Personal Writing - Mistake
He sat there, eyes locked onto the screen. It cast an eerie glow onto
his face, the only source of light in the otherwise dark room. His
eyes never moving, he ran his fingers over the keys, hammering them
clumsily. The long day at school had taken its toll on him. No one
understood him. It filled him with a burning hate. His fellow students
avoided him as if he had some sort of hideous abnormality. The
teachers picked on him just because he did things differently.
Accusing him of cheating, of plagiarism, of copying that woman, his
maths teacher had kept him in an hour after school. Upon arriving home
he had wisely to go quickly to his room, avoiding contact with his
parents completely. He knew he was not missing much. His mum would
have furiously asked why he was late. His dad would have hit him
again. No one understood him.
Then there was the computer. It had drawn him with its inviting
electronic glow and its beautiful accuracy. It did not avoid him. It
did not scorn him. It understood him. Its sole purpose was to help him
limitlessly and to act as a guardian to protect him from the harsh
outside world. It existed for him. He existed for it.
A voice floated from downstairs, a distraction.
"Yes, I'll be down soon," he replied "60 secondsâ€¦
â€¦ until he was traced. Sweat covered his face like a thin film. His
fingers glided over the keys, barely touching them. They had been
conditioned by years of training. It had started a little at a time at
first, but had then begun to grow as he grew used to the late nights.
Then, when he had dropped out of school, it gave him all the time he
... middle of paper ...
...connect immediately. If he did this, all the
passwords that he had entered, all the passwords that he had spent
time and money finding would be automatically reset and he would not
be able to get back in. In this event he would have to face the wrath
of his employers. He knew choosing this path would be the most
painful. He had heard the atrocious stories.
He summed up his choices and began to debate quickly and furiously
with himself. His eyes shot nervously around the room, too fast for
his powerful brain to register. Walls, desk, hands, monitor all a
blur. Clenching his fists and biting down on his soft bottom lip with
raw fury, knowing that he had made a terrible mistake, and that he had
been beaten for it he asked himself one final question. How had the
best been taken down by carelessness? He made his decision.