Cole \\ District Four \\ Done

Words are a solace to the unknowing.

They are painted in black, curvy letters with an icy twisting of insight in his head. Waves of ink that splash along with the sheer black of pen onto paper that calms the heartbeat in his chest with the rhythm of something else that he can't name. Sorrow. Loneliness. Anger. Depression. No clue of what mixed with his icy words that burns onto paper with the hard truth of Cole Hailsham's mind. Figuratively, he doesn't know what he wants to tell through his own words except for the thoughts that pulse through his head with a throbbing of torturous things that no one could handle, not even his own brother could handle what was written down in the brown worn leather journal on his desk. A whisper of a curse word in the icy air that makes his breath look like smoke to no one in general, but his frustration that needed to be eased down from it's ledge.

Chilling blue eyes reach across the field to no one in general, just another face among the crowd with a hollow stare into nothingness. No one knew him. No one wanted to know him. All they wanted was to pass him by. Not a whisper under their breath of the weird brother who resides under a tree with a leather bound journal and a fancy pen in his hand. They didn't need to know him, not now and not ever, unless he wanted them to. Life was good without others to drag him down into meaningless crap. Or that's what he would tell himself, but the journal would tell another story in it's icy black ink. A story of a boy who wants nothing more than the meaningless crap that everyone deals with. A longing to be accepted into the meaningless crap that everyone talks about.

Boys. Girls. Sex. Alcohol. Parties. Living. All of that meaningless crap that kids his age talked about, but instead he's under this damn tree with a damn leather journal writing about how he wants so much, but doesn't want to lose what he has already. Liam would come by sometimes with a frown on his face and disappointment in his eyes. A disappointing sight of a lonely brother who doesn't know how to reach out to the crowd that surrounds them, but Liam could do all of that and more. Kindness comes from Liam's heart, while bitterness comes from Cole's own heart. Liam's talking to someone else about god knows what, but they smile as they pass the tree in to continue down the halls. A smile pulls at Cole's own lips because he preferred it to be him instead of his brother who couldn't make any friends.

Nothing mattered more to him than his own brother. Life hadn't been like this before they gained their own maturity and grew into their skin. Once upon a time, he had friend who played tag in the halls of Hailsham. They laughed and played and ran and did everything together, but it crumbled in his hands once school, girls, and training became the norm. Always the brooding type with a mysterious journal with him, they grew apart like kids do. All of them having gotten annoyed with his fiery responses and always questioning attitude. Who needed them anyways, he didn't after all.

Why does he feel so hollow then?

He wouldn't know.

All he knew were the words that bleed onto paper in black ink and the look that stays flat and unmoving on his own face. Not the greatest, not the worst, but just average. Coasting along in the shadows like he was meant to be there all along. Silence is deafening for him, but nothing compares to how blank a stare can be when directed towards him. Or that's what he saw at least. Maybe, they all noticed him, but never recognize him for anything. Only the harsh words that he spits out to keep his inner self from being exposed to a cruel world. They should be happy with their pleasant place of residence with everything they could need. Food, water, shelter, clothes, and all forms of education from school to Training, they had it all, but in the end, it's just a facade to hide the truth.

They were never meant to know, but once words gets out, it spreads like a fire through the halls. The seventeens were the first to know about Hailsham's secret. Children raised to perfection, only to be confined by death in the end. Reality clashes with their fantasies in a battle of finding solace and happiness. An ending away from the Hailsham Institute where children become adults, but it was all a lie. A whisper of two seventeens that he had listened to easily as he's faceless in their Institute. Everything crashes to a harsh reality that nothing matter and death was waiting for them in the form of organ donors and medical deaths.

Many children being put under a knife, never knowing what actually happened to them, until it's too late. Heart hammers as his fingers clutch the black ink pen swirling the words, I don't want to die, into paper that would turn to ash like the falling bodies of Hailsham. Everything had been fine before with hopes of once they turn eighteen, they will be free, but none of that had been true. There's only a price of organs to pay. The healthiest die first and soon enough the rest follow with time. There's a sinking feeling in his chest as he writes the same words over and over again. I don't want to die. The words don't add comfort, but they make everything bearable.

Death doesn't scare him. His own death doesn't scare him. It's what would happen to Liam that scares him to his frozen core. What would be left behind if they took Cole or Liam, would be destruction. Everyone knew there was no leaving this place. Deb and Dan were the tales of the outside which kept them confined in these walls of an institute. Words are his solace in this world of live to die and die to live. No one notices his drop in grades, his lack of training, or the way that he feels of staying in bed longer. No one would notice him being taken by the institute, except for his twin brother. His twin brother who didn't deserve that.

Blue eyes search through the few kids that slack behind the crowd. Memorizing face after face, learning names of those face, and everything that he can. No one knew of who could be next. A breath of fresh air as his hand rubs along his stubble that's just beginning to grow. Bushy brows, scrunched up from the sight of a no name staring back at him for a moment, until they move along like they didn't see the ghost known as Cole Hailsham. Lips pulled in tightly as concentration fills his head where insight comes alive on pages. A breath leaves his body before he's getting up once again.

A large hand grasps tightly at the leather journal at his side with pages missing from a fire where ashes of a silent boy lives. Toned body moves ever so gracefully forward through the crowd to the place that he knows best. Long arms brushing past plenty of faces who don't even glance his way, unless he lets them. Tense movements through a crowd of individuals who don't carry the knowledge of death that resides like a cool blade upon the back of his neck. Another faceless man in a crowd with fear in his eyes like the world around him was nothing more than an illusion that he's been tricked by. The only place he could be going was to the flame of a fire where he would burn his truths.

The glow of orange that rises with a grey smoke of dead truths grabs his heartstrings and pulls. A continuous pull of emotions that he lets go in a moment to briefly go back to normal and feel better than he had before. Journal tucked safely under his arm as he heads back to class where teachers spout education that wasn't needed anyways. Each of their deaths already marked by a birthday as no one will make it to eighteen. All he can do is try to figure out something to avoid death's cold chill.

Growing up in the shadow of a warmth that was going to be his life had been pristine. A perfect ideal for a little boy to grow attached to. Kind of like how he had made friends back then before they all turned their backs on him because doubt and worry filled his mind before them. Aging him into a maturity that no one at his age had gained. Life was good with Hailsham academy and it's beautiful interior and exterior that never sat right with him. Kids that never got adopted, but left once they reached the age of eighteen. Everything was strange behind their walls, but as a boy, he was blinded by a good life.

A good life that was too perfect to be real, but he still managed to make the most of it with good grades, decent training, and lots of pristine skills that were useful for him to learn. Once at the top of the class with friends, he fell back to reality with the doubt and worry that filled his head with ice and his words grew like a fire, burning and hot, not letting anyone get too close. Not letting anyone inside, except his brother who he could never scream at in a way to tear down his twin done bone by bone.

Everything was good until it just wasn't. Why did he have to care about what others thought? Why did he have to act nice when people get under his skin and rip him apart for no reason? The answer was simple. He never had to be nice to them, so like the wind, he changed every second before it came a rushing blizzard of ice and a burning fire that tore down ideals until all that rested was a journal of a broken boy and the cynic that was known as Cole Hailsham.

All he wanted to be was a kid again where things made more sense than they do now. Things change and people die, in the end, he didn't care if he were to be next. He just didn't want to leave behind a brother who would be stuck to the idea of Cole Hailsham, letting it eat him up on the inside, until it burst through Liam's own death. Cole would never be able to forgive himself if that happened. He wouldn't be able to forgive himself for that.

In the end, life and death didn't matter, only the icy writing of a dying boy would be to him.

The last solace in a place meant to act as one.

The reality would come one day and he'd be ready for that, but for now, he was going to live every moment like it was his last.

Running through a hallway to the tree that resides on the grass, he tucks his journal under his armpit. Feet taking him swiftly to a place where he could sit for hours and watch as faces pass with a name to every single one of them. A story of untold ideas that he didn't know, but deep down, he wanted to know them all. He wanted to learn who they were before death took them by the hand and walked them to a new solace where demons don't lurk in the shadows or dread doesn't fill their chests.

One day, he would learn them, but for now, he writes with icy black writing and a fiery tongue that doesn't know how to stop.

For this is all he knew.

Words.

A solace to Cole Hailsham, soon to be dead man.