Pseudology

Eighteen

EDITED 3/10

Two hours earlier… 

The rain was pathetic, pattering down from the expansive grey sky above. It drizzled down the back of his neck, and Adrian wished for a thick coat to keep him warm, since his school clothes hadn’t been doing a very good job. 

He couldn’t fathom why he’d done it, but he supposed that it was too late now. He’d just have to carry on and do it anyway, regardless of anything else, and he was only thinking about it now because his decision was relatively stupid… 

Adrian had run away. 

He hadn’t been brooding over it: originally, he had planned to survey New Scotland Yard at a distance, but an impulsive urge had made him slip away from the crowd of school boys and get closer… but Martin had noticed. Within seconds, his name had been called and Adrian had felt a sudden bolt of energy; he’d run, slipping out of sight as quickly as he could, and he soon realised that he was only about five minutes away from NSY. 

Through his slightly damp hair, he had carried on walking until he was close to New Scotland Yard (or NSY, as it was known in his head), staring at it. With the London traffic buzzing around his head and the drops of panic edging their way into his thoughts, Adrian was struggling to concentrate. His nose itched and his eyes were drooping slightly; his energy was seeping slowly from his body, and he realised that he hadn’t taken any of the cocaine powder for nearly twenty nine hours. He was taking extremely small doses just to keep the electricity in his veins, but recently Adrian had been noticing that the cocaine had been wearing off more quickly, and he supposed it was because his body was getting used to taking it. 

He wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. 

Adrian checked his watch, and eagerly waited for the nearby policeman to walk into NSY. Adrian had no idea how to enter the building, so as the man entered its revolving doors, the boy watched closely. They needed ID, but no one was there to check if the ID matched the person; once through, they walked into the foyer and carried on their daily business. His beat a little faster- how the hell was he supposed to get ID? How was he going to find his mother’s murder files? He cringed at the thought… he hadn’t thought everything through enough. He needed more time, more energy- 

“ADRIAN!” 

Oh hell. 

Adrian, damp with rain, spun around on his heels to see Martin, clad in a raincoat and flanked by Andrew and Christopher, standing across the busy street. Fear pumped through Adrian’s veins- what would they say? He scanned the perimeter, looking for teachers, but he found none. Oh shit shit shit shit-

And he ran. 

For the second time in twenty minutes, Adrian found himself pondering (whilst running) why he’d done something, and he realised that it was a reoccurring pattern in his brain. 

He sped as fast as he could down the street, turning and skidding in the rain, splashing muddy, grimy water up his dark trouser legs. His body began to hurt as he neared the end of the street, wondering where to go next. He couldn’t look behind him, he just couldn’t- 

Face. Floor. Pain. 

Adrian’s eyes opened to see the cold, grey pavement of a London street being rammed repeatedly into his face. His nose began to sting as it was crunched against the stone, and his back was being pinned down by cold, hard hands… Andrew. 

“GETOFF!” Adrian hissed, his body tensing as he was once again slammed against the ground. Touching touching touching touching, fear fear fear fear fear- “GET OFF!” Screaming, yelling, pain.