A/N: Okay hi! Welcome to the new story called Blank :)
First of all I will tell you that this story is somewhat dark, with really really little of the humor... So basically this story is Tragedy. Yeah, this is a tragedy... so if you don't feel like reading anything traumatic or something, I think you can stop reading :)
Then I will tell you, that this story is not being updated very often, since I want to make less chapters, so they will be longer and yeah :) It will took me a while to write one chapter :) But I will update this, do not worry! and I really hope you will stay tuned with this story.
Then the things about the story, that it will keep inside:
Yes, like I said this is tragedy with slight romance also... But mainly pretty dark...
There will be pairings, the same pairings I like to usually write... Klaine of course and Thadbastian :) Niff also, but this time no Wevid, sorry guys :P I will stay that pairing out of the story :) They will be best buddies don't worry. Then I think Klaine will be the end game from the beginning of the story, but others are pretty much eventual relationships! Just saying.
There will be no mature scenes. Because I must practice it... but this story has blood and violence and triggering things so the rating may go up to M, but now it's going to be only T :)
oh and I almost forgot... there will be eventual character dead... sorry! Now enjoy the prologue :) I hope it's interesting enough!
Blank
Prologue
Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
There was complete silence in the room, expect the clock and ventilator. The room with white distressing walls, two big bookshelves full of books and other stuff. One, big window with its blinds half open. The room was lighten by one lamp, which was hanging above the table.
Behind the table, there was sitting a woman, dressed like counselor and flicking her pen and rolling it around her long fingers. She had her long blond hair in bun behind her head and her make up was showing her beautiful face more clearly.
She rose her head and looked in front of herself.
"You want to talk about it, Mr. Smythe?" the kind and soft female voice asked. The said boy only looked out of the window, from the place where he was sitting and blinked his eyes black and showed no emotions.
The female sighed lightly and turned to write something on her notebook, which was resting in front of her on the table.
"You don't have to write my every motion on that notebook of yours", the boy said, finally opening his mouth. His voice was blank and fixed well with those dull, green eyes he had.
Then, the woman rose her soft gaze back to the boy, who still was looking out of the window even he had talked. But she knew he was listening. "My job is to help you, Mr. Smythe", she started and fixed his name tag - Mrs. McNally - while continuing: "So everything you tell me, you do or show, is staying inside these walls."
The boy closed his eyes and slowly turned his head to look down on his lap, then up to woman. He opened his eyes and rose eyebrows tiredly. "Sebastian", he told meaningfully. "You using my last name and that Mr. before that, makes me feel old."
Mrs. McNally smiled and nodded. "So, Sebastian", she started again and repeated the question: "You want to talk about it?"
"It?"
"The events that day, Sebastian", Mrs. McNally said, as if to remind the boy of that. When in reality, Sebastian didn't need anyone to remind that day. He wanted to forget it all. He wanted to scream and tell everyone to leave him alone. Sebastian wanted to threw something out of the window and break the glass. He wanted to disappear and just part of him, wanted to kill himself.
Instead of that all, he let out a dull, broken and cold snort and shook his head. "Is there something to talk about then?" he asked and turned to look at the window again.
Mrs. McNally looked at the boy in front of him, smiled just a little bit sadly. "There is always something to talk about, Sebastian", she told, sympathetically. Sebastian hated that look. Mrs. McNally flicked the pen again and flipped the clean page of her notebook. "Every information you tell us is useful."
"To whom? Police? FBI? Mental doctors?" Sebastian asked, looking at her again, his shoulders slumped.
Mrs. McNally shook her head, but didn't answer to his question. "Why don't you start telling the story?"
Sebastian closed his eyes. He wanted to yell at her that it wasn't her business, but didn't. "Which part you want to hear?" the boy asked and then shrugged: "The part of nightmare? Realizing? Falling? Or the tragedy?"
The woman worried her lower, red colored lip and crossed her arms in front of her. "Why don't you start from the beginning?