The night was filled with uneasy sleeping for Jayy. He had woken more than twice, so when the alarm went off, he reached his tattoo filled arm out, grabbed devilish thing and threw it as hard as he could against the nearby black wall.
Jayy flopped back down and slapped his hands over his eyes. Moments later the ringing started again. The now pissed off teen flew up and grabbed the fucking device of evil and opened the window. He swung his arm as hard as he damn could and watched as the black little ringing fucker flew through the air... And hit a car.
Jayy burst out laughing when the car alarm started. He's arms held his stomach as his laugher got worse. He was panting and gasped after his breath when his laughter finally died down. He laid down on his floor, his arms holding his torso. The feeling from last night hit him hard like an incoming punch to his stomach. Flashbacks from that night came crashing into his mind. His breathing speed up and his eyelids slammed shot, as the painful memories came back.
The teen concentrated on his breathing; inhale. Exhale. He couldn’t have a panic attack now! He kept up the deep breathing until he could push the fucking images out of his mind.
His breathing slowed and he opened his eyes again. He looked up at his celling as his breathing calmed to the normal. He thought about ‘his’ gang. Could they be the course of this feeling?
The troubled teen got up from the floor and walked out to his connected bathroom. He turned the water on in the shower and took a piss as he waited for the water to become warm. He flushed, closed the lid and washed his hands before jumping into the shower.
Jayy washed his hair and body before grabbing a towel and stepping outta the shower. He dried himself off and put on his underwear. The Shutcall then began on his hair and makeup. When his black and red hair looked satisfying, he popped in some blue contacts and put on a bit of eyeliner. He looked at his refection, pleased with his result.
Jayy walked back into his room and walked straight over to his black closet. The doors were filled with posters, mostly The Used and Marilyn Manson. He pulled out a red tank top, a black west he had made himself, and some black ripped skinnies. He put on the clothing, picked up his backpack, and made his way down the stairs. At the end of the stairs he made his way into the kitchen, grabbed some fruit and walked out to the entre. He put on his sneakers, put a cancer-stick in his mouth, grabbed his keys and walked out the door.
Out on the street he lit his cancer-stick and put his ear buds in his ears. He set his IPod on shuffle and ‘Seen It All Before’ by Bring Me The Horizon blasted in his ears. He smoked and listed the music as he made his way to his prison.
After all he was the Shutcall.
