Disclaimer::
Warning:: Cussing and one incredibly angsty blonde.
I; invincible
"Daddy? Why does Mommy hate me?" A small blonde boy asked, looking up to his father-figure.
"What?" He seemed surprised. "Roxas, why would you say that? Your mother doesn't hate you."
"She never hugs me. She never looks at me," Roxas said, surprisingly dry-eyed.
"Son," the man said, kneeling so he could be eye-level with his child. He rested his hands on his shoulders. "Your mother and I love you very much. Your mother's just… She's sick. That's why she doesn't want to come near you. She doesn't want you to get sick, either." The 5-year-old contemplated this, and then smiled.
"Okay!" He said. "Thanks, Daddy!"
"No problem, Roxas," the father hugged his boy, smiling. "And don't you ever think that your mother or I hate you."
"Mr. Zetterstrom, I'm very disappointed in you," Dr. Lexicon, the school psychiatrist, said as he wrote down something in his notebook. I was sitting across from him in his office, a mahogany desk in between us. "You've injured Miss Noi, not only physically, but emotionally, too." He took off his glasses and looked at me. "Do you have to lash out at everyone in such a manner? It's most unbecoming to someone such as yourself."
"The fuck is that supposed to mean??" I snapped, not in the mood to talk, especially not with the psychiatrist who looked like he could barely deal with his own shit.
"I think it would be to your benefit if you let someone in," Dr. Lexicon continued. "Therefore, starting this year, every eight period, you are to come to my office for a period-long chat."
"Like hell I will!"
"You're angry." No shit, Sherlock. "But what fuels this fire? I'm not stupid, Mr. Zetterstrom," Dr. Lexicon looked directly at me. "I understand that something is happening in your life that makes you want to lash out. Your teachers have noted daily bruises on your arms, face, legs, anywhere. Now, answer me honestly when I ask you this; are you being abused by someone?"
There was a deafening silence before either of us moved.
"Dr. Lexicon," I said, glaring a hole into the floor. "I'm just a fuck-up. Don't try to understand me."
"I intend to, Mr. Zetterstrom, whether you agree to it or not," he said, standing up from his desk. "Your willingness to comply would make this whole process much easier, so for your own sake, think before you act." Dr. Lexicon walked over to the door and opened it, signaling me to leave. I got up and picked my book bag up off the floor, brooding as I left the the hell did he think he was, telling me what to do? Shoving my hands into the pockets of my worn out jeans, I made my way down the labyrinth of halls and finally to the steps outside of Barrington High. It was Friday, so nobody had stayed after school. They'd all left with plans of going to Lake George or getting a bite to eat at Friendly's.
Except for me, little Roxas Zetterstrom, the "bad boy" of Barrington High School. But I didn't need some lame-ass lake house or a shitty booth at some restaurant to make me feel special. To hell with that shit. All I needed was a one way ticket out of this hellhole that was the life I was living.
I zipped up my jacket, trying to block out the wind from outside. For October, it was freakishly cold. The weather was bipolar in Latham, New York. One day it would be sunny and warm, and the next, it would be the fucking most miserable place you've ever been.
I walked over into the senior's parking lot and pulled out the keys to my black 1986 Chrysler Laser XT. Yeah, it was a piece of crap, but it was cheap and got me places. God knows what would've happened if I skateboarded around the place like I used to. Sticking the keys in the door, there was a small click! and I opened the door. I sat down at the driver's seat and stuck the keys in the ignition. The first couple of times, the car wouldn't start. This was just fucking wonderful. Not only was there the whole deal with that bitch and that shitty excuse for a "guidance counselor," but now I couldn't even leave the place. I ripped the keys out of the ignition, got out of the car, and slammed the door shut. I locked the Chrysler and started to walk off the school grounds. Latham was bigger than Albany, but in Latham, you could walk around without running into a pot dealer or getting shot at by some shitfaced old guy that practically radiated alcohol.
I grimaced at the thought. Alcohol. There were no good memories tied with that word, but I'd spent the last twelve years blocking out any details as to why.
SCREETCH!
I looked up suddenly and saw two bright white lights.
"Yeah, baby! Take it off!" A tall, redheaded boy slurred as his shorter, blonde companion took off his jacket. The blonde rolled his eyes and draped the jacket over his left arm, using his right to help the redhead from tripping over his own two feet.
"You're so plastered, Axel," the blonde said disgusted as they approached a silver Toyota Corolla.
"Plastered?" Axel said, nearly falling on top of the car. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, Roxie! I think you're plastered!"
"Right…" Roxas said, not buying it. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He said as Axel reached for the door to the driver's seat.
"I'm driving my car, betch," Axel said, his hand feeling around the door for the handle.
"Dude, you're fucking smashed," Roxas reasoned. "There's no way in hell I'm letting you drive. I'm driving."
Just then, Axel burst out laughing. Roxas arched an eyebrow.
"What's so funny?" The blonde asked.
"You think I'mma let you drive my baby?" Axel said, resting his entire body on the car as he stroked it. "There's only one person who can drive my baby," he said, holding up four fingers. "And those three people are me."
"You're a retard, you know that?" The blonde said slightly amused as he guided Axel into the passenger seat. Once he was sure the redhead was strapped in, Roxas made his way to the driver's seat and started up the car. He backed up out of the parking lot of the bar and drove away. They'd been driving for about five minutes in complete silence before Axel spoke up.
"Hey, Roxie?"
"What do you want, Axel?"
"Happy birthday, man." The redhead smiled at the blonde as green eyes met blue. Roxas's stern expression softened, and he uncharacteristically smiled back.
"Thanks, Axel."
Intersection.
SCREETCH!
Two bright lights.
"He's gone…"
My eyes flew open and instantly burned at just how bright the room was. I looked around, breathing heavily. A young woman in white rushed over to me.
"Mr. Zetterstrom! You need to calm down!"
I could barely hear what she was saying, my blood was rushing so fast.
"Where is he??" I yelled. "Where the fuck is he??"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Zetterstrom! Please, lay back down-" The woman tried to push me back down, but I slapped her hands away.
"Don't give me that shit!" I yelled, feeling the anger and anxiety building up inside of me. "Where's Axel??"
"Axel?" The woman said. "I don't know who you're talking about, but Mr. Zetterstrom, you really need to rest! You've been in critical condition for the past three hours! Please, just calm down-"
"Fuck you!" I seethed. "I know he's here! Don't give me the 'please calm down' shit! Now where is he??" I tried to get up, but there were wires connected to my arms that I didn't notice earlier. I ripped them out, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through my arms.
"Mr. Zetterstrom, please!" The woman pleaded as she tried to restrain me. "You were hit by a car a couple hours ago! Your wounds haven't healed yet, and if you move around too suddenly, they might open back up!"
"Let me go, you dumb broad!" I yelled at her, trying to fight free. A couple other people in white came in and forced me back down. I felt a slight pinch in my arm, and then the world went fuzzy.
"I just… I just wanted to see him again…" I murmured before everything went black.
Haha, first chapter's finally up! Thanks to the Colonel for beta reading for me! :]