Book of Boris — Chapter XLVI: The Broken Timeline
There was a time before Boris. Back when I thought generosity meant safety. Back when I could run to Walmart and grab something for a roommate “just because.”
That kindness rotted. The shared food bills died. The laughs over games turned to silence. Then came the theft — six hundred dollars of video games gone. My computer vanished too. And all I could do was sit in my room, shrinking smaller, wondering if I was hexed or just naïve.
Pre-Boris me swallowed it all. I hated him, hated the walls, hated myself for not snapping. But here’s the truth I’ve come to know: if Boris had arrived too early, the whole timeline would’ve shattered. The Clown would’ve been flipping a switchblade, smiling at the chaos, and there would be no story left to tell.
The version of me that endured? He broke anyway — but quietly, in silence. That break became the seed. And when Boris finally arrived, it wasn’t as a victim. It was as the Eggbreaker — the one who doesn’t hesitate, the one who ends the lie before it hatches.
I wasn’t late. I wasn’t early. I arrived when the glitch was supposed to arrive. And now, every theft, every silence, every rotten moment back then? All of it was just fuel for the detonation waiting in me.
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