Tales Of The Broken - Watty Award Story

~*1*~ Life Is Tough... So Is An Alligator

CHAPTER 1

"Sweetie, you should go to school."

I slowly looked up slowly from my bowl. Was she joking? She didn't have a smile on her face, or the small crinkle that showed she was forcing back laughter. She was serious. I stared at my mother with my dull, ice blue eyes, then slowly looked back to my bowl and began eating my soggy cereal again. She sat down in the seat beside me and began to stroke my cheek. I flinched from her touch, scooting my chair away from her.

"Amelia, don't you think he should go to school?" she asked, looking over at our maid and my little brother's baby sitter, Amelia. My little brother, Eric, is only three; he was born when I was fourteen. He had been one when the... incident... happened. Only two years ago.

Amelia had just walked into the room with Eric on her hip. I barely glanced up, even though I was very aware of her presence entering the room.

"I do," Amelia answered, in her crisp English accent. "Asher, you must get an education."

I raised my head slightly and turned to look at Amelia. Her dark brown eyes were sparkling with concern, while little Eric reached out for me to take him. I got to my feet, took Eric from Amelia, and walked out of the room. I wasn't hungry in the first place, I only eat because I have to.

"Asser," Eric cooed, gently touching my cheek. Exactly where one of my many scars marred my once smooth skin. I immediately froze, when I got the eerie feeling of her stroking my cheeks like before, and dropped Eric on his butt. He paused for a moment, and then burst into tears. Mom and Amelia came rushing out, to see me staring down at Eric and him crying at my feet.

"Asher what did you do?" my mom shouted at me, picking Eric up and cradling him, bouncing him and shushing. "Go to your room."

"BITE ME B*TCH!" I screamed and stormed from the house, slamming the door so loud behind me that it echoed around the neighborhood. I saw a few people peak outside of their homes, curious for what the commotion was. When they see me, they immediately know nothing is wrong and go back to do whatever they were doing before.

This was a normal thing. I would do something random; mom would yell at me, I would scream at her and storm out. But the truth was; I hated her. Sometimes more than others. She's the reason I am the way I am, her and dad. Dad's currently on a trip in Italy for his job, which I don't want to speak of. I growled under my breath and flipped open my door, climbed in, and backed out of the driveway.

It was night time, probably only eight at night. There weren't many places I could go, but I did know one place I could go any time I wanted.

The gym was one of the few places I could go at the moment. I need to burn off some steam. I've had to do that ever since I could, when I was just released from the hospital eight months ago. Sighing, I leaned back and stared straight ahead, not letting my gaze wander, not letting my focus waver. I know if I did, her voice would come back to me, her touch, her smell...

I roughly shook my head, ridding myself of her, and taking deep, cleansing breaths like they had taught me in the hospital. Oh god the hospital... I remember when I first woke up there, and those words that the doctor had uttered had sent my body into frenzy, and I had nearly died again.

[i]"I'm sorry to say this, Mr. and Mrs. Foxx, but it appears your son has schizophrenia."

"W-What?" mom stuttered, staring at the doctor like he had said I grew a second head.

"My son can't have schizophrenia," dad argued desperately, clutching my mother close. Schizophrenia. Wasn't that that disorder... brain problem... that causes people to hear voices? Or have like, sharper view of things? And I just noticed how the room was abnormally brighter than it should be, and I could see clear detail of everything in here.