This chapter is almost the same as it was before, but it was so inaccurate and f-ed with my story line so bad I needed to fix it.

*THIS IS THE NEW REWRITE, PLEASE READ AGAIN IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT SINCE IT WAS CHANGED*

Sitting nervously he tapped his fingers rhythmically on the table.

Parents asleep he tried his best to keep quiet, not wanting to wake them and receive a scorning for being up so late.

Go to bed… he thought

Getting up he took a step towards his room before spinning around and returning to the chair, continuing with his tapping.

You will get in trouble… they'll hit you again he thought get in your room.

Ceasing the taping the replaced the action with biting his bottom lip, rising from the table once more he took a few more steps than the last attempt towards his door.

Breathing deep he reached his room, entering quickly he walked over to the bed sitting down cautiously.

Awkwardly he spread out on the bed, kicking off his shoes letting them fall to the floor with a soft thump.

Close your eyes and go to sleep…

He sighed I don't want to, not if the nightmares will come again. He replied to his mental voice.

They weren't that bad he conscience tried to comfort him

They were so and don't you deny it.

"What am I doing?" he thought aloud, "mentally talking to myself, yes because that makes a lot of sense"

Turning onto his side he let his eyes close, for the first time that night he felt exactly how tired he actually was.

As sleep gradually began to overcome him, his breathing deepened as his muscles relaxed, no longer in their tense position as they usually were during the day.

--

Walking down a long corridor he eventually came to the end, a large wood entrance door stood before him. Pushing one side open he peered in, the darkness of the corridor was in completely opposite to the room, bright colors plastered the walls a long table sat proudly in the middle.

"where am I?" he asked, though clearly nobody was there.

Walking over to the able, he let his fingers drag across the surface. Reaching the head of the table he stood before an oversized chair.

Grinning happily he pulled it out, sitting down carefully.

Looking down the table he admired the beautiful tea sets, the delicate craftsmanship put into each one.

"I wish this was my home" he though aloud "I wish I could have this and be here forever, get away from them" he though about his parents and how they never cared about him.

Almost instantly the dream shifted, what was once happy was now dark and gruesome. The table was gnarled, chunks missing here and there. The previously beautiful china was smashed to pieces, chest aching he rushed to the damaged articles trying desperately to piece them back together.

"I can fix it" he said panicked "I promise I can fix it, please don't take this away from me" he begged to the empty room.

Tried as he did, he could not reassemble anything, the broken pieces breaking even more as he touched them.

"I can fix it," he said again, tears welling up in his eyes "don't take it away, I can fix it, I can fix it"

No matter what he tried, none of his attempts were working in the slightest, and it was only seconds before the pieces began to fade from his fingers, the room blending into darkness leaving him standing alone amongst nothing.

Tears spilling onto his cheeks he dropped to his knees, his messy orange hair falling in his face as he shook on the ground.

"Don't make me go back" he sobbed.

--

Eyes snapping open he looked around at his room, currently being lit by the sun cascading through his window.

Bringing a hand to his cheek he wiped away the tears that fell during his sleep.

Of course I'd never find somewhere as good as that he though, his breathing shaking as he fought back another wave of sadness.

Swinging his legs off the bed he opened the door to see his father sitting in the same place as he was the night before, his glass of alcohol already poured and set before him.

Of course, not even noon and he's already getting intoxicated he though pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You been crying boy?" his father asked, taking a sip of the liquid.

"I- No" he replied, looking down at his feet.

"Don't lie to me" he father spat putting the glass down.

"I'm not, I just didn't sleep well is all"

The man scoffed "why would a 16 year old boy have trouble sleeping"

Pouring himself another glass he laughed "might as well 'ave had a girl, she'd probably more useful than you"

Dropping his eyes to the floor the young boy walked away, shuffling his feet clearly discouraged.

Don't worry you're not useless... he told himself he's just drunk and stupid.

Letting out a quiet chuckle, he instantly regretted it as a small clank sounded through the room, his father dropping the class down onto the table.

"Did I say something funny boy? The strict voice bellowed.

"N-no sir" he stuttered, turning to face his father.

"Then why are you laughing?" he questioned harshly

"S-sorry, I didn't mean-"

"DIDN'T MEAN FOR ME TO HEAR!?!?" he accused

Flinching away from the sudden yelling, shifting nervously.

Turning on his feels he ran for the door, ripping it open and taking off down the street.

He could still hear his father's voice echoing through his mind.

Running as hard as he could, he dodged people left and right, looking back to see if he was being followed.

Turning back he ran smack into a frail looking man, tumbling backwards.

"I'm so sorry!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

"It's alright son" the man chuckled, his dark hair slicked back making him look much younger than he most likely was "might I ask as to why you were running?"

"I, uh- my father he- I can't- do make me go back!" he pleaded.

The man placed a steady hand on his shoulder "calm down, I won't make you go back. You may accompany to my shop if you'd like"

Nodding vigorously he followed the man down to the street to a small hat shop marked 'Mr. Silverwood's', the window displaying all sorts of head wear.

"You work here?" he asked curiously

The man nodded "yes, I am the town's hatter my name is Mr. Silverwood… in case you didn't see that" a wide grin was set on his features as he opened the door.

Walking in the boy looked around in amazement, hats lines every inch of the walls., every style imaginable.

"This is amazing" he said, clearly in awe.

"Son, would you like to work for me?" the elder asked, smiling down at the boy.

"Really?!" he replied in excitement "I'd love to so very much, I promise I'll do whatever you say"

"What's your name boy?"

"Tarrant" he replied with a smile

"Ah Tarrant… good strong name, tell ya what. If you help me clean up around the shop, I'll teach you everything I know about making hat's alright?"

Practically exploding with joy he wrapped his arms tightly around his new found mentor.

Mr. Silverwood continued to smile, the sight of the young boys enthusiasm was rewarding.

Though moments later the boys smile faded to bare a grim expression "I don't want to go back" he muttered staring at his feet.

The hatter frowned "go back?... Oh you mean home?"

He nodded "my parents don't care, all they do is yell at me and beat me" tears began to well up in his eyes once more.

Grabbing a chair the hatter sat him down, pulling one over for himself.

"It's alright, no one is making you go back" he said, a comforting hand on the boys shoulder "I have a empty room upstairs, you can stay with me if you'd like"

Tarrant nodded quickly

"No one is going to make you go anywhere, alright?"

He nodded again "promise?"

"Promise" the man smiled, ruffling the boys bright orange hair.

Mr. Silverwood kept that promise, allowing him to say and work with him for years, teaching him the trade and skills to be the very best. Silver wood had never seen such talent as he did in Tarrant, he had never seem someone make such a high quality and beautiful hats.

There had always been one that had caught his attention, the now young man had been fabricating an elaborate top hat for four years time. The intricacy and detail absolutely blew his mind, never once in all his years had he seen such a magnificent creation.

"I'm done!" Tarrant called from the work bench, rushing over to him "I'm finally done!"

"Done what?" Silverwood asked, looking up from his book

"The hat, my hat" he held up a curved top hat made entirely out of a dark brown leather.

"My word, that is remarkable" Silverwood said, leaning closer to the piece of headdress.

Covered entirely out of a dark brown leather, wholes poked within to make the pattern of a fine lace. Across the leather was the occasional stitching of gold thread, emphasizing the look of lace. At the top front was a piece of striped fabric that had been sewn on, clearly for decoration purposes. Around the base of the hat was tied a light pink silk scarf, one end bearing a floral like stitching pattern on it the other merely frayed excessively.

"Tarrant, this is incredible" he said, examining it further "I'm truly amazed, you have made me so proud" he looked up at the young man with a smile.

"Thank you sir, your praise means a lot"

"I have an idea" walking over to his desk he pulled out a small blank care and a writing utensil. Quickly he marked the size down on the car in neat numbers, handing it to his apprentice "tuck it in the band"

With a wide smile he did as told, tucking the size card into the scarf's band around his hat.

"Perfect" they spoke together.

--

Sitting behind the counter, he crossed his legs on the chair, tapping the table rhythmically while he hummed a happy tune. Four years he had stayed with the man, it was incredible how his overall mood improved. The nightmares, for the most part, have stopped but his mood swings were still intact.

His mentor, John Silverwood had become more of a father to him than anything, what he was taught will stay with him forever. He was as much of a professional as his mentor, who had told him exactly that many times before.

The one thing that always him curious though, was a room in the back of the shop that John kept locked at all times.

Every time he asked what was inside, John would merely reply with 'home'.

Sighing he uncrossed his legs, standing up he walked over to the window. People watching was one of favourite things to do when he was in charge of the shop.

As he observed people walking back he saw something that made his heart clench.

The stood his father, blood stained knife over his mentor. Ripping the door open he darted into the street, charging at his father.

"What did you do?!" he screamed, throwing a punch at the older man.

"He took you from us, so I killed him!" he father replied, a triumphant smirk on his face as he stumbled back from the blow.

"What?! You never cared if I was there, four years later you decide to kill the one person who ever actually care for me like parent!" he was shaking with disbelief and rage as he started at the man he loathed the most in the world.

A cough from below him caught his attention, his mentor though bleeding profusely was still alive.

"Mr. Silverwood" he said quietly kneeling next to him.

John inhaled weakly "don't be violent" the dark haired man pleaded gripping the front of his shirt" you'll be no better than him, and I know you are nothing like your father"

Letting go of his apprentice's shirt he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gold key.

"Do something for me?" The hatter asked.

He nodded vigorously.

"Close the shop, take this and leave" John paused, choking slightly on air "when you go in, lock the door behind you and never let the key leave your side"

"Go where?" he asked, not understand where there was to go in that back room.

"Take anything you want. I was going to give the key to you tonight but as you can see my plans have acquired a rather large kink" the man smiled, the cheerful light in his eyes remained despite the current circumstances.

His heart ached as he watched the man who had replaced his father, grow weaker and weaker.

"Take the key, pack what you need and leave" he instructed again.

Nodding he took the key, placing it in his pocket.

"Thank you for everything" he said

John smiled, the light in his eyes going out, leaving them empty.

Standing up he looked around, his father was gone and the body of his mentor lay lifeless at his feet.

Walking away he returned to the shop, taking the key out of his pocket he examined it, turning it over in his hand.

Take the key and leave...

Turning back out of the door he ran down the street, towards his old home.

Running up the front steps he pushed the door open to see his father rinsing the blood off his hands.

To his surprise he did not feel angry, instead he felt like laughing.

"You are not welcome here" his father growled.

Quirking a brow he grinned "not welcome? Why would I want to be welcome in a place like this?"

His father scowled "how dare you speak to me like that, you'll respect me or I swear I'll-" the man broke off as laughter filled the room.

"Or you'll what?! There's nothing you can do to hurt me" he laughed.

The older of the two did not understand, there was nothing funny about this yet the young man was laughing wildly.

"Now sir if you don't mind I'm here to collect what is mine" he said, giggling quietly as he walked into what used to be his room.

Pulling open the bottom drawer of the dressed he pulled out a small box.

Turning he left the room "they'll know who killed him" and with that he left.