Prelude:
"leave me alone!" he yelled as he slammed the door of his bedroom. He turned the lock on the brass doorknob and sat down on his bed. His bed spread and sheets, a jumbled mess, his pillow lying in the middle of the mattress. Posters lined teh dark walls of his small but quant room .A guitar stand held his electric; scratched, chipped, and smothered in logos and labels. A TC, dresser and a lounge chair was the other furniture surrounding his bed. His hair was dark, a brown almost black and shaggy, hanging over his greenish blue eyes. His eyes never shone and his lips never smiled. He saw no light and was in a time of dark shadow. His lab? Punk? His mood? Depressed? His music? Rock? His life? HEll? His name? Troy Fletcher...?
His eyes opened to a pitch-black room. the only light being from the dim moon pushing through the shades that covered his window.His breath was heavy and sweat dripped form his forehead. He swallowed the lump in his throat. A memory flashed through his mind, lingering in teh back of his head. It caused him to shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teach. This memory was like a nightmare, running over and over in his mind, not letting him forget it. the picure was blurry and after overcoming his fear, he tried to see what it was.
Words echoed in his ears, yelling, screaming, crying and whispering. He couldn't make out who or what the voices belonged to. Different puictures appeared right after the other. Memories of his whole life replayed in hsi head. Parents, drugs, girls, childhood, fights, school and accidents. He shook himself free of the thoughts; his eyes now wide open. His pupils searched for an ounce of light to feed on.
He sat up and wiped the sweat off his brow. His breath was sitll raspy and exhausted. everything bothered him from those memories; he remembered everything but one moment. He tried to remember what it was. It seemed that he had been in a hospital, no that wasn't it... it seemed like an orphanage. he could see his parents taking him from it...But he remembered one more ting, he remembered another woman. who dropped him there, and he remembered a man too... But who were they?
The next morning he opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, a black tshirt with the word etnies and a skull and cross bones on the front. He stripped to his boxers and pulled on his jeans, fastening a belt to keep them on and slipping the shirt over his nicely toned abs and chest. he went over to the nightstand adn picked up the leather bracelet next to the forgotten cross and clasped it on his scarred wrist. He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed his jacket. He started to walk out of his room without his jacket on and reconsidered after looking down at his arms and wrists. he pulled the sleeves over his hands and walked through the kitchen past his mother and father.
His mother, Annie, watched him walk past them, from her breakfast. His father, Carl looked up from his newspaper. His stare wasn't friendly. "you going to say good morning?" He asked firmly. Without looking back, troy answered plainly. "Are you?" His father set down his paper, the no so friendly look, turning into an angered one. He got to his feet, bumping the table, causing the glasses to shaken and threatenng to fall over. "say good monring to your mother" he commanded. troy looked at his father and took in a breath, taking a chance. "no"
Carl walked over to him and grabbed his arm. "You gonna take your chances, boy?" He asked harshly. Troy didn't answer but instead told his father to not touch him. Car l re-gripped Troy except by the neck this time and threw him down on teh floor.
Annie protested. "carl please..." Her eyes begged him not to do it in front of their faughter that had just entered the kitchen. Carl didn't seem to care and kicked his son in the gut, causing him to groan in pain. troy's father glared down on him. "get your ass off the floor and don't make me do this again" He warned.
troy pulled himself off the floor and rubbed his neck. He could feel the bruise starting to form on his stomach. His eyes met his sister's who was watching, helplessly. He stumbled out the front door adn sat on the front steps. He knew that she would expect him to ride to school with her so he waited. He acted like teh incident with his father was nothing, that it was compared to other times when he had seen, heard and felt much worse.
[/size]"If the guilty man deserves to be beaten, the judge shall make him lie down and have him flogged in his presence with the number of lashes his crime deserves, but he must not give him more than forty lashes. If he is flogged more thatn that, your brother will e degraded in your eyes." Deuteronomy 25
