Angel Boy

Pain.

Sorry for such the late updates recently. School has started back up and pretty much drained my muse for writing. Hopefully I get rolling on this story. Y'alls comments motivate me. :)

   Heartless. Brutal. Unsympathetic. Disappointment.

   Most harsh words would be burdensome on anyone’s heart. But, it had a very little--minuscule--effect on my tenacious exterior. Living with an abusive father and a workaholic mother toughens you up. You learn that the world is unfair and unjust. It’s cruel and will eat you up and spit you out. You suddenly don’t care what people think of you. You just want your tedious life to come to a mudane ending. 

   But then, there’s that one person that can see through your façade. No matter how rude or deceitful you are, they can see the pureness in your tainted soul. One look into their calm, endless eyes has you thinking about everything. Why is there no such thing as “cold”? How can the earth rotate 1,040 miles-per-hour and yet we can’t feel it? Or why you were throwing you life away at the mere age of seventeen.

   I sighed. 

  “Did you see her face, though?” Alistar pressed further into his and Quinn’s pointless conversation. Me and The Boys walked down the hall, to our lockers. Lunch had ended, without anymore excitement. 

   Alistar coughed into his fist. “She looked fuckin’ pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so mad.”

   “Nah, man.” Quinn shook his head, causing his blond hair to swish into his eyes. “Remember that one time you threw up in her new designer bag? I thought she was gonna have a . . . have a,” Quinn paused his sentence. He snapped his finger at me, looking for a certain word. “What’s it called again?”

   “Aneurysm.”

   “I thought she was gonna have a aneurysm,” Quinn said.

   Alister grimaced, clearly remembering the night. 

   “Oh, my God,” Reninhart jumped in, “you were so drunk.”

   “Yeah, yeah,” Alister muttered, his dark eyebrows dipping in anger. 

   Reaching the lockers, the boys chatted behind me. I sighed again. Reaching into the metal compartment, my car keys dropped out of my jacket pocket and into the locker. The sound of metal made me look down. 

   I took it as a sign. Somewhere, someone wanted me to ditch school and go home. Maybe even smoke a little. 

   Grabbing my keys and book bag, I slammed the locker closed without a second thought. “I’m goin’ home,” I told the boys. Instantly, they stopped talking. 

   Reinhart scrunched his nose. “Why?”

   My shoulders raised, then fell. “Feel like it.”

   The bell rung, and the students littering the hallway began to disperse. Reinhart mimicked my shrug. As he walked off he told me he would see me tomorrow, Alistar and Quinn following close behind him. I watched them until they were out of sight.

   I made my way to the exit, gripping my car keys in my hand so tight the metal nipped at my skin. My eyes stayed locked onto the ground, my back sizzled with the burning glares I received from the Birds. 

   My feet swiftly carried me to my car. The sleek black paint contrasted greatly with the other old, worn looking cars. My zl1 Camaro looked like a god standing in the ruins of an abandoned city. Unlocking the car with a mechanical beeping sound, I plopped myself into the black leather interior. I tossed my book bag into the passgerner’s side, twisting the key into the ignition.