I wrote this a while ago, and found it while looking through my files. I'm going to continue it.


Entrance


War. Such a tiny word, yet, so much things compressed into it. Hate stands out above all the others. Like an element, it is part of what you see, as the days pass. As the days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, in an excruciatingly long process. The world is like that, and hardly fickle.

Hate torments, while at the same time, gives an ominous feeling of pleasure, and people let it consume them as time passes, in the process, losing all sense of love. The feeling needed to communicate with the world, and possibly even further away. All you have left to comfort you is the feeling that death will come and take you soon, and so it does. You die without anything to leave your mark. No family. No friends. No enemies.

Those are the disastrous effects of hate.



Chapter 1: An Unlikely Hero

I
I always did hate living in Nashville. It was so consumed in crime and disgusting people. On more than one occasion, I had been the VICTIM of a crime. Can you believe it? A 14 year old the victim of a crime. But that crime led to something. But thats for later. I need to record everything I can of my life, for any day now, death could consume me, and I would just perish with the events of my life left in my rotting brain, and even than, eventually, they would decay into nothingness. Sad. Lets begin.

II

I had always been normal, or at least the closest you could GET to normal without actually being on the very small line that most call 'normal'. You've probably guess it now, I was one of the unpopular...or hated kids at MLK High. My life was pretty much in a deep hole, and I was being buried slowly and alive. People hated me, and at times, I thought - no - I KNEW people would kill me if no penalty was present. It all started...Well I'm not sure HOW long ago. I just know it is a VERY long time.

One night, I was walking home from school. Our school started late and ended late all the time, so it was 7 PM and the wind was blowing the fallen leaves in my face. As you may have guessed, it was fall. I dug my hands deep into my pocket, as if more warmth would be provided that way. A false feeling of warmth crept up my spine. It felt good...For a second. Than, the cold came back. Snot was dripping out of my nose, and I kept sucking it back in. Disgusting I know...But I said people hated me. That was probably one reason why. I always made a strange annoying sound when I sucked snot back into my nose. Sometimes, especially after my frequent fights with my dad, I hated myself too. But it was a habit. And habits aren't broken easily. As I walked, I wondered, by did snot only come out of your nose when you were cold? I had heard somewhere that when warm, the hairs in your always moved, and kept the snot up, and when it was cold, they couldn't move, and as a result, the snot was free to drip. But it sounded so preposterous. I just didn't believe it. I walked down the side walk, enjoying the moments when I was in the light of the street lamp. I had never really liked the dark. But luckily, no one at school knew that. Because if they did, I'm sure my life would've been more miserable than it already was.

I tried to dig my hands deeper into my pocket, but stopped trying after I heard a rip. As I walked toward my house, which was now in sight at the very edge of the dead end road, I noticed something from the corner of my eyes. Right now, I wish I just kept walking. I saw two men, one was on the ground, and the other was on top of him, holding a knife in the air. Being the dolt I always was, I ran towards them. I was quiet enough for them not to hear me, so I had the perfect opportunity to tackle the man. I did exactly that. That was the stupid part. When I made contact with him, his knife cut my arm. Deep. I ignored the pain and struggled with the guy with the knife. I struggled with him for a few seconds, than I punched him in the jaw, really hard. I was also considered...not normal due to the fact my strength was much greater than it should be. He instantaneously fell into unconsciousness, I looked down at the wound in my arm, being overly dramatic and leaning against the wall. I looked at the guy that was getting beat up, and saw his long silver hair. He looked at me for a second, before heading my direction. When he saw the wound, his face turned green. I recognized him than. Sylvester, my old buddy. Probably the only friend I EVER had. I stayed in school, while he dropped out a couple months ago.

He was really smart, and had no reason to drop out, yet, he did. He smiled when he recognized me. “Justin,” he said. “It's been a whil man. Like two months.” He looked at my wound.

“By the looks of it, the depth of the wound is approximately 1.4 inches, and considering the length of it, I suggest you see a doctor. You might lose to much blood if you don't, and if you lose to much blood...you have two options. Permanate paralysis, or death. I think I want you to avoid the latter.” He stopped to take a quick breath. “Lets go, my ride is a couple houses away.”

I laughed softly. Same old Sylvester. Always caring about me. One time, he had to choose between his dad and me, and he chose ME, obviously coming back for his dad. But I don't want to go into detail today....or ANYTIME ever again. The aftermath of that prediciment was terrifying. I'll tell you one thing though, it was bloody. Very bloody.

So, we headed toward his car, quiet. I took that time to think about what the hell I would tell my parents. My mom would probably be worried, but my dad...My dad wouldn't care for a couple weeks, than, if I was still gone, he'd be worried. When we were both safe in the warmth of the car, he handed my his blood red sweatshirt. He took it off to give it to me. He may have been my only friend, but it was like have more than one friend when it came to him. Oh, and his car..His car was the best car I'd EVER seen. I'd seen it on the internet, but never in real life. It was an SSC Ultimate Aero TT. A beautiful machine.
I wrapped the Shirt around my wound without any questions. The blood slowed down, but didn't stop. I could only cover one ear when he turned on the loud engine. After a few seconds, the engine calmed to a soft whir.

The seat vibrated softly. It was LIKE a dream come true. But if it were a dream, I'd be behind the wheel, and I wouldn't be injured. I leaned back against the soft, leather seat and sighed.

“So, Sylvester, man, what have you been up to?”

He accelerated the car and said, “Nothing really. Just got an early scholarship to Gretlin college.”

I laughed, my vision beginning to blur.
“You always were smart. So how did you get the car?”
Sylvester shifted in his seat and said, “ Will....when I got my scholarship, I had the original four-hundred thousand dollars that I was gonna use to pay for college, to spend. I got this car.”

My smile disappeared. I wasn't going to waste my energy on talking, so I simply said, “Cool. I'm gonna go to sleep. K?”

I saw him smile and nod. Than I drifted off...

End of chapter 1


Chapter 2

I
When I awoke, I was in a brightly lit room with solid white walls, surrounded by a bunch of technology. I was in a hospital. I looked at my arm. The bleeding had stopped, but still, the sheets were drenched in blood. I looked away, disgusted by my own blood.

I looked around the room, examining the things in it, for about what seemed like half an hour. Than, a tall man with extremely pale skin walked in. He was in a long, black trench coat. I immediately knew he wasn't a doctor.


“Justin? Justin MacHale?”

I looked at him, puzzled.

“Yes..But how do you know my name? Who are you?”

That's when my life just changed. The last thing I remembered before blackness enveloped my sight was a huge fist in my face. Of all things that have happened and well happen...This is probably going to be the most distinct memory.
II

When I awoke, my body began to ache almost instantaneously. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the scarcely lit room. As soon as they did, I looked around. I was on a pile of hay.