Cigarettes Out the Window - Horrid Henry

002 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

[6:38 P.M]

He threw his dark backpack over there, took off his sports shoes that he had been wearing since the morning and the light blue sweater with a yellow stripe down the center. He rested his thin body on the mattress covered by sheets on it.

He felt his eyes closing more and more, but even so he tried not to, he knew that when he woke up if he fell into a deep sleep he would have a severe headache and dizziness throughout the night and the next day. So he opened his eyes as much as he could at that moment.

He had homework, his teacher left him some extras so he could practice. Which annoyed him, the last thing he wanted was to do and stress over jobs that he did not understand, no matter how much he paid attention, the information did not reach his head.

He cried many times in the past for that same issue, since he was little he knew that the future would be complicated, he would know that he would not mature, like all his classmates. Because one thing he knows very well is that maturity does not exist, in reality we all have an inner child or childish imagination, no matter how much we hide it or act.

I hear several times that someone went up and down the stairs, surely it was his brother Peter. Contrary to him, he had excellent and perfect grades. His brother never had a hard time with school, he was born with a genius brain, but he didn't.

Many times he regretted having been born, if he had no goal to achieve, he had no hobbies, dreams or goals. Not even any aspiration, he was a ghost, soulless and lifeless.

What was the goal of your life? Taking care of the planet and the common home was not enough, although he never did it, he had no hobbies. And the only time she truly felt the feeling was when Ralph confessed to her and the moments they spent together, being with him made her heart beat desperately.

He could no longer calculate how long he had been lying down. 3 hours? He doesn't know, nor is he interested in finding out.

She also didn't know when the tears began to flow from her small, salty eyes. I didn't like that sensitive taste in his mouth, if he didn't stop crying so hard his mother or Peter would hear him, he placed his arm in his mouth biting aggressively, holding back his sobs.

He didn't like that feeling, sometimes he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs and to the four winds everything he felt, but it was not possible, no one would really and honestly listen to him.

He quickly pulled his arm away, as he felt a shooting pain in his arm. Red liquid flowed, his fangs were dirty with the same liquid, but his tears never stopped coming out.

"Cigarettes" He needed, he searched his table drawer for the container he used last night, it was his only way of letting off steam with himself. The smoke was his friend, who listened to him, but did not speak.

"When will all this stop?"

_