"This court is adjourned!" shouted a woman's voice.

…Now I see something else.

A jolly laugh rang, and a fuzzy face was where it came from.

I don't remember who that was…

"I like to hop, hop, hop all day!"

Darn it, that song is so distantly familiar…

A figure sat in front of me, hands on my shoulders. ".. Julian, this… you're... I'll…soon."

Who was that anyway? That voice is so familiar…

"Julian! She's...you...sweetie." a soft voice said, one that I didn't want to abandon.

"Julian…

Julian!!"

SLAP!

My face began to flame all of a sudden as my head was tossed violently to the left. I lifted my hand and caressed my cheek, feeling it burn against my alien touch. And as I slowly brought my eyes back, the expression on her face was overly furious.

This came to no surprise. Mom was upset with me for day dreaming again.

"Are you listening to me, boy? I said get your ass out of that chair and go to school. Get out of my face, I don't want to see you!" she yelled, her voice cracking at its highest peak.

I blinked the tears away, saying nothing as I pushed myself to my feet. There were so many things I wanted to say to her right now, but to be frank; I didn't have the guts to even try. When she was angry, I swear she was the most dangerous person on the planet!

Meandering over to the nicely stained wooden door where my bag sat, I bent down and picked it up, struggling to get it over my shoulder. I stumble sideways, placing a hand to my forehead. Head rush…

It's been four days since I've eaten anything. Mom has put me on a starvation diet, I guessed. All the food in the kitchen was forbidden to my touch. So naturally, every once and a while, to get at least a little something, I attempt to sneak food during the night, but for the last while I've been caught and beaten for my actions. I think I've lost my touch.

I growl miserably as she stares at the back of my head; my hair was slightly tasseled but was neat enough to look like I attempted to brush it this morning.

Looking over my shoulder, I see that she was dressed in an expensive black and blue blazer, her hair was up in a high pony tail and rings decorated her slender fingers.

Our house was huge, bigger than most normal houses. It was adorned with all sorts of pictures, and of course, many priceless ornaments shelved high so I couldn't reach them as a child. I used to grab hold of them when mother and I were in the middle of a fight, and toss them across the room. Now I know better.

Dad was a high class lawyer, making loads of money each day. That's was bought us this home in the first place. Mom, well…she works as a business woman in the tax industry. And for some reason, every time I brought a friend over, they would put on a fake face that showed our family was the happiest one on the surface of the earth. Behind my friend's backs, they'd hit me, and when I came back into the room, I made up some stupid excuse by saying I poked myself in the eye or I fell down the stairs or something. They'd believe me.

And as soon as they left…hell surfaced.

"Get out." Mom stated in her cold voice, and I obeyed. Yanking the door open softly, I said nothing to her as I exited the house with nothing but my book bag, a text book and myself. I slammed the door behind me, hearing some glassware jingle uneasily inside the house and my mother's loud screaming to inform me of what I just did. However, I ignore it and carry on my way down the road.

As usual, I walked alone down the busy streets of downtown to get to my school. Everyone else passed me, riding their skateboards and bikes. I knew that as soon as my foot touched school grounds, I had to put on a new face. One that was cheery and bright.

…One that had to hide my bruises and cuts.

I had stolen a bit of my mom's cover-up make up and stuffed it into my nap sack. I was lucky she had three different kinds, and this was one she didn't use, otherwise I would totally get a beating for stealing. I reached into one of my pockets and pulled it out, pressing down on the small cap so that a goop of light brown mixture piled onto my index finger. As I slipped around a corner for a moment, I gently massaged it onto my marks, making sure they were well covered. If the kids at school found out my dark, secret life, I would for sure be doomed.

Quickly placing what was left on my finger onto my skin; I wiped my hands on the walls of the building against me and shoved the make up back into my bag. I then whirled around the corner, avoiding a group of older teenage boys rushing by, laughing at something I didn't hear and continuing their merry little way down the street.

With a quiet sigh, I follow, but at a slow pace as I made my way to the educational centre.

BRRRIIINNNGGG!!

"Yeesh, that school bell is loud! That really needs to be fixed!" my black skinned friend, Ashton, spoke over the ringing as he came over to my locker. His hands covered his ears, and the look on his face showed clear unsatisfactory. I rolled my eyes a little, smiling for the first time today as I pulled my binder out of the rectangular hole.

"Good morning to you too…" I say sarcastically, laughing as his expression changed.

"Yeah, Kay, hurry it up, Julian. Class is going to start soon." Ashton states impatiently, and I could hear his foot tapping on the tile. Shutting my locker, I press the lock together and turn towards him. He wore a red shirt with flames printed on the front and baggy blue jeans. It looked rather good on him, especially since he had no hair but instead was bald.

"Since when did you care about being late?" I asked as we begin to slowly walk down the hall, clutching our books tight against us. I see him shrug out the corner of my eye, his black binder hanging loosely in his grip.

"I don't. But if we're not on time for this class, the teacher will send us to Thursday school for the rest of the year." His voice slurred a little, while mine usually stayed tight on the t's and a little soft of the s's. To me, he sounded a little drunk, but according to his mother, he's always talked like that. I guess that's true. I've been in school with him since the start of Preschool, but I suppose I haven't really noticed until as of late.

We entered the class, and high fives were flying at us like wild fire. I guess you could say we were the more popular, good looking guys of our class; the whole school even. And to be honest, I have no idea why. The only explanations I even got was that we were just cute and the most amazing jocks ever.

Mhmm…okay then.

I sit down at my table, which consisted of Ashton, two girls and I. My binder is automatically opened in front of me, and I could feel four eyes staring straight at me, so to keep myself preoccupied I turn to my best friend and talk away. I made up some story about how my weekend went, making it sound so cool when it really wasn't.

Just then, the teacher interrupted our chatting, silencing us immediately. I frowned as he came around, shouting our names and checking them off on a piece of paper upon his clipboard. Four of my classmates were missing today.

I wonder what they were going through…

My teacher, named Mr. Kingston, was always sharply dressed. He wore blazers every single day, and his hair was always slicked back like he was some form of a religious preacher. But his default was that his lectures had to be the most boring things ever to be endured. Honest to God, I fall asleep in almost every one! It's amazing that I haven't been caught and sent to the office yet. I guess he's too caught up in listening to himself that he doesn't even have time to notice.

So, as his most boring lecture began, I laid my head down upon the desk and closed my eyes. Ashton knew when to wake me, which was how often I did it.

"In the early nineteenth century…" he started. But long after that, I was dreaming of the sweet cotton candy that I will never get to taste.