Him

Chapter 1

I slammed the door as hardest as i could. I was tired of living a life that was controlled by everybody, every year putting up with all the bullshit people yearned for me to take. My whole life was a joke, my own family gave up on me even after what had happened. It sucked being me.  There were days times i would just lie on my bed and cry to myself all day long.  To my family i was dead, but it was only up to recently that i actually felt .. dead.  

I came back to reality once i felt my whole face turn burning hot from the rough tears i was shedding. It all happened a long time ago, or maybe it just felt like it. The memory is very clouded but i could feel the pain, the resisting of fighting, for so many years i kept it in. I let the bad people hurt who i was, who i am. and it was enough. I needed to get away form this hell hole of what i called my life and begin from the start of a new one. 

And so i did.

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I thought about everything in a matter of 1 minute of  standing behind my bedroom door. I glanced at my suitcase my dear aunt gave me, she said i would need that when it was the right time. I never really got what she meant by that but to the time being i was only 12 , so nothing really made sense to me. 

more time passed and it seemed as if i was already packing without even thinking about it.  the last thing i remember putting inside of the sutcase was my lettter. you see that letter was the most important thing to me, my whole life being depended on that letter or as i thought it did. i was told to never open it EVER. they said it would ruin me, ruin the chances of me being a happy and humble person which is wayy over form now but whatever.  i grabbed my jacket , an envelope of $800, my car keys and i left.

At the airport it seemed very quiet. everybody was being friendly which is weird if you live in New York City, you know what i mean. i stared at the destination map for a really long time, i had my heart set on one specific place LONDON. it was the only place i could think of that i had someone who really didnt give a crap about society or even worse my family.  My brother Marx.  He was the typical junkie who smoked weed all the time, had random strangers over night and even went to prision for stabbing a guy in the jugular vein, he explained it to me it was a neccessary act since the man didnt give him his money back after borrowing , mind me he was only 17 at the time, and me? well i was a peculiar little 14 year old, talk about 'good times'. My aunt kicked him out at 18 , which was 3 years ago till this day.  Even though he's fucking pycho, he was and still is my favorite person in the world.  

I got my plane ticket to England and boarded.

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I called up a taxi to take me to a specific city , Bradshire . Marx was known as the "King of Badboys" it was i guess a label he very dearly admired.  Even though he was very well known, safety was not always pressent. He got shot twice in the street for taking someones long board, or was it the time he took a mans walet ? too many to name.  I hadnt let him known i was coming, but of course he would be happy to see his favorite all grown up and actually legal. His flat was pretty big as i remmeber his showing me pictures. He recalled having Magical  memories in there, which i definately knew what he had meant .

the cab dropped me off around the corner which was really dickish of him since it was only a mile left.  I paid the old man and started off . it was the fisrt time ina long time i actually breathed in the gloomy air and admired my surroundings. i kept walking and came to a stop when i saw his door.  Marx had a thing for art, which explained his front door being painted in black and white stripes and his door knob red. i stood there standing out for a couple of minutes. i finally go the courage to knock. which i did three times as my hand was shaking, not of nervousness but .. of rejection.