Rip My Heart Out

Chapter Two

A/N Here's chapter two. This fic is going to be dark and twisted and a lot different from my others and I'm really excited. Please comment :)

The drive home from church is always filled with Harry talking about what he learned. It's usually a new bible story every week with the occasional simple verse, like John 3:16.

"And today, mommy, we learned about Noah and the arc." Harry says, proudly.

"Oh, yeah, honey? What did you learn about Noah?" My mother asks with a little over exaggerated enthusiasm in her tone.

And so my brother starts on about the flood and the animals getting on the arc two at a time.

I stare out the window, I've heard all those bible stories a million times.

We pass a liquor store and I see the same boy from earlier, the one who was smoking. He's walking into the store, I say a small prayer for his family.

Many of the people who lived around here didn't want the liquor store built, but somewhere along the way a man with a lot of money came in and the stores been open for two years now.

"Is it alright if I go into town and buy a new book?" I ask as soon as we pull into the drive way.

Once a month I go to the little book store right next to the liquor store and buy a new book. I read rather fast so by the time the next month rolls around I'm ready for a new one anyway.

My mother looks at my father with a questioning look and he nods. She speaks, "Be home before dinner.

I kiss her on the cheek and take of down the road, it's only a fifteen minute walk.

Mentally I debate whether or not I just lied. I mean, I do want a new book, but i have to pass the liquor store on the way and I'm more curious about that boy than I am interested in getting something new to read.

I decide to ask God to forgive me anyway, just in case.

As I approach town, which consists of about ten small shops and two restaurants, I notice Michael Clifford, the boy mother said has been getting up to no good.

He's standing with a group of three other boys, all wearing dark colors and all seem a bit scary.

He's got a cigarette in his mouths and it bobs up and down as he talks.

I try to walk past him but we make eye contact so I stop, "Hi, Michael." I nervously smile.

The other boys with him all eye me up and down and one of them is trying not to laugh as the other two whisper. "Uh. Hi." He stares at me like he doesn't know who I am.

"We missed you at church this morning." I say, trying to hopefully start a conversation with him. He used to be so nice.

"Do you want something, Irwin?" He says, annoyed.

I stare at him, why is he being so rude. All these no-good gangs around here are going to start running people off, I bet you.

When I don't answer he turns so his back is completely facing me and picks up in a story I must have interrupted.

I just shake my head and walk on towards the books store.

As I pass the liquor store, I look inside. The boy is in there, looking at drinks on the shelves.

I get a better view of what he looks like than I did before, he's tall and got blonde hair that stands up on his head. He's even got one of them awful face rings on his lip, it looks painful.

I can't believe some of the people who live here, we should have better citizens.

I keep on walking to my destination and open the door, a small bell rings.

The older lady behind the counter greets me with a smile. I step in and walk toward the back, that's where they keep the good books.

I start scanning the shelves. Most of these I've ready already read and brought back since there's a limited amount of copies. I read the spine of all the books and look for something I haven't read yet.

Ah, found one. And Then There Were None.

I open the book and read the description page. Before I really get to concentrate and comprehend what I'm reading though, I hear a deep voice behind me say, "Ten little Indians went out to dine, one choked his little self and then there were nine."

I quickly spin around at the strange words and see the blonde boy, he's taller up close. "Nine little Indians sat up very late, one overslept himself and then there were eight." He smirks.

"Excuse me?" I ask, what is he even saying?

"Eight little Indians traveling in Devon, one said he'd stay there and then there were seven."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, extremely confused.

"The book."

"What?"

He looks at me like I'm hopeless, "Its the poem that the book you're holding is based on."

I look down at the book and he starts, "Seven little Indians chopping up sticks, one chopped himself in halves and then there were six."

Before he barely gets the words out of his mouth I cut him off and ask, "How do you know that?"

He shrugs. "I read."

The lady at the front desk is staring at us in a not so subtle way.

I shouldn't be talking to this boy. He's bad and if word get back to my parents that I even listened to what he had to say then they wouldn't let me go into town anymore.

"I should go." I emotionlessly state and push past him, lightly bumping his shoulder.

He presses forward, so he doesn't move as easy and it harder for me to get by.

He turns to watch after me as I approach the counter. "Six little Indians playing with a hive, a bumblebee stung one and then there were five."

I hear him continue the poem as I quickly throw a few bills on the counter and exit the store.

He hasn't moved from the same spot we were talking in.

Such a strange boy. I shouldn't have even spoken to him. And that poem was awfully dark.

I shake my head and keep walking, watching the sun beam down as I head home.