Seventh Society [EDITING]

Prologue

Contains foul language and brutal scenes. Read at your own risk.

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    IT WAS A CHILLY night in November.

    Theodore "Theo" Hicks, a tall, skinny blonde, was at the living room of his house, sitting on his couch. He lazily turned his gaze on his silver wrist watch, his eyes watching the second hand of his watch tick every second. It was past nine, and still, his father wasn't home. Not that it surprised Theo, really. His father, Frank Hicks, usually gets home after ten at night from his work. Though it was already a daily routine they've practiced for years, Theo still felt something wrong was going on — it was a gut feeling he had.

      The fourteen-year-old boy looked at the prepared dinner he especially made laid down on the dining table, then back to his wrist watch. It's been more than three hours since Theo waited for his father to come home. Usually, Theo would eat alone, today, however, he wanted the night to be special. He wanted to eat with his dad. It was his birthday anyway. He'll be turning fifteen any minute now, however, his father was nowhere to be seen.

     Tired of waiting for his father's arrival, Theo decided to go out of the house and stroll around the neighborhood at night. There have been warnings not do so everywhere, but it didn't matter to Theo — at least not right now. He was bored and he needed fresh air. Despite his bad choice of clothing, a grey jacket paired with navy blue pajamas, Theo went on with his quick decision of going out.

   With his pair of worn out red sneakers he had for five years straight, the skinny lad walked out of the house, closing the wooden door shut behind him.

      He strolled down the cold pavements, both his hands stuffed inside his loose pajamas' pockets. It was exceptionally cold and it was breezy, but Theo didn't mind one bit. He's done this multiple times, ever since his father began to treat him like a stranger. It hasn't always been like that, though — Frank, his father, acting as though he had no child.

      Theo once lived in a normal, happy family of three, consisting him, his dad and his now deceased mother, Helena. Theo used to smile. He used to be a normal kid. He used to be happy back to the days wherein his mother was still alive, beside him. But when she passed away five years ago, his father, who used to be the most loving father Theo could ever imagine, suddenly became distant from his own son. Theo, ever since, became a stranger to him.

     The fourteen-year-old strolled along the cold pavements, his eyes focused on the concrete beneath his shoes. Every step he took seemed like a step to an escape from his sad life, but the sadder thing is, wherever Theo went, this unfortunate life of his kept trailing from behind, crawling its way back underneath his skin.

     Reaching a waiting shed beside a tall bus stop sign, Theo came to an abrupt halt. Standing erect, he fished out his phone and checked the inbox, secretly hoping that a message would be there, waiting to be read. Although it was obvious and clear to him, Theo became disappointed of what he saw on the screen — nothing.

    "I figured," he muttered to himself, stuffing back his phone inside one of his pajamas' pockets. Theo sat on the bench beside the stop sign, his skinny arms rested on his lap. It's almost time, he thought to himself, taking a quick glance at his wrist watch. 9:35 p.m it read. He rolled his head back, his eyes staring into the shed's ugly, vandalized white ceiling, and started counting mentally.

One.

Two.

Three.

     He took another look at his watch, reading the time once again. 9:36. With a heavy sad sigh, he spoke to himself. "Happy birthday to me."