Steve seemed to be capable of no evil. He never broke any rules as a child and was always well behaved. So well behaved, in fact that it worried his parents. He never showed signs of any mental illness and acted very normally. Even when he got older, he never hurt anyone, never got into a petty argument, never told a lie or broke a rule unless the situation called for it and pretty much acted like the ideal human being.

His optimistic attitude made him loved by everyone. His presence eliminated all possibilities of violence. Those who tried to purposely anger him would fail. Nobody in a million years would find a way to convince him to do any evil, no matter how small. His reputation gave him power, but it never got to his head and it was never used for his own personal gain.


However, for the world to have such a good person, it must pay a price...

The reason Steve behaved the way he did was because his bad qualities were literally separated from himself. There was a separate consciousness that saw out of Steve's eyes, heard sound through Steve's ears, felt what Steve touched, but could not interact with anything. Steve controlled the body while the other person observed.

This being named itself "Observer" because that's what he was and all he could be. He hated everyone. He laughed at other people's misery and frowned upon those who took it away. He loved hearing about things like 9/11, ISIS beheadings and anything else that involved people causing each other pain. Inevitably, he hated Steve the most. If the observer had a body, he could torture Steve to death and undo all the good he has done. Or at least, all that was reversible.
He had put together elaborate plans to successfully ruin someone's life, to take advantage of how much so many people trusted and depended on Steve. He wouldn't be able to make it reality though. If he were to suddenly be in control of Steve's body, he would be capable of causing so much pain.

He's waking up...

Steve opened his eyes and jumped out of bed immediately and ran down stairs like a child on Christmas morning.

Today was no ordinary day. He had to make sure everything was perfect.

Here we go again...

Steve pulled out all his supplies and ingredients, covering entire counters. He glanced at the clock on his phone. 5:30 AM Sunday, Jun 3 2014. He had two hours and forty minutes. He quickly got started.

I think I'm gonna be sick... Make it stop.

All her favorite breakfast foods were made. Everything was perfect. There was plenty of time, so he figured he might as well clean the entire downstairs too while he was at it.

"Oh! I almost forgot!"

Steve quickly ran down into the basement.

"Where did I put it... I could've sworn it was on this shelf"

The unnecessary effort you put into making people happy... You think it's one of your good traits don't you? You think you're soooo great because you've grown up being told you're so kind. Pathetic.

"Oh! Here it is!"

Steve saw that it had fallen off the shelf onto the floor.

"Hmm... That's no good. The wrapping paper got messed up."

Steve quickly got the scissors out of a nearby droor and re-wrapped the gift. He ran up stairs to see that his wife was already awake and staring at the kitchen in shock. He quickly ran across the carpet and slid across the wood floor of the kitchen in his socks past Stacy, his wife.


"Happy anniversary!!"

Stacey let out a mini scream and jumped back, startled.

Steve kept sliding and rammed his balls into the corner of the counter. He fell backwards and broke his neck, killing himself by accident. His wife ran over to him and started crying over his dead body.

At least that's what Observer wanted to happen.

Steve walked over to his wife and handed her the present.

"I got 'chu something"

He said with a warm smile. He spaced out as his wife gave him the usual "you didn't have to do this, you're too nice" speech.

"You gonna open it?"

On his way to work, the observer rudely criticized the people passing by. He wished he could tell the fat lady desperate trying to lose weight by running each morning that she would look like an ugly c* no matter how hard she tried, the autistic kid running around babbling incoherently in his front yard that he was a f* loser and people only pretended to think he was cool to be nice, or the high school dropout sitting on his car smoking cigarettes that he was a pathetic waste of oxygen and that his mother wishes she had aborted him.

He could only rant in his thoughts and Steve would never be able to hear him.

If I ever control this body, one of the first things I'm going to do is take that little girl that lives across the street into the woods and bash her f* skull in with a rock. I swear to god. She thinks she's so adorable. Screw you.

The observer needn't worry. His time is coming real soon...

It's so funny to watch. You had this coming to you, Steve.

Steve was so tired that he didn't even remember arriving at work an hour and a half ago. He was at his desk, nodding his head every few seconds, busting his ass hard to keep his eyes open. Steve believed it was worth it to wake up early regardless of the consequences.

"I must stay awake..."

A familiar face peeked out from behind the wall of his cubicle and looked down at Steve.

"Hey Steve. You don't look too good."

His best friend Larry he had known sice fourth grade worked in the same place as him. Despite Steve's default expression always being calm and joyful looking, Larry was the only one who could read him and tell when he was tired, sick, irritated, etc.

"I just woke up a little earlier than usual. How's William doing?"


"Today he thought it would be funny to take a crap in some kids' book bag. "

"He's at it again, huh? How unfortunate"

Yes, how unfortunate that you are too soft on that little sh*. I don't know why people waste their energy on children who aren't going to be of any use to the world anyway. We could've just agreed to beat them to death with a crowbar and use their remains as resources once they've shown that they aren't worth ass, but noooo. You all pretend that letting them waste oxygen is the right thing to do. Why are your children relevant in your daily conversations? Why do you think you love them just because they're yours? Pathetic.

While Larry and Steve made small talk, the observer continued ranting to himself about how much he hated children. As they day went on, Steve had to put even more of an effort to stay awake. Suddenly, he noticed something odd. He had lost all sense of feeling in his right hand. He tried squeezing it shut, but it just wouldn't move at all. He rubbed his eyes with his left hand and focused.

"...What the."

Steve was now flailing his right arm around awkwardly. It seemed his hand was they only thing unabke to move. Steve yawned and stared at his computer for a while. Usually when Steve was tired, the observer would start feeling tired as well. The observer woukd always struggle to make sure he didn't fall asleep with Steve, but to no avail. He hated falling asleep and having to dream. The observer did get to have his own dreams, but in every single one, he could barely control his own body and there was another Steve with its own body following him around, keeping him from approaching anybody.


This time, though, something was different. He felt wide awake, unlike Steve who had to use all his willpower to concentrate. He laughed at how Steve was torturing himself, hoping it would go on all day and that his boss would scold him. In his exitement at that thought, he clenched his right fist.

"Hmm?"

Steve looked at his right hand. It seemed to have closed by itself. It took a while for Observer to realize what had just happened, but when he noticed that steve was paying close attention to the hand, he knew that it wasn't Steve who moved it. The observer was contrilling the right hand.

He opened and closed it several times. Steve was now waving his arm around again. The observer tried to move his arm and make Steve punch himself in the face, but it was only the hand he could control.

Suddenly, Larry peeked his head over the edgee of the cubicle.

"Hey, Steve. Can I borrow your stapler?"

Steve looked up at his friend, directing his attetuon away from his hand. While he did this, the observer pointed Steves middle finger directly at Larry. Steve didn't even notice.

"Sorry, what?"

Said Steve. Larry wassilent for a moment.

"Uhh...."

"What?"

Steve looked down at his hand and noticed he was giving Larry the middle finger.


"Oops. Uh... I didn't mean... Er.. "

Larry put his right arm behind his back.

"You probably won't believe me, but I can't control my hand. It just wouldn't move at first, and now I can only lift up that finger."


HAHAHAHAHAHA. It's good to see that I can finally be an inconvenience to you, Steve.

"I see..."

Said Larry

"Anyway, you gonna watch the game with us tomorrow?"


"Yeah, I'll be there."

By the end of the day, Steve had already gotten control over his right hand again over the course of a few hours. The observer had thought his fun was already over. However, this was only the beginning.

While Steve was walking home, he saw the homeless guy, Greg walking buy. He tossed a couple of fives to him.

"Thank you, Steve. Heheh..."

What's this guy giggling about all of a sudden?

As Greg walked away, Steve noticed a large knife in his back pocket.

"Greg."

He stopped for a second, then turned his head.

"What's up, Steve?"

"You're not up to anything shady again, are you?"

"Of course not!"

Said Greg with an overly enthusiastic tone.

"Don't lie to me, and don't be having those guys rause hell again. I mean it."

Steves' glare gave Greg the same feeling he had while he walked down a staircase, looking strait up. His rhaspy voice shaking a little, he started to say something.


"I won't help you this time. I won't even get involved. Don't do anything stupid."

Steve said while he walked away. Greg smirked.

"Oh, don't you worry about me."

Steve was once again in the body of his six year old self. Once again in the house he grew up in. Once again hearing the voices of his friends calling him to come out and play. Once again part of a routine that seemed to never ever break.

While running along with them outside, he eventually realized that something was different. One... Two.... Five people. Weren't there always only four of them? He looked around. He recognized Jesse, Mark, Travis, his childhood friends that he missed so much. What ever happened to those guys? Where did they run off to? When did Steve even move?

He glanced at the other one. This kid did not look familiar at all. Despite how pale and skinny he was, he looked very much alive. He had a confident smirk on his face. His hair was veering off to the side, covering up his eye because of the wind. He started running a little bit faster than everyone else.

Then Steve woke up. Something about seeing that kid made him a little uneasy. He sat up in the bed, being careful not to wake up Stacey. After a few minutes of contemplating he noticed that someone was standing in front of his yard. He could see him out the window.

The unbelievably skinny limbs and a smirk that said "I am holding back so much laughter right now". It was the same kid. The kid walked away slowly. Steve just watched, trying to make sense of what just happened.

"Could there be some sort of deeper meaning behind this?"

Steve thought. He ended up unable to fall asleep, se he went down stairs into the kitchen and made a cup of tea. His wife came down the stairs and saw him staring strait ahead, motionless as if in deep thought. She slowly walked over to the table. Steve didn't notice she was there until she was just two feet away. Her hair was messy and her eyes were narrowed, still struggling to adjust to the dim light of the chandler above the table.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No, no. I have actually been awake for the past hour or so."

She sat down across from him

"I heard you say something in your sleep just before you woke up."

"Really? What did I say?"

"Hm... You said something like... 'I can't believe I controlled the hand.'"

...What?!

"How strange..."

"Did I tell you about my problem with my hand yesterday?"

"Yeah"

"It might have something to do with that. I don't know."

There was a long pause. Usually Stacey was the one who would start all the conversations and keep them going, but in her current tired state, it was now up to Steve.

"Um.... Uh... What's your least favorite animal?"

I hope your wife leaves you.

"Hmm... Probably.... Black?"

"Huh? I said an- er... Yeah, black is pretty boring."

Stacey yawned. There was another moment of silence before Stacey finally got out of her chair and began to drag herself back up the stairs.


"I'm going back to bed."

She said

"Cya"

Steve sunk back in his chair, disappointed in himself once again. He sighed. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the cicadas ramble on. He didn't ever really notice the sound until now. A few minutes later he was half asleep. He occasionally heard random, quiet sounds and voices that obviously were just in his head, even though he wasn't exactly dreaming yet. He could tell that the sound of the rain that started to pour outside was real and it was making him even more sleepy. Still, he was too lazy to go back upstairs into his bed. Eventually, he began to believe he was in his bed, but couldn't figure out why he was so uncomfortable. He occasionally felt like he was falling every once in a while and would be jolted back awake, only to make the same mistake of closing his eyes again. After a while he was startled by a louder, more real sounding voice saying something along the lines of "It's your turn now."

He jumped up out of his chair. Steve was now hyperventilating, darting his eyes around the room to find any sign of an intruder. By the time he realized that the voice was only coming from his head, he noticed something else was off. Steve stood there for a moment, absolutely sure that something blatantly obvious was different.

"Something's wrong..."

Do you really not see it? Dumbass....

Steve walked around the house aimlessly for a while. He went to the light switch in the kitchen and flipped it up and down over and over again. He paced around each of the rooms, looking through drawers, under random objects and even out each of the windows.

"Something is off.... What is it that's different? "

Steve continued to walk around aimlessly, occasionally pausing. He tried to figure out what could be the problem, but he just couldn't seem to think strait.

Idiot! Just stop and look at your surroundings for a minute. Do you not see it? You have to be joking!

Eventually Steve gave up and sat on the couch. He stared at the lifeless television. After what felt like a few hours to the observer, Steve finally realized what the problem was. He couldn't see color. All the colors were gone. Steve couldn't keep his eyes from widening. His entire body covered itself in sweat. Steve's ears were ringing so loud that it started to block out all other noises, one at a time. The last sound to get covered up was his rapid heartbeat. This went on for what felt like years. Steve eventually became aware of a new sound. He could only describe it as "bubbly static". The louder it got, the lower its' frequency became.

His vision became blurry and white. He slipped out of consciousness more quickly than he ever had. As for the observer, he too was troubled by the thought of never being able to see color again. He may have hated people, but he did like colors and even had a favorite. At the same time, though, he was glad that Steve would get to suffer.

While Steve was blacking out, Observer started feeling more awake. He was in disbelief. At last, for the first time, Steve fell asleep without him.

Steve woke up with serious neck pain. He ignored it until it became unbearable. He opened his eyes and slowly started to realize he wasn't in his bed. He sat up and rubbed the tired out of his eyes. He was on cold, hard concrete.

"Why am I in the basement?"

In front of where he was sleeping were a bunch if seemingly randomly placed inanimate objects. A pair of gloves, plastic bottles of hydrofluoric and hydrochloric acids, many different size and shaped plastic containers, a bunch of towels, charcoal, silica gel, a couple of saws, febreeze and a few other things Steve didn't bother getting a good look at. He looked at the time on his phone. Thank god it was his day off.
Steve suddenly remembered how he couldn't see color last night. He could see it now, but the memory started to make him shake. Steve decided that he was going to go see his psychologist today. His memories of the traumatic experience he went through back in the town he lived in when he was six years old might have had something to do with it.

There was no sign of his wife around the house. She was planning on having breakfast with her friends today, so he assumed that's where she went. Steve made some coffee and took a shower while it was brewing.

God, your neck hurts! Why did I have to pass out on the basement floor?! Talk about bad timing...

After three hours went by, Steve started to worry. He tried calling Stacey but there was no answer.

"She's probably stuck in traffic."

Haha

Finally, there was a knock on the door. Steve looked through the glass hole thing and saw Staceys' friend, smiling but wiping tears from her eyes. As Steve opened the door, she was laughing hysterically.

Freaking Jessy. Even Disney channel sitcoms could make her laugh hard.

"Stacey got attacked by a little moth and and...."

She started laughing really hard again.

"It's not funny! Those things scare me!"

Complained Stacey as she got out of the car and followed her friend inside.

"Stacey, I need to go somewhere. I'll probably be gone for a while."

Said Steve

"Alright. "

And with that, Steve left to go experience what would later be one of the most strange days of his life. During the drive, observer contemplated on how close he was to killing Steves' wife and wondered if he would ever get another chance. He had everything ready! He had a plan, supplies set up right in front of him. Then he suddenly lost all his energy. He passed out just twenty minutes after he got control of Steves' body. The observer wasn't ready to give up yet. No... This was only the beginning.

As Steve approached the building, he caught a glimpse of something standing on the roof. A kid?

"There's definitely something wrong with me..."