Disclaimer: This story is a work of complete fiction. The characters and ideas are mine. However, the lyrics that you will see in this chapter, chapters later in the sotry, and as the chapter titles themselves, are not mine, and belong to an incredible singer/songwrite known as David Bowie. The song these lyrics are taken from, is Teenage Wildlife from the Scary Monsters And Super Creeps album, which I suggest everyone at least listens to once in their lives.

Chapter 1: How Come You Only Want Tomorrow


I was sixteen when I first heard the song. Exactly sixteen. It was on my birthday, the fifteenth of January. I had had to get out of the house, get away from my uncle, who had, yet again, taken up residency on the couch. I couldn't stand being there while he was.

I stepped inside the small CD store at the Mayfield shopping centre which was not to far from my place, the fingers on my left hand gripping to the cuff of my dark grey hoodie, making sure that it covered my recently hacked up wrists. I could still feel the sleeve of the black button up shirt I wore underneath my hoodie sticking to the moister, soaking up the blood. I hadn't even bothered to stopped it from bleeding before I left the house.

I looked around the store, trying to spot anyone I had to avoid, or would rather not bump into. Seeing no one, I let my self relax a little, my ears picking up the music that was being played over the speaker system. It was not a song I recognised instantly, so I strained my ears to pick up the slightly muffled lyrics.

"… a teenage millionaire, pretending it's a whiz kid world
And you take me aside, and say David what shall I do?
They wait for my in the hallway.
I'll say don't ask me, I don't know any hallways
But they move in numbers and they've got me in a corner
I feel like a group of one
They can't do this to me. I'm not some piece of
Teenage Wildlife…"

I liked what I heard, especially the 'Teenage Wildlife' part. Very nice. Some part of me needed to know that the song was, who sang it. I made a B-line for the front desk, working up my slight courage to try and ask about the song. When I reached the desk, I dug my hands into my pockets, drawing into my own little shell even more, grateful that that my hood was up, hiding away my ugliness from anyone looking.

"Can I help you?"

I looked up at the girl behind the counter, her fake smiling face both setting my on an edge, and annoying me almost instantly. Why did they all have to be so happy looking? Always smiling, always trying to please.

I gave up smiling along time ago. Back when my parents spilt up, back when my uncle first took up residency on the couch. Back when he stole my innocence. And I haven't smiled once, not in all the time that he has continued to abuse what little dignity I have. Which isn't much. Along with my self respect that disappeared out the proverbial window, not long after he started telling me what the rest of the world really thought about me. A useless piece of shit. A waste of space. An embarrassment to the family. A shame to the human race. A waste of oxygen.

I stared at the girl, for some reason trying to assess her. She looked young, possibly only a year older than me, and bored. Very bored.

"Um, I was, was wondering," I gulped, what little confidence I had disappearing, probably out the same proverbial window that everything else had disappeared out of. "Uh, I was wondering if you could tell me what song this is that's playing." I finally managed to force the words out my mouth, my lips pressing together after I had finished.

Her eyes seemed to brighten up immediately as though I had hit a subject that she enjoyed. "Yeah, this is Teenage Wildlife, by David Bowie." She beamed at me, voice alight with enthusiasm. "From the album Scary Monsters And Super Creeps!"

I nodded, taking a step backwards turning slightly away, my eyes darting over to the B stand. "Thanks!" I muttered, moving swiftly over to my destination. I only had to scan quickly to pick out David Bowie's area, and after a brief flick through of the CDs, I pulled out my prize. The cover of the album instantly caught my interest. The picture depicted of Bowie, I assumed that was who it was supposed to be, was a hand drawn one, showing part of a person, wearing what looked like an extremely frilly dress, and a hell of a lot of make-up. In his hand there was a cigarette. Behind the drawing, there was a photograph of his shadow. I liked the affect.

Flipping the CD over in my hand, I almost let out a small dry laugh at the price. Only six dollars fifteen. They had to be joking.Even though I had never heard any of his music before, or even heard of David Bowie himself, I dug into the back pocket of my low riding black jeans, in search for my wallet. I liked the song, I wanted to hear all of it. And this was probably the best price I could ever find for it.

With my wallet clasped in one hand, and the CD in the other, I made my way back to the front desk. Placing the CD down on the counter, I opened up my wallet, hoping that I still had the money. The money. My money. My money that I worked for, that I had earned.

I thumbed the notes, roughly counting out how much I had in there. Thirty-six dollars in notes, and I found a further two dollars fifty in coinage. I pulled out a five-dollar note and one-dollar and fifteen cents in coins. Placing them carefully on top of the CD, I slid all of it over the counter top to the girl, whose face was still made up in a fake expression of happiness.

"Just that one?" She smiled even bigger when she picked up the CD to scan it. "You a fan?"

I shook my head. "No, just wanted that song."

She smiled even bigger if it was possible. "Well it won't be long, and you'll be loving him!"

I shrugged, not really wanting to talk, to draw attention to my self. I took the bag she held out, feeling the slight weight of the CD in side, and grimaced when I saw my money disappear into the cash register. That was my money. What if I didn't like the CD? Why did I always have to do things on impulse like that?

I shook my head slowly, trying to clear it. There wasn't anything to regret. I'd just get some more money from my uncle's wallet when I got home. He would be too drunk to notice that any went missing. He had never noticed before.

I turned quickly, my legs starting to walk automatically, my eyes focused on the floor, like usual. I didn't know who I ran into at first, but I hit them fairly hard. My face whipped up, mouth already open so I could apologise. I felt fear pooling in the bottom of my stomach. Oh shit. Why of all people did it have to be him that I ran into?

"Watch where you're goin' you little fag!" He snarled, towering over me in both height and build, as he reached out and grabbed my left arm painfully tight, twisting it sharply in his big hand.

My tormenter. Brad Parker. The one person who I could actually avoid, but never seemed to be able to. He wasn't nearly as bad as my uncle, but I still hated him. He still hurt me. Not in the same ways that my uncle did. This guy would corner me in the toilets at school, beat the crap out of me. It was Brad, and his friends that constantly reminded me of who I was, of what I was. They'd never let me forget that I was gay. That I was different. No matter how much I wanted to.

"Why the fuck don't you look where you're goin' you fucked up homo?" He snarled again, twisting my arm even more.

I could feel my skin twisting, the gashes on my wrist feeling warm yet again, my blood seeping into my shirt even more. I swallowed the nothingness that was trying to choke me. "I, I didn't mean to." I gasped through the pain shooting up my arm.

"You lying poof!" He growled, pushing me away, almost throwing me into a CD rack.

I regained my balance, and fled the shop, hoping that he wouldn't follow me, that he would leave me alone for the rest of the holidays. That I wouldn't have to put up with him again until I went back to school. As I fled out the doors, my vision began to cloud with tears, despite my protests. Tears of fear, and anger at myself. By the time I was out in the main hall part of the shopping centre, I could hardly see anything.

I feeling something on my hand, I looked down, blinking, furiously trying to clear away my tears, clearing my vision long enough to see the blood following down from my wrist. Oh shit, how could I hide it? I didn't think any more, rushing off in the direction of the public toilets, ploughing head long into yet another person.

I hit them with almost twice the force I had hit Brad, and ended up sprawled out over the cold tiles on the floor, the bag with my CD in it flying from my grasp.

Author's Note: Okay, to anyone who did read this the first time it was up, I'm sorry that is was deleted without warning. But there were a few changes that I wished to make to the first few chapters. Just simple little things to do with the character appearence, which you may or may not pick up on as you read again. For those who are reading this for the first time, I hope you will stick with it for a while, and I hope that you enjoy.