The sociopathic genius. (Discontinued.)

Prefering your own company.

                                                          Prologue for Jim.

"And now it's all right. Its ok and you may look the other way. We can try to understand, the New York Times effect on man. Whether you're a brother or whether you're a mother you're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Feel the city breakin' and everybody shakin' and we're stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah ha ha ha stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Ah ha ha ha stayin' aliiiivvveee ...."

The funky bass line, a classic 70's riff blasted through the speakers at an ear bleeding volume. Jim nodded in time to the music, smiling as he did so. He doubted he would ever find a song he liked more than this one although he hoped no one else knew that. It could be a bit embarrassing. Today had been a relatively good day, as days go. He had finally got a reply from the boarding school he had secretly applied for a scholarship to. It turned out that he had been accepted. Despite the fact that he had known all along that he would get in Jim was relieved all the same. It's surprising how you don't always realise how much you're worrying about something until it's over when you feel as though a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Jim picked up his phone and sent a quick but important text. Then he lay back on the bed to enjoy this brief moment of solitary happiness. The moment was short lived however as a quiet snippet of the song that was now play issued from Jim's phone announcing a reply to his message.

Being caught in the act would be almost inevitable. Maybe a different course of action would be more appropriate.

Jim sighed and rolled his eyes at the stupidity of it. He sent another text back, his hands inadvertently twitching due to excessive annoyance. Honestly, why was everyone else in the world so despairingly dull? He picked up his sketch book and idly flicked through its pages. The screen of his phone lit up again, another message.

I'll have no part in it.

Jim raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a text to Moran was in order.

Hey Seb, I think Mulligan has forgotten where he stands.

He received a reply instantly.

I'm on it - Sebastian

At that moment there was a loud bang as the front door closed, followed by the sound of two voices. One obviously belonged to a woman (who seemed to be trying to stifle a fit of giggles.) The second voice was surly and gruff, Jim's father. With a disgusted expression Jim reached over to turn his music up. An attempt to drown out the noise of the two lust filled imbeciles who were currently making their way towards his father's bedroom. To Jim's dismay he heard footsteps outside his bedroom. The next second his father burst through the door. He looked furious. "Turn that racket down!" he snarled, getting right up in Jim's face. Jim looked perfectly calm, bored even. It was only the glittering of his eyes that revealed his rage. "I'm sorry" he said, his smooth Irish voice dripping with sarcasm "is it upsetting your stripper friend?" His father glared at him. "Just do as you're told you little good for nothing" he grunted. With that Jim's father left, slamming the door behind him. Jim despised his father with a burning passion. He couldn't wait until the idiot got what was coming to him. But for now all Jim could do was turn down his stereo as his father and his "lady friend" enjoyed themselves. Checking his phone Jim saw that he had a text from Moran.

Mulligan has been taken care of. - Sebastian

Jim sighed. He couldn't wait to get out of this hell hole. Sketch book back in hand to try and distract himself, Jim quietly sang along to his music being careful to make sure no one heard him.

"Life goin' nowhere, somebody help me. Somebody help me yeah."