“What would it be like to die? I had asked myself that thousands of times, normally when drifting to sleep, normally when someone close to me was ill. Just the other day when my father had another heart attack, I asked myself the same question, staring into my bathroom mirror. But then something like this happens. And I wonder to myself, what it would be like if the whole world just died…”
- Anita Roberts ‘The Independent.’
*
I felt stupid, silly. I had only heard him say one word, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Something about him made him stand out made him hard to forget. I kept repeating the situation in my head, and each time I wished to be there, hearing him say softly, “Hi,” again.
But that moment didn’t last forever. The rest of the day nothing significant happened, as usual, my lessons full of information, people I had no time for. Learning about subjects you’re forced to learn about, even though I had no intention of becoming a chef, or graphic designer. I had no intention to become anything. My life was planned out for me.
Reaching home I wasn’t in the mood to interact with my family. Each time I spoke felt like a chore, tiring, and gaining nothing from it. I ate dinner in silence, watching as my sister told everyone about a drawing she did today. I wanted to tell them about my day, what happened in morning form, about him. I didn’t, obviously. As soon as I could I left the table, vacating to my room.
I dreamt that night, and the nights that followed. Each one haunted by the sound of a piano. Never had I heard the notes together, but my heart ached in my chest every time. It grew louder each night, overpowering my senses, stopping me from seeing the view in front of me; the view of the water, the waves crashing into the dull winter sand.
I wanted it to stop at first, but by the sixth night I craved it. I went to sleep hoping, praying to hear it again. Each day I whistled it, the tune looping on my thoughts non-stop. It had forced its way into my life, and I couldn’t do anything about it.
Then it stopped.
My dreams near enough silent. The sound of the waves, the birds, alien to my ears.
*
“Banana or orange?”
I glanced over to my mother, rubbing my eyes with my right hand. I was tired. “Neither, an apple,” I was difficult on purpose, adding “please,” before shoving it into my bag. It would probably stay there for a whole week, before being thrown into the bin.
“I’m very jealous you know, when I was at school we never visited museums for school trips, well we didn’t even get any school trips.” She knocked the refrigerator door closed, her view to her son clearer. I was ignoring her.
Walking over to me, she took my face in her hands. Her hands were cold from the low temperature in the fridge, but I didn’t flinch. “What?” I gave her a confused face, even though I knew exactly what she was about to say.
“You look really tired, not sleeping very well at the moment? Too many late nights cramming work in?” Normally I’d moan, and squirm away, but I didn’t have the energy.
I thought about the dreams, the music. It had been days since I last heard it, time going so quickly recently. “No I’m fine,” quickly saying, just in case she thought I was ignoring her, again. “Well I’m not, but I’ll just have to do a time-table or something. Manage my school work better.” I lied, and it must have sounded convincing because she smiled. I must have said something she wanted to hear.
I wished to tell her the real reasons I was tossed and turned each night. Taking a deep breath, I smiled. “I will see you tonight; I think the bus gets back to school around five.” I received a peck on the top of my head, before grabbing my bag from my counter.
Leaving the house, I saw her waiting for me on the pavement, leaning against my fence, like every day. Eloise jumped a little as I slammed the front gate. “Woah, sorry, I had my earphones in, didn’t realise you were there.”
She handed me the left earphone and we walked together to school. We didn’t talk much, both our concentrations on the music. I was glad about that, enjoying the sound of the beat in my ear, the tone of the singer’s distinctive voice. I knew what we were doing was frowned upon, listening to a musician that had blacklisted. But that made the music greater.
Eloise sang softly, just loud enough for me to hear. “It’s such a shame our friendship had to end… Purple rain, purple rain.” I remember when the ‘situation’ struck, hearing my best friend’s sobs down the phone as her favourite singer had been pronounced dead. It was from that she grew stronger, her determination to fight in whatever way she could.
I smiled, realising she must have put it on repeat, the song starting again. Twenty minutes later I must have heard it five times, the lyrics now imprinted in my brain, fearing they would be on constant loop in my mind all day.
My fear was quickly demolished. Pushing open the school gate, I saw him, my mind going back. Dropping the earphone, the lyrics “Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing. It’s time we all reach out for something new, that means you too,” played out into the air, into nothing.
*
I tried to avert my gaze, but I wasn’t strong enough. Even with Eloise whispering into my ear, and Mr Cleary reading out today’s agenda at the front of the room, I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to. Why would I?
A few times he moved his head, looking around the room. I wondered if he knew I was staring, feeling as if he did. I stopped for a few seconds, not wanting to get caught. I couldn’t get caught. I didn’t want the unneeded attention, not knowing how he would react. People had been on edge recently, and to me he was still a stranger. I knew nothing about him. Something I wanted to change.
“Eloise and Claire. Mark and Anthony…”
My brain recognised a familiar name, bringing me back down to reality. “What did he say? Claire?” I whispered to my best friend.
“I’m stuck with Miss my-boobs-developed-before-everyone else Claire, all bloody day on this art thing. I will bet you five pound she mentions her breast size, or her older boyfriend at least fifty times.” She giggled. “Your name hasn’t been mentioned yet…” She spoke too soon.
Mr Cleary cleared his throat, “last but not least, Damien you are with William.”
My mouth suddenly went dry, immediately feeling a nudge in my ribs from Eloise, her way of telling me my day would be equally as bad as hers. I couldn’t help blush, hearing my name whispered behind me. The large group of boys surrounding Damien teasing him.
Trying to ignore everything, naturally I looked to Tallen. My embarrassment growing realising his eyes was originally on me. Neither of us looked away, and for a few seconds we shared something. It ended as quickly as it begun.
*
The hairs on the back of my neck stood tall. My right knee was shaking, something which happened every time I was nervous. My sister always whistles, my mother’s left eye always twitches. My knee shakes, as fast as my heart beats.
I had no reason to be scared. I was safe. I looked to my right, Damien scribbling away onto his notepad. It had been the first time I had been in his company for longer than twenty minutes, without something hurtful being said. Nothing had been said. I was glad of that. But his presence still made me tense.
I turned my head quickly, scared I would start a conversation. Above my head was a painting, I was meant to be writing down how I felt about it, something which I struggled with. It wasn’t of anything, a thick black line ruining what would be a nice painting. I didn’t get ‘art’. My watch clicked, signalling the top of the hour.
“What have you got written so far?” I had to look twice, realising his words were directed at me. He moved along the marble bench. I edged away. “I don’t bite.”
I smiled, “I haven’t written anything,” I lifted my page, showing him my blank page. “I don’t get it.”
“I thought you would have, to be honest.” I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I didn’t ask. “I’ve just put about the colour contrast, the definition of the line, how that makes me feel…” I could see from his page he had written a lot more. But once again I didn’t question him.
“Thanks by the way…” I was going to say more, say how different he was acting, but I stopped myself, quickly writing nonsense down onto my page. Somewhere in the next room, voices were being raised.
“Can I ask you a question?” His voice was just louder than a whisper, people near us not being able to hear, most going to see what the commotion was about near the entrance.
I turned my body, facing his. He looked different, different to his usual self, calmer, yet more uncomfortable. “Of course you can.”
The commotion had moved now, it was coming towards us, the sound of Mr Cleary’s voice raising and raising. He sounded angry. I looked quickly, seeing them walk towards us, turning back as if in slow motion Damien opened his mouth.
“Are you scared?”
“Of what?”
“Oh do be quiet Natasha, give me two minutes, I will see if William will swap with you…”
I heard my name, but didn’t look. “Scared of what?” I repeated myself, wanting an answer.
Damien looked scared, the people near him causing him to back away. Mr Cleary interrupted, “I’m sorry to be a pain, but Natasha is refusing to work with her partner. I need Damien to go with her, and William to follow me.” I didn’t move, my eyes still fixated on Damien.
“I haven’t got all day William, grab your stuff.” I left with the agitated teacher, glancing back before turning the corner. He was still looking in my direction. “Your partner is waiting just round the corner; we’ve only got an hour, so move along.”
I dragged my feet along the clean, shiny floor. My shoes squelched. I pushed the door open, my ears catching the faint sound of Mozart somewhere. I hummed a completely different tune. I saw him before he saw me. He had his back turned, staring at the art.
“I take it you’re my new partner?”
Tallen turned his head, and nodded.
*
For the first time in my life I wish I was sat next to Damien. I didn’t care about whether he was going to taunt me, or call me names. I just didn’t want to be sat here. We hadn’t spoken a word, Tallen even having his back towards me. I pushed my hand onto my knee, hoping it would stop shaking. The sound of my notebook hitting against the material of my trousers starting to grow louder; starting to get annoying.
Concentrating on getting my nerves under control I didn’t notice the glances from the corner of his eyes, staring, not once, not twice, but three times. The confused look on his face wondering why my leg was having a spasm, wondering what was wrong.
“Are you alright?”
He made me jump. I bit my lip, not letting the embarrassing scream out. “Yeah… sorry… I can’t stop it sometimes… really annoying.” I sounded a mess. I had become a mess because of his voice, knowing his perfect eyes were looking in my direction, at me.
Tallen laughed, “Don’t be silly, you don’t need to apologise,” he turned round, placing his stuff onto the bench, “I found it fascinating. Cold?” I shook my head. “Nervous?” I shook my head again, lying. “Weird. William isn’t it?” I nodded. He held out his hand, his soft skin meeting mine. “I’m Tallen.”
“Yeah I know.” I blushed, laughing quickly, “Yeah I mean I remember from last week, when you were introduced.” Our hands were still together, and for the first time I wasn’t bothered about the awkwardness.
“Oh god yeah, that wasn’t the best way to meet everyone. I didn’t really make a good impression on anyone, hence my partner wanting to swap, hence having no friends.” He smiled, his white teeth shining through a sad situation.
“Well, it sounds kinda weird but I’ll be your friend.” I sounded desperate. To be honest I was desperate. “You don’t have to accept, not a formal invitation, just you can hang out, with me and my friends.” Again I lied, only having one proper friend, Eloise.
“Thanks, I think I’ll take up that offer sometime.”
I wanted to shout, jump up and down, and scream with joy. But I didn’t. I pretended to keep it cool, giving a side smile. At that moment the door opened, Mr Cleary’s deep voice droning something about the mini bus being early, “… time to go chaps.”
Minutes later we were on the bus. I was four rows in front of Tallen and the empty seat next to him. Four rows in front of a friendship I wanted to pursue further. Instead I had Eloise moaning about not getting to see her favourite Van Gogh. I thought about the future.
*
A chill ran down my spine, my feet cold against the wooden floor. If it wasn’t for the strong smell of clean bed linen, fresh from my mother changing them this morning, I would have thought I was dreaming. I wouldn’t have felt so confused.
Because I could hear it, hear the sound I had missed for days. I had convinced myself I would never hear it again, and in a way I accepted it. Telling myself it was a dream, it wasn’t real life. But now was different, I wasn’t dreaming. I could hear it.
I walked to my window, pulling the dark-coloured curtains back, leaning onto the wooden ledge. The top was cracked open. I liked to hear the night when I struggled to sleep. I liked to hear the animals, the wind, and the people walking the streets, having no fears of the darkness. Even though it was faint I could hear the notes, the piano.
Something happened next which I couldn’t stop; my feet moving towards the door. I wasn’t scared, not caring if I woke anyone, not thinking about an excuse why I was up this late, why I was leaving the house in the middle of the night. I just went with it, and seconds later I breathed out. Stood on my front porch, a dog barked somewhere close. It was that easy. I was free.
It wasn’t long before I figured out where the music was coming. Somewhere I had never been before, only due to my father forbidding me to go further. I stood on the edge of the street, looking across to the other houses, the ‘poorer houses.’ A blast of wind hit my back, pushing me onto the street.
I smiled. Something, or somebody, was telling me to go further. Going with my heart I tip-toed across the road, following the high tones. Whoever was playing was talented, and it was obvious they loved doing it. Reaching the pavement, I looked back across to my house, it looked dark, cold. I felt nothing towards it.
Turning around a room caught my eye, light shining through the blinds, into the sky. The window, like mine, was just open, revealing the music to the world. Knowing I couldn’t trespass, I crept into the alleyway next to the house. Stopping as close as I could, I leaned against the tall, wooden fence, listening, loving each part I sounded. I wanted to know who it was, or was hypnotising my body with their music.
Realising it was unlikely I’d ever find out, I closed my eyes, enjoying every second. Forgetting where I was, forgetting everything. I felt so alive, the most alive I had ever felt. I wanted the moment to last forever. But reality happened. I opened my eyes, seeing a flash light coming towards me, round the corner.
I wanted to stay here, I wanted to act normal, and let the person pass, not over-thinking it. But I couldn’t, I looked down, seeing my pyjamas, my bare feet. He’d think I was mad, he’d ask to speak to my parents. I can imagine it now, “unusual behaviour.”
So I ran. It didn’t take me long to reach my door again, the sound of the piano slowing getting lower. As I pulled the chain, locking me in, I heard nothing but normality; the clock chiming, water running through the pipes. Walking into the kitchen I took a glass from the side, filling it with water, my throat suddenly dry.
“What are you doing up so late?”
My heart stopped. I turned seeing my father walk into the room. He still had his work suit on, his grey one, the one with shiny black buttons. I wondered whether he had heard the door go. I lifted the glass, “Needed a drink.”
His father smiled, “well hurry and get back to your bed, you have school tomorrow. I wouldn’t want you to be tired.” Weirdly, he held his arms out, and I slowly walked over, not expecting him to embrace me with a hug. He must be tired.
Pulling away, his kissed my forehead. “Can I tell you a secret William?” I nodded. “Find something in life you enjoy doing, don’t do what your parents think is best, as you’ll be the one doing it for the rest of your life.” He laughed.
I forced a smile, turning, leaving the room. I never got the feeling of regret which plagued so many people around me. I never understood it, the concept of wishing you had done something differently, or not at all. The concept of wishing your life was different. ‘Everything happens for a reason,’ they say, and I’m a firm believer of that. I just couldn’t understand why this was happening to me.
As I reached bed I looked at the digital clock hung onto the wallpaper. It was past midnight, meaning one thing: 259 days to go.
*
I kept myself to myself the next day. Even though I didn’t have to try that hard, I wanted to be alone. I wanted to have time to think, not liking the way I acted last night. I was proud of myself for dealing with everything in the last few months, but I felt like everyone around me, I felt as if it was slowly affecting me. I was changing. I didn’t like it.
My plan to spend the school’s five lessons in my own company succeeded. As the afternoon bell rang, I grabbed my chemistry book throwing it into my brown satchel. Within seconds I was out the door, into the fresh, late afternoon air; into freedom.
“William!”
At first I ignored it, pretending I didn’t hear the call of my name. I didn’t recognise the voice, and looking at my watch it was technically the weekend, so the teachers could wait till Monday. But after the fourth time, I peered over my shoulder, seeing Tallen behind me.
“I thought it was you,” he laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t want to tap you or something, and it turn out to be a total stranger.”
I blushed, hating myself for being ignorant. “I’m sorry; I was in a world of my own. I must have zoned out, sorry again.”
He smiled, showing his perfect teeth. “It’s fine. I just wondered if you wanted to walk home with me. Could show me places you hang out or something. If you don’t mind, that is.”
I tried not to sound too eager. “Of course I don’t.” I didn’t even ask him where he lived, I just walked, and he followed. “So are you enjoying it here? Prefer it to Rohmpton?” It was such a cliché question to ask, but it was the only thing to come into my head.
“I suppose so yeah, still finding my feet to be honest. Not many people have spoken to me, I feel like a bit of an outsider.”
“I’ve been here for over five years, and I still feel like an outsider. So don’t worry about that.” It sounded like I wanted sympathy or something, but it was the truth. Something I normally didn’t share with most of my fellow students.
“Are you doing much this weekend?” I’m glad he changed the subject. I shrugged. “Maybe we could do something? Even invite that friend of yours? The girl?”
I played it cool, raising my eyebrows, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll see what she’s doing. Could swap numbers if you want? I’ll drop you a text.”
Tallen dropped his head, hiding his face, pretending to search in his pockets. “Must have forgotten my phone, I’m always doing it… New as well, so I don’t even know the number.” Swinging his back over his shoulder, he stuffed his hand into the fabric, pulling out a pen and a scrap of paper. “Bit old-fashioned, but this is my house number.”
“Cheers,” I took it from his hand, holding it tightly in my fist.
“Just don’t ring before ten, my mum will be asleep, she works nights you see, and I’ll be looking after the kids, so she needs some rest and you don’t want to see her when she’s grumpy. Oh wait you didn’t really want to know that, I’m sorry,” Tallen awkwardly laughed.
My heart had been beating faster than usual since we started talking; scared I was going to mess my words up. “It’s fine, I don’t mind at all. Where does she work?” I noticed I was close to home, I could hear a neighbour’s dog a few doors down from my house.
“She’s a nurse, at the local hospital, does different shift work.” Tallen looked around, “Oh wait this is me, didn’t realise we had walked all this way already. I better go, call me tomorrow.”
I watched as he ran across the road, pushing open the gate. A few seconds later he was gone. I blinked, twice, not realising. Flashbacks of last night hit me like a speeding car, the music, the way it made me feel. Blinking for the third time, a shiver ran down my spine. That came from his house; it came from Tallen’s house.
I didn’t move, I couldn’t, feeling some sort of connection to the mere bricks and water. As if an invisible rope had tied itself around my waist, cementing me to the ground. I wished for the hours to fly by, I wanted tomorrow. I wanted to see him again, to find out answers.
“What are you doing?”
I looked round, breaking the curse. Stood behind me was Damien, his school shirt unbuttoned, revealing a black t-shirt. On the faded material, the words ‘May Tomorrow Never Come’ caught my eye. I coughed, “Nothing, what do you mean? Did you follow me from school?”
“No, I live that way… I just saw you stood there, gawping into nothing, so wanted to know if you were alright.” I wondered if he was genuine, or lying. Without saying another word he carried on walking, continuing his journey home.
“Damien! Wait. Today on the trip,” I shouted. He stopped, and I ran over, not wanting to air the conversation to anyone other than him. “What did you mean? Am I scared of what?”
He blushed. “No, it’s nothing, don’t worry. Forget I said anything…”
“No, seriously, what did you mean?” I wasn’t letting it go. I was confused, my head hurting.
Damien looked around, seeing we were the only two in the area, other than Mrs Truman watering her daffodils. I watched as he breathed out, his mouth opening in slow motion, “I don’t know why but today I felt as if I could trust you, I wanted to know whether you were scared of dying?”
All men are created equal. No matter how hard you try, you can never erase those words.
- Harvey Milk
*
I’m part of Generation Twelve, something of which I’m reminded of everyday. On the right side of my chest I have the numbers forced into my skin with black ink. Just in case for a little second, people forget. I can feel them now, through my school shirt.
All around the world they’re millions of us. Each of us waiting for our fate to be decided. Each seventeen year old waiting for adult status, the coming of age, the age suitable for the tests to be carried out. Everyone else is, as the government say, ‘clean.’
For me I know my fate. I’ve known for as long as I could remember. I know that I’m different, not part of the new Great Britain, the new world. I know my test results will be positive. I know that I only have 287 days before I die.
It’s been just under two months since the ‘incident,’ and most people can’t get there head around it, questions still being asked, people still confused to what actually happened. However unlike others, I know the truth. Something which I’m not sure is a good thing.
It’s Monday. One of those Monday’s where each second seemed a lifetime. Fifth period had just begun, and like normal we were silent. Each row a blend of navy uniform, each face blending into the next. Mr Doyle, my English teacher who liked the sound of his own voice, was talking at the front of the room.
“Through the years the way we look at it has changed, the word itself gets thrown about, like something, something you can’t take back.” He was ranting again, something we were made to listen to for a whole hour. “I’m certain you know what word I mean, can anybody hazard a guess?”
A girl, near the front of the room, nearest the teacher, raised her hand. Mr Doyle peered over his glasses at her, signalling her to speak. “Love, sir.”
“That’s right, one syllable, one word, lots of consequences – love.” He pointed to a stack of books, and like robots three boys stood up, placing them on the front desks. One by one they were passed back.
Normally the book’s were torn, ripped, with funny remarks from ‘daz’ written over them, but these weren’t. These were brand new, shiny. I opened the cover the words ‘Love Through The Ages,’ in bold black writing, ‘Published 2011,’ just underneath.
“We start by studying the classical period, moving on to the romantic era, finishing the term learning about the modern world…” Mr Doyle sighed, frowning, seeing another thin hand being raised. He hated being interrupted, especially by this girl. “Yes Amy.”
“Is Twilight one of the topics?” Amy was like every other teenage girl in this generation; either loving or hating the massive phenomenon. She happened to be obsessed, her team Jacob t-shirt visible under her school blouse.
Even though she had stopped his train of thought, he smiled, “If you’re lucky I may add it to the syllabus.” Mr Doyle saw her face explode with happiness, and the room erupting into boos. “Quieten down.”
“Why isn’t Oscar Wilde featured in this book? Last year the A Level group studied his poetry in this section.” I turned my head, seeing my best friend nearly standing from her seat. “My brother studied it, I remember.”
“Eloise, next time raise your hand.” Mr Doyle had no other response. He couldn’t get himself into another situation. “Who wants to read the first piece of text on page three?” Ignoring her was the only option.
“Sir, I asked you a question,” she looked at her peers, seeking back-up. “Isn’t that your job to answer them? Why is his work not in this book anymore?” I knew the answer, and I had a feeling she did too. But I knew her, she wanted him to say it.
“Who’s Oscar Wilde anyway?” “I think I know who he is.” “Yeah, sir, who is he?” Other students were starting to get restless, some whispering to the person next to them. The name of the unknown man darting around the four walls.
Mr Doyle’s palms were getting sweaty. He tried to think of what to say, he tried to think of the seminar. Flashbacks making him feel dizzy: the local village hall, the amount of answers, the amount of answers that didn’t give anything away, the words “Together we will unite to make a better tomorrow.”
A book fell off the desk, knocking him back into reality, back into the chaos which was the classroom. He breathed out, “Eloise please leave the classroom and report to reception, tell them you are there due to incident 137.”
The room went suddenly quiet. It was a new school year, a new school year with new regulations. Nobody knew what ‘incident 137’ meant. Even thinking about it made a chill run down my spine, and not in a happy, cute way.
I watched my best friend stand, her chair squeaking against the cold floor. She walked through the gaps between the desks, a smile still visible on her face, showing as usual no fear. The door closed, and she was gone.
“Probably the last time we’ll see her.” The back row of boys laughed, Mr Doyle tutting. I didn’t even have to turn to recognise his voice, the distinct tone of stupidity only heard from Damien. Like most boys he enjoyed the attention, the laughs. The opposite to myself.
Mr Doyle turned his back to the class. Picking up a piece of chalk he scrapped it across the board. He was the only teacher in the whole school to refuse a computer. “Who understands the term…”
I zoned out, counting down the minutes till the bell rang, till I got the chance to see Eloise, wanting to know what happened. Looking forward to tonight, to being alone, the only opportunity I get to be fully myself now.
*
“What?! You must be kidding me, tell me you’re lying.” I laughed, seeing her shocked face. She had been my best friend for pretty much the whole of the last six years, but sometimes she liked to over exaggerate.
Eloise stopped, putting her hands on my shoulder, staring into my face, “I’m not lying. I’m being monitored at the moment, watched if you like, for unusual behaviour or something.” She let go, a little crowd forming behind us, each child wanting to get home. As far away as they could from the building they visited five days of the week.
I didn’t know what to say, I was worried. Scared slightly. Even though I knew my fate, I couldn’t let anything happen to her. She must have sensed my quietness, because she started talking. “Don’t worry though William. I’ll stay behaved for a bit. We don’t need the hassle.”
We meant you. Even though I’ve never told her, never uttered the words, I always figured she knew. Partly because she never asks me about girls, never teases me about being single. “Thanks. I mean that.”
The journey had gone quickly, and before I knew it Eloise had stopped, pushing up her fence. “This is my stop. See you tomorrow, for the dreaded start of Year Thirteen History.” I watched as she glided up the path, waiting for her to turn and winking; something she did every day.
I carried along the pavement, passing houses that were identical to each other; all painted a crisp white, with pretty picket fences. Each garden slightly brown from the summer sun, sprinklers bursting out water into every direction. The clean, shiny cars on display on the gravelled drive-ways. I hated where I lived.
Redhill was exactly the same to any other town, it had it’s good parts, and it’s not so good parts. I lived on the border. My house over-looking the smaller houses, the flats, the part of town my father called ‘dangerous.’ Our home was paid for by the government, through the conditions that my father works twenty-four/seven, or near enough anyway.
I stood at the end of the road, at the end of my world. I never crossed this point, always being told not to. Nothing would happen, nothing would change, the road will remain a road, the people are still human. But a part of me wouldn’t go against my father’s word. One day I will, I thought.
Ignoring the desire to go against the grain further, I turned my back onto temptation. As soon as I opened my front door, those thoughts were gone from my mind. The sound of the television loud, the news reporter, exclaiming about test results. “The results are still unconfirmed for now, but reports suggest the amount of infected is at an all time low…”
I laughed, not understanding how a top broadcasting channel could openly lie about something so major. I kicked off my shoes, throwing them into the slim closet off the hallway.
“William is that you?” I wanted to sneak upstairs, but my plan to creep away, pretending I didn’t hear her, was quickly ruined. She appeared in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back into a bun. Her favourite pinny, bright red, white stitching, was covered in flour. “Dinner is soon.”
I walked over to her, receiving a kiss on my forehead, her lips soft, leaving an imprint of my skin. “Ok, is dad here?” I hoped he wasn’t.
My mother’s face dropped. “He’s working late, might make dessert, depends on traffic.” I smiled at her, waiting to see the same back. She did, and I turned my back, hearing her footsteps walking back into the kitchen. Sticking my head into the living room, I saw my sister. I was safe.
I took two steps at a time, reaching the landing quickly. Throwing my bag onto my bed, I turned on the radio, hoping it made everyone believe I was studying, or something. I left my room, walking down the corridor. The wood creaked under my feet. “Shh.”
Leaning against the wall, the noise giving me away stopped. Holding the door handle firmly, I pushed it open, revealing my father’s study. The smell of dust hit me straight away, nearly causing me to cough. I put my sleeve over my mouth, the smell of detergent easing the need.
I did this a lot. Ever since it happened I found myself wanting to know more, wanting to answer the questions my head was full of. Lifting the lid of the laptop, the Windows screen appeared. I typed the password: Chelsea – my grandfather an avid fan of the football club, something which was passed down to my dad. Something I never understood.
Computer access was limited to teenagers now, only being able to use it with adult supervision. I found it ironic that my father’s job was to make sure that law was maintained. I loaded the multicoloured search engine, typing the three letter word. ‘Your search - Gay - did not match any documents. Suggestions: make sure all words are spelled correctly…’
Erased from everything, as if it didn’t exist. I reloaded the page, wanting it to be an error, wanting to see pages I had seen so many times before in my younger years. The same words flashed upon the screen. Downstairs the door slammed. My heart started to beat faster. My dad was home, early. I slammed shut the screen, switching the computer off by the plug.
Leaving the study, I heard footsteps, strong footsteps. I darted into the bathroom, flushing the chain quickly, hearing my father’s heavy breathing. Something which annoyed me more than anything.
“Hi son, your mother wants you to know tea is ready.”
The wooden floor didn’t creak this time as I walked across them. “Ok, thanks.” Once again I had got away with it. The rush, the feeling of nearly getting caught making it worth it. Standing in front of my father I felt no guilt. Maybe even a little hatred.
*
I had learnt how to block out people’s voices, especially my parents, a few years ago. Every night we sat down for dinner, they would constantly drivel, mainly about things I didn’t care about. Which normally led to situations like these.
“William, your mother is talking to you, please do not ignore her.” I blinked, realising the words being said were directed to me. His, as well as my mothers and my sister’s eyes were on staring to my side of the table.
“Sorry, I was away with the fairies.” Something I was true. Wishing I was free, not trapped, my future set before me. The wings upon my back allowing me to go anywhere, at any moment in time.
“Yes, we noticed.” My mother, placed her knife and fork down. “We were just discussing your plans for next September, your should start thinking about course choices, locations. Maybe London? That might be fun.”
In my head I laughed, laughed until tears came to my eyes, then told them I would have no chance of going to university. In real life I smiled, “yeah, in a few weeks we have meetings and stuff.”
I looked away, across the room to the television, that was still playing, on mute. The same irritating news presenter was discussing something she either knew nothing about, or could easily lie about.
“I’ve thought about going into Journalism. I want to be able to get the truth out.” I’m not sure where it came from, and a part of me regretting saying it. I wasn’t the most confident person. My cheeks turned a pale red.
My parents didn’t understand my reference, my hint into the knowledge of the things I wanted to get out. My dad even weirdly looked happy, “Well you need to work really hard on your English skills, get them tip-top but yeah that sounds like a plan.”
My younger sister laughed, “If you get like really big, like writing for daddy’s favourite paper, can I have your autograph?”
I raised my eyebrow, before smiling, “I’ll do you few, can even sell them to your friends.” The clock chimed in the hallway, six long, alarming times. “Can I be excused? I have tons of homework to do.”
My mother had already left the table, taking a pile of plates with her. Katie, my sister, was getting fidgety, hearing her leg tap against the oak table, so I was certain the answer would be yes. “Yeah, can we? The Simpsons is on.”
“I’ve made dessert..” My mother’s voice wasn’t heard against my sister’s ongoing moan. Smiling at the fact she was humming the themetune, practically helping my way to escape.
“Yes, go go go, before my head explodes.”
I walked into the corridor, before stopping, hearing my name being called. I stuck my head around the corner, “yeah?”
“How can you have so much homework anyway? You’ve only been back like a few weeks,” this time my father raised his eyebrows, waiting, seriously for my answer.
“I don’t want to get behind.” I lied. “I’ve heard loads of stories about people quitting year thirteen because they think the work will do itself.” I lied again. “I shouldn’t be long. I’ll come down straight away once I’m done. Ok?”
My mother walked back into the room, just as I finished talking, kissing me on the forehead, “of course it’s fine. I’m very proud to hear you’re being so independent and sorting out your work load.”
I felt a little bad. But as soon as I reached my bedroom, the feeling was gone. I closed the door quietly, pushing the lock across. My parent’s were against it as first, the lock, but after a privacy and man-to-man chat, I convinced them. Little did they know the main reasons I was set for it.
I moved my chest, holding my old work folders, using my right foot I pushed down on the floorboard, gently picking it up, placing it behind me. I squeezed my hand between the gap, pulling out the shoe box. I dusted off the top, annoyed at the fact it had been so long since I had done this. A couple of days of no opportunities, no chances, or being plain scared.
Opening the box, I smiled.
*
I turned on my side, going to pull my cover over my cold body, realising it wasn’t there, I was on top of it. The contents of my hidden box around me: photographs, books, a postcard, a CD, and a few DVDs. I had slept in my school clothes, not remembering anything past 8 o’clock.
The bright sun shining through my window made my heart beat faster, realising it wasn’t half six, realising my alarm hadn’t gone off. I leapt up, my possessions going everywhere, each separate object flying through the air, I stared, watching them land onto the floor in slow motion.
I glanced at the clock, hanging above my door – seven, forty five. I had ten minutes to get ready and meet Eloise. Grabbing the shoebox I shoved each thing in, throwing the floorboard down, dragging my chest across the hiding place, as if nothing had happened.
“William? Haven’t you left yet?”
Even though I was safe, I still felt nervous, having to double-check nothing was left behind, that I hadn’t forgotten to put something away. “JUST COMING,” I shouted, even though there was no need. Looking in the mirror I tried to flatten my hair, wetting my hand, something that never worked when you were in a rush.
I tried to open my door, flashbacks of last night reminding me I had locked it. Stood waiting for me on the landing was my baby sister. “I knocked on your door last night, I wanted you to help me with a bit of my homework.”
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. Breathing in I felt tears coming to my eyes. “I’m sorry Katie, I must have fallen asleep. Tonight yeah? I’ll help you tonight.”
She ran off, stopping near the stairs, “It had to be in today, so there’s no need. Thanks.”
The number 286 appeared in front of my eyes, like the little red dots that appear when you’re dizzy. 286 days till my sister loses her older brother. I walked fast, catching up with her, “well we’re do something else, maybe watch The Simpsons?”
She smiled, the happiness, the unknowing in her eyes immediately making me forget everything. Everything that was wrong with the world.
*
I still felt late in morning registration. I wasn’t, but the feeling wouldn’t budge. For some reason luck was on our side, Eloise and I made the morning bell, even sitting down in the maths room before it rang out.
Our form tutor was Mrs Larson, the school’s only female mathematics teacher. Something which she felt she had to always repeat, including the fact her student’s pass level was higher than other members of staff.
“Do you think I’m being watched right now?” Eloise laughed, looking around the room. “Maybe they’ve added CCTV somewhere, just for me. What angle does my face look best on? What’s my best side?”
I swung round on my chair, facing her, giggling at her model poses. “To be honest, you should wear your hair to the side, so if their watching, they can see your eyes. You have pretty eyes.”
Her cheeks blushed, “stop it, you.”
In my head I mentally ticked a box. Completing one of the tasks I wanted to complete before ‘that’ date: remind Eloise each day that she’s beautiful. The classroom door opened, Mrs Larson and others entering.
“If you could just all stand there, I will introduce you all.” She coughed, softly but firmly, something which she did to demand everyone’s attention. “Morning everyone.”
“Morning Mrs Larson,” the whole room chanted back. We were all coming up to eighteen, but she still insisted we behaved as if were seven years of age.
“We have a few new faces joining us today. You’ve all watched the news, unless you’ve been living under a rock you all know what’s happened the last few months. Rohmpton Secondary had to close, so their students are being spread out to the adjoining areas.”
I wondered why it had to close. But had no chance to think, Eloise whispering into my ear, “that must be horrible for them, split up from their friends. What else did this ‘disease’ destroy?” I nodded.
Mrs Larson turned to one side, “so joining your year, and our form group, is Harry, Poisha, Ebony, and,” the furthest girl moved to one side revealing the final new member. His head was low, his eyes firmly on the ground. “Tallen. Say hello everyone.”
Everything around me seemed to disappear, my gaze fixated on Tallen. He seemed scared, apprehensive, still not seeing him look up. I waited for him to say something. That second he lifted his face, his blue eyes knocking the breath from my lungs. The others had introduced themselves, their words not reaching my ears.
“Hi.”
(Source: messiling, via letsplayshowtunes)
(via letsplayshowtunes)
If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.
- Leviticus 20:13 KJV
The 14th of July 2012. The day it happened, the day the world changed. The day the word diversity lost its meaning. The day Homosexuality became extinct.
*
“Excuse me sir, if you could just give me two minutes and I will be with you…” The receptionist closed her eyes for a second, breathing out, wishing she was at home. At home with her boyfriend, at home with the peace and quiet. The waiting room was full to the brim, and her shift was far from over.
“I don’t understand, my son has been in there for hours. My Daniel, I want to know where he is,” the man, like others in the room, were starting to get restless.
“You know the situation, we are on level three, closely reaching level four, emergency checks are in place. Your son is currently being seen by the doctors. If you would like to take a seat, I will do my very best to find out how long he will be.”
Natasha grabbed the phone from her left side, realising it had been ringing. The sound of the tone immune to her ears. Without even listening to them, she said “please hold,” pressing the fourth button. Grabbing a piece of paper, she scribbled down an excuse. Placing the sign through the gap, onto the glass door.
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve been waiting ages! We want answers!”
“You’ve done nothing. You don’t deserve a break! Come back here!”
Natasha ignored them, leaving her area, walking into the corridor. Seconds of silence made her sigh. Walking around the corner towards her was her colleague. “Allison! I need a word!” She knew the answer would be that she was busy, but she didn’t care.
“Who’s running the main desk?”
“I got a cover,” Natasha looked at her colleague, her friend. “What is happening? I don’t understand.”
“Read your pack. All I know is what I’ve read in the information booklet.” Natasha stared at her friend. She looked scared, her eyes showing stress, and fear. Her beeper rang, “I have to go. Stay safe.”
*
Allison closed the changing room’s door, locking it with her key-card. Running to her locker, she stabbed her pin into the control, the door swinging open. Her phone was still on, forgetting to turn it off earlier. One of the many things she had forgotten to do today. Scrolling through her address book she found his number.
He picked up immediately. “What’s up sis? Aren’t you working? How is it? I better it’s busy, do you know what the cause of this ‘crisis’ is yet.” He laughed, unaware of everything.
A tear fell down her face, his voice causing her pain. “I don’t have much time. So I want you to listen, I can only say this once.”
“What is it?”
“You need to leave, you need to go somewhere nobody will find you. Especially the police. Don’t even tell mum and dad. Understand?” Allison knew his chances were slim, but she still had to try. She couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try.
“No, no I don’t. The television says I’m not allowed to leave the house. The suspected virus or something. Why do I need to leave?”
Allison stared forward at the posters on the wall. The stages highlighted in different colours: green, yellow, orange, red. All of it a lie, a massive cover-up. “There is no virus.” She waited for her to brother to reply, hearing nothing. “Aiden?”
“Wait a second, somebody is at the door.”
“Do not open the door. Aiden listen to me, do not open the door.” Her beeper vibrated in her pocket. She was needed in two places at once; protecting her brother or following her guidelines. The phone went dead, the dial tone ringing out.
*
“Where the hell have you been?”
“I had to sort myself out, sorry.” Allison cleared her mind, taking the case notes from the the side. She looked through the glass window, looking at the man sat on the bed, then back to his notes. He only looked around eighteen, not even that. “I take it his results are bad.”
“Yeah, He’s positive. I needed confirmation from someone superior to give him the drug.”
The word ‘drug’ made a shiver run down her spine. “You need my confirmation to kill him you mean?”
The young nurse looked at Allison with a blank face, showing no emotion. “You know why, there is nothing we can do about it, do I have your confirmation or not? If I don’t I will have to report this situation.”
Allison nodded, “you have my confirmation.”
The young nurse left the room, entering the white, clean chamber; the hospital’s very own prison cell. Allison turned, not being able to watch. Somewhere through these the thin walls, his parents would be waiting, waiting for him to come out. Unknown to them that their son was about to be killed, killed for being gay.
(Source: jack-twist-and-shout)
future husband? mmhm!
(Source: hash-tag-heel)
... i'm undefined, i'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned.
