Are We Too Young For This?

1.

The way the smoke leaves his mouth into the cold autumn air. His stupid messy curls in his face and his dirty chuck taylors crushing the leaves under him as they lay on the tracks. The sound of the train doesn't seem to phase him, walking one foot in-front of the other, balancing himself on the railings as the horn of the train draws near. Bringing his cigarette to his lips and holding it as he turns to face the train, standing motionless as he watches it approach at speeds of about 90 mph. The cigarette glowing red in the dark night as the boy welcomes the mainstream smoke to fill his lungs.
Exhaling and putting his arm down, the cigarette pinched between his index and middle finger, dropping it and crushing it with his foot, he then slowly begins to walk toward the train as if begging to be hit. The screaming of the old rusting mental as the driving wheels stop moving, though the wheels stop the train is still moving at high speeds. Jumping out of the way last minute with a sly smile on his face, the wind moving his leather jacket, his hair out of his face and the leaves roll by him. The screeching stopped and the train went on its way as of nothing had happened. Sliding his phone out of his back right pocket, revealing several missed calls from his father, the boy let's out a heavy sigh as he makes his way home.
Hands in his pockets, walking in the middle of empty streets only having the street lights to see, kicking rocks and leaves, walking through people lawns just to piss them off, and running through alleys. Walking behind a house, He finds a room with a red glow, he presses his palms against the glass, pushing upward to open the window. Taking a step back and gets a running start and leaps, pulling himself up into his room, taking soft steps he pulls the window shut and throws his jacket on his bed with all the other clothes he wears but never seems to wash. He takes a few steps, kicking over empty cups, quickly looking down and rolling his eyes he lets out a heavy sigh "shit..." his eyes soon widen as he hears quick and heavy footsteps approach his room, the door bursts open, hitting the wall, the doorknob going onto a hole in the wall that was made from the door opening like that many, many times prior.
Standing in the doorway is a tall dark figure "where have you been..." hearing his dark and deep voice the boy shivers "Out" This response has seemed to anger the man, stepping into his room into the red light of the boy's LED's he has all around his room, he can see the anger in his face "You do know what time it is right!?" The boy frantically looks around, no clock in sight "No...?" His father grabs his face and slams him against a wall.
Tacs that hold his posters digging into his back "ITS THREE IN THE FUCKING MORNING AND YOU ARE JUST COMING HOME?! I COME IN YOUR ROOM TO SEE YOU GONE! VANISHED!" The big strong hands gripping his face with such pressure it's tearing the inside of his cheek against his teeth. "Okay! okay I'm sorry! Let go!" The man raises his fist, the boy's eyes widen, as his mouth gets struck, all he can taste is his own blood as his shirt gets gripped and he gets thrown into his desk, falling to the floor "DONT YOU DARE RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME! YOU HEAR!"
The man walks to his door, grabbing the handle and looking back at his son "That will be the last time you do that you hear! And you know what to say when people ask what happened" blood dripping out of the boy's mouth, onto his shirt as he sits there "I got into a fight.." "Good boy" the door slams shut, leaving the boy there, sitting on the floor leaning against his desk while his mouth leaks blood, he manages to lift his head, hitting it against the desk as he looks at his bloody tissues that have fell off his desk upon impact.
He spits out his blood in self pity, it going all over his pants and sneakers before he grabs one of the tissues and wipes his mouth with it, violently throwing it back on the floor. Kicking off his shoes he grips the edge of the table and pulls himself up, staring at the desk full of bloody tissues, all from his wrists and thighs, some even from his father after he got angry..He stands there, standing in anger and frustration, he sweeps his arms across the desk, pushing everything off of it, tears silently streaming down his face as he clenches his fists shut.