The room was almost completely dark. The only light coming from a digital clock-radio which lurked at the back of Chris' bedside table, it gave the room an ominous crimson glow.
Chris had bought it squarely for that reason; he liked watching the sinister shadows stagger across the walls. It looked like they were lost, frightened out there in the night, trying to find their way out of this stringent enclosure of darkness.
He supposed this said something about himself, how his brain worked. That space between his ears was a truly grim place. It seemed as though parts of his mind had shut themselves off - broken communication with the rest. Now, thinking about it, Chris realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt happiness or love. Maybe it was some sort of wall his subconscious had built up to protect him from feeling pain. Was this the result of 5 years of isolation? Was it too late for those parts of his mind to regain consciousness? There was a feeling he'd felt a few days ago that he hadn't felt in a long time - guilt - that heavy sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that seemed to drag his whole body down. He should've stuck up for PJ last Tuesday on the stairs. What he'd experienced at this wretched school he wouldn't wish upon anyone, not even Mark. Plus, this kid hadn't done anything to him except try to be friendly, and what had Chris done? Pushed him away. Just like he'd pushed the pain away and locked it up in the back of his mind where it couldn't do anything to hurt him. PJ was an outsider, like him.
He propped himself up on his elbows. What time was it? He glanced over at the flickering red digits on the clock. It read 6:24am.
Might as well get up, he thought.
It was a cool Saturday morning in February and the sky was a magnificent dark slate blue. The majority of the Dark Wood students had gone home the night before. Staying weekends was optional and both him and PJ had a lot of catch up to do in preparation for the upcoming exams. Chris thought he might catch the bus in to the village later. Although there wasn't much to do in the dreary and dismal village of Walter's Green, there was a coffee shop and a library, and that suited Chris fine.
Easing himself out of the cocoon of blankets, Chris looked over at his roommate, who was fast asleep in his own bed across the room. His face was a little puffy, that probably meant he'd been crying. Chris shrugged, taking his wash-bag under his right arm and unhooking his towel from the peg on the back of the bedroom door and draping it over his arm before opening the door just enough and sliding out quietly. He was careful to make as little noise as possible. Not only to make sure he didn't wake PJ, but to make sure none of the boys on the corridor heard him creeping to the bathroom. He didn't particularly fancy an earful at half six in the morning.
Trying not to make a sound, Chris made his way along the long hallway, past the common room, past the other boys' rooms. He had to clasp his hand over his mouth to stop himself laughing as he passed Mr McCartney's room at the end, he wasn't sure the old man was aware that he both snored and passed gas simultaneously during his slumber.
'That'd be great in a comedy sketch' Chris thought as he turned left and headed towards the showers.
It was lovely yet peculiar seeing the old manor house so tranquil and slumberous, though he knew the noiseless corridors would become a raucous mass of public school boys clambering over each other to see who could get to Oxford first in a matter of hours.
Chris pulled his pyjamas off and stepped under the metal shower head, gasping as the icy water cascaded down his back. He washed hastily, wanting to spend as little time as possible under the freezing water. When he'd finished, he pulled his pyjama bottoms back on, collected his wash-bag and towel and headed for the door, happy he'd managed to avoid abuse from his peers.
However, Chris' happiness was short-lived. As he turned the corner he noticed 3 boys standing around outside North Wing's common room. Chris recognised two of them as Ali and Taylor, two of the more harmless members of the student body. It was the third he feared though, Kevin Matthews, a stout but fairly muscular 17 year-old boy. He was Mark's second in command, his henchman.
Although Kevin had his back turned, it would be impossible for Chris to sneak past without being noticed. Chris saw he had two options: (1) attempt to walk past the trio and risk receiving verbal abuse or (2) stay in the shower room and risk one of the nastier boys coming in and getting the shit kicked out of him.
Option 1 was probably a better idea.
Carefully, Chris padded along the hallway towards his room, waiting for the torrent of abuse to begin and, soon enough, it did.
"Oi! Dickhead!" That was Kevin. Chris ignored it and carried on walking. "I'm talking to you, Gay Boy!" Chris continued, past Mr McCartney's room, the snoring and farting still ongoing. He couldn't resist giggling.
He was almost at his door when he felt something smack him on the side of the head, knocking him in to his bedroom door.
"You fucking laughing at me?" Kevin had slapped him.
"No, I-" Chris stuttered in an attempt to defend himself
"You fucking were!"
Wow. Kevin sure was in a foul mood this morning. Over Kevin's shoulder, Chris could see the cabinet in which the North Wing boys displayed the medals and trophies they had won for sporting events, mostly rugby cups. The majority of North Wing boys were on the school rugby team. Dark Wood was known as an excellent school for rugby, they even competed at international level. Chris presumed that this was because they were dirty, they cheated at everything. There were no new trophies in the cabinet; they had obviously lost the match last night and had been knocked out of the finals. This explained why Kevin was in such a bad mood.
"Don't you EVER laugh at me"
"Never said I was laughing at you, did I? Just shut up, yeah! You're just angry because your stupid rugby team lost last night. You know what they say, cheaters never prosper." Chris regretted saying this as soon as the last syllable rolled off his tongue. He could see Ali and Taylor stood slightly to his right, in the doorway of the common room. Both looked quite concerned for Chris, although they weren't keen on him. Kevin was nasty.
Kevin seized Chris' right arm, twisting it violently and forcing Chris to drop his wash-bag and yelp loudly in pain. He presumed everyone had left for breakfast and Mr McCartney couldn't possibly hear him over his incessant bottom-burping.
Kevin threw him forwards with such force that Ali and Taylor were forced to dive out the way as Chris hurtled through the doorway of the common room and landed face down on the hard carpeting.
He knew he was about to be battered to within an inch of his life. And there was no way of stopping it.
The boy slowly advanced towards him. He tensed up. Preparing for what was to come. He shielded his face with his hands. Closer. Closer. Closer. He was right above him now. Kevin raised his arm and
BASH
Chris bought his arms away from his face slowly and opened his eyes. Taylor and Ali had resumed their places in the doorway again, both wore a look of complete and utter shock. Standing in the place where Kevin was only a few seconds before, was PJ, wearing an equally intense look of shock and clutching a cricket bat in his right hand.
