I don't own most of the characters. I did come up with Trin, Shin, and Tatsu, so they're mine. Everybody else goes to Disney.

This is for everyone that wanted to see more of Trin, Shin, and Tatsu. Hope you enjoy. If you don't know who those guys are, you might want to read "Pariah" before tackling this. The stories are told with the characters is looking back on things.

Parentheses indicate whose POV things are from.

Memoirs of the Malcontent

1: A Small Possibility


I haven't always been so tall. There was a time when I wasn't even up to my mother's waist. I was little when I was young. Yes, there was a time when I was a child. I'm sure it would a surprise to a lot of people to find out I was once a child. I wasn't hatched from an egg nor was I born from a volcano. I hadn't even sprung from the Earth fully grown. I was a very small child, in every sense of the word.

I started out very short. I was always very pale. I don't know why that is since I have always gone outside often. Perhaps I was sickly and just didn't know because I hadn't been to a doctor until I can into my parents' care. I was thin, but that was probably because I had only just gotten into the hands of people that cared. I was also very, very scared.

One day, my new mother, my better mother, Mrs. Possible took me to the mall. The mall at the time represented absolute terror to me. I would have been more in favor of going to the lowest levels of Hell than entering that damnable mall.

It was my first time back in the mall since my better parents adopted me. I couldn't step into the mall for quite a long time after the Possibles found me. I didn't mean to be so troublesome when it came to the mall, but I couldn't help it. I was completely and utterly terror stricken of that place. Mrs. Possible had tried to take me back there several times before that day and I just couldn't do it. I had full-blown panic attacks because of that accursed place. She didn't want me to develop a phobia, so she always tried, but until that day, I always fell to my knees and began shaking when she took me to the mall. I never cried because I promised myself to never cry in front of my good parents.

Still, whenever we went to the mall before that day, I always collapsed to the ground and just could not move. My body simply refused to move. Mrs. Possible never pressured me. She would always take me back home.

That time around, I made it through the front doors somehow without feeling like I was going to have eight heart attacks all at the same time. I used to imagine that the mall was a living organism, something that could devour me whenever it felt like it and trap me in eternal darkness before dissolving me in its belly. Not a monster, or even a predator. Just a large organism that could swallow me whole whenever the urge ever came over it, like a whale. I was very surprised to not be in a stomach when I entered the mall. I actually let out a breath that I was subconsciously holding. I was still alive and in the mall. It absolutely amazed me.

It was a strange place, though. The crowd bothered me, even then. It wasn't so much the people, but the din. The noise the people made seemed more like the noise of the mall, like this creature was breathing or bellowing. All of the stores seemed warped to me, at the time. Nothing in the mall was a straight line. Everything bent and had an edge, ready to impale me.

I held Mrs. Possible's hand when we went in, just like she told me to. I was obedient like that, much like a pet would be. She could have told me to yelp like a puppy and I would have. I would have done anything she told me to because I never wanted her or her husband to have a reason to want to get rid of me. I suppose it was a good thing they are kind people or who knows what they might have had me doing when they realized how badly I wanted to stay with them.

I also held her hand because, inside, I feared the mall even more. Somehow, I felt like being by her side and her holding me, these would somehow keep the mall at bay. It could not eat me if I had her hand. The strange logic of a paranoid child.

Mrs. Possible also held her daughter. I remember how wide I grinned when they told me that I had a baby sister. I thought of Kim as a sister from the first moment that I saw her. She was pure perfection and I vowed right then to make sure nothing ever happened to her. I was proud they trusted me enough to say that she was my baby sister as soon as the adoption went through. I understood it was a very important job to be a big sister and I always took it seriously.

Kim had just turned two when this day took place. It was during the era when I was the great protector from all and every monster in existence. If you don't believe me, ask Kim. I protected her from monsters, being sort of an expert on the subject at the time. I knew monsters very well. She used to climb over the guardrail around her bed and sneak into my room to get away from all sorts of shadows that only a child can see. I have come to understand that most children go to parents for things like that, not their midget, featherweight siblings. I can tell why that plan wouldn't and didn't work in our house.

Our parents are a rocket scientist and a brain surgeon. They are extremely logical beings, even though they are just as creative. If Kim or myself were to go to them and tell them there was a monster in the closet, they wouldn't check the closet. They would sit us down and explain to us why it wasn't feasible for a monster to be in the closet and then send us on our way.

Look, I don't mind logic now, but when you're three-feet-tall and lucky to be able to reach the doorknob, you want something a bit more reassuring than the Socratic Method, which was one of their favorite techniques for getting us to come to conclusions on our own. You want someone to check in the closet, reveal that it is empty, and say something like "I must've scared away the monster." A child likes to think her parents can scare the shit out of a monster, pardon my language.

Well, to get back on track, I was holding Mrs. Possible's hand. It was not a new concept to me as one might guess. Believe it or not, the woman that gave birth to me used to hold my hand all of the time. I believe now that it wasn't that she was attempting to lose me when she left me places. Quite the contrary, she wanted to know right where she left me because she always came back. So, she always held onto me tightly until she came to the place where she wished be rid of me. Then, I was on my own.

To this day, I wonder why I never ran after that woman when she began walking away from me. I always let go of her hand when she released me and stupidly waited for her like she wanted. It was as if I didn't want to be with her, but I was too scared to be on my own completely. I knew if I waited there long enough, she would come back. She always came back. I often waited through rain, snow, harsh winds, and nights alone on the street. I'd just tell myself she would come back and she always did and I always left with her. It didn't matter what I had gone through or what state of mind she was in, she came back and I left with her. I might not even be happy to see her, but whenever she showed up, I'd grab her hand and we would walk off together.

So, I was an expert at holding hands. Or at least, I assumed I was. Mrs. Possible was naïve to the practice, I'm certain of that. I never would have gotten away from the woman that gave birth to me, especially not as easily as I had gotten away from Mrs. Possible. You know, I didn't mean to let go of her hand. I was so accustomed to larger hands gripping mine as if they were clamps and my hand was unbreakable.

Mrs. Possible held my hand differently. It was not as if our hands were shackles, but as if she was merely saying that she was there for me and she wanted me to be aware of that through her touch. As a child, you only vaguely realize these things and I'd like to think that I was a perceptive child. Yet, I let go.

Maybe it was because I was able to let go that I did. It was the first time that I was able to let go. Maybe I was frightened to have a mother that seemed to care about me beyond being some object that she used for attention. Or maybe it was because a chocolate-chip cookie the size of a bicycle wheel deserved a little attention. Yes, I stopped to stare at a huge cookie. I was five years old and cookies will always be good.

I was memorized by the giant cookie for the appropriate few seconds that a child would be. Well, it might have been closer to a minute. Then I realized I wasn't holding a soft hand anymore and worst yet, the smell of raspberries was fading. Yes, I know her scent very well. She still uses a raspberry body lotion that I had committed to memory days after living with the Possibles. This scent comforted me through many nightmares. The aroma was fading, meaning I had stayed longer than I assumed and my adopted mother quite plausibly hadn't noticed she wasn't tugging my very little body weight anymore. As I said, I was small in every sense of the word and I would have been quite surprised if she noticed my absence.

At first, I panicked. I was horrified, like a lion was charging me with its jaws open and displaying those three-inch long canine teeth. It was a new type of terror for me. I doubt I can explain it even now. It was worse than jumping out of a plane and the parachute not opening. I suspect that it was like freezing to death. A sudden impact death is swift, quick. The moment after you realize that you're going to die, you are dead. Freezing to death is a long, drawn out, and painful death all the while knowing that you're going to die. I felt like that for a few moments. Okay, maybe it was longer than a few moments.

It was actually worst than when I realized that day that the woman who gave birth to me had abandoned me in this accursed place. No one was aware of the fact that I had actually been in the mall for over a week before the Possibles stumbled across me. I ate by stealing food from the tables at the food court. I washed my face in the fountains. I even managed to steal a new outfit to avoid smelling too horrible. Clever I was, but I doubt that I was smart. I mean, I still waited for that woman to return, after all. Well, I would not wait again! Not that Mrs. Possible compared to that woman.

Still, I decided I wouldn't wait again. I picked up my guts, courage, and my soul and ordered myself to not wait again. Why wait for someone who probably wasn't going to come back? Why should Mrs. Possible come back, after all? It wasn't like I was really her daughter. I was merely an urchin that she and Mr. Possible picked up in that very mall. I figured that they would eventually dump me back there one day sooner or later to just be rid of me, which was another reason I never wanted to go into the mall. How ironic, I thought. The first time back in that place after getting over my negative thoughts, they had come true. I had been abandoned in that damnable mall once again.

So what, I said to myself. You know, so what I had been left by the Possibles? I didn't need them anyway, I told myself. They were weird anyway.

Yes, I thought they were weird. They were always hugging me and stuff like that. What kinds of parents hug you? None that I knew at the time. They read to me, too. Oh, I thought this was extremely peculiar behavior. I would always ask myself what kind of people read. I liked it, but still, I didn't think people read to children at the time. I thought they were freaking weirdoes and that was why it was all right to not be with them anymore.

I didn't like living with them anyway, I had confidently shouted in my head. They made me wake up early in the morning. When I used to live with the woman who gave birth to me, I got up whenever I felt like it. Sometimes, she would be in our rundown, roach-infested, mouse-infested apartment and sometimes, it was just all of us that weren't paying rent, namely me, the roaches, and the mice; you know, the vermin. The Possibles were always home when I woke up and there weren't any tiny critters in the house that weren't paying rent, except for me and Kim. Strange happenings as far as I was concerned… or that was what I told myself in those moments to bluster my ego.

Another thing that struck me as odd at the time was that whenever I woke up, there was always breakfast waiting for me. It was so bizarre. Mrs. Possible made hot cereals like oatmeal, porridge, which I quickly became quite fond of, and things, which I had never experienced. If not those items, there would be omelets, toast, bagels, and many other breakfast foods. I liked it, of course, but at the time, I told myself otherwise.

I told myself they were weird and I would be better off without them. I walked off. No more waiting ever again. I have no idea where I was even thinking about going at the time. I just strolled off with no money in my pockets and just the clothes on my back, swearing that I would be much better off on my own rather than with the Possibles. I didn't even know what state I was in at the time. I couldn't even tell time at the time. But, I swore that I was better off.

It took some minutes and my circling the third floor a couple of times, for me to realize that I might actually miss the Possibles. I had chosen to stay with them when I had the chance, making sure not to tell anyone my family name or anything else important, so I couldn't be sent back to that woman. While I admit that I wasn't very smart, I wasn't exactly stupid. The people that created me versus the Possibles, it wasn't a fair contest.

Those people that created me, they weren't close to the Possibles. They were nuts. They were scum. They were assholes. I knew I was lucky to get the hell away from them and I was so happy to get away from them. It wasn't like that with the Possibles. I wasn't happy to be separated from them.

Oh, to be five years old and lost in a personal hell while trying to swear that everything was going to be fine, I was overwrought in under an hour. I wanted my new mommy to come back for me. She had gone from Mrs. Possible in my head to "mommy" in about thirty minutes. I had gone from being on top of the world to being ready to fall apart without them. I don't know, maybe it was because I was five or because I'm very crazy that I flip-flopped so easily. All I know, I wanted to go back to them and we hadn't been parted for a whole hour yet.

I used to be separated from the woman who gave birth to me for days on end and, to be quite honest, I didn't care. I didn't miss her once. I waited for her, yes, and I left with her whenever she wandered back to me, but I never missed her once. So, it was new to me to miss someone and it was frightening.

I felt lost in more than just my wanderings now. I didn't understand why I missed them at the time. I know now that I missed them because they were the type of parents that children deserve. They are loving, caring, warm, and concerned, which were things I wasn't accustomed to at the time. I was much more familiar with being a ghost, a source of conflict, an object. I was just an object, a little trinket to those people that created me. To the Possibles, I was a human being and subconsciously, I missed that after losing it for only an hour.

I eventually wound up next the entrance of the mall, which was weird because I don't recall getting on the escalator or getting in the elevator. I have no clue how I got there. I rubbed my forehead as I paced the front of the mall, wondering if I should leave the belly of the beast. The world was huge and I was so small, yet I would face the world alone if I exited that damnable mall.

I stared out of the glass doors and my fears grew exponentially with every second that passed. I was so anxious at that point that breathing was becoming a chore of me. My tiny chest ached with each inhale and my lungs burned as if they had been set on fire. I sincerely didn't desire to be alone in such a frightening place as the world was, but I didn't see any way around it. I mean, it was obvious to me that my parents, all four of them, didn't want me.

Part of me wanted to cry at the thought of being unwanted by everyone. I must've been such a loathsome creature. I believed that at a very young age. I had to be a detestable thing because no one wanted me. I'd like to say that I didn't pity myself, but I was five. A five-year-old doesn't know much about pride or self-respect, making them just a little smarter than the adult population when it comes to certain things. I felt sorry for myself because I didn't want to be a despised trinket.

I walked over to a fountain and looked at my reflection in the water. My hair was combed and brushed perfectly, as Mrs. Possible wouldn't have it any other way. She always made sure that I was presentable, not just my hair. Having my hair done was something I appreciated even at that young age. Before her, my scalp used to always itch and my hair was like four different kinds of messes, tangled, matted, oily, and I'm sure full of bites. Before her, I looked like the urchin that I was.

Mrs. Possible also made sure that my face was always clean. The woman who gave birth to me never seemed to care about that. My clothes were always clean and pressed when it came to Mrs. Possible. She was the person who took me to get my first pair of glasses, which I had on at the time. She was actually the first person to notice that I required glasses. She was such a nice person, so why didn't she want me, I wondered.

I wanted to know why a person like Mrs. Possible would leave me in that fucking mall! Was it because I was not her real daughter? Was it because I was annoying? Was it because she didn't really like me? I had already come to understand that I wasn't likable. Those people who created me used to argue over me all of the time while I was standing right there, calling me all types of names and blaming me for all manners of things, things I didn't even know what they were. No, they didn't like me much at all.

I studied my very pale face in the fountain water and tried so hard to figure out what was so disagreeable about me. I came to the conclusion that it was because I was so small. It was what made me so different from those that disliked me. They were big and I was small. They were healthy complexions and I was pale, like a doll, a little trinket. Yes, I was just a trinket and they were people. That had to be it, I decided. I wasn't really a person, just a thing.

"Trin!" I heard Mr. Possible call.

I turned my head as he came toward me. He grabbed me into a tight hug, pressing my small body against him rather hard. I didn't tell him, but it hurt a little bit. I didn't understand why he embraced me. I didn't get the whole hugging thing and I still don't really get it.

Mr. Possible then put me down on the ground and went into something that I understood very well, he began reprimanding me for wandering away from Mrs. Possible. I took all of the scolding without interrupting him. I believed that if I let him admonish me, maybe even hit me if he wanted to, then maybe he'd take me back home with him. I just wanted to have a home to go to, but the best would be to go back to the Possible home. The worst thing he could have done to me was to leave me there.

Of course, he didn't leave me there. I know for a fact that he never even thought to do something so cruel. Once he finished scolding me, he picked me up to go home. I was so relieved, even though I was hurt for being yelled at. I was five and no five-year-old wants to be yelled at. At least he hadn't hit me, I thought at the time. The man who helped create me, he used to hit me when I saw him, which was why I wouldn't have minded if Mr. Possible hit him. But, he never hit him. The Possibles never physically hurt me.

Mr. Possible took me out to the car, where his wife was waiting in the front seat. She opened her door and grabbed me from her husband. She hugged me tightly, just like Mr. Possible had done. It didn't hurt as much, but it was hard to breath. She cried tears of joy when she was holding me.

"I thought I lost you, Trin. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry," Mrs. Possible apologized to me. It was the first time that someone apologized to me. It was the first time that something wasn't my fault.

"It's okay… Mommy," I said. It was the first time that I had ever used that term, not just for her, but ever. It was that day that I realized I was a Possible. They were my parents and I was their daughter.


Next time: Trin meets Shin, much to the rest of the world's dismay.


A/N: I'm sort of experimenting with the first person POV. I'm not very comfortable with it, so I need to know if it's good or not. Let me know.