The breeze softly cressing my face, like a ghost that watches down on me guiding me through every decision. The wind howling down my ear like a lone wolf trying to get my attention, the smell of fresh air complimented by the sweet taste of revenge rummaging the air around me. This is only the Beginning of the twisted, dark and tempting story I'd describe as love.
It was a cold winter's night, I had just turnt eighteen. I can finally say I'm my own man. well that's what I thought atleast. My mum Jill and my father Jake both treat me like I'm a baby, and if you ask me it's infuriating. They tell me where to eat "this place is alot healthier Daniel", how to dress "go change into something classy Daniel, you look scruffy", who I can date (that's when I'm aloud) I think I finally had enough of their control.
"Hi mother" I say calmly as I walk to the kitchen. I sat at the lavish, oak dining table placed in the middle of the large, modern oak kitchen. "ready for a big boy breakfast" mother says jokingly. "Ugh! I want to go back to bed" I think aggressively, whilst giving mum a fake smile.
I start to feel sick, the smell of the burnt full English roaming the house, smelling like a dead rat, flirtatiously tickling my nose starts to make me feel uneasy. Like I have been in a tumble dryer. going round and round. my head felt heavy whilst a huge thumping pain terrorised my head. "I'm not hungry" I say uneasily. I hold my stomach in pain as it starts to gurgle almost if it's talking to me, or maybe my heart is trying to tell me something. Either way something wasn't right. Before mother could say or do anything I took off almost like I've never seen fresh air before. racing towards the door.
l decide to go for a walk and clear my mind. I start to walk through the run down town that I live in. cracks stretching through the floors, buildings crumbling down to its final days, and people rushing like their life depended on it. shoving, pushing and violently screaming in eachothers faces.
It always terrifies me walking through town. My immense nerves get the better of me, I start to sweat heavily like a man facing the heat of a volcano, shaking through my boots like a man who just seen a ghost. walking slowly, watching everyone's steps like I was a crazy stalker looking for someone, throwing my head side to side ensuring that I was safe. "what's happening to me!?" I scream loudly to the top of my lungs hoping someone above could answer me. Per usual nothing.
It was getting dark and I have been aimlessly walking for hours. my feet are throbbing with pain as if I have ran a marathon. Night time was sneaking up on me. I decided it was time to go back home. I was sat at the bus stop just opposite a closed down, three story tall pub that's seen better days. cracks running up the walls, smashed windows with glass shards laying on the ground near the bus stop, looking up at anyone walking by ready to prick them. and the door? well that was completely of its hinges, laying on the wooden floor that has been rotting away for what looks to be forever.
I have been at the bus stop for what felt like forever, adrenaline pumping through my veins as the deafening silence gets louder. "I wish I never came out" I start to think worryingly to myself. Soon after the 216 finally drives towards the bus stop like a formula one car, hitting on the breaks as I put out my hand at the "dreaded stop". I always wonder why it's called that, maybe something terrible happened ages ago. or maybe because the incident at the run down pub that mum tells me to never speak of as long as I live. personally I wouldn't want to know.
I sit in a seat close the the front doors so I can run home once I arrive at my stop. A creepy, lanky, old man with long grey hair reaching the very tips of his eyebrows, follows on after me and stares into my eyes. walking slowly towards me hunched over and wobbling like a lump of jelly. I got up heroically to help the creepy old man, hoping he'd be ok. "Thank you young man" the elderly man said whilst holding on to my shoulder like his life depending on it. At first I thought nothing of it but as we got him to the closest seat he never let go. Holding tighter and tighter as his fingers squeeze onto my shoulder leaving red hand marks. "Excuse me sir, but your hurting my shoulder. Do you mind holding more gentle please?" I ask politely. However the old man still grips harder and harder without saying a word. no one came to help. Almost like he was their leader. doing what ever he likes.
I start to get angry "LET GO OF ME PLEASE!" I say aggressively. Still nothing, like he was in deep space. Stuck in time, unable to move. he turnt his head slowly like a old rusted bike handle struggling to turn round. "Die you freak" he said loudly, trembling his cheeks like he's being electrocuted, then hits me with what looked like a metal walking stick. Dogs engravings circulating to the very top around the stick. I passed out after being battered like a caged animal who's escaped. Bruises kissing my eyes, arms and stomach as he repeatedly hit me over and over again. Is this what the feeling in my stomach was? maybe my heart was telling me not to go. It's to late now. This is the end of me. I'm sorry mother. I wish I told you, I love you!