Start Over Again
Written by: RA1NB0WFlavoredBagel
A troubled, young man named Derik is arrested when he's caught killing his wealthy, abusive father in self-defense; his verdict is death. But, fate grants him one last chance to change his destiny. In the magical land of Equestria, he begins life anew.
Prologue
Give Me Death
Footsteps echoed from afar. The shadowy figures of security guards panned across the distant walls. He sat quietly, hands shaking uncontrollably. Tears poured down his cheeks like an endless stream. Each one held a memory of something he could've changed. Funny how a month ago, he held his fate firm. His sophomore year had just ended. Now, fate readied itself to strip him of everything, his life included.
Many knew him as Derik Caldwell, son of the wealthiest business man on the east coast United States. But, they didn't know his father's secret. Derik suffered painful lashings, beatings, and labors; his father held supreme control over most of his life. While others saw the "generous" side of his father at charity donations, Derik knew that it served as a mere lie...a cover up to what his father really was.
One night, he finally snapped. The young man people viewed as passive had transformed into a vengeful creature they couldn't recognize. All sanity slipped through his fingers as he held the barrel of the gun up to his father's head.
His father held a knife up to his son's throat. He really wanted Derik dead this time. But, Derik wasn't ready to die. He knew where the gun was, and his father remained clueless to its presence, as he had hid it for such an occasion.
Without really thinking, Derik dashed for his bedroom, his father not far behind. He dove under his bed and grasped the handle of the firearm. As fast as he could, he waited for his father to smash down the door. Sure enough, his enraged father managed to break through the door's locks.
Derik's father stormed the room with knife in hand. Derik grabbed both of his assailant's wrists, forcing them into a deadlock. After minutes of rustling about, he managed to twist his dad's wrist into submission, and the knife fell onto the floor. In a quick instant, Derik bashed the end of the gun across his father's face, leaving him thrashed on the ground.
His father looked up to notice the barrel of the gun pointing directly at his forehead.
"You'll regret this, you hear?! You'll be sorry!" his father yelled, angrily gritting his teeth in disgust.
"No," Derik scoffed, "you'll be sorry."
A white flash clouded his mind, then. But that was alright; he already knew what happened next.
His father's blood stained his hands, even long after the blood had washed away. Every time Derik looked down at his palms, the blood splatters remained visible. It stayed a haunting reminder of his actions. His eyes glanced around the bland, concrete room; a clock hung on the wall behind him, acting as a countdown to his ever nearing end.
Derik looked back at it, watching the hands inch ever so slowly across its face. Every tick echoed in his mind. He rolled his hands into fists. He wanted to punch something! Blame anything for his predicament. Alas, only he was to blame.
I should've ran. He thought, burying his face in his hands. Why didn't I run?!
His tears gathered in shallow puddles on the wooden table in front of him. He put his head down, pretending he could hide, pretending he could run away. But, reality smacked him as two, large men dressed in specialized suits entered the room. One of the men carried a container, and the other held a digital recorder.
The one holding the recorder sat down in the chair across from him. Derik felt a ringing sensation rattling his skull. All the stress started overflowing his sensory, and his emotions overflowed. He began weeping in front of the men; as undignified as it was, he hadn't any other means of conveying his sorrow.
"Derik Caldwell," the one sitting spoke, "you have been charged with the murder of Gregory Caldwell, your father and CEO of Cinder Industries."
Derik bit his lip at that remark. How could they have the nerve to remind him? Hadn't they the slightest care in the world? Could they easily replace his being?
His vision blurred as his hazel orbs eyed the table, avoiding looking into the man's eyes. He didn't comment on the statement, nor did he deny its truth. His voice kept silent, waiting for the inevitable.
The other man, who hadn't sat down at the table, pulled open the storage container, and from it, held a syringe in plain view. Derik's heart raced as he eyed the man filling the device with an acidic fluid. The young man wanted to vomit from the sudden anxiety plaguing him.
"You have been sentenced to death by lethal injection." The man sitting continued, now holding the recorder up to Derik, "Have you any last words?"
At first, the young man didn't reply. The florescent light seemed to grow dimmer as his heart began to accept his fate, though as young as he might be. His brown, jagged hair never got anywhere near gray, his eyes never gained a twinkle in them, and his skin never aged to form a single wrinkle. Just how much of his life had he thrown out the window that night? It was enough to make him sick to his stomach.
"Y-Yeah," Derik answered in a soft tone, "I…have some last words."
The man with the recorder nodded, and clicked in the button.
"I-I'm sorry for letting everyone down." He began, fighting the tears, "It was stupid to think killing that bastard would do anything to solve my problems. But if I…"
He trailed off for a moment, mustering his courage to speak.
"If I could do it all over again," he said between sobs, "I'd have done things differently. I wouldn't have…I wouldn't have…"
His mind broke loose. Crying once again, as his life fell to ruins right in front of him, he searched for something – ANYTHING he could grasp to hold on to. The men looked on him with pity, but alas, they had no other choice. Their jobs were clear, and that was to end his life. They were his executioners, sharpening their axe to cut him down.
"I think it's time to get this over with." The man said, clicking the button again. He put the recorder in his chest pocket, folding his hands neatly together on the table.
Derik nodded instinctively, closing his eyes as tightly as he could. He felt the tip of the needle brush against the underside of his arm. The man handling the syringe drove it deep into the young man's arm. A massive surge of sudden pain surged through his body, yet he couldn't even scream.
The tears stopped flowing, the hands stopped shaking, and his body stopped trembling. He could still see them there, standing in front of him. But, he heard no sound. The feeling of drowning swallowed him up as his lungs desperately tried to find air for him to breathe.
As his heart started to slow down its beating, he felt a warmth envelope him. It felt familiar, like he had felt it before. There were words circulating, a voice that spoke to his soul.
"Will we always be together?" The angelic, soft voice called out.
The images of the horrid room he resided faded away. The poison flooding his veins had taken his eyes away, too.
In the silence, he could hear another voice reply,
"Don't worry," a young man's voice responded, "I'll never leave you. We've gotta stick together, right?"
The latter was his voice; he was sure of it. The former, he couldn't recognize right away. It kind of sounded like a girl; a girl that he knew through school and most of his childhood. He could still imagine her rose-red hair, perfect complexion, and emerald green eyes. He remembered her soft frame pressing up against his broad chest as he lay contently next to her on her uncle's couch.
She proved the only thing worthy something in his life.
I'm sorry, Angela, he thought as his heart grew still, I couldn't keep our promise.
So, there you have it! That's the prologue to my latest story. Like always, review and tell me what you thought of it. If the pacing seems a bit rushed, well...it's a prologue. I wanted to ensure I didn't reveal to many plot devices in the mere prologue, you know? =D
Anyway, I'll have chapter 1 out soon, so don't worry about it. My prologues always tend to feel vague, shallow, and rushed. My later chapters won't have the same, sloppy design. lol