I can make table thingies

The coin in his hand was nothing more than another part of him. It wasn't an object, so special item that he carried around, it was more than that- so much more. It was a limb, a part of him, a part that he could never o without. Right now his fingers danced over its golden surface, light flickering the dull colours to shine brighter than the center of the morning sun. He smiles down at the coin, before tucking it away safety into the pocket of his cosy woollen jacket. For as long as he could remember this coin had been a part of him, always with him, every minute of the day.

It didn't take long for him to be out of his home and on the streets of his District, his noughts f his coin burring themselves deep into the nest of his brain. He wasn’t a handsome boy, per say, but he definitely had a cheekiness about hi that attracted the attentions of those around him. He was known for his politeness, even, but what mainly got attention was the fact that he was OCD. He hated it sometimes, most the times. He just wanted to be like other kids his age, levying his room in a mess, clothes and books and magazines scattered all over the floor- but he knew tat was never going to happen, he could never bring himself to allowing that to happen. It was just him, and again, deep down, he loved this part of him, this part that always drove him to perfection.

Tonight the streets were quite, not a sound to be heard, not a scuffle dancing on the wind. He liked it this way, h could let his mind wander, he could be alone, he could be free in a way. Free from his mother, from his brothers and sisters, from the life that he wasn't so sure that he wanted. What if he had been born in district 10- would he still have the desire to make everything just so? Would he still be that boy who wanted perfection? Would he happy? How would life have worked for him, if he wash sheltered by the cold winds b the walls of his rather huge home? And how would a person from 10 fit into his home? Would they be happy? Or would they realise just how much they really had? after all, money does not give you everything…

He places one foot in front of the other- a routine that took little effort, little thought. It was like when you learned to speak, or talk, something you couldn’t forget, something that was drilled into your mind- never to be wiped out, never to fade away. He didn’t say a word, or smile, his face as emotionless as the stone that surrounded him. He didn't make a sound, or murmur under his breath, just as quite as the breeze that swooped around him.

But then sound is crashing around him like the angry waves of the ocean. The boy closed his eyes for a moment before opening them. The area around him looked untouched, but that wasn't what was bothering, what was bothering him was the gentle purr of a female, their voice rising and falling as they dribbled on to with the gentle whip of he wind. He didn't want to go over there, he wanted to keep to himself- he always wanted to keep to himself… but then he heard something, and then silence. It sparked that gentle flam of curiosity inside him. One that grew larger and larger until it consumed him.

Sighing he patted his jacket down flatter before heading off towards the direction of the voice. It took him only a moment to find what he was looking for. Blood coated the ground in small splashes and a frown slowly slipped onto his brow, his eyes casting a curious, but cautious glance around. A body lay still on the ground, cold and lifeless. What the fuck? the boys frown deepened as he walked up to the body his fingers finding the dead girls throat- confirmation that she was no longer living.

Climbing to his feet, his voice booms down the empty street- loud and clear. “Whose there?”