|Teenaged Wildlife: Rewritten
Author: Saral Hylor PM
REWRITTEN VERSION: Suffering from an abusive home life, and discrimination at school, Noah Page turned to self mutilation as a release. But can the appearance of a purple haired stranger save him from himself. MM SlashRated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Drama - Chapters: 6 - Words: 20,090 - Reviews: 29 - Favs: 17 - Follows: 32 - Updated: 12-16-12 - Published: 05-12-09 - id: 2672074
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter Two: Part Four
As we walked away, I couldn't help but look back at the kid several times. He stared after me, his eyes wide and defeated. I felt my body go cold upon seeing his face. I couldn't figure out what he was thinking, his face was totally expressionless, but the eyes that stared at me. It as though they were trying to tell me something. I felt bad leaving him there. He looked so small wrapped up in all the oversized clothing.
I'd been excited at the idea of him coming back to our place. I wanted to help him. And the first thing I had thought of was to make him feel safe. I felt safe at home. It was stupid, but I hoped it would work for him too. But then, looking back at him, I felt guilty. Something about the way he was looking at me, made me feel guilty. Guilty for leaving him there, perhaps, though I wasn't a hundred percent sure that he didn't mind.
I hurried along after Jackson, bursting with things to tell him, but not overly sure of how to say them. It didn't seen right to just blurt out to my brother that I thought the kid was beautiful. Before I had the chance, however, Jackson had turned to me, slowing down slightly, but not stopping.
"Mitch, was that such a great idea?" He asked softly. Always softly. That way it was impossible to get mad at him. He looked straight at me, indicating that he'd seriously been thinking about it.
I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder again at the boy. I couldn't see him by then, the crowd had swirled back into place behind us, cutting off the bench we'd left him on from view.
"I'm not saying it is the wrong thing to do, Mitch, I'd like to make sure he'll be alright too, he doesn't look all that good right now. But, I mean, we don't even know his name." Jackson continued, seeming to sense that I wasn't about to either fully agree, or disagree with him. "We really should have at least learnt that before we asked him to come home."
He talked saying we. We both did a lot of the time. Always talking as though the two of us were one. Sharing the credit, and sharing the blame, that came from any of our actions. Normally mine, as Jackson rarely did little worth getting upset about, unless, of course he was being too caring. If there was such a thing. He was just about everything that I wasn't. Normal, as one could come living with me. He had always done his homework. He always helped everyone out. And when people called him a suck-up, and many other names, I'd be there to get in trouble for him. Usually by flattening a few noses against walls. Or yelling obscenities at anyone who dared to threaten my younger twin.
I nodded slightly, remembering that I was supposed to respond in some fashion. I felt like a right idiot, despite Jackson taking half the blame for it. I could hardly believe that I hadn't even asked the boy for his name. Who knew if he would have given it to us, but I hadn't even asked.
I shrugged, eventually, in defeat. "You want to go find mum then? I'll go back and talk to him." I was slightly worried that Jackson would see straight past my excuse for going back. Surely he knew that I just wanted to go back and be with him, knowing his name or not.
Jackson gave me a slightly sideways glance before nodding. "Yeah, I think she was at the supermarket, so I'll see if I can find her there. I'll message you when I find her, and meet you out at the car?" The last part came out as a question, as though he was asking permission to make plans. Jackson was like that when he spoke; always double checking to make sure things were ok.
I nodded in response, turning around to head back to the bench. As I drew closer, I could see the bench, but the boy was no where to be seen. I quickened my pace slightly, pushing through the crowd until the whole bench was in view, and there was no denying the fact that the boy was gone. The water bottle was sitting on the bench, but he was no where in sight.
Moving over to sit on the bench, I picked up the water bottle. Holding it, I noticed that the clear plastic was faintly stained red in some places. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be an almost perfect hand print. I was slightly sickened at the sight, and set the water bottle back down hastily. I knew he hadn't been bleeding from the head after we'd left the bathroom. I'd patched that up; and he hadn't said of any other wounds. I thought then of the way he had been favouring his wrist. I'd been an idiot not to think of it before. He'd hurt it, and from the blood I'd found it wasn't hard to put two and two together and figure out what had happened. A slight shudder went through me at the thought of it, and I glared at the tell-tale signs on the water bottle, as though it had single-handedly caused the blood.
Sighing, I fished my phone out my pocket and tapped out a hasty message to my brother, explaining that our little friend had scarpered, and that I'd meet him back at the car. Tucking my phone back in my pocket and heading slowly towards the entrance I couldn't help but think that this had been a shitty way to spend a day.
Author's Note: This marks the end of Chapter Two, which I split into four parts simply so people would be able to read something more often than if I'd lumped it all together. I hope people didn't mind.
I'd like to take this chance to thank people for reviewing. It means a lot to know that people are interested in this version. Also, I'd lie to encourage everyone else reading to review too please. I'm a writer, I live on feedback, please keep that in mind when reading this story.
Thank you for reading thus far, and hope that Chapter Three doesn't keep you waiting too long.