Numb

Prologue

This is the edited version of Numb. I decided I really didn't like this story like this, so I'm changing it. THIS IS THE REVISED VERSION. THE OTHER CHAPTERS HAVE NOT BEEN REVISED YET. I know this chapter is going to be short, and I'm sorry, but I like it better. The next one will be longer. Bare with me, please. Vote, comment telling me if you like the new first chapter, fan. Thanks.

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          Ivan Summers was a very important man. He was successful, wealthy, and powerful. When he said jump, the people jumped. When he snapped his fingers, a drink appeared in front of him. When he barked an order, those orders were to be followed, exactly as told, or Ivan Summers was going to get angry. And no one liked him when he was angry. He wasn’t popular because he was nice, or funny, or smart and helpful. He was popular because he said so.

           He owned Mystique Music Records, Spinquik Arcades, and every theater on Broadway, except for one. He was the highest ranking boss in all ofNew York, yet he was left alone by the paparazzi and camera ambushers. Why? Because he said so. His children were to grow up and take over the businesses together. His only daughter, the oldest, already had an intern job at Mystique Music Records, and helped organize a few plays in one of his theaters. Her name was Spencer. She was twenty-five, lived with her boyfriend, and visited her parents and brothers quite often.

            Ivan Summers’ wife was model-like; beautiful, slender, brooding, and always attending to her husband’s every need. When he needed a massage, she was the one who gave it to him. When his friends were over and watching the game, she refilled the snack bowl and replenished their beers. And never once did she complain about it. Her name was Wendy.

            For years, Ivan Summers has plotted ways to get the only theater on Broadway that wasn’t owned by him. There were always different people buying and selling it, but whenever he organized a lunch with the new owners, they all declined his offer to buy it. It was almost as if every previous owner had warned the newest buyer to always refuse his offers, no matter how much money. It was then that his third oldest, a boy, stepped in. It didn’t matter that the boy was slightly unintelligent and didn’t like to learn or focus on anything beside himself and his anger. He was intimidating. To anyone, really. It was only Ivan Summers that had ever been able to tame the boy. He had a frightening glower and a scowl was permanently etched upon his handsome face. His name was James, and he was the second of four boys. He didn’t date, he didn’t have one night stands, he was a virgin for good purposes, and he struggled through class without a hint of knowing anything about what the teachers were teaching.

            Many other important people that worked with Ivan had daughters. Daughters in their teens, daughters in their twenties. Some men thought they were going to be the next big boss, the next Ivan Summers, and they didn’t think once about kissing up to the real one. These men are men that care about their daughters and want them to be happy. What father didn’t want that for his daughter? That was when the oldest of all of the boys took the challenge. He pleased the daughters who appealed to him, and even took out the ones his father asked him to. But only because Ivan Summers said so. The boy had an age limit, however. He wouldn’t date anyone below the age of fifteen, and no one older than his sister’s age. This easy boy’s name was Jedediah. He was promiscuous, and all the girls loved him.

            Ivan Summers liked to have parties. Annual parties for his achievements, blowouts for his sons, balls for elegance, and so much more. But sometimes, there had been a feud between Ivan and a colleague, and the party wasn’t looking too good. They needed a pick-me-up, someone to lighten the mood. Someone impressive with a charming smile and bubbly personality. This someone was his third oldest son, Jesse. Jesse hadn’t had a date in a while, but it wasn’t because he was like James. No, he was in love, with a girl that hardly acknowledged his existence, a girl who pushed him out of the way when he greeted her in the hallway. Despite her rude attempts to get him to leave her alone, he never gave up, and he never will. He loved Karla Arnould, and wouldn’t stop until he was dead.

            And then there was Jayden. He didn’t know how to describe himself. What should he say? He had dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, just like his brothers? Should he lie through his teeth and say that he was the most loved out of all of his siblings? Or should he just tell the truth? The hard, cold, ugly truth. 

            Jayden, the youngest of the brothers. His family would say he's a shame, a disgrace that should cease living. His father hated him, his brothers hated him, and him mother didn't even speak to him so often anymore. He guessed he could say everyone hated him. Except for Spencer. Spencer was the best sister he could ever have asked for. She treated him right, with respect, loved him, and cherished him as a brother. If he could, he would live with her and her rotten boyfriend. She’s suggested it before, but her boyfriend, Reg, was one of those people who hated him.

            He has never been on a date, he has never been kissed, he probably won’t ever get kissed, and his life pretty much sucked. His brothers pretended to not know him at school, he got picked on… A LOT. Want to know who picked on him the most? His family. His grandmother hated him and he had to beware her cane; it liked to swing in his direction. His grandfather, however, loved Jayden when he was alive. He used to bring him presents and let him sit in his lap, while no one else was allowed to.

            He loved painting and playing with instruments. He was good at it, and he didn’t see why his father couldn’t accept him for it. But he didn’t care anymore. He stopped caring a long time ago. He didn’t care when his father mocked him or made fun of him. He didn't care if his brothers didn't really like him all that much. He was content. He was numb.