Do you ever just want to scream? Scream so much that everyone will get worried or mad at the sound. Having all the attention on you? Feeling the pride of having the attention?
Will Graham wanted this. He wanted to scream. He wanted everyone to hear him. He longed for the attention. He was a slowly breaking porcelain doll. So fragile, but so strong. His curly brown hair was almost below his ears, long enough he looked good, but not long enough he'd be mistaken for a girl. (He was shorter than most men.)
As his hazel eyes looked around the FBI academy class room, he took off his glasses, leaning forward in his chair. His hand moving up in a fist to cover his mouth as he thought. Will's mind was like a toxic wasteland. A wasteland where people would just dump whatever they wanted. It was toxic because he was becoming too close.
"What's wrong with me..?" he whispered to himself, closing his beautiful eyes.
Maybe it was the way he talked, the way he talked, the way he smiled sarcastically at everything that made Alana Bloom, one of the most beautiful people he's ever met say they couldn't be together. The way her lips felt on his made the man want it more. Like her kisses were a drug.
Alana Bloom had soft dark brown hair. How would Will know this? He always buried his face in her hair when she hugged him. It made him feel safe. All thoughts aside-he needed to get out of bed. His Hazel eyes flicked open, looking at the clock on his bed side table. Five thirty AM.
The sleepy man sat up, before stripping out of his sweaty shirt. The shirt full of nightmares. He believed that the sweat held them. And because he hated the feeling of nightmares, he threw the shirt straight in the hamper, before putting a red button up, pulling, 'a old man sweater' over his head. I quote that because just the other day Abigail told him it looked like a old man sweater.
Will hardly ever ate breakfast. He grabbed an apple from the fridge, biting into it to hold it.
Saying goodbye to his beloved dogs, he grabbed his keys, cellphone and headed out to his car.
Once at the FBI Academy, he had finished his apple, holding the juicy fruit with a Kleenex, stepping out of his car. Will had always, secretly, been a ladies man. He didn't even notice! Girl (and sometimes boys) would try to flirt with him after his classes. And Will was oblivious.
After being rudely interrupted by Jack, he dismissed his class.
"What now, Jack." he said, leaning on his desk.
"We need you for a crime scene involving a group of people." Jack replied.
Will stared at him, "I thought you said that I was and I quote, 'take a break from [this] work'"
"This is something different. Eight people murdered,"
"A big family?"
"You could say that."