You Don't Even Know Me... (Bennoda)

Chapter One

Mike's POV

He sighs as he leans back in his swivel chair at his desk, multiple papers crumbled into balls at his feet.

"God..." Mike huffs in frustration.

He can't seem to find the right words. Every line he writes in his notebook is thrown away as he deems it not worthy for this song. Not this one. After weeks of brainstorming, the time had come to put his thoughts into the music. But nothing seemed to do the song justice.

He thought for a second, then looked at the clock above his desk, it seemed to accelerate from 6:00 to 11:45 at night. He needed to sleep if he was going to get up for school in the morning.

He threw on sweats and hopped into his bed, fiddling with the light switch on his nightstand, contemplating, before turning it off and drifting into unconsciousness.

Chester's POV

Chester tried to keep his composure as he bolted upstairs to his room  locking the door quickly behind him. He nearly fell down on his bed.

"Fuck.. you," Chester whispered to himself, trying to catch his breath. He ran his hands through his spikey blonde hair and gritted his teeth.

He told himself he'd stand up to his father one day. Tell him to leave him the fuck alone for once. To stop using him to vent his drunken mistakes and frustrations. He put his head in his hands and sighed. He knew that wasn't going to happen.

It just wouldn't. Chester was too afraid to retaliate no matter what, because he knew the consequences would be more intense then he could handle.

His blood still pumping, he relived the recent events in his head. He couldn't help but to, no matter how fucking painful. When your parents' voice is the only one you're hearing, over the years, you begin to believe what they say. It never leaves the back of your mind, whether it's right or wrong. It's always there.

He stood up, slightly dizzy and looked in the mirror. He felt the same emotion as usual... barely anything. Not impressed of himself or how he looked. Same beaten down, scrawny, worthless kid.

As he examined his small, weak form in the mirror, his eyes nearly welled up at a hopeless thought.

Who would ever want anyone like me? Look at you. You're fucking 17, and you can't even stand up to your own father?

He glanced over at a box on the shelf in front of him and walked towards it... wondering if he even had the energy to bring himself to do that tonight.

Feeling that he couldn't stay awake much longer he decided against it. Exhausted, he threw himself on the bed and pulled a notebook from under his pillow.
He took a deep breath and started writing.

"You like to think you're never wrong
You live what you've learned

You have to act like you're someone

You want someone to hurt like you

You want to share what you have been through"

Chester could feel his eyes getting heavy with every other word he wrote. He yawned and put the notebook in his backpack.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift off as he laid back in his bed. He always had the same vision in his mind... He was standing on a stage, saying everything he needed to say, almost screaming it at everyone who'd wronged him...who watched from below in the audience.

He hoped that one day his voice would be heard...and not ignored like it's always been. He slipped off his shoes and got under the covers, letting his mind take him to the only place he felt like he belonged.

Mike's POV

"BUUZZ... BUUZZ...BUUZZ!"

An annoying buzzing noise seemed to pierce Mike's ears with every sound.

"Mmeehh...", he groaned unintelligibly and turned over.
What the hell was he dreaming about? Then the realization hit him. That horrible noise sounded familiar and meant something. Something urgent. What was it?

"Oh, shit!" He yelled, as he sat up in bed and glanced up at the clock on the wall that read: 8:35.

"Damn it, why didn't I wake up earlier?" He said to himself as he threw on his shirt and grabbed his backpack before running downstairs.

He grabbed a muffin sitting on the kitchen counter and bolted out the door to his car and got in. Luckily, school wasn't but a five minute drive from where he lived, so he arrived quickly, parked the car, and ran in through the double doors.

A sea of students were starting to flood the hallways as Mike tried to get to his classroom. He tried to navigate quickly and carefully through the crowd, but it was useless, as more and more students poured out coming from every direction.

He managed to get nearly all the way through the crowd, but felt himself jolt, and collide with someone else.

"Ouch," a small voice said. Mike looked down and saw a small, blonde spikey-haired boy wearing a black hoodie struggle to collect his books and papers as they were being kicked in every direction.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry. Let me help you." The students were almost cleared out and Mike reached down for different notes and textbooks, collecting them all in his arms.

"Here you g-", once he stood to his feet again, Mike attempted to hand the small boy his things.

"What the..?" Mike said, puzzled. He looked around, but all the students were already gone... and the small boy, too.