He held his breath every time he rushed past the living room. The drug intoxicated smoke hung heavy below the ceiling and tinged every surface a rotten yellow, marking its territory. He refused to let himself turn out like his father even if it was the last thing he did. But that was before he started high school, where the bullying began. He was a measly five foot four which stood out among his fellow class members as they towered over him. But then he grew, and no body knew what had hit them. Of course, it was...
Wayne Rigsby.
YOU ARE READING
They Weren't Rosy Cheeks...-The Mentalist
FanfictionThey weren't rosy cheeks because of good health, but scarlet because of the pain that had been cast upon them. The stress relief of their parents, the way to shake away all anguish that hunted them... And yet, what did they do wrong?
