This is my first story on fiction press, please review[kindly] :)


Gregory Thomas Duncan came storming out of his home with his school bag on his back after a heated argument with his father, Dr. Thomas Calvin Duncan. He ran down the driveway, letting the brisk, morning autumn air fill his lungs that the cold air was making burn. But it felt good, the burning. And the way his legs felt so drained by the time he ran all the way to school. It was a way for him to get out his pain.

He barged through the school doors, his breath heavy. It was early, only six forty-five, and the hallways were quiet. Not even the teachers were here.

This was Greg's favorite time. Time for himself. Time for him to take care of everything.

His school work, his music, his pain.

Greg hurried off to the boys' bathroom. He stared at his face in the mirror. His strangely brown hair was starting to hang in his eyes that had dark circles under them from his lack of sleep.

He sighed, unzipped his backpack and pulled out a small plastic container. It was thin, and only held one thing.

A blade.

He pushed up both his sleeves. This was the only time he let his battered and cut wrists show.

"The boy has been spoiled all his life!" Thomas complained to his family in the kitchen.

"Daddy," His oldest daughter and child, Taylor, sighed. "Don't be mad at Greg. He's been having a really hard time lately."

"Well he's going to have a even harder time if he doesn't lose that attitude of his."

"Honey, calm down." Heather Duncan said sweetly to her husband. "He's a sixteen year old boy. He's going to be causing us some trouble, just like how you caused your father so much trouble when you were his age."

"I thought he was just on his period." Cole, Greg's fifteen year old brother, laughed.

"Be nice to G.G." Renee, Greg's four year old sister, said sadly. "You to mean, Cowe!"

"Cole!" Cole corrected, stressing the 'L'. "With a L. Cole."

"Be nice, Cole." Heather scolded.

"He has more mood swings than a pregnant sixteen year old girl." Cole rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing today Taylor?" Thomas asked, changing the subject.

He and Heather were only seventeen when they had Taylor, and expected a difficult child. But Taylor was far from that. She never gave her parents any trouble.

"Well, Zachary is coming over and we're going to drop off Cole at school, like always. Then he said he's going to take me shopping and then we're going to have lunch at my favorite restaurant." She smiled.

Thomas nodded in approval. Zachary was Taylor's boyfriend, her high school sweetheart, of six years. Both were freshmen in college, and he was the just the kind of boy Thomas would have picked for his daughter. Caring, loving, understanding, and a gentleman.

"Then we're coming home to get some boxes to move into the apartment." She added on.

Thomas sighed. He hated the fact that his daughter was moving out.

"What about you Cole?" Heather asked.

"Eh, skipping school, doing drugs, maybe get a tattoo." He shrugged, and laughed when both Taylor and Heather slapped his arms. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!"

Greg hated his life, and he took out all of his frustrations on his wrist.

He ran his arm under to cool water coming out of the sink, then pressed some brown paper towel to bleeding cut.