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Chapter 2

Home. Where the love is -- supposed to be.

It was late at night -- maybe early morning. It felt early. I stood at the counter leaning over a bowl of vanilla ice cream. Don't ask me why.

Halfway into the bowl Izzy came down the stairs.

"Hey." Her fake ass greeted.

"Hey." My faker ass greeted back.

Izzy leaned over the opposite side of the counter.

"Trouble sleeping?" She questioned.

I nodded.

"Insomnia again?" She asked with a worried face.

I nodded again. I put the spoon in the bowl and slid it to Izzy knowing she'd finish it as soon as I left.

I went up to my room and closed the door and sat on my bed. I pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them.

A few years ago, Izzy came to me.


"This is wrong..." I mumbled.

"It'll be our secret. Kay?" She said in her nasty voice.


Izzy came into my room, late at night. She lay down in my bed and stuck her hand down my pants.

"Stop that." I muttered.

She stroked me. I shuddered.

"What's the big deal?" She whispered.

I froze and couldn't push her away. When she...finished...and my body shook, I clenched my sheets tightly.

"Remember; our secret." Izzy said before 'booping' my nose and leaving.

I just lie there. Shaking, on the verge of tears; a mess.

Why? Why? Why!? Why did she do that to me?! I didn't ask for that!

I felt...bugs...jitters...inside my body and couldn't get rid of them no matter how much I scratched. I cried, please make it stop.

I curled into a ball. Thoughts exploded in my head.

I hate this! Stop crawling inside me! I hate you! I hate myself!

Who am I? Sometimes I really don't know the answer to that question. I know I'm Luc Narson. But who am I?

I'm nobody. Just a dry leaf blowing through the wind, one destination to the next.

"Sup!" Evie greeted me the next morning when she saw me.

We only have third block together. By this time she'd already jump on me and hug me from any direction. I didn't like to be touched by anyone, but for some reason with Evie...I felt I could trust her.

But a voice inside my head said, "No. Don't trust anyone; they'll destroy you just like the others."

"So, what kind of music do you listen to?" Evie asked at lunch.

She noticed me only having one earbud in.

"Old music." I answered. I prefer music at all times. It creates a pleasurable illusion; a world where everything is not so...real.

"Like what?" Evie goaded me to elaborate.

"David Bowie. Queen." I stated. I just wanted the conversation to be over. I don't know what to say. What if I say something wrong?

"I've never heard of them." Evie informed me. "I like the music of today, I guess." She then said.

I don't. Too many curse words (although I enjoy cursing - I know; it's very ambiguous). There's also too many references to sex and drugs in the songs played today. If you want to make music, focus on how it makes people feel; not on how "riled up" you get them by using profanity and sexually explicit language.

By the time lunch ended, I had tried to abandon Evie. I'd walk faster to get back to class (the place where we're kept like bookends), but she was only a short distance behind me.

I sat down in my seat and was one of the first few back. By the time Evie reached the class, it was time to resume the lesson. She jumped on me and hugged me.

"Bye!" She giggled.

This would be the last time we'd see each other until class change. I ignored her.

At the end of class I indirectly encouraged Evie to find more friends, but she only ever hung out with me. She was adamant about sticking with me.

I just went to my next class. Creative Writing.

The teacher in my fourth block was a long haired brunette with blue eyes and plump lips. I heard around the classroom she's Buddhist; not really my business though.

The start of the class was always the same -- we journal on chromebooks for fifteen minutes. She gives us choices; write about a prompt she put up on the board or write about whatever. I chose to write whatever I wanted.

I like; no, LOVE writing. It gives me a sense of freedom. I guess that's the point though.

After the journaling is done she gives an assignment. Today she wants us to continue working on our "Shitty First Drafts."

When I write, I can't make it shitty. It's always "perfect," as in, I can't make it better than it already is. I already see it as better. Take studying really hard for a test and still failing, for example. It's just impossible to do. I kind of wish she'd see that.

I wonder how Evie's doing? Why am I even thinking about her? She's annoying, but in a nice sort of way.

I walked down the corridor staircase. The last bell rang and everyone was headed home. I slowly walked through the corridor thinking about the whole bus fiasco from the day before. I didn't know what went wrong; how so many of us managed to get on the wrong bus, so as I walked, I debated with myself about going back to the bus in Slot 3, or "Should I just walk home again?" I questioned myself mentally.

"I don't know which bus to take..." I thought.

When I got outside to the bus lot, I searched for someone from my neighborhood. I found someone. A kid named "Chandler."

"Chandler!" I called.

He turned to me. We've known each other for years due to being in the same schools and neighborhood, but we were never close.

"Do you know what bus we're on?" I asked.

"No. Sorry." He answered.

"Ok. Thanks." I replied kindly.

I walked away. Walking it is. I walked with my pen in my fist again. Alert. Many cars passed by today. It was still early.

I guess I'll just walk until the bus situation is sorted out, and spare myself the anxiety attacks.

Around the the first roundabout, across the bridge, down the steep hill, and turn left.

When I got into the house, my nose crinkled by the smell of cigarette smoke.

I stood in the open doorway a little longer just to let oxygen fill the room.

I closed the door and walked into the living room.

Winn -- my older foster brother -- sat there smoking away.

"You know, children breathe freely here." I said to him.

"Shut up." He said. He blew smoke from his mouth and stood up. I hope he dies from cancer. Soon.

"I need a favor." He said.

I knew exactly what that meant.

"I need a-" He cleared his throat, "-release from my frustrations."

I sighed and went up to my room. Great. Just great. All I really wanted to do when I got home was nothing.

I put my bag down and started to take my clothes off. I sat on my bed.

Winn came into my room and locked the door.

When he was finished with me, I could feel his disgusting essence flowing inside me. Even I felt disgusting. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. Pain was etched into me.

I'll be okay. No, I'll probably cry later. I hate this life so much. God help me.

I sat up. It hurt like hell, and I sat on something wet. I put my fingers to my rear and looked at them. Blood. I shook.

That's never happened before. Is this why Winn left in a hurry? I knew he was hiding something! Normally he does more or makes me do things to him, but he left so quickly! Something really pissed him off today.

I got off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean myself off. Hopefully Izzy doesn't come around.

I waddled back into my room, put a towel over the blood stain, and laid down on the bed after locking the door. I curled up protectively.

When will this end?

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