Snippet #1838672

Slow breaths could be heard through out the darkness of the room, sound of someone sleeping in a comfortable bed. Still dreaming a horrifying dream, but it didn't seem like a horrifying dream to the person sleeping in the comfortable bed, of this dark room. A teenage boy sat up in his comfortable bed and looked quickly around, to see where he was, and sighed in relief.

Soft pale feet finally got up from laying down there and placed their selves on the hard wooden floor of the dark room. They helped the boy walk towards the light switch of the dark room. The weird thing about the boy finding the light switch was that he didn't have to feel around for it on the wall, he knew exactly where it was, even if the boy was in his lazy, sleepy state.

As he turned on the light, he kept his eyes closed, for the light had burned his eyes many times before. Blue-green eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust to the new light setting of the room. The identical feet began to drag them selves towards the closet, and stopped a few inches away from the doubled doorway of the closet. The boys hand was launching towards the black painted door handle to the black painted door. As it took it's final landing, his hand twisted the handle and he opened the door slowly, not ready for the day, like he wasn't any other day. But this day, it was just as horrible.

John picked out his clothes and laid them on his comfortable bed,"Am I really ready for this lonely day?" Maybe not? The boy said and thought the answer to him self. Walking towards the bathroom to fix his hair and put his piercings on, he sighed to himself as no one came bursting through his door, telling him to hurry up to eat breakfast. He knew that would not be happening, like it used to.

He didn't miss the old days like he used to, he would just rather be left alone, than having someone tell him what to do. After he was done in the bathroom, he walked out and put his clothes on. Grabbing his backpack o that it wouldn't hang off the door to leave his room. He grabbed his knife and put it carefully in his pocket, not wanting to cut his hand or anything. Leaving the room John walked down the stairs carefully not wanting to wake his father.

Oh, how he hated his father, even if that's the only person he has that is family, he isn't quite fond of him. He blamed him for the death of HIS own mother, that was taken away from a drunk driver, he heard that the drunk driver didn't make it, and he was happy he didn't. He walked down the stairs and out the door, grabbing his skateboard that was lying down on the green colored wall. Ridding it to school, he would just carry his skate board all day to everyone of his classes, and didn't care what people say about. It wasn't any of their business anyways.

Listening to music, he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings, well number one, he didn't give a damn, and number two, people should learn how to move out the way.