High Stakes {OPEN}
Apr 20, 2012 10:50:31 GMT -5
Post by theredpyro on Apr 20, 2012 10:50:31 GMT -5
Pain. My whole life is pain. Every movement sends pain coursing through my body. Cuts and bruises litter my body like spots on a leopard. Every bone in my body has been broken at least twice already in my very short life. My mind is haunted by pain. Family I've lost. Friends I've betrayed... Betrayed. The word sticks in my head, calls up unwanted memories. I try to justify it to myself. It wasn't a betrayal, it was an accident. But it was a betrayal, how could it be anything other than a betrayal. Petunia, the only friend I've ever had, the only good thing that has ever entered my miserable existence. She's gone now... and it's all my fault!
I open my eyes. It's morning, time I should be getting up. I get up and start to get dressed as the cold, spring sun starts to creep into my room through the gaps in the wooden slats that make up the roof of my room. Room, that's an exaggeration. What I live in, what I spend the vast majority of my free time in, is actually an attic. I converted it myself when I was younger because my father would never do anything for me. He hates me. I'm sure of it. He's even told me before.
Things between me and my father have always been strained. According to Petunia's mother, my father has been hostile towards me since the moment I was born. Understandable really, the first thing I ever did in this world was kill his one true love, his reason for living, my mother. Petunia's mother, Willow, was my mother's best friend and it was her who discovered me and my father that faithful night. She rescued me from my fathers indifference. And how did I repay her? I got her daughter sent away, to become an avox, or worse, executed.
I finish getting dressed. I don't wear anything fancy, I don't like to draw attention to myself. My greatest strength lies in remaining unnoticed. In fact, my survival depends on it. I keeps this in mind as I pull on a baggy, faded green jumpsuit. It is so faded that actually more closely resembles grey than its original green. A layer of grime coats it, further dulling the colour. I really should wash it, but I find that the muck helps me stay concealed during my favourite pass time... Theft.
I took up stealing shortly after realising that my father was an incompetent means of staying alive. Depending on him will only get me hurt and leave me with an empty stomach. I noticed that if you take but a small amount from a lot of people, they tend to chalk it up to something other than me. Mice, mis-counting, even one particular eccentric blamed fairies. That is how I've survived to this point, taking so little from the local merchants that they never suspect that they have been stolen from. It keeps me under the gaze of the peacekeepers, who would introduce me to a realm of pain I wish to never meet if they ever so much as got a hint of theft.
I climb down the ladder from my pathetic little loft in my father's house and down into the main room. It comprises of the front door, a fireplace and a single chair, which is positioned next to the fireplace and, more often than not, contains my father. This is again the case today. He sits there, looking at me but not really seeing me. Rather, he is looking through me, or so it seems. He sits there, rage contorting his face. He, like so many things in his house, it coated in a thin layer of grime. His beard is unkempt and matted, just like my own hair. His expression changes when he finally recognises me, and not for the better.
"YOU! BOY! COME HERE!"
Uh-oh! I'm in for a beating, I know I am. Delaying the inevitable will only make it worse though, only add to his rage. I approach him, like a good little zombie. I see the arm getting raised, the fist getting clenched, and I do nothing to stop t. I let him hit me. Let him bring pain into my world once more. I kind of like the pain... reminds me I'm alive. I hit the ground, and spit the blood from my mouth. I look up at him, indifferent, unflinching, and he returns my gaze with a look of sheer disgust.
"Get out my sight! I don't want to look at you!"
and with that, he reaches down and picks up a syringe. I don't even need to see its contents to know what's in it. Morphling. Sweet nectar of the gods. The only thing that makes me forget. Forget the pain. Forget the trauma. Forget her. My father takes the morphling syringe, and injects it in between his toes. Good, he's being smart, making puncture wounds places where people don't normally look. He won't be getting caught anytime soon, which means my supply of Morphling is safe. By the time I come home from school, he'll be passed out from the drug, and I'll steal a syringe or two for my own personal use. Not enough for him to notice that some has gone missing, I never break my rule... not even with my father.
I walk out the house and shut the door. I am almost instantly blinded by the sun. It is burning intensely bright, however not much heat is coming off it... It doesn't feel that much warmer than winter. I wait for my eyes to adjust, and set off for school. The one thing in my life (other than morphling) that makes my life seem bearable. I love to learn, a trait shared by most inhabitants of district 6. I begin to daydream about what lessons we'll get today, what gem of knowledge I will discover for the first time. I am about halfway through a favourite fantasy of mine, involving me discovering a hitherto unknown medicine that can cure heartache, when something snaps me back to reality. My stomach is rumbling. I'm starving! A quick survey of my surroundings tells me that I am in the merchant's part of town, just outside the local butchers. Perfect!
I sneak around to the back door, which is ajar, and peek inside. Just as I thought, the butcher is in the back room, having a nap. He always does at around this time in the morning. I noticed this months ago, a handy thing to know for someone with a hobby like mine. Crawling on all fours so I can't be seen through the shop window, I creep up to the back of the counter to see what is on offer. Instantly, my eye is drawn to a string of sausages. The butcher will never notice if one or two go missing. I reach out and grab one, just as the bell goes to signify a customer entering the shop. S**T! I quickly twist of a sausage and crawl as fast as I can to the backroom. It's no good, the butcher is awake and coming to see who has just entered the shop. I quickly move to the front of the shop again and crawl under a counter.
I see the butchers feet approach the counter. his foot stops a mere inch away from my head. I try to hold my breath and resist the urge to scream as the butcher goes about his business.
"Ah! It's you, what can I do for you today my fine sir?"
A voice I only half recognise responds.
"I'll have a sirloin steak please"
"Uh... that's quite a rare request for here, and its quite expensive... are you sure that's what you want?"
I hear the noise of something being thrown onto the counter. The butcher seems to pick it up and examine it. He then reaches into the counter, picks up a package, and places it on the counter, A few seconds later, I hear the door bell ring again, signifying this the customer has now left. The butcher heads back to the back room, grumbling and twirling something in his hand. I allow myself a desperate gasp for air. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts my chest. I give it another minute or two until I can hear the butchers snores as he resumes his nap before I decide that it's safe enough to risk leaving. I creep out the backdoor, and take off at a sprint, wanting to put distance between me and the butcher's shop. I don't really pay any attention to where I'm going, just knowing that it must be better than where I've came from.
I run for a good 5 minutes before i collide headfirst with someone. We are both knocked off our feet. My sausage comes flying out of the little pouch I had sewn into my jumpsuit and rolls out onto the floor. I quickly scramble to grab it, to hide the evidence. My fingers clutch around it and I stuff it back into its pocket. That's when I turn my attention to who it was I ran into. They are just getting to their feet. One look tells me that this isn't going to end well...
...F**K...
I open my eyes. It's morning, time I should be getting up. I get up and start to get dressed as the cold, spring sun starts to creep into my room through the gaps in the wooden slats that make up the roof of my room. Room, that's an exaggeration. What I live in, what I spend the vast majority of my free time in, is actually an attic. I converted it myself when I was younger because my father would never do anything for me. He hates me. I'm sure of it. He's even told me before.
Things between me and my father have always been strained. According to Petunia's mother, my father has been hostile towards me since the moment I was born. Understandable really, the first thing I ever did in this world was kill his one true love, his reason for living, my mother. Petunia's mother, Willow, was my mother's best friend and it was her who discovered me and my father that faithful night. She rescued me from my fathers indifference. And how did I repay her? I got her daughter sent away, to become an avox, or worse, executed.
I finish getting dressed. I don't wear anything fancy, I don't like to draw attention to myself. My greatest strength lies in remaining unnoticed. In fact, my survival depends on it. I keeps this in mind as I pull on a baggy, faded green jumpsuit. It is so faded that actually more closely resembles grey than its original green. A layer of grime coats it, further dulling the colour. I really should wash it, but I find that the muck helps me stay concealed during my favourite pass time... Theft.
I took up stealing shortly after realising that my father was an incompetent means of staying alive. Depending on him will only get me hurt and leave me with an empty stomach. I noticed that if you take but a small amount from a lot of people, they tend to chalk it up to something other than me. Mice, mis-counting, even one particular eccentric blamed fairies. That is how I've survived to this point, taking so little from the local merchants that they never suspect that they have been stolen from. It keeps me under the gaze of the peacekeepers, who would introduce me to a realm of pain I wish to never meet if they ever so much as got a hint of theft.
I climb down the ladder from my pathetic little loft in my father's house and down into the main room. It comprises of the front door, a fireplace and a single chair, which is positioned next to the fireplace and, more often than not, contains my father. This is again the case today. He sits there, looking at me but not really seeing me. Rather, he is looking through me, or so it seems. He sits there, rage contorting his face. He, like so many things in his house, it coated in a thin layer of grime. His beard is unkempt and matted, just like my own hair. His expression changes when he finally recognises me, and not for the better.
"YOU! BOY! COME HERE!"
Uh-oh! I'm in for a beating, I know I am. Delaying the inevitable will only make it worse though, only add to his rage. I approach him, like a good little zombie. I see the arm getting raised, the fist getting clenched, and I do nothing to stop t. I let him hit me. Let him bring pain into my world once more. I kind of like the pain... reminds me I'm alive. I hit the ground, and spit the blood from my mouth. I look up at him, indifferent, unflinching, and he returns my gaze with a look of sheer disgust.
"Get out my sight! I don't want to look at you!"
and with that, he reaches down and picks up a syringe. I don't even need to see its contents to know what's in it. Morphling. Sweet nectar of the gods. The only thing that makes me forget. Forget the pain. Forget the trauma. Forget her. My father takes the morphling syringe, and injects it in between his toes. Good, he's being smart, making puncture wounds places where people don't normally look. He won't be getting caught anytime soon, which means my supply of Morphling is safe. By the time I come home from school, he'll be passed out from the drug, and I'll steal a syringe or two for my own personal use. Not enough for him to notice that some has gone missing, I never break my rule... not even with my father.
I walk out the house and shut the door. I am almost instantly blinded by the sun. It is burning intensely bright, however not much heat is coming off it... It doesn't feel that much warmer than winter. I wait for my eyes to adjust, and set off for school. The one thing in my life (other than morphling) that makes my life seem bearable. I love to learn, a trait shared by most inhabitants of district 6. I begin to daydream about what lessons we'll get today, what gem of knowledge I will discover for the first time. I am about halfway through a favourite fantasy of mine, involving me discovering a hitherto unknown medicine that can cure heartache, when something snaps me back to reality. My stomach is rumbling. I'm starving! A quick survey of my surroundings tells me that I am in the merchant's part of town, just outside the local butchers. Perfect!
I sneak around to the back door, which is ajar, and peek inside. Just as I thought, the butcher is in the back room, having a nap. He always does at around this time in the morning. I noticed this months ago, a handy thing to know for someone with a hobby like mine. Crawling on all fours so I can't be seen through the shop window, I creep up to the back of the counter to see what is on offer. Instantly, my eye is drawn to a string of sausages. The butcher will never notice if one or two go missing. I reach out and grab one, just as the bell goes to signify a customer entering the shop. S**T! I quickly twist of a sausage and crawl as fast as I can to the backroom. It's no good, the butcher is awake and coming to see who has just entered the shop. I quickly move to the front of the shop again and crawl under a counter.
I see the butchers feet approach the counter. his foot stops a mere inch away from my head. I try to hold my breath and resist the urge to scream as the butcher goes about his business.
"Ah! It's you, what can I do for you today my fine sir?"
A voice I only half recognise responds.
"I'll have a sirloin steak please"
"Uh... that's quite a rare request for here, and its quite expensive... are you sure that's what you want?"
I hear the noise of something being thrown onto the counter. The butcher seems to pick it up and examine it. He then reaches into the counter, picks up a package, and places it on the counter, A few seconds later, I hear the door bell ring again, signifying this the customer has now left. The butcher heads back to the back room, grumbling and twirling something in his hand. I allow myself a desperate gasp for air. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts my chest. I give it another minute or two until I can hear the butchers snores as he resumes his nap before I decide that it's safe enough to risk leaving. I creep out the backdoor, and take off at a sprint, wanting to put distance between me and the butcher's shop. I don't really pay any attention to where I'm going, just knowing that it must be better than where I've came from.
I run for a good 5 minutes before i collide headfirst with someone. We are both knocked off our feet. My sausage comes flying out of the little pouch I had sewn into my jumpsuit and rolls out onto the floor. I quickly scramble to grab it, to hide the evidence. My fingers clutch around it and I stuff it back into its pocket. That's when I turn my attention to who it was I ran into. They are just getting to their feet. One look tells me that this isn't going to end well...
...F**K...
