Welcome To The Dark Side. (ON HOLD)

That Boy

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Hey guys Its Socorra Here! I hope you like this short story, it took me some time to type this out as I was have problems in what to write. Please comment and like or whatever you would like. The first ones to comment I'll use your name for the next story I write. Please also comment on what I should write next and some ideas. Anyways Hope you enjoy!

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An innocent boy no older than 17, who had no one. No family, no friends, no lovers. He was a boy that lived in the shadows. He was frightened of life, of the world - how life would always push him out, how all of the world turned it's back on him, how life threw everything in its power to stop him from doing great and wonderful things.

He was walking back to where he called home, a tunnel at an old park on the west side of the city. It wasn't much but for him it was home. It was safe. For him it was better than sleeping without a roof over his head. Home was home, and he had everything he wanted and needed. Well that isn't true. He dreamed every night of a family. A real family, not the birds that came every morning to sing their songs, not the hedgehog that cames and burrowed at the bottom of his feet, and not the cat that kept him warm on cold, lonely nights. The cold, hunger, and loneliness are his friends and sometimes his enemies. Hunger was always on his mind. Warmth, food, and company.

His tunnel was cold and full of newspaper covering the hard concrete floor. His bed was grass cuttings and leafs. His blankets were old sheets that were from his old home, and in the corner was a small brown suitcase filled with his few possessions that he saved. It was cold, but after a few years he got use to the frost biting chill. The cut grass that was his bed started to stink once the fresh cut grass got wet. He got sick a lot because he didn't live in a clean area. Being sick was like dying. He was in so much pain and he couldn't do anything to stop it. He also had a broken heart, from watching his mother dying slowly in pain. In the end he had killed her.

Feeling guilt and shame for what he had done and become, he had collapsed with remorse at the feet of his dead mother, unable to move, think, or speak, for what felt like eternity. He left her sitting there in her favorite seat dead. Gradually the flies came, using the dead corpse as not only a feeding ground, but a nesting station. The stench roused him from the rigid state, the foul smell that would give the old rotting house a perfume of the decomposing body slowly melting into the creamy ripped seat, slowly combining into one. Unable to live with himself knowing that he did something like that, he ran. He knew he would be hunted down and killed by his older brother Sam, It's just a matter of time now.

Sara - Loving, kind, caring. Loving her sons more than anything. Her husband - w ell that's another story. The boy loved his mother very much, she was his savior, his protective screen, without her he was broken, cracked, and frayed, like the whip that hung from his father's wall. Loyalty, trust, respect. The feelings that flowed between them. Love, affection, passion. The emotions that bonded the mother and son, the abuse and absence of his father was the string, tying them closer. The boy knew that his father made Sara's life a living hell, but once the deadly virus had latched itself onto Sara, his father backed away letting the virus take its course on the once healthy, beautiful, fun-filled mother.This action of backing off was not a sign of remorse or any kind of regret or guilt. Instead it was an opportunity. An opening to another victim, to another person who was within lashing range. With Sara out of the way fighting her own battle, the boy was left unprotected. He was next in line to feel the wrath of his father's abuse.

Once, the boy had a girlfriend. Once he had a dad. Once he had a family. He had loved his family very much but when his mother fell ill with the deadly virus, his dad left his family to fend for themselves. He left, leaving them with nothing, but their own clothes on their backs. Without their father to support them and give them shelter, warmth and food, they fell into depression, without money or hope they didn't know if they would live till the next day. Then the one and only person that he trusted and cared about left him. His girlfriend left him saying that he did something stupid and she couldn't put up with all his struggles in life. She left him that day with no hope of ever getting back together. He had loved her very much but she turned her back on him and left. His father had ill- treated his family, but mostly him; he hit the boy when he couldn't get anything right, leaving bruises on his body where his father's perfect imprint of his fist was left, there wasn't any part of his body that didn't show either a bruise, cut, or scar showing and reflecting the abuse and strength of his father. His father would bark out orders, making him work until twilight. Long, hard, cold hours from 6, till 6 making him work laboriously. If he gave up his father would yet again beat him, his father wanted him to be like his older brother, cold hearted, and cruel.

When life seemed all too hard for the boy he would let out a yell. A scream. A cry. A shout. He would bury his cries and hurt from the rest of the world, only leaving the muffled sounds of his whimpers to echo through the passages of the tunnel. Only then and now he was at his weakest point and could be crushed, at other times standing strong and tall like a wall, blocking and refusing to see or hear the pain. Life seemed to pass by too quick, like a day rolling into one, or the moon rising too slow, or the sun is setting too fast. These were the days he would lay in bed wishing he were dead. Knowing that the day would come where he would come face to face with his brother. One angry, hurt, revengeful older brother. For him that day seems to hang tight, to take its time coming, what he didn't know was that it was right around the corner.

No one is safe. No one is ever safe. Not here and not anywhere in this world. We live and we die. We make mistakes and we regret them. We live and fend for ourselves and we die trying, or we hide, and die a cowardly death. Our lives are one big cycle of this.

The day finally came, and it couldn't have come on more of a perfect day. A day perfect for a cold blooded revenge - cold, dark stormy. The Boy had decided to stay in bed and sleep out the cold. Waiting till it leaves him, the walls icy cold reminding him that the storm was there yet again. He put on everything he owned and pushed himself deeper and deeper into his sheets, pulling the cat close beside him, feeling the small ball of fluff pressed against him. He felt the hedgehog once again make her home at the bottom of his feet, he did not hear the birds singing their songs today. Hours went by like they were seconds, and the sun that was suffocated by clouds finally set. He let out a sigh, knowing the worst had past. He fell asleep only to wake up to a cold metal circle pressed against his cheek. Startled he awoke to a sight of a face that he grew up with, a sight that belonged to one person and one person only, and in that hand of that person was a gun, that was a sight he wished never come.

"Hello Bruce, Did you miss your big brother Sam?" 

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So I reedited it and rewrote a lot in this chapter!! I hope you like the small but drastic changes that I have made to this story! This was all for my little BookWorms.

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Also If you have any suggestions please flick me a message or comment, I'll be more than happy to listen to your ideas and dedicate the chapter to you ^-^

Corra xox