Those from the writing club last year will have already heard this, but I suppose it's best that I publish it here before I begin reading the next part. Arigatou ~ Grayden
Ryan was seventeen
years through his life sentence in hell. Or that’s what he thought. You see,
his life was his hell; no one noticed him, no one gave him the time of day –
not really. The people he did hang out with didn’t have the same personality
type as him, so to Ryan they were useless.
Most break times,
Ryan would stare off into the distance, passed the back corners of the field,
passed the kids who thought the teachers didn’t know they were smoking their
lives away, passed the million dollar houses that brought up the school’s
value, passed the hills that blocked the school from half of the horizon,
passed everything really. There was much on his mind while he stared away.
Thoughts of his lost mother, his abusive father, the love of a girl who he
couldn’t talk to, the endless taunts of his father’s drinking friends, the
oppression of poverty, and much of everything else.
Ryan grew up on
the edge of everything. When he was born, he was on the edge of living – there
was something wrong with his blood. It was of an unknown blood-type and the
doctor had to tell the new parents that if there were any complications they
wouldn’t be able to save him. A few months later, Ryan’s mother, Mary, was on
the edge of dying; that battle wasn’t won by Mary. After that, Ryan’s dad
became an alcoholic, and Ryan was on the borderline of getting a meal a day.
Then they were on the edge of losing their house. They had to move into a
little area above an old newspaper office. They were still on the edge of
losing that too. If it weren’t for the government, Ryan wouldn’t be at school.
The next twelve years were much the same; a perpetual repetition of little
food, late rent payments, violence and rivers of tears before the hand of sleep
took them.
It was safe to say
that Ryan had very little hope, but that was the only thing Ryan really did
have. He didn’t own a cell phone, or any i-thingies, he had no care for the
magic black box called a television everyone had in their living rooms –
everyone but him. The news didn’t faze him, and neither did sports. He had
about five CD’s hidden in a box under his bed along with an outdated Walkman
that his dad didn’t know about. He cared for music, but he knew that if his dad
knew he had them, he’d sell them and then buy a bottle of spirits with the
money he got.
Weekends were
either spend locked in his room or out in town. If he was lucky, he’d get asked
to do some odd jobs for one of the elder characters of the neighbourhood for a
few dollars. Ryan would work so hard for those few dollars – they gave him a
sense of happiness. It would buy him some food, and he’d save the change for
another day.
School days were the best days. Ryan would wake
up earlier than necessary, just so that he could get out of the building before
his dad would wake up. As soon as the clock hit eight o’clock, he’d be in the
library studying. His education was very important to him and he would try to
get as much study done as possible so that he could make it somewhere in the
world. Once the class bell rang for first period, Ryan would’ve been one of the
first people at the classroom. The school day was spent ignoring the idiots of
high school but hoping that someone would actually want to talk to him in a
positive manner (he’d been bullied horrifically when he was in the first year
of school) and listening to the teachers constantly complain about having to
find more work for him. When he left school, he’d go to the library to do
homework or he’d walk around at the park until about six o’clock when he’d be
expected home. After dinner (or not) he’d go to bed – much earlier than every
other person in the world – as to avoid tempting the devil.
This was not the
life he wanted to lead. Ryan wanted to be a criminal lawyer – if he was lucky
he’d get approved for a student loan so he could actually study. Being a lawyer
would give him power to stop others from coming into his problematic life. He’d
be able to ensure safety for people who needed it and provide justice for those
who offended. It was a necessary occupation. It was a just occupation.
The bell pierced
the subtle silence, and Ryan got to his feet, leaving only indents in the
decaying grass. He joined the mass of people moving monotonously to their
classes, but he wasn’t really part of them – he didn’t belong. Like a white
jellybean in a box of blacks, or a needle in a haystack. He could wish so much,
pray so much to be a part of the general population, to be part of the bigger
picture, but life didn’t extend its talons to Ryan. Ryan would remain an
outsider, disconnected from all normal teenagerdom.
In English class
Ryan sat at the front. He took all the notes, but was never chosen to answer
any questions, share his opinions or participate at all. It was as if he was a
ghost. The only thing that proved he wasn’t was when he called out that he was
present in class – but it didn’t give him any satisfaction.
Of the two people who sat next to him, he
was only interested in one of them. Kori. She was the same age as Ryan, but
lived on the other end of the scale. Everyone knew her for her abundance of
money. Mr Mason, her father, was the CEO for a multi-national corporation no
one had actually heard of – something to do with motorbikes, or was it
microwaves? No one really knew those details either. Kori didn’t like to talk
about her father. When asked she would always change the subject to something
more appropriate like Saturday’s party.
Ryan’s liking for Kori had only extended so far, considering that she had never really
said a word to him. She was quite the social person, but Ryan had probably put
her off. For all he knew, Kori had tried to talk to him but he was so buried in
books that he hadn’t listened. For all he knew, he had already blown his
chance.
He would have loved to be able to talk to
Kori, but she seemed too distracted by Michael who was busy trying to talk her
into coming to his place tomorrow. Kori looked excited and upon accepting the
proposal, Ryan didn’t feel too good. He tried to focus on the nouns and verbs
scattered across the page in front of them, but upon reading the sentence he’d
immediately forgotten what it had said. He probably read the same sentence
three or four times before its arcane meaning was revealed.
The final bell rang and Ryan slowly packed
his books into his bag and swung it onto his back. The other people in the
class had already left, giving him a quick exit with ultimately no pushing and
shoving. A peaceful exit for a peaceful person.
Hours ticked by in the library as the sky
went from blue to orange to black. Old cases and new information had been
revealed to Ryan in the dusty shelves. There had been a few shiny pieces of
information, but most of it had been complete crap that wasn’t necessary at
all. If only life just consisted of the shiny pieces.
By the time it was five-thirty, Ryan’s
head was dropping and he had to use all his remaining strength to not get hit
by a bus on the way home. By six o’clock his feet were dragging along the
ground and he yearned for the soft embrace of sleep.
The door to the building was ajar, and
Ryan made a point not to make it creak as he came through it. His father was
home, probably in the office, and it was not a good time to disturb him. Ryan
took a deep breath as he lightly trod up the cold wooden stairs to his bedroom.
The curtains were still drawn, the light bulb still missing, the covers still
neatly made. His father had not been in here.
Closing the door brought on the unnatural
creak that cut through the fragile silence. Ryan cringed as the lock slid shut
and breathed out slowly, knowing now that his father wouldn’t be able to enter
in his unconsciousness.
Sleep came quickly, but it seemed as
though morning came quicker. The sun shone through the thin fabric of the
curtains and illuminated the room in a dull orange. Ryan slid out of bed before
coming to his feet.
It was a Wednesday, the most stressful day
of the week. This was the day Ryan’s father often made Ryan late to school for
because he needed to get his articles into the Australian magazine company he
worked for. Wednesday was not an enjoyable day for Ryan – it was often these
days that he got the most bruises.
Ryan made no attempt to hide or to creep, as his father would most certainly find
him. If Ryan even made it to school, his father would be there too – managing
to get him out of class for a non-existent doctor’s appointment. There was no
getting Ryan out of this task, no matter how hard he tried to get away.
Ryan decided to make it easy for himself.
He made his way down the stairs in expert fashion and managed to get to his
father’s office door without knocking over any of the stacks of paper and
assorted pointless items that covered the building’s floor.
His father had the music on so Ryan had to
knock loudly of the thick wooden door for his father to hear him. He didn’t
come. Ryan knew better than to walk straight into the room and always was
forced to wait outside until he came which usually wasn’t too long. He knocked
again. His father still didn’t come. Minutes passed. Ryan pounded the door with
both hands. Still no answer. Irritated, Ryan turned the handle and tried to
force the door open. It was jammed. Stepping away just to give him distance,
Ryan steadied himself before kicking at the door to get it unstuck.
The door should have never been stuck. But
that was the only detail Ryan picked up. He should’ve picked up that Track
Seven of his father’s favourite CD was on. He hated that song because it
reminded him of his wife and always skipped it. Secondly, there was a light
coming out from under the door – fluorescent. He had a pet hate for unnatural
light, unless it was necessary. First thing each morning the curtains would be
opened to let in the fresh solar illumination.
All these things became apparent to Ryan
while his foot powered through the air into the door. As it made contact, Ryan
wished he could turn back time so that he would un-see the sight that revealed
itself unto him.
The room was scarlet. The office-chair,
the scattered paperwork, the body on the floor. Ryan wasn’t sure what to think.
He was sickened, even disgusted, yet somewhere inside there was a flicker of
happiness, but only slight.
Whatever had torn his father to pieces had
done a mighty fine job, taking careful consideration of all the surroundings.
Even the window had been closed – that’s how they found their way in. They even
barricaded the door with the desk, just to add a bit of flavour to the
homicide. And they’d only taken one thing with them – Ryan’s father’s heart.
Ryan turned to flee but was confronted by
a very tall man. That was the only detail he was able to take in before a
finger was placed on his forehead and he fell to the floor.
