Unstoppable

The Twenty-Third

Tuesday rolled around, like a cute puppy. A puppy that didn't want to wake, move, eat, sleep, or fucking breathe at this point. Sighing, I turned over with all the morale of someone about to be executed. The numbers, again, suspended themselves in the darkness of the night.
It can't be that early...
Allowing my eyes to focus, I managed to adjust to the simplistic numeracy I'd been taught for a while.
Five o' clock.... are you kidding me... well, I'm not gonna get back to sleep now, am I?
Turning over, I tried. I tried for around five minutes before my body decided that it wanted to consume some sort of food. Giving in, I slithered out of bed, threw myself down the stairs, and made myself some breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausage, and hash browns. The sizzling and the sensation of smelling the freshly cooked bacon did bring some life back into my body, allowing me to open and close my eyes properly, and not wonder if anything is worth doing anymore.
Is Callum still here? He could've left. I mean, it's really likely. Why would he, or anyone, want to put up with me? Speaking of people... I need to find Charlotte. God, she's probably so confused...
Tossing the bacon round one more time, I realised that the air near me had moved, ever so slightly. Not enough to warrant panic, but enough to worry about whatever it was. I had no pets, so it had to be someone. Gambling, I called out behind me:
"Good morning, Callum."
A mumbled "Morning." Was heard, and my fear level went down to around two. Panic settled down slightly before I turned around to see him, checking to see if he wanted food. The dark brown eyes that I'd seen many times seemed to have darkened ever so slightly. His body seemed to be hindered as he slumped over the table, looking like a freshly killed corpse.
Perhaps he was. Perhaps doing The Boss' bidding for this long has finally caught up with his soul. Perhaps he's finally realised that I'm no different to Liam, or to Poppy, two deranged people. Do I have an excuse because I can come back to life? Because I can change? Because I know how self-aware and self-needy I can be? Maybe none of us can be excused for our actions.
"Y-you want a coffee or something?" I asked him, checking with my eyes for any vital movements. For a solid seven seconds, I heard and saw nothing. Then, almost with a delicacy, he lifted his head up, nodded for a few seconds, and put his head back down, clearly tired and not in the mood. Moving quickly, I poured the mixture of blends together to create the end product, and served it up. He plainly looked up, nodded in thankfulness, and sipped a bit of it.
He clearly has worse nights than I do. Fuck...
"How you holding up?" I asked, serving up the last of the food and bringing it over, along with two empty plates. Looking at it, I thought I'd made too much.
Well, let's hope he eats better and more than I do...
After half the cup had disappeared down his throat, he seemed to come alive. His body and face returned to normal, and a small part of me breathed a sigh of relief. Putting it behind me, and being careful not to question myself, I sat up and started to speak.
"Hey, I've got a question." I spoke up, looking Callum in the eyes.
"Yeah, go ahead. I'm listening now." He said, aligning slightly.
"Do you.. do you think even the worst person in the world, the worst person to ever exist... do you think they could change?" I asked him, worried about the response.
It could be bloody anything.
Callum thought for a moment, chewing on some bacon whilst he did. You could see the cogs in his head twisting as he thought this over.
"Honestly? If someone has set in stone that they want to be bad, then they will." Callum explained to me. "Look at Hitler: horrible guy, killed millions of people in concentration camps, and sent millions into a war that didn't need to happen. He was probably one of the worst people we've ever seen before, and yet he had a large following. A following so large it was incredible." He stopped to eat something else whilst I pondered over his choice of words.
"So, it depends on the circumstance of what 'evil' is considered as?" I kept it going, as this was slightly interesting.
"Yeah, I suppose. As the human race, I think we all have a different view of what evil is. Some people think murder is horrendous, whilst others think that it's perfectly acceptable. Some minds are altered. It's like depression: some people get it out of bad choices, scenarios that suddenly happen to them, or situations that are entirely out of control. But depression is also genetic. Some might view depression as a 'genetic' evil, as it makes people, well, depressed. But, they can't help it, can they? Some people just simply can't help themselves. That's my answer." Callum looked back down at his food, and I sat back, hardly touching mine, pondering over what just happened.

Well, I learned something today.
Turning the corner to head to school, I realised that Callum hadn't left yet. He'd remained at my house, alone, with no keys, and no way out.
He's probably been planted there, to make sure I don't snitch, or to pay for what happened to Liam and Poppy....
Walking down the same old street, I noticed how everything seemed darker than usual: Trees seemed to adopt a grey-ish, unnatural tone to them, whilst the sky decided to become a more faded, less azure blue. The ground seemed blood-black, the street lamps looked dark grey. It was as if someone had stepped back in time, into an older movie, in which colour was basic and nothing mattered.
I wish things went back to the time when nothing mattered. God, wouldn't that be fun. Or would it? I was being bullied, I hated school, I also knew no one and did nothing but revise and do papers. Am I really happy? Or am I just pretending to be happy? Am I filling a hole in my chest with papers and work, trying to hide from it.
The school loomed up on me, like a tiger sizing up smaller, easier prey to snap on to. It seemed the same colour everyday:
The colour of shit.