Bullseye

Chapter 1

   The name's Leo. I still remember the first bloody time I came here, scratched a hand. It was... what? Midsummer? The Earth was crispy like fried chicken, even with the shadow of these walls... this container. I want to know what they did to me. Nobody tells me-- better said, there is nobody to talk to. I came here with a manual, loss of memory, and the schedule. I know I shouldn't be writing about this. It's probably the worst, stupidest thing I've done to right about now. I could care less.

   The boy stopped, wiping the sweat off his forehead. The slab of wet clay almost melted in his hands as he dug the wooden knife deeper. Whoever reads this- get me out of here. Please. Please. It's been about a year now. They control me like if I were some kind of cow, only meant to make milk then be turned into some beefy hamburger. I don't know, it's just something I'm positive they will fail at. Positive... that's beside the point.

   They have a schedule in which you have to follow. I defied them once and got a burn mark on the side of my neck. An imprint. A label. I stood up late and that was the only time I heard a human voice other than mine. It was mucky, dead and whispered agonizing phrase until it was slit.

   He sucked in a deep breath, I think that's enough for today. Leo gave the clay a small squeeze as he dug under the front steps to hide it from the sun. Who knows what kind of punishment would come across if he didn't. That was a rather difficult concept to think about.

    He dragged himself inside the household. It was a small, red, wooden house. Every utensil was old and rusty. The first day he had come, there was blood in the garden and rich soils behind the house. The Wall were a completely different case. The stone had a sleek, shiny look to them. It was eerie to think of what cleaned them. Nothing in his section of The Wall operated without him being the energy, so you could only imply something else did it.

    Leo's body ached as he was plowing the fields. His hands were fastened on the handle as it dug rows and rows and rows to plant seeds. He had okay upper body strength- most of his energy was either stored in his legs or hands. His hands because he wrote often and liked building things as well. As for his legs, he used them to run -or at least continue- through the work and walked miles and miles throughout the fields.

    "This is so pointless," Leo muttered sourly. His gaze was rather dull, a little disappointed. He often spoke to himself. It wasn't anything that new. "I'd rather be dead instead of living this bloody-" He stopped himself, shaking his head. He knew that wasn't true.

   Speeding up the pace where he practically wasn't trying usually brought him less food. It wasn't a wise option. There were holes dug into the ground- too small for a human being- and they were labeled. Implanted in the ground were golden slabs with the words "corn", "strawberries", "watermelon", "wheat", "apples", and lastly "blueberry' in each hole.

    The more he ditched in the holes, the more spewed out of them. Usually by morning there were materials like bread, jelly, butter, milk, and so on. Meat was the rarest. This is what fed him most of the days.

    He was back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thinking. He often did this, usually losing his consciousness. Sometimes, a memory or two slipped past that barrier that didn't allow more. In dreams, they lasted longer. Most of them were of people he knew. These people just had no- a scream. Leo sprang up from the bed which made a loud creak in response. His eyes narrowed, the darkness seeming to screw with his vision.

    The scream came from over The Wall. He knew it. He hadn't heard one in months. Did he stay awake longer than he was supposed to? Leo couldn't tell anymore. It was all a confusing mush in his head. He assumed something was up with the system--better said Them. The people that took him here.

    Leo headed outside, armed with a shovel. He cocked an eyebrow, not really knowing what to expect. The rambling thoughts took a pause when he heard... waves. Lapping waves that crashed against each other. He could swear he could smell the salt of it too- that was covered up quickly by another showered scream.

   Instead of continuing to stand, obliviously stupid; He pinpointed the direction of the scream and searched for something to mark it. Ah! There was a squashed blueberry next to his foot. Leo swiped a finger over it then wrote a big 'X' on the smooth stone of The Wall. He tapped his foot on the grass, aching to know what caused it. He wanted to scream and aid but he couldn't risk himself being caught if in fact, it was later than the curfew.

   Childish laughter filled the air for what seemed like hours. Leo sat at the center, beside him was his older brother. Claude, was it? He couldn't pinpoint the name. "Hey, Leo?" Claude spoke. Leo always loved his voice. It was so calming, causal, slick like the melted chocolate bars he ate so often.

   "Whatcha want?" Leo replied back. He even made a giggling fit during it.

   Silence thickened in the air for a couple moments.

  "Help..." Claude shifted his head, a horrid empty hole with streaking blood was pinned at the center. You couldn't tell where the mouth was due to random bits of teeth and bone which appeared here and there. A tongue from the middle of the void formed some words.

   Leo squared his shoulders suffocating a scream. "Help me, Leo," he begged. A hand reached out. "Please, I can't feel anything but pain... and it's all YOU'RE FAULT!" His brother shot his hands out and grasped Leo's neck. The boy made a drowning scream, finally. Claude shouted painful words shaking Leo violently until-

   Springing back to life, Leo covered his face with the blanket. He was pale, all except his eyes. Those were red with tears. His hands squeezed the fabrics as he maintained his own silence. Nobody was there to comfort him. Nobody was there to tell him it was a dream. He couldn't even tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

   Goosebumps crawled over his arms as he recalled it. It was these times when he realized how lonely he was.

   How torn up his life had become.

                How much he wished it was all comedic show where behind the scenes, the actors suffered.

Sometimes, how much he wished he were dead.