Personal Writing - Mistake

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 seconds…

… 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

needed. Som...

... 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.