Outcast

Ethan.

"What are you going to do? Fight me?" He taunted, I wanted to snap his neck, break all of his fingers and watch him fall to the ground. I couldn't, I shouldn't. Counting to 10 didn't work, it was a stupid coping mechanism. The last thing I was thinking about was what came after the number 5.

1,2, fuck you, 3,4, shot in the jugular, 5,6, fall like bricks, 7,8 here's the date, 9,10, you'll be dead by then.

*

Friday.

The clock's been ticking for days. No sound has been heard for years. The room was damp and dreary, moss growing from the celling where it's been raining. grass and vines winding up the wall. The boarded windows letting in a small amount of light. This was my zone. I didn't build this, no. I just hung out here.

It got abandoned three years ago. Was a five star hotel. 25 floors, indoor and outdoor pool, games room and a hospital. All the big names came here - then one day just... poof. No one knows the true story. No one likes to talk about it.

I liked it up here, it took a climb since mother nature (and idiots investigating) had broken a couple stairs and it's not like the lift worked. But when you got up here, boy it was worth the climb. The hotel was just out of the city centre, from the roof you could see the tops of business buildings and the hustle of city life. I grew up in there, I was made who I am today there.

I'm Ethan, 17 in three weeks and I'm not like other boys my age, I've always been an outcast; never had many friends . I had fairly high grades, mostly in Science and P.E, I wasn't the mathematicians or the english literature freak like the majority of my year. I live in the attic of our house, not because I'm neglected, but because it's nicer than being on a floor with an older brother who was a drummer in a band, an older sister who was dating a jerk and my parents who only were really interested in their electronic devices and TV programmes. Let's just say I learnt to fend for myself at a young age.

It was 12:22pm. I'd been in school for 3hrs and 10 minutes. Sounds pathetic, but that's life. I had anger issues - I saw a therapist but his methods didn't work. A bunch of boys taunt me and I loose it. A switch flips, a dial turns, my mind is focused on one thing and one thing only - death.

I'd made an impromptu therapy appointment after this weeks events, I didn't want it but I had cancelled the last one about four times, and it was in 15 minutes. I climb in the window, down the ledge and drop onto the floor below, a faint splashing noise echo's the open corridor. Slowly, I stroll down and make my way to the bottom, weaving in and out of the building as I go.

I jump onto my push bike and peddle to the building. I really didn't want to go to this meeting.

**

The receptionist walks into the waiting room, looks around and then at me, "Ethan, up the stairs to the left-"

"-room 4032 yeah I know. Been going long enough" I cut her off and brush past her. The stairs were the circular kind which made me a little light headed as I reached the top. He was stood in his doorway as I opened the hallway doors.

"Ethan, please come in. How are you?" He says as I walk towards his door, my fists already tensing at his calm tone.

I sit down at the table.

"So, what brings you here today? After the, four is it, cancelled appointments?"

I take a deep breath, tense my jaw and close my eyes, "3hrs and 10 minutes"

"Jeez, that's a new low Ethan."

"Well I can't fucking help it."

"Well, that's what we're working on... isn't it? We're trying to make it for at least five hours at school" Ben explains as he opens his notebook and uncaps his pen. I tense my fists, he notices "Okay, talk me through you're week."

"Monday" I say, Ben writes it down in his book "I was at school 4hrs 12 minutes. I made it to fourth period. It was maths. Theo wrote psycho on a scrunched up ball of paper and through it at me, it hit me in the head - he laughed and called it ironic, I threw him against the wall and got restrained by my teacher."

"Was it Just the one kid?" Ben asks calmly, I nod.

"Tuesday" I close my eyes "2hrs 22minutes. It was period two, Media studies. Max and his stupid fucking girlfriend were taunting me, saying I'd never get a girlfriend if I kept acting the way I did. That I was just a social outcast. I grabbed him by the throat, threw him on the ground and removed myself from the class. I was sent home by Mr. Richmonds, fucking prick"

"Ethan!"

"Wednesday" I tense "fucking Wednesday"

"Extremely bad or?" Ben cautiously asks, I nod. "We'll come back to it, Thursday?"

"Thursday" I breath "5hrs 6 minutes. Period five. Science. Max again. Brings up how my grades are only good because we're learning about the human body. That I'm only interested in the subject so I can learn about the different veins to cut. Different ways to dismember a body. I stab him with my pen, right in the hand. Didn't penetrate skin, not much anyway. Teacher threw me out, so I just left."

I hear Ben suck in air through his teeth. Saying it out loud made me feel like a stupid idiot. Why couldn't I control my anger? Why couldn't I just be fucking normal? Why couldn't I just go out with the lads and play football without wanting to fight, or go to the beach and have a couple beers whilst having a campfire and not want to throw a body in the fire. I'm fucked up. I know.

Ben clicks in my face, "Ethan? Focus. Friday, what happened today Ethan."

I clear my throat. "3hrs 10 minutes. I was in Photography. Period three. Aaron was showing everyone his photography, it was shit I won't lie. Mine was dark photography, shadows in the fog, night ghosts - that sort of thing? One of my pictures I'd dried on a bloody hand print, not real blood. But Aaron was insistent that it was. He grabbed it, started touching it, I tried to grab it back, it ripped. I then ripped a bit of his work, he pushed me to the ground, laid punches into me. I managed to flip him over and retaliate. Richmonds pulled me off him, sent me up to the office - I left."

I could feel myself shaking violently, Ben must've noticed too because he proceeded to keep quiet for the next ten minutes. I wasn't ready to talk about Wednesday. Not yet. I still needed time to process what had happened. Never mind Ben processing it.

I'm such a fucking idiot