September 9th, 2005
Shelbyville, Indiana
Uric sighed slightly as he palmed the rope. Did he really want to do this? Did he really want to die? Suicide was a sin after all, and he didn't want to go to hell. Hell he'd probably see his drunk of a father there, he didn't want to see that.
He wanted to see all the people he'd killed in his sixteen years of life. His mom, his aunt, his grandfather. He cried silently, he didn't want to be heard. His foster parents were nice but they were awkward when it came to stuff like this.
They often said he was nice to have because he did everything he was supposed to and they could see them being together until he came of age. Uric didn't know how he felt about that. He'd been here for almost a year now and went to school in Shelbyville even though it was further away than the school in their district.
He sighed heavily as he rolled the rope up neatly and put it back in his dresser drawer. He knew he needed more time to think this through, because he knew once it happened there was no going back. He would either succeed and most likely go to Hell and be damned for all eternity, or he would fail and suffer the embarrassment of having failed at it. If you're gonna die do it right. He thought angrily. One of the last words his father said to him, but he didn't say it, he wrote it on a paper that blamed Uric for everything that has gone wrong in his life, the death of his wife, Helena, and then two years later, the death of Uric's stepmother, Angela.
Uric once again sighed, coming to the conclusion that he sighed a bit too much he looked at the clock. In big, bold, red letters it said, "Uric Jameson, you should get to bed young man!" Is what it would have said if clocks could talk. What it really said was: 4:32 am.
He knew he needed to go to bed, he knew he had a test, he knew his best friend would have a new set of drama about his many lovers. He knew all these things, but... He just couldn't sleep, he couldn't get his brain to shut down, to go into power saving mode at least but nothing. But he had an itching sensation that wouldn't go away, like something was coming.
In the end he ended up staying awake and going to school an hour early, he could see the marching band on the practice field with the advent Mr. Jones yelling at them to not slow down. It was quite entertaining to watch. He noticed that there was a new face in the marching formation. She was holding a snare, which is what made her stand out.
She was small, petite, with long purple hair in a braid down her back. He only saw her back but it was enough, she wore a shirt with no sleeves, and a pair of jean shorts. She had on black converse that looked old and tattered. She had some freckles on her shoulders. From the back she looked beautiful. He found his eyes going down, down. She even had a nice butt.
He shook his head. He decided to just get the test over with, and he couldn't do that with a freaking butt on his mind. He did it often, doing tests early that is, then he'd be able to just skip fourth. Head to the library and then to lunch without having to deal with raging morons.
He walked in, his eyes traveling the walls. Why white? Why not a nice... I don't even know. He thought this often, he hated the white, and when it got dirty it turned to a yellowish white, off-white, without being off-white.
He inhaled deeply and stuck his hands into his butt pockets. He would pass the test, he would, he could. But most of all he felt the urge to make his mother proud.
He looked at the wooden door with distaste. He could just turn around, not comeback until fourth. But then he'd deal with morons... This was -to him- a sucky decision. But he turned and walked away. He'd just play some hardcore music in class.
He found himself back outside, leaning on the hood of his car, it was turned towards the practice field. He watched how fluid and smooth it was, as though it took no effort.
Though he'd never admit it, he'd not been staring at the whole formation, but rather a singular person in the formation. The strange new girl. She still had yet to turn around. Uric continued to see only her back, though in his opinion it wasn't a bad position to be in. Suddenly she pivoted and her face was on display to him.
Her cheekbones were high, and dusted with light freckles, her eyes were a dark brown, and her lips were in a thin line. She moved with a confident air, it was sure and strong, something Uric was sure he'd never be able to do.
He watched as her eyes flickered towards his, and brown met green and he smiled a true smile, while she also grinned big.
YOU ARE READING
Sorrow Is The Devils Favorite Song
ParanormalUric Jameson has had a sad life, his mother died in childbirth, his father committed suicide when he was ten, his grandfather died of a heart attack, and so on and so forth throughout his family until no one was left. Feeling as though he's a walkin...
