldn't let me wear a shirt that has been marred by the Pug's blasphemy. I always burn clothes that are victims of the Pesek. I collect the stained clothes in an empty barrel, I buy a glass of gasoline for the weekend to burn them. Sometimes Basuki also accompanied me, and if his clothes were uplifted by the Pesek too, he also threw his clothes into the burning barrel. When Basuki took out the raw corn, I forbade it. No, you're gonna catch Pug's ugly pig disease. Basuki laughing.

Like I said, the Pug is a few levels below the bastard. The level of annoyance is still tolerable. He likes to make me a target. But since I could ignore him, he got bored and cape himself. Then he went after another kid. That's what I can't tolerate. The Pesek pulls the kancut Basuki. My close friend was screaming in pain because the tit was stuck. I pulled the Pesek from behind. But unfortunately it was a futile act, the large-bodied Pesek did not move in the slightest. The Pesek was harassing as young emergency school teachers were walking around to check on the children's homework.

The mouse I didn't take, pushed me until I fell. He said, I finally reacted. The promise is that he will do it more often. It bothers Basuki. I challenged him, recklessly. Step over my body, then you can touch Basuki. Of course it makes the Pesek more excited. He reached my neck and lifted me up. I kick. He choked me, I was in pain out of breath.

Basuki and I and the other children were both astonished and happy. Pesek tomorrow-tomorrow never again appears in the emergency school under the bridge. Only occasionally did I cross paths with him at the impromptu market. The Pesek ran away to see me. I was astonished. But it was also satisfied to see a restless person like him so scared of me. That's why I'm respected by children.

At home I think about what happened when I scooped the Pesek's face. There was a stream of energy flowing into my hand. Abstract energy that I can't explain with words. Like channeling the negative out. Like beol.

If it had happened early in the morning, I would rather have scooped the Pesek's face while my hands were bleeding. Let him taste besides upil and scabs. Yes, the Pesek sometimes likes to eat his own upils.

As a result of the incident with the Pesek, I became more observant of my right hand when I was at home. What's the matter exactly. Why does every morning bleed and smell the carcass, and why does Pesek look like genderuwo when I scoop his face with my hands?

One morning I saw Yut Kasmijan was busy looking for something. I asked, he said he was looking for a dead rat or something. I hid my blackened right hand and became the source of the carcass smell behind the shirt.

I tried to prank my own hand into my face. I closed my eyes, hoping something would happen. A few moments I let it pass. I saw my own reflection in the mirror. It's been just like that. As usual. There's nothing else. I don't get it. What makes Pesek so scared that he doesn't show his nose anymore? I don't know. Most importantly, goodbye pig face.

I guessed. I think my hand is possessed. The genie possession comes the moon, perhaps. I don't know. There may be something called partial possession. I'm left-handed, so I don't use my right hand very often. So the demons who are looking for cost use my hand as a shelter. I don't know.

Then I heard a whispering voice. A voice that taught me how to present a grudge. An irritating voice, because at the beginning of his broom sentence, he called me a fool.