Savagery

1 - The Start of Adulthood

It was the morning of July 20th, and young Dylan Daley was now 18 years old. He lay on his bed, after only being awake a few minutes. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, yawning simultaneously. He never usually stayed in bed this long after waking up, but today was his birthday and he was savouring every moment of the warm sheets he was wrapped up in. After all, he knew, and he felt, that something was about to happen to him. With a long sigh followed by a grunt, he was out of bed. He stood on the spot facing out the window, feeling the cold floor beneath his bare feet, and attempted to calm his thoughts as best as he could before he faced his parents for breakfast. He didn't want them to panic, but he knew they were already panicking because he could hear the clatters of pots and pans. His mother, Dianne, cooked loudly in the kitchen when she was anything but happy. Dylan had noticed this about his mother at a young age, and it saved him from many confrontations with her and also allowed him to determine the best time to talk to her. He was good at reading people, and he had a keen eye for their behaviour.

Before he moved to get washed and dressed, he admired the view from his window like every other morning. The old country side of Somerset, England. The Daley family moved into the house over 12 years ago, and it was situated on a lovely old farm. The house was surrounded by open land, with forests on the edge around 300 metres from the house. It was a beautiful place and quiet, just how Dylan liked it.

Within a matter of minutes, Dylan was showered and standing in front of his mirror in nothing but a towel. He took a pair of shears to his already buzz-cut dark brown hair, ensuring it was evenly shaved using a .3 guard. He liked having a little hair at least. Although his appearance had gone down negatively in the months prior. His once bright green eyes were not dull and he had dark rings under them. His slim built body was still normal, but his skin had gotten much paler and he looked washed out. To Dylan, it wasn't a priority. Surviving this day, and possibly the next few years, was of high importance to him and his parents both. He had jumped at the sound of his fathers voice, which had come from the other side of his bedroom door. He opened the door to his father, who was just as washed out looking as his son.

"How're you feeling, son?" he asked, anxiously. His hands were shaking, but he was picking at his fingers to hide it. Jeremy's eyes looked into his sons, and he swore his own eyes were reflecting back at him. They both had the same green eyes. If Dylan was a little older, with a few wrinkles and a completely bald head, they could pass as twins. Of course, Dylan was also missing the slight, yet growing more evident, dad body. Jeremy couldn't hold eye contact for long. It was obvious to Dylan that his father was more nervous than he was, and that was due to the fact that his father was aware of what was to come. He promised that all would become clear on Dylan's birthday, and now was the time.

"I'm surviving," he replied, with as little emotion as he possibly could. He didn't want to worry his father even more, but he was tired of being kept in the dark so he pressed his father for information. "I would be much better if I knew what was going on, dad, it's unfair to be kept in the dark," he queried. Jeremy avoided eye contact with Dylan, and he stayed silent as if he was gathering his thoughts.

"Dylan," he began, but was interrupted by the sudden sound of glass shattering downstairs, followed by the screams of Dianne. The screams were replaced with the sound of gun fire, and then silence. Dylan and his father looked at each other in horror, and then jumped from where they sat and ran to the hallway to figure out what was going on. More glass was shattered and both men knew that the house was being invaded, and Dylan almost lost his mind at the realisation that his mother is most likely dead downstairs.

"Dad!" he whispered. "Dad, what's going on?" Jeremy was frozen on the spot, staring at the ground. He was about to speak before footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, and Jeremy grabbed Dylan by the scruff and dragged him back into his bedroom. He locked the door and started barricading it with anything he could find. He was scrambling around the room like some sort of lunatic.