-:Tears of Pearls:-

Maddison Mawhinney

-:Chapter One:-

The hall was desolate and empty when the dark haired boy stepped from his bedroom. Closing his door silently behind him, he made his way carefully down the dim hallway, edging his way along the floorboards as close to the wall as he could manage in attempt to avoid the loose, creaky boards in the centre.

Alex had taken the time each day - back when he was younger - to take note and define the unsafe areas from the ones he could move along undetected. Unfortunately, over the years, the safer area had gradually reduced as more and more boards grew loose and loud.

The olive eyed boy had crept silently from the house many times throughout his life, seeking out the freedom he so desperately craved. His father, Clinton, did not particularly care for his son and seldom permitted him to leave the house – mostly due to the simple fact that he could not be bothered to go with him. This meant that Alex spent a rather large portion of his life inside and alone. He supposed he did always have Missy. However he highly doubted that she could count as a ‘companion’ being one of the many women to sell her body freely in placement for rent. When he thought about it, Alex did not really care for her or her company anymore.

The definition of ‘bimbo’ had been lodging with them for a good few years now and she, when she could be bothered, had agreed to take him along with her on her trips into town from time-to-time. But that was all Alex had needed for on each trip he had made mental notes of which street had lead to where, which areas were safe and where he should avoid come nightfall; though his knowledge was limited to where he was taken.

Edging himself along the wall, Alex noted just how much the hall had changed a lot over the years. Once upon a time it had been a brilliant shade of blue with portraits and paintings lining the walls; but the paint had since dulled and chipped, it now looked more of a dirty grey than blue. Many stains and blotches ornamented the walls as memoirs of drunken brawls and catty fights that seemed to occur quite frequently in his household nowadays. Most of these were spurred by his father’s drinking and short temper, or the girl’s fighting over underwear.

Alex never asked friends over, he was too embarrassed – the all of two friends he actually possessed. The pornography plastering a good portion of the walls was reason enough to avoid even toying with the thought.

As he did most every night, Alex found himself pressing carefully against the front door and carrying himself silently down the front steps. He proceeded slowly down the frosty street. He was thankful for not only the late hour, but the snowfall that had come through the previous night, leaving the street quiet and isolated. Had the weather been more hospitable and the hour a little earlier he would have to be careful to avoid being mugged.

The air was crisp, icy. He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets for warmth as he stared down at the slippery path through the mist of his breath. He let his feet carry him toward the main street.

As it had many times before, the thoughts of his actions arose in his mind and again he found himself questioning; Why is it that I find myself with the need to sneak out of the house? I shouldn’t need to be. What sets me so apart from any other teenager? I’m supposed to have friends, visit them... Play sports... Go to school? That had always been a problem for him, a tender topic. The average teenager at least knew how to read and write properly. He did not.

Ebony had been teaching him little pieces now and then, on those few occasions he got to see her.

Strolling along the path, head to the still heavily clouded sky, Alex tossed the thoughts of a normal life around within his head. What it would be like to live in a normal household, partake in normal activities – to be allowed to – to have a father who cared and loved him back.

It was true; Alex did love his father despite his attitude and seemingly resentful nature towards his son.

Soon, Alex was walking a little off course, veering from the road to the main street and travelling to no particular destination. Wandering through the streets completely immersed in his thoughts as the cold, crisp early morning air nipped at his bones, sending chills up and down his spine. He had neglected to notice his off course pattern, too busy locked away in his imagination, thinking of what it would be like to have a complete family in a warm, open house full of love and care. His household could not even hold love within his father’s bedroom.

There was once love in his house. Someone loved him. He remembered that much at least.

Her picture still laid, secretly locked away deep within his drawers in accompaniment of a second portrait; a small photo in a slender golden frame of a bright eyed, golden haired woman that he somehow could not manage to remember.

Kezza was his babysitter when he was younger, only five. She had made known her resignation when Clinton had struck her all in the name of his paranoia. It had hurt Alex to learn that someone he loved so dearly had been driven away by the hand of his own father, somehow he had felt betrayed.

The other woman whose portrait he kept he was very close to, she had only entered his life briefly before she had left him once again. She had promised to stay, but had broken that promise for reasons she would never tell him, though his curious mind did ask the questions. He was not sure why he still kept her picture, but something about it seemed to help to make him feel better, seemed to comfort him when solitude was his only companion. Their strong connection had long since broken and he had moved on. It was no more than a lost memory, as most of his childhood seemed to him now. And yet he still held onto it as best he could.

Alex was pulled from his reverie when a voice from behind him spoke up.

“Hello, Alex. Do you remember me?” The voice seemed to echo from the very shadows themselves; a male’s voice, but certainly not a familiar one.

“How can I tell when you’re standing in the dark? One would think your question a pretty stupid one.” Alex responded flatly, a hint of fear in his voice. If this was a mugger, why would he choose someone that he knew? Perhaps this stranger was a part of his father’s past, a previous “colleague” Clinton had managed to backstab as he often seemed a master of doing, now back for revenge? He knew it was a rather clichéd, somewhat childish thought but the only reality outside of his home that he knew of was his television, so why extract the melodrama?

Stepping into the light of the street lamp, that man’s features were clearly visible, but still unfamiliar to Alex.

Replying to the young boy’s look of confusion and fear, the stranger continued. “You do not remember me then? What a shame. Perhaps this shall work in my favour.” The man shrugged his long, marbled coat back onto his shoulders, the reds and blacks mixing and seemingly swirling before his eyes. A living coat?

He stood so tall, much taller than Alex. If this stranger was here to attack him the only hope Alex would have of leaving this scenario potentially free of harm would be to turn and run.

His muscles were visible, even in the shadow of his ground-length coat.

Alex looked over the man, his ominous appearance only contributing to Alex’s nervousness.

He toyed with the idea of turning and running in the other direction now, but he found that he was unable to move, frozen, like a deer caught in headlights. “I have no idea who you are. Look, I don’t want any trouble, okay? Please? I have no money on me, I have nothing of value. Look! If my father has wronged you in the past I’m sorry, but that has nothing to do with me.” Alex’s attempt at avoiding confrontation seemed only to accomplish pulling a laugh from the dark figure as he ascended upon Alex.

As the man drew closer Alex could see his odious eyes as they swirled much the same as his coat. His limp, ink black hair floated softy upon the icy night air as if responding to and dancing with his darkly hazed aura.

“You don’t want trouble, Alex?” His thin lips parted to reveal a dour smile and a double set of fang-like teeth. His gaunt face and unnatural features sent sharp shivers through his body. “Well I don’t bring it, if you cooperate with me.” Alex’s brain seemed to freeze up. Cooperate? His breath caught in his throat as he fought to find words.

“And... What is it that you want, if not trouble?” He choked out, his voice shaky and breaking.

There was that smile again. “All I need is to borrow something from you Alex; nothing that you’ll miss. You’ll never even know it’s gone.” His smile turned to a sneer as he stared deep into Alex’s now terror filled eyes. What would he take? Who was this twisted stranger?

What do you mean? What the hell do you want!” Alex took a step back in a vain attempt to create distance between the two of them.

“Shh, Alex. It’s alright. You don’t need to fret.” He lifted a clawed hand to Alex’s face, brushing his fingers along his jaw line. “Just hold still.”

A wind picked up as the stranger placed his hand firmly upon Alex’s forehead. The wind picked up hastily to the point where Alex was barely keeping his footing. A searing pain began to spread from his forehead, down his neck and into his spine to spread through the rest of his body. An icy hand seemed to wrap itself around his heart and began to constrict it; he felt as though an important part of him was slowly being torn from his being.

A loud cry escaping his lips, the tension around his heart seemed to increase as he battled with his aching head to form words, but none came. Panic took a hold of him, twisting his stomach.

The pain intensified tenfold, but only for a brief moment before a warm sensation grew within the pit of Alex’s stomach and he felt a buzz run through his body before he was released, falling to the jagged, tar road with a heavy crack.

He could feel something warm running down the back of his neck as he made to sit up. As if in the distance he could hear the man’s groans.

“You little prick!” His growl was low and hostile as he stared down at his hand, the skin spreading back over his blistered and burned hand until it was completely healed. “You lucky bastard. Don’t worry, you won’t be doing that again.” He hissed, turning on Alex once more.

Alex scrambled to his feet and began to run, his feet stumbling beneath him as his vision waved and blurred. He was far from sure where he was going as home was in the opposite direction, but having the stranger blocking the way was something of a problem.

The man laughed, seemingly amused with Alex’s attempt to save himself as he walked towards him. “Where are you going Alex?” He refused to look back. No matter what he would continue forward, he would not let this freak get his claws on him again.

Blinking in attempt to unfog his vision, Alex failed to pull up in the split second he had before colliding hard with a strong chest. Again he was on the ground, his butt paining from the collision with the ground once more as he cradled his sprained wrist.

“Are you alright, Alex?” The stranger sneered down upon him. His expression was one to chill even the hottest of blood as he reached to Alex, taking him by the throat and lifting him to his toes. Unable to breathe, Alex kicked and fought against the hold, only succeeding in causing himself more pain.

So, was this it? Such a fulfilling life he had lead.

He thought to himself about just how much he really had not done, how much he wished he could do if only, by some miracle he could manage that amazing feat he achieved previously if only to loosen the grip.

The stranger raised his fist and sent it crashing down into Alex’s face with a spine chilling crack; the pain rushed through his entire face as he felt his jaw dislocate and his nose break.

The last thing he could remember was the voice of a woman before the world closed in and everything turned to black.