Darius Warson had had a rough childhood. Well, his whole life was pretty rough, but his childhood was the worst of it, because that was where it all began.
He never did learn to walk and talk like other kids. Well, not in the same way anyway. His parents never bothered to teach him; too weak and frail. Darius was left forced to learn himself, but he wasn't too good at it. His walking skills were terrible, and the only words he knew were 'go' and 'away'. His mother never wanted to see him, and didn't even care about him, so those were the only words he heard for years.
His father, John Warson, died only months after his son's birth, so Darius never knew him well at all. He didn't even know how he died, all he knew was that he was dead. His mother refused to say a thing about him, besides, she never really talked to Darius anyway, so that was to be expected.
His mother's lack of care really showed when Darius was a child - he was skinny, his hair was ridiculously long and untidy, and as a baby, his nappy was rarely changed, unless his mother decided that the stench was too unbearable to stay for any longer. There were also bruises all over his body, from his brother, Nolan, who enjoyed...well...I'd rather not go into detail.
Darius was defenceless, and couldn't do anything about it - he was only about three at the time. So he had sustain until he was about to hit his fifth birthday (which, of course, no one wanted to celebrate) when he decided he had had enough of it.
"Hey, wimp, I heard you liked mashed potatoes," sneered Nolan, an evil smile creaking onto his face as he pulled something from behind him. Darius stared, his face full of fear, when suddenly, it became a face of anger.
"So I thought I would-OUCH!" The plate full of mashed potatoes fell to the ground in a yellow blur as Nolan did the same, holding his leg in agony.
"What the hell did you do that for, you little-"
"Go away!" screamed Darius. "Go away! Go away! Go away!" He repeated over and over, his voice too loud for anyone to hear Nolan cursing under his breath. He wouldn't stop, until his mother ran over to put a stop to it, somehow managing to shout over Darius to tell him to get to his room (which was the cupboard under the stairs, how cliche), but Darius didn't stop, no matter how many times she threatened him. She ended up painstakingly carrying him herself to his room, and he still continued to scream, until he finally fell asleep and stopped.
Darius finally got a break from all this though, a couple of months later, when his mother decided that he ought to go to school.
"Stupid child! The only way you're going to learn any good is if they knock the good into your noggin!"
Of course, Darius didn't know any better. She wasn't teaching him anything, or doing anything useful sitting on the tattered couch all day watching TV. She was just doing him worse with every day she neglected him. I wish she had been a better parent to Darius. I really do. Maybe we wouldn't have had to put ourselves through this mess.
Maybe our lives could have been better.
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Author's Notes: This chapter's a bit longer, so hopefully there's more here for you to give feedback on. If there's anything I could improve, please let me know. That's the only way I can get better.
As for the story itself, well, I won't say anything. I don't want to spoil it, and you should be smart enough to decipher it yourself, and if there's something you can't, it's probably a question I've deliberately left to be answered later. So look forward to future chapters. Because there's a lot to look forward to.
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What have I done?
Acción"No...no...no...no." He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to believe what he had done. He didn't want to. Darius Warson didn't know the meaning of right and wrong anymore, but he was going to find out. Loss, betrayal, anger, yet a strange spark of...
