Prologue – The End
He stared out into the wild storm, protected behind the double-glazed windows and sighed exasperatedly, wishing the weather would suddenly turn and calm. At the same time he wished the exact thing, but for his life. He would have given anything to change it, to turn back the clock. He watched the wind as it tore the trees from the ground and shook the rafters of his house. The wind and hail slammed against his unbreakable windows and made cracks in the frail glass that protected the streetlights, the electricity burst in the air like the lightning breaking up the grey sky, thunder rolled in after the flashes of light in the skies. Water spilled out over the rivers and the water licked at the sides of the pavement threatening to spill over and leak into their homes. The lonely man at the window smiled grimly, unsure exactly why he bothered to smile or to laugh, he thought, when he realised he was giggling hysterically, his body heaved with every burst of laughter, he curled up as they turned to sobs, wracking his body with an ever deepening sorrow that chewed him up from the inside. His cries were in vain because with every choked sob that escaped his lips, the waters spilled over, the rain and lightning broke up the sky, with every second that went by, the world was gradually ending and there was nothing he could do about it, nothing he could do but watch as this once beautiful earth tore itself apart and his heart was torn apart with it.
Chapter One – Bleed It Out
It was a summer’s day, clear skies and thin clouds streaked against the blue as the boy opened his book and began to read. He let himself be adsorbed within its words, letting them enchant him, so then he didn’t have to hear the sounds around him. The hot stuffy classroom, the teachers voice like a monotone, droning on and on. It was the fifth time he’d read this book and occasionally he found himself reciting what the character was about to say just before he read it. He pretended to be looking at his textbook as he turned to the next page. He ignored his classmates, none of whom he would ever think of as mates and absorbed himself into the story, but of course inevitably, just when it was getting near to the end of the chapter, the teacher decided it was time to stop being oblivious and stormed over to the boys desk. The teacher, Mr Lambert, tapped his fingers on his leg with agitation and impatience. He was a tall man, with a furrowed brow, the lines that deepened his face not from age but from spending year after year with a threatening look forever plastered on his face. Now he deepened this look into a harsh scowl as the boy continued being ignorant to his looming presence. Mr Lambert didn’t say anything as the boy’s gaze left the page of his book, his head slowly rising to meet his teacher’s cold grey eyes. The boy’s thin lips curled up into a smile, Mr Lambert fumed, his pale complexion turning steadily redder as the boy failed to suppress his childish giggle.
“Get Out!” The teacher’s hands were clenched at his sides, his knuckled growing steadily whiter in the same rhythm of his now beetroot coloured face. He grabbed the book from under the boy’s hands and through it onto his desk, it landed with an unnervingly loud thud. The boy dug his nails into the table and bit down on his lip, hard. He stood shakily the colour rising slightly to his cheeks. The eyes of thirty school boys followed his every move as he walked without momentum towards the door. Mr Lambert turned and slammed the door behind the boys hunched figure, barely suppressing what his psychologist called his ‘violent tendencies’ and what most other people called him ‘being an asshole’.
Outside the now deadly silently classroom the boy walked up and down, back and forth. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, pulling at the collar. He twisted the strands of his scraggly black hair, fiddling with anything he could get his hands on. His eyes screamed of the hidden nerves within, although he still had an incredible desire to burst into a fit of laughter. Emotion crashed about inside his green swirling orbs, every feeling at war with the other. He bit his lip again, trying to make it bleed. He leaned against the wall struggling to stop his hands from moving up towards his heavy head to knot his already messy hair. He repeated the same thing over and over as his lip turned red and he smudged blood onto his hands, just bleed it out he bit down again, even harder, bleed it out, bleed it all out…
He sat on the hard, straight-backed chair outside the headmistress’ office, his hands cupped in his lap. He stayed still, staring at the red on his fingertips; it seemed to keep an ever holding interest, blood, and the pain was more than bearable. The door to the headmistress’ office swung open and a women’s head popped out of the doorway. She was far from the typical headmistress’ and many of the students made jokes about her being a porn star as a teenager and she of course new about this, but to many of the teachers disapproval found it highly amusing. She had red bouncy hair and a lively energy about her. A smile was never far from her face and what a smile it was, she could light up the whole school with that smile, with that smile she could get anything she wanted, from men at least.
“Come on in Frankie,” she gave him her trademark smile, showing her whitened teeth. The boy, frank, blushed slightly and looked down at his feet as he followed her into her spacious office. It blared out a friendly atmosphere; the walls were painted red and white matching her hair and pale skin.
“Sit down Frankie,” she pointed to the squishy chair opposite her desk, she sat behind it and looked down on him with a slight smile. Frank looked at the desk; the papers, pen pots, pens and pencils, a toy pink rabbit, a photo frame with a picture of her son sticking out his tongue. Frank’s report lay under her palms on the desk.
That's all i've written so far.
