alone

chapter 5

(Zack is a character from the new Ghostbusters movie. His actor is also a director. He is friends with Domingo. I know it's spelt wrong but to late to change it.)

Me and my brother Zack. Oh how a duo could turn sour so quickly. When I was around 15 I left one year and went to a boarding school, where I met Boris. But the moment I got back. Zack was a completely different person and within four months he had got into six fights been suspended twice, went to juvie for a week and got into a college. It was insane. He left one day after he got the letter. No one knew he left till we got a call from the college telling Joyce when she could come for parents day.

After a year he was back and with my bully. I was pissed to say the least. I stormed to my room and everyone looked shocked. I hated Zack. As I entered my room I slammed the door locking it. In a fit or rage and stress I grabbed my sketchbook. I drew bloody figures standing over dead body's deformed laid on the ground. I tried to calm as I bit down on my tounge holding back a swear. I heard a knock and I let out a groan. I walked over to my door unlocking it swinging it open.

"What?-" I stopped. It was El she looked sad.

"Sorry El. What happened?" I rushed her into my room. She sighed looking at my drawings and she looked mortified before turning to me.

"Uh... Patrick is saying rude stuff about you being a... 'fag.'?" She said confused. I sighed glad she didn't know what that meant. I gave a small nod of acknowledgement. she gave me a soured expression and i could tell that she wanted to say something. so i stayed silent.

"what happened with mike." she asks looking me in the eyes. i froze unable to speak. she gave m ethis look of understanding. she nodded and gave me a small sigh. she quickly hugged me and she left my room. i was left in a state of shock, i didn't know what to say or do. i took a few seconds to calm myself and i went back to my drawing...

"god there's something wrong with me." i said inching closer to my sketchbook. i heard the wooden floor panel next to my Door creak quickly closing the book, if my mom saw it she could be concerned. and i really wasn't in the mood as i was about to turn i heard them speak.

"yeah you are." i was in so much existential dread at that moment i froze already thinking of a way to jump out my window without breaking my legs but it was no use. i turn and glare at patrick.

"what do you want patrick." i say coldly. he smiles walking closer i quickly grab my knife off the desk that i used to cut clay. i put it in front of me and he only smiled at me. he gave a small laugh, a demented one.

"oh, how long has it been two years three?" he asked with a weird look on his face i could fel my spine start to crack, my posture differed. he smiled inching closer. i held the knife steady keeping my ground. he smiled and spoke again.

"you know. your sister is a real bitch." he said i froze, the fuck.

"what is wrong with you." i said in a threating tone. he laughed holding his side, like he was at the best comedy sketch in the world. my calm collected demeanor faltered.

"oh... you remember that one time that i sliced you in the ribs and you went crying to Johnathon, what did he do.; nothing just nothing. now I'm in your house, buttering up your mom, sleeping with your brother and ready to kill you in a instant. but i cant, no. not yet." he laughed crazily to himself.

"oh fuck of." he ran to me grabbling my wrist and pinned me against my desk flipping the knife heading towards my face i rolled to the left breaking free from his grasp instead it went into my desk. he laughed as i panted. he gripped the knife pulling it out of the wooden desk. he glared at me and i froze. he pulled it out. as he inched closer my gut was telling to to do something.