I'm Sorry (Not Really)

Chapter One

Authors Note: This chapter is almost double the length of a normal chapter given it's the first one. So if you don't like long chapters, fear not.

Crazy.

They say I'm crazy,

But they're the ones,

Who live in cages.

~A. F.

They say I've never been normal. My own parents were terrified of me, they used to lock me in my room so they'd never have to see me. I had everything I'd ever need in my room a bathroom, fridge, microwave and every week or so they'd drop off groceries through the laundry shoot, the only thing I didn't have was any way to contact the outside world. Maybe if I'd been allowed to go out I could have flourished as a social butterfly, well that didn't happen. For a while, my mom hired a homeschool teacher to teach me because they didn't want the neighbors to know they gave birth to a freak but they kept running away. I've gone through every tutor and teacher in the entire state, and that's saying something since I live in New York. My parents have finally run out of options other then send me to an actual school, which is quite satisfying for me. I think I should be nervous, but I'm not. The last time I went to an actual school was seventh grade, it was also about the time my parents first locked me in my room, and from there they built me another room. This one without windows and practically an apartment, except there's nothing to heat up food except for a microwave. Don't get me wrong, they originally did try to give me an oven and stove, but that was taken out after I tried to burn the room down. Yes, on purpose. I'm sick of this hell hole.

Though that did the opposite of getting me out and now I don't even see my parents. That is, until today. My mother, at least that's who I think is standing in front of me, is twitchy and fearful. While I'm sitting comfortably on my bed, just watching her. Her foot was tapping rapidly, her eyes kept darting about, thing to thing, never lingering and most certainly never landing on me. My room is kept pretty neat, never a thing out of place, not that I have much to misplace. I'm not allowed any nicknacks or 'toys', only what my parents consider essential so my room's pretty plain.

I shifted on my bed and laid back, tired of sitting and staring at my so-called mother. At this action, she jumped and clutched at her heart as if I had made a move to harm her, her eyes were wide and she stared at me cautiously. I merely picked at my nails, as if her being in here were a normal occurrence, or as if I didn't notice her presence at all.

I heard the lock to my door click, which piqued my interest causing me to look up and watch intently as the door opened further revealing a man in a black suit, it looked very expensive. The name, which I assume is a brand, Kiton is sewen across the breast pocket which held a black velvet pocket square, the man's shoes were polished to the point you could see your reflection in them. I noticed as soon as the man entered the room my 'mother' relaxed and turned her back to me, a mistake but I don't feel like getting up, for now, so I'll let it go. She gestured feverishly at me, not facing me and instead engaged in a whispered argument with the man, who I assume is my father. I watched them from under my lashed, still pretending to be picking at my nails as the man dismissed whatever she was saying with a wave of his hand and a scowl.

The man finally turned to me, completely ignoring my mother, "Thomas," he began, looking over my appearance, "you have scared away all of your teachers." His voice was gruff and he was glaring at me quite intensely, not that I care.

"Huh." I glanced up at him, acting as if this is new news, which it isn't, "Who are you?" I pursed my lips from annoyance when my voice cracked, it's not my fault I don't talk often since there's never anyone to talk to.