"Don't you do it! Don't you motherfucking dare!"
"Please, don't fight with me on this!"
"Don't do this to me, I need you!"
"I know…I'm sorry…"
BANG!
Bright indigo eyes shot open. The figure sat upright in the messy bed he laid in, his already ruffled hair even more disheveled and he was coated in sweat.
"Mother…fuck, man…" he panted, running a hand through his hair, almost getting it tangled in the wild curls. It was that dream again. That same dream, he's had for years now, ever since he was 16. He looked at the alarm clock and groaned. It was three in the morning. He flopped back on the bed, frowning as he stared at the ceiling. In his dream, there was always a girl. He knew he wasn't human in the dream, because he had gray skin and horns and teeth and claws. But he just accepted that. The girl was human though. She had bright eyes and a smile that made his dream-self melt and she quieted the voices that whispered in his mind. He didn't know what her name was, though. She knew his.
It always ended with her death.
Always.
His heart seemed to break and all he saw afterwards was red…and then he would wake up.
Gamzee bared his teeth in frustration. Why did this dream haunt him?! That girl?!
He glared at the alarm clock again, before kicking off his sheets and leaving the bedroom, going to stand outside on the front porch. His home was run down and there were problems with it, but it was better than most of the houses on this side of town. He didn't live in a very good area. Hell, he didn't live a very good life. He had been involved in gangs, drugs, assaults of various natures and a homicide that was determined to be self-defense when he was younger. His slate wasn't clean by any means.
Especially since that homicide had been his own father.
He reached up and touched the three long scars that ran across his face, from the top left temple diagonally to the bottom right part of his jaw. Caused by a beer bottle that had been broken. His father was in a rage and attacked him and his brother. The attack caused his brother to go mute for the rest of his life from an injury to his throat. Gamzee killed his father by beating his head in with a metal baseball bat before he could kill either of them.
It haunted him for years afterwards. Still did at times.
His brother had healed and he found a girlfriend, moving in with her and out of this part of town. Gamzee stayed. Stayed in the house they had lived in their entire lives. He grabbed a cigarette from the pack that was lying on the broken table beside the door and placed it between his lips, lighting it and inhaling deeply, holding it for a moment…then releasing it, the smoke exiting in a steady stream. For the longest time he smoked pot, tried heroin (that really fucked with his head and he stopped after one use), did cocaine for a little while, before the court forced him to get clean.
Gamzee took another drag of the cigarette. He could hear the neighbors shouting and screaming at each other, like they always did. Could hear his other neighbors pounding it out through their open window. God that woman was loud. Police sirens echoed, people shouting. That was life in the hood. His life.
He hated it.
He hated every minute of it, every smell, every sound, even the taste of the cigarette on his tongue was sour.
Most of all, he hated himself. Hated what he was, what he turned into.
He forgot what it was like to even really…really smile anymore. Something he was so well known for with his friends he faked most of the time. His friends…god, his friends were pulling away. They were finding things in their lives that meant he couldn't be around. Girlfriends, wives, children. Hell, even his best friend Karkat had a lady in his life, despite being the grouchy, bitchy ass that he was.
Gamzee puffed on the cigarette for another moment, before grabbing his jacket from the hanger near the front door and pulling it on, pocketing the cigarettes and lighter, before locking the front door. Not that it did any good, really. He'd already been broken into several times living there. Granted he was usually home and gave the robber a good beat-down, but still.
He figured a walk was in order to clear his mind. So he walked past the loud lovers next door and the screaming baby beside them, towards the lights of the main town. He knew what he must look like. Some delinquent thug, wearing loose pants and an open hoody with no shirt, his hair wild and scars to be seen everywhere. He really would look scary if he had his face paint on.
Gamzee walked for a good mile to the town, cars passing by him as he walked in the streetlights. He passed a hooker on the street corner, who tried to get him as a client, another hooker that was with someone in an alleyway….passed by a group of gang wanna-be's that eyed him as he passed by. Go ahead, he thought, make my night. He hadn't had a good fight in a while. Maybe that's what was needed to get rid of this excess energy. That, or maybe a good fuck. Maybe he should take that hooker up…then again, maybe not. He wrinkled his nose at the thought. He was never fond of them—his mother had been a hooker and after he turned four, she left him and his brother with their father. That might have been what started his abusive rages. Or maybe he was like that before, he didn't remember too much really.
He paused on a street corner to light another cigarette, watching the really late night partiers and clubbers walk around. Some were the rich, snobby folk that lived on the other side of town, some were just common, normal people. Others were like him. Outsiders, thugs. Freaks. He smirked a little as he took a drag. Freak. Yeah, that described him. He liked weird things. Did weird shit. Fuck, he could probably do the clown stint if it wasn't for his background. He couldn't really get a good job because of his background.
Gamzee flicked his ashes, leaning against a streetlamp as he eyed a couple of girls passing by, admiring the ass of the one in too short, too tight shorts. They were probably around 18. Too young, in his opinion. Being 23, he wanted one that was close to his age, if he really had to choose. One his age, that wouldn't judge him on his background or his looks….yeah, like that would happen. He terrified most girls that weren't looking for a wild night.
The girl's friend noticed him and nudged her and she glanced back. They both hurried off, obviously nervous. He chuckled darkly, flicking his ashes again, before taking another drag. They were too cute. Fresh out of high school, trying to be sexy, but too awkward to really figure out how to attract a man.
He watched the traffic of people pass by for a while, before he flicked his cigarette into the street and continued his walk. Towards the nicer part of town. It was quieter there and he liked the park there because it was peaceful. It wasn't the rich part of town, but it definitely wasn't the ghetto either.
He passed through the sidewalks of the quiet neighborhood, looking at the nice, cozy houses with their clean yards. Very few of the houses looked run-down and the cars looked a little shoddy. But it was still a nice area.
A dog barked from behind a fenced yard as he passed by and he barely glanced at it as he continued walking. He paused in front of a house that said FOR SALE. It wasn't bad looking, nice little yard and front porch. It had been for sale for almost a month now and every time he passed by it, he'd stop and look at it. He'd snuck into it once to look at it. He really liked it. He just didn't have the money to buy it. He turned his gaze and kept walking.
He reached the park and sat down on a bench, resting his arms on his thighs, staring into the pond in front of him. He absently chewed on his lip piercing. He stayed there until the sky started to lighten up and the neighborhood and park began to wake up. He stood and stretched his stiff muscles. He had been there for…shit, two and a half hours, almost three. Gamzee ran his hand through his hair again. God, he was so fucking tired.
Yawning, he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and started walking back home, passing by the people getting up at ridiculous hours to leave for work, earning some looks from a couple of them. They apparently never went to the bad part of town. There were worse looking people. At least he bathed on a regular basis.
Past the barking ankle-bitter.
Past the morning newspaper person.
Past the FOR SALE home.
Through the town and back into the ghetto, to his home, ignoring the jeers from some of the thugs as he passed by. They didn't dare start a fight with him. Most everybody in that part of town knew who he was. Knew what he could do, but every now and then a nobody liked to challenge him.
Gamzee yawned again as he climbed on his front porch, his long legs easily going over the rotten step. He unlocked the door and shrugged off his jacket folding it over an old armchair as he walked to his room. He flopped on the bed after kicking off his old shoes and laid there for a long while, listening to the morning noises, before he drifted off to sleep.
Maybe later he'd try to find something different to do. Maybe an actual job or…or maybe flirt with a girl and try to make it a serious relationship…
Maybe save up…to get that house….
Gamzee was asleep before the alarm clock switched to 6 o' clock.