"I don't know why I even bother, I get beat at home only to get beat again at school." Dylan wrote these words in his journal so that he could express himself, but the words didn't seem to show the pain behind them, words can never cut as deep as a knife did in his wrist, or cause as much impact as his father's fist.

Talking was unlike him anyway, not a single friend of his even knew of the issues he faced. He wouldn't tell them, and they were too caught up in their own problems to notice his traumatized eyes anyway.

Instead of a companion, the gothic teen preferred to write in his journal, just as he was now, he figured the only person who could understand him, would be himself if he ever looked back and reflected upon his words.

He would have stayed in his dark lite room writing all day, but his mother had other plans. He knew he'd have to leave his sanctuary the moment he heard the gentle knocking at his bedroom door, but he only frowned as a response.

A beautiful lady, with long black hair tied back in a pony tail, who wore long clothing, to hide her scars, came into the room. She smiled brightly and flicked on a light. " Dylan sweetie, a new neighbor moved in and I want you to bring them the cookies I baked."

He didn't argue or even complain, he knew in the end he would lose. At the very least he could eat some cookies on the way.

He knocked on the door, and the appearance of the guy who answered caught him by surprise. He was a teenager with the same hurt expression Dylan wore on his face. He wore dark clothing, and a satanic cross earing hung from one of his ears. It didn't even take Dylan a single moment to realize another goth kid had just moved in to town, and an attractive one at that.

"Hey, my mom made you guys some cookies... But I kind of ate a few."

The other boy took the already opened box"Thanks" was the only thing that escaped his voice was deeper then Dylan's, and sounded amazing to him. He felt like he could almost melt into its sound, and he only wanted to hear more of it, so he had to do something he wasn't ever comfortable doing, talk.

"Well I'm Dylan Redgoth. You seem like a non-conformist, so as long as your not a vamp you should hang with me and the goths sometime."

"Okay Dylan, I'm Evan. But you can call me... Um.. Curlygoth."

"Well Curlygoth, how about we go to Starbucks...my treat?"

Evan seemed to think this over for a moment, but soon decided he couldn't say no to coffee. He nodded his head in approval before stepping out side and closing the door behind him.

"Lead the way shortie"

Dylan shot him a hateful look, but soon started to lead the way. Evan was new, so he would let this one time slide, but if he was sticking around, he'd have to follow Dylan's rules.

And rule number one, never call him short or small.