Decadent Rose (ON HOLD)

Against The World I 6

Peter

One hour previous...

After throwing on a black leather jacket and slipping a pack of cigarettes into his pocket, Peter was ready to leave but he found himself stopping just outside of Emily’s room. He didn’t know why, but something compelled him to peer daintily around the corner of the wall and into the room. Dillon knelt beside Emily, his hands gently holding hers as he whispered inaudible words to her palms. The only word the Peter could decode was ‘sorry’ and he felt his jaw tense. He’d never understood Dillon’s never-ending sympathy; to Peter, it just seemed like a waste of energy and time. To feel sorry for something that wasn’t even your own fault was far worse. Emily seemed to shift in her sleep, but he knew it was only a trick of his own mind and couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’m going to see Bree” Peter interrupted as Dillon continued his soppy apologies. Dillon jumped at his voice and turned to stare at him, eyes narrowed. Peter shrugged “Try not to burn the house down whilst I’m gone”

“What if she wakes whilst your gone?” Dillon hissed “What the hell am I supposed to do then?”

Shrugging again, Peter said “I don’t care. Just don’t kill her”

“I’m not you Pan, I don’t go around killing people”

“I’m not you Dillon” He said, twisting the stupid boy’s against him “I don’t go around caring” With the last word hanging gloriously in the air, Peter turned away and stalked out of the room , his boots silent against the creaking floorboards.

Outside, the air was warm and humid; people wearing shorts and scraps of material that barely qualified as clothing sauntered carelessly through the streets, laughing and smiling in the glory of a summer’s day. It was easy for them, Peter thought, to be so careless and happy. They had nothing to worry about, no clock counting the seconds until their final breath, but he knew it was just as easy for any of them to drop dead any second. The kid riding spiritedly on his bike down the street could meet his death just around the corner; a silver Honda with a stressed out father and baby inside. The a group of girls clutching their books close to their chest could meet their death in just a few minutes; a gang of boys hyped up on a cocktail mix of drugs and alcohol. And Peter, the boy alone in the middle of a summer’s day, could meet his death that very second; his magic slowly being drained out by the World. If he were to die, his last wish was for the World to have his magic so that the humans he despised so much could experience the true meaning of magic and joy. Then, when they are waiting for their last breath, for them to experience the pain of losing it and perhaps gain an inkling of how Peter felt.

A few girls stared at him as he past, but he was used to it. His good-looks tended to attract unwanted attention, but when at first he’d have ignored them, he turned and winked. They giggled some more and he shook his head, a dark smirk overtaking his face as he turned down another street. The sky had seemed to darken overhead, aware of his presence and he felt the storms manipulated power rush through him like a shot of adrenaline. He could sense the Weather-manipulators power and instantly knew who it was. Peter had met a young boy once, who he knew had his own weaker sort of magic, and offered him a deal. In exchange for Peter’s advanced knowledge of magic, the boy would keep him updated on a particular someone that he swore he would never see again. He smiled, knowing it was his knowledge that had helped Graham - if he remember correctly – to   be such a powerful Weather manipulator.

Peter turned another corner that led him down a dark alley way. Its stench contained the remnants of polluted air and cheap alcohol mixed with the bitter scent of urine that seemed to drench the damp bricked walls of the two tenant buildings either side of him. He choked on the smell as he passed an overfilled rubbish bin and found himself gagging on the poisonous stench. Even the squelch of mushy newspaper under his boots turned his stomach and added to the overly rank attitude of the alley way.