To Live & Forgive

Chapter 1

"That's stupid too," the sixteen year old boy mumbled to himself as he deleted yet another sentence from his computer. He didn't seem to notice that he stayed up past 5:00 AM writing, or the fact that he had a math test in the next few hours that he hadn't studied for yet. He let out a tired yawn and wiped at his brown eyes.

"Must... Finish..." he trailed off, trying to fight the sleep that was slowly overpowering him. His eyes began to close and and he scratched an itch on top of his messy dark brown hair. He laid his head on the backboard, shut his eyes, and fell into an uneasy rest. However, the cat nap was soon broken by Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On.' His eyes fluttered open and he glared at his alarm as it continued to play her majestic voice.

He laid in the comfortable bed for a moment, thinking if it was worth it to leave and go to the prison known as highschool.

'Why should I go? I'll just be made fun of like always,' he thought cynically, remembering the painful memories of being pushed, punched, and humiliated by a different group of people everyday. He pulled up his sleeve and looked at a recent bruise he had received on his shoulder. His pale skin was now replaced with an ugly looking mark again. He quickly pulled it down when he heard footsteps coming upstairs, not wanting one of his parents to find out about his recent job as a punching bag.

His door opened, revealing a tired looking Melanie Baker wearing roller sets in her hair, a red hoodie, and Victoria Secret jogging pants. "Wyatt Jean Baker, why aren't you in the shower already," she scolded.

"I was going to before you came in," he replied as he took his computer off his lap.

"You were writing all night again, weren't you?" she asked rhetorically.

It was always Wyatt's dream to write his very own book. His parents had known that ever since he was little, but the dream had yet to become a reality.

"Not all night," he corrected. He pulled the covers off and placed his feet on the cold wooden floor, sending shivers down his spine. "I was reading for most of the night and then I decided to write."

"Well why don't you hurry up and finish? You're practically done with it, aren't you?" She asked, following him out of the messy room.

He wanted to ignore her and drop the subject. In all truthfulness, he wasn't sure if he would ever finish the book with so much going on in his life. Homework plus tending scars doesn't equal time to write unless he had an idea for the next part, which was somewhat rare.

"I'm almost done," he lied.

His mother rolled her eyes. "That's what you said last time. Now don't waste time dilly dallying, you only have so much time," she warned before walking back downstairs, leaving her son alone.

He continued walking, but then took a brief pause as he stared at the empty room that had been abandoned five years ago. However, Wyatt had no time lamenting on the past and continued his stride to the bathroom once again.

***

"Asshole!" The 21 year old yelled out angrily through the car window as a car almost caused him an accident. "That was a stop sign you idiot. Who the hell taught you how to drive?"

He let out a frustrated sigh and slowly gained his composure, finger combing through his black hair to keep from punching anything. He started the rusty, old truck back up and continuing his designated drive to the college parking lot. He wished he had a beer, maybe that would calm his nerves.

"Damn Vince, keep up the sailor talk and I'm gonna have to get the swear jar," his blonde companion joked from the passenger seat. He grabbed a cigarette from behind his ear and then a lighter from his pocket to light it.