maugrim rathbone | two | fin

I
zebra

Welcome to the most awesome, kick ass journal ever. Congratulations on my mom picking you out of all the other ones at the store, because I basically have no life, so I'll get to use you a lot and shit. Nice.

I guess this would be best if I started from the beginning?

Okay, so, picture this: there is this bad ass family, kicking ass and taking names, leaving a shiny little card in their wake with the name Rathbone written in some cool-ass font so that anyone who wants to try and take them on knows where to find them. This family is like, the baddest of bad, right?

They're so dope that, like, even the children, fuckin' toddlers, were envied.

Imagine them like you would a pride of lions, okay? Like, there are a lot of them, and all of them are pretty to look at and ooh and aah at, but like, you do not approach them.

That was my family. We were a pride, and no one, not even those posh snobs across the way, could fuck with us. We were the dominant species. We were the alpha, they were that other word I can't remember that goes below alpha. Whatever, I'm pretty sure that is a wolf thing anyway, so I don't know why I said it. We aren't wolves.

Whatever.

Anyway, so, yeah, lions. Kings and Queens and everything in between. And then, when everything is going great, imagine this: one of the lions gives birth to a damn zebra.

Basically, when they became we, we lost all of our credibility. Or, at least that's how I feel. We are still like, one of the richest families in town, but you know, every family has, like, that one guy?

Yeah, that's me. That's basically my life.

Always a step behind, always tripping over my own feet and using humor to hide the fact that I'm mostly just confused, and also to hide that I am legitimately terrified of at least 72% of my siblings, which is wild. My parents loved me, which is weird because you usually don't see that in families who are rich from breaking the law seven thousand times a day, but they did.

I mean, they can be like, maaaajor assholes sometimes, but they would still take a bullet for me, I think. I know they would at least shoot a bullet at someone for me, so that's pretty fucking cool. Most people call themselves tiger parents when they go to their kid's high school every time they come home complaining. My parents will literally fucking shank you, no joke. Which is terrifying but like, in an oddly flattering way? They love me in their own way, and they haven't given up on me yet. As long as they are willing to keep trying, I am.

Woah. That was kinda deep.

III
zombie boy

I've almost died, like, four times. And I mean like seriously, four times in my life, I could have literally died and that would have been it for Maugrim mothafuckin' Rathbone.

The first time, I was twelve, and a weight fell on my head at the training center. An actual fucking fifty pound weight, right in the back of my pretty skull. I still, to this day, don't even remember it. Everyone says there was a lot of blood and screaming and "Oh shit, he's dead!!!" and whatnot, but never fear: I totally lived through it.

The next time, my friends and I were cliff hanging and I grabbed the wrong spot and fell ten feet onto the ground. I don't really know what I expected to happen, though? Because I was literally hanging off the edge of a cliff with, like, a rope? I was doing this. Me. I have tripped over painted lines more than once in my lifetime, so I was lucky that this time I got away with some skinned up knees and a broken foot.

Next, I think I was probably like sixteen, and honestly, I was being a little shit and spying on the Salvatores. I swam the short distance across the lake, stopped when the air seemed to feel more entitled and snarky, and there I was, floating in the water and staring at the house of my family's worst enemy. I thought about getting out of the water and using my super amazing ninja skills, but then also, as I've said before: I have literally tripped over painted lines on the floor. So I was just chilling in the water, and then boom, worst fucking cramp I've ever had. Right in the thigh. It hurt so bad I could feel it in my goddamn ass.

So, being inconspicuous was kinda out of the window, since like, by this point, I was flopping around like a beached whale trying to make it back to the sea, so I just sort of said "If they kill me then that's too fuckin' bad," and I flopped myself up to the shore, caught my breath, rubbed the giant muscle spasm in my leg out, and waited for them to come down and call me some kind of big-worded name I didn't understand and then put a sword through my mug, but it never happened.

I guess old money makes you kinda stupid.

I hightailed my ass home before they ever even noticed.

Alright, this next one is a doozy, and it is pretty sad. So like, just warning you.

The fourth time I almost died, it was by my own hands, and it was not on accident. But I don't really wanna talk about it. I know this is, like, a safe space, but sometimes talking about sad shit just for the sake of talking about it only makes things worse. Just know I'm better now than I was. Most of the time.

So, yeah. Four times, I have almost died. And I have no fucking clue how my uncoordinated ass managed to avoid it all four times; I have literally no idea. I still have a dent in the back of my head, a scar on my foot. I haven't been in the water since that day, and I always wear bracelets or long sleeves to hide the other thing.

I am a living, breathing zombie: fighting death since day one. And I'm kind of proud of it, because it proves that I have the will to survive. It proves that death can sometimes be beaten. So call me zombie boy, I'll take it as a compliment. Call me the West Cost Watchman, I'll tell you I'm proud of it. Call me a zebra and I'll laugh at my own stupid comparisons. Call me a Rathbone, and I'll look you dead in the eye and smile and say:

"You're damn right I am."