Ink Stain

Ace

If you tune out the whole world for four years straight, are you really apart of the world? Or are you just a floating piece of shadow, peeking out into reality on a rare occasion. A silent man, who only steps in when no one is around. Is it really necessary to connect with people? Are friends also the people you work with? Or smoke with in this case?

Ace took his drag on the cigarette, easing the smoke out of his nostrils like an intimidating dragon. He flipped the switchblade about, showing off the movements he had been studying and practicing for years. He had nailed it, knew every direction the blade would go, and still never knew how to actually used a knife. He played himself off as a guy who knew everything, didn't need anyone, but Ace was far from it.

He didn't really have any friends that had given him the nickname "Ace." He just wrote it on his paper once, and the teacher recognized it as him. Ever since 7th grade people forgot who he was and knew him as Ace. He was determined to be different, to be cooler, better looking and charismatic. He knew he wanted to be the bad boy girls swooned over, but he was just a child in a leather jacket with a troubled past.

He wasn't even suicidal like most kids in his situation, his biggest problem was the temper. But not many knew that, only his mother. Life at home was awkward, and would begin to turn hostile as the evening went on. It was a cycle of Ace coming home to a drinking mother, getting yelled at for being so anti-social, and him yelling at her for being a drunk bitch. Then they'd never talk to each other again.

Ace saw the first cars drive up, all seniors getting there early. He hated them, he hated the school, he hated the town. Everything relating to this place was washed up and dull. There was nothing here, and Ace was ready to move out. Go to a big city and be a new person. His own person. No more family, no more friends. Just him. Ace.