Not Alone

Chapter One

"...Crawling in my skin

These wounds, they will not heal

Fear is how I fall

Confusing what is real..."

     As the Linkin Park lyrics blasted through the dark room, the angry words bringing a fuzzy sort of comfort to the teen sitting on his couch, a harsh knock sounded from the grey door that was positioned to his left. He had been stretched out on the comfortable black couch, his feet propped on the stool in front of him while mindlessly starring at the TV screen in front of him. An Xbox controller laid in his lap, while his fingers flew over the familiar buttons swiftly and nimbly. The TV screen that glowed from its place in the middle of his wall proved to be the only source of light in the dark room, as the walls and carpet were a dark grey with black trim, while the bed and furniture matched with a similar black. Posters for various rappers and metal bands covered the walls, but they held no pictures of the inhabitant's family.

     The boy himself, DJ de Ville, practically matched his room, wearing a pair of worn out jeans with a black hoodie. His hood was up, while his black hair dangled from his forehead and partially covered his dark brown eyes as he continued to stare at TV, feigning ignorance towards the person knocking on his door once again. He rolled his eyes. 'Probably just Mackenzie wanting me to turn off my music,' he thought, getting out of the comfortable position he had been in on his couch, turning the music down as he walked past the stereo that he had placed conveniently next to the couch. DJ unlocked his door and opened it, not expecting his father to be standing in front of him.

     Drake de Ville Sr. was a scary man, his chin jutting out with his pointed nose going almost out as far. His prominent cheek bones suggested he might have been malnourished, but the muscular build hidden under his impeccable suit suggests otherwise. In other words, he was the exact opposite of DJ himself despite being his namesake. Compared to his father's impressive build and sleek black hair neatly combed, parted and trimmed; DJ was a skinny and lanky teenager, with his messy hair often tied into a mini bun on the back of his head. DJ and Drake have never gotten along, and judging from the look that he got from his father, DJ didn't think they would get along anytime soon. "We need to talk," his father stated crisply, stalking into the dark room as though DJ had actually invited him in. DJ held back an annoyed sigh and closed the door, mumbling, "No, of course. Come right on in."

     Either Drake didn't hear his son- or he did and chose not to snap at him like normal- but he didn't acknowledge his son's comment. He sat himself on the plush leather couch, staring distastefully at the video game displayed on the screen. DJ leaned against the wall next to his door, looking at his father expectantly while wishing he was back on his couch and ignoring the world. "So?" DJ prompted. "Your mother and I are worried about the direction you are taking your life," Drake said bluntly. DJ merely raised a brow. "Why?"

     "Well, you do not seem to have a plan for a future career, nor have you even looked at the colleges we have suggested," Drake explained. But DJ gave a nonchalant shrug. "It's 'cause I'm not going to college yet. I'm taking a year off," he said blandly, his deep voice showing no emotion towards the situation his father seems to be worried about. Drake raised a brow at his son's response. 'Where did we go wrong with this boy?' his face read. "And, what will you do during that year?" his father asked, his voice sharp and clipped. "I dunno. Travel, maybe. I'm not staying here for another year if that's what you're worried about," DJ replied with another shrug, moving his gaze to one of his many posters across the room.

     His father's nostrils flared. "I just don't want my son being a bum along the streets and bringing shame to the de Ville family name."

     DJ rolled his eyes, not wanting to hear the whole 'de Ville family importance' speech. "I'd rather choke on garlic than bring shame to the family name," he spat sarcastically, his nose twitching the slightest bit. His father didn't find this amusing. "Must I tell you again the importance of our family heritage and bloodline?" he snapped, fed up with his son's sarcasm. 'I'd rather stab myself,' DJ thought, but held his tongue. He wasn't in the mood for yet another argument. He instead stared blankly at his father, who stood to his feet.