retrouvailles | gabs + ali
May 5, 2015 4:14:00 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker kelsier on May 5, 2015 4:14:00 GMT -5
I never even noticed how shitty the world is. I can't believe I never saw it before. I should have noticed it because that's all I can do now when I look around me. All I see is ugliness, people scraping by and for what? What reason?
The world we live in is disgusting and dirty, a layer of scum covers the bottom of the houses for a foot up in the slums. All our roads here are dirt, even when we clean the line, all of them just get dirty again. No one bothers anymore. Fences are covered in graffiti and the trashcans overflow because the District stopped sending workers around to pick them up from here. No one cares.
It's the slums.
No one cares about the slums or us.
It's disgusting. The world is really an ugly place.
I kick a rock all the way out of the slums and it bounces along the side of the road and hits fences and fire hydrants with loud bangs and clangs.
It's five in the fucking morning and I'm sweating like a whore in church already despite the fact that it isn't warm by any means. I'm just terrified.
It's just that it's my first day of school.
I mean, I've been back to school since I was stabbed and I almost died but I was only going for three days a week and even then I went home a lot of the time due to stress. My hair went half white from stress.
That's a lie, hair doesn't do that. That only happens in stories. My hair went white because I didn't want to walk into a rich kid school with brown hair. I didn't want to be recognized too easily. So I went to the market, the more underground one, I got my hands on some bleach.
Mam cried when she saw my white hair. She said I wasn't her handsome little boy anymore and I said I agreed with her.
I was scouted by a prestigious training school last week during physical education. It happens every so often that scouts come to the school and decide to take a couple of us. A lot of the time it's just to use us slums kids as training fodder. No one cares what happens to us, we're from the slums.
This kid I know knew this kid who was scouted by a training school and apparently he killed himself after one week there because it was so bad.
But I've got so much to live for.
The sun rises slow and sweet and peaks itself lazily over the rooftops of the middle class houses. I've got farther to go still. The school I'm attending is where the rich live. Mam was proud when she found out but she also knows I'm not doing this because I want to be trained. She knows I'm doing it to find the kid who stabbed me.
She thinks it's unhealthy of me to be holding onto it like this.
She thinks that I should just live and let go and that I shouldn't do anything about it.
That's because she always let Mom walk over her. When we left Mom, I was six years old and we left in the middle of the night, as quiet as possible so that Mam wouldn't have to confront her, so we wouldn't be inconvenient.
I want to make a fuss for once.
I'm tired of the Lutece's being walked all over.
My father had a sword and he swung it.
I will swing mine too.
When I reach the school I walk through the front door, pushing the glass double doors aside. I will not be silent anymore, I will not hide at the back of the class.
I will fight.
I will win.
I register at the office and the woman wrinkles her nose slightly at my faded clothing. I look at her manicured nails and pink lipstick. They're nice. Her personality is shit though. She holds my class schedule pinched between two fingers like I'm some feral creature. After she gives me a bag with my uniform I bare my teeth at her and leave to get changed in the bathroom.
The uniform is snobby and the collar is stiff and tight on my neck. Kids start to arrive and I watch from my spot in the hallway, leaning against the wall as they pass by. They all walk heads held high, noses in the air. I hate them.
I don't see him in the crowd, the one who stabbed me.
They all look the same anyway.
I go through my first two classes without a problem, no one comments on my presence. I sit at the back of the class for both periods, preferring to not have anyone behind me wher eI can't see them.
Third period marks the beginning of training.
When I enter the large training gym, I only get two paces before the instructor is introducing me. Makes sense. This is the class where they plan to make use of me I guess, the reason I got here in the first place.
"Class, this is Gabriel. He'll be joining us for the rest of the year. Please give him a warm welcome."
He pairs me up with some kid that has a nose for a face. I'm serious, his nose is so flat that it takes up the entire thing.
I tell him so and his fist comes flying at my face.
I dodge it and swing my leg into his side. He see it coming but it's too late for him by the time he does. I steal the air from his lungs like it's my goddamned job and I steal it well. He's hacking a lung up on his knees by the time I get my balance back.
The instructor watches from across the room. We're meant to be spotting each other's lifts, not having a sparr but he doesn't care.
No one does.
They just keep going on with their training as mr. flatnose here climbs to his feet.
Fucking monsters.
The world we live in is disgusting and dirty, a layer of scum covers the bottom of the houses for a foot up in the slums. All our roads here are dirt, even when we clean the line, all of them just get dirty again. No one bothers anymore. Fences are covered in graffiti and the trashcans overflow because the District stopped sending workers around to pick them up from here. No one cares.
It's the slums.
No one cares about the slums or us.
It's disgusting. The world is really an ugly place.
I kick a rock all the way out of the slums and it bounces along the side of the road and hits fences and fire hydrants with loud bangs and clangs.
It's five in the fucking morning and I'm sweating like a whore in church already despite the fact that it isn't warm by any means. I'm just terrified.
It's just that it's my first day of school.
I mean, I've been back to school since I was stabbed and I almost died but I was only going for three days a week and even then I went home a lot of the time due to stress. My hair went half white from stress.
That's a lie, hair doesn't do that. That only happens in stories. My hair went white because I didn't want to walk into a rich kid school with brown hair. I didn't want to be recognized too easily. So I went to the market, the more underground one, I got my hands on some bleach.
Mam cried when she saw my white hair. She said I wasn't her handsome little boy anymore and I said I agreed with her.
I was scouted by a prestigious training school last week during physical education. It happens every so often that scouts come to the school and decide to take a couple of us. A lot of the time it's just to use us slums kids as training fodder. No one cares what happens to us, we're from the slums.
This kid I know knew this kid who was scouted by a training school and apparently he killed himself after one week there because it was so bad.
But I've got so much to live for.
The sun rises slow and sweet and peaks itself lazily over the rooftops of the middle class houses. I've got farther to go still. The school I'm attending is where the rich live. Mam was proud when she found out but she also knows I'm not doing this because I want to be trained. She knows I'm doing it to find the kid who stabbed me.
She thinks it's unhealthy of me to be holding onto it like this.
She thinks that I should just live and let go and that I shouldn't do anything about it.
That's because she always let Mom walk over her. When we left Mom, I was six years old and we left in the middle of the night, as quiet as possible so that Mam wouldn't have to confront her, so we wouldn't be inconvenient.
I want to make a fuss for once.
I'm tired of the Lutece's being walked all over.
My father had a sword and he swung it.
I will swing mine too.
When I reach the school I walk through the front door, pushing the glass double doors aside. I will not be silent anymore, I will not hide at the back of the class.
I will fight.
I will win.
I register at the office and the woman wrinkles her nose slightly at my faded clothing. I look at her manicured nails and pink lipstick. They're nice. Her personality is shit though. She holds my class schedule pinched between two fingers like I'm some feral creature. After she gives me a bag with my uniform I bare my teeth at her and leave to get changed in the bathroom.
The uniform is snobby and the collar is stiff and tight on my neck. Kids start to arrive and I watch from my spot in the hallway, leaning against the wall as they pass by. They all walk heads held high, noses in the air. I hate them.
I don't see him in the crowd, the one who stabbed me.
They all look the same anyway.
I go through my first two classes without a problem, no one comments on my presence. I sit at the back of the class for both periods, preferring to not have anyone behind me wher eI can't see them.
Third period marks the beginning of training.
When I enter the large training gym, I only get two paces before the instructor is introducing me. Makes sense. This is the class where they plan to make use of me I guess, the reason I got here in the first place.
"Class, this is Gabriel. He'll be joining us for the rest of the year. Please give him a warm welcome."
He pairs me up with some kid that has a nose for a face. I'm serious, his nose is so flat that it takes up the entire thing.
I tell him so and his fist comes flying at my face.
I dodge it and swing my leg into his side. He see it coming but it's too late for him by the time he does. I steal the air from his lungs like it's my goddamned job and I steal it well. He's hacking a lung up on his knees by the time I get my balance back.
The instructor watches from across the room. We're meant to be spotting each other's lifts, not having a sparr but he doesn't care.
No one does.
They just keep going on with their training as mr. flatnose here climbs to his feet.
Fucking monsters.
[/presto]
