Disclaimer: The characters are not mine - I'm just borrowing them for a
while. Please note that all events and occurrences of the following story
are fictional. All contents do not depict any existing person and if it
does, it's purely coincidental.
Author's Note: This is my first stab at fanfic writing. I've had a couple of ideas tickling my brain, but I've never actually put them down in writing. Reviews are appreciated. Please let me know if I'm any good at this or if I should give it up and keep my day job. Haha.
Title: A Cry In The Dark
Chapter 1: Silent Scream
He stared blankly at the shard of glass he held between his thumb and index finger and thought to himself how one simple slice can determine his fate between life and death. It was almost too easy. He was completely absorbed in the prismatic way the light shone thru the piece of glass until something caught his attention. It was his reflection from the bathroom mirror. He was a complete wreck. His gleaming greenish-gray eyes, which at one point had been his best feature, were now bloodshot, tired and empty. The purple streaks in his hair were long gone. His fair complexion had become paler than usual. He had already decided on a clean suicide. There was going to be no mess for anyone to clean when they find him. He always knew there was something amazingly discreet about the tub.
Nobody saw it coming. He did an excellent job of masking the torture he was imposing on himself. It was the longest secret he had ever kept. No one saw the sadness in his eyes. No one knew about his despair. His guilt. All of that was buried under a happy-go-lucky grin. He fooled them all. It was easy to maintain decent grades. He was a smart kid - a steady B average to deter any suspicion. He always considered himself a loner and kept to himself. He attended his classes, did his chores, took his piano lessons, made a couple of new friends, and even tried getting along with his dad. For the most part, he was content with all these things, but when he was left alone, the eternal darkness overwhelmed him. It was excruciatingly dark and he was so lost. He cried.
It was all because of her. He loved her, yet he hated her. She was his stepping-stone, his moral support, his courage, his teacher, his best friend, and his mother. The only person who understood him completely was dead. It had meant so much for his mother to be at his piano recital that night. Beethoven's Piano Sonata No 2 in A major was the piece he was to play. He begged her to be early so she could watch him warm up. Then she said she was running late. But she never made it to the recital at all. She was taken away from him forever in a fatal car wreck and he was to blame.
It's your fault, Ephram Brown. If it weren't for your selfishness, she'd still be alive right now, his brain taunted. His eyes watered and he squeezed the piece of glass hard to stop the voice in his head. He let out a sob as he released his grip of the glass to find fresh blood forming from the cut in his palm. He ignored the pain and curiously watched the blood pump out of his skin for a few minutes. Not once did he attempt to wipe it away. He just let it drip into the sink.
* The Day Before *
Ephram knew he was pathetic, maybe a bit on the sluggish side, but he had never been called 'useless'. Never by his father. It was another heated agrument between the great Dr. Andy "the miracle man" Brown and his less- than-perfect 16 year old son Ephram Brown.
"Ephram, I can't tolerate your behavior. All I ask is for you to do one simple thing and you managed to screw it up. You were supposed to pick Delia up from school today. She had to wait 2 hours in the principal's office. Where the hell were you??" Andy yelled as Ephram walked into the kitchen.
"I forgot." Ephram retorted. He had no good excuses to give. Truth of the matter was, Amy wanted to show him the floral display she designed for the Homecoming Committee after school. And they got into talking and he lost track of time.
"You forgot. Well, that's just great. I don't know where your brain is lately. How about some responsibility here?"
"Responsibilty, dad? You shouldn't lecture me on responsibility. Responsibility like the way you neglected us all these years and all of a sudden now you decide to wake up and do the good fatherly thing?" Ephram felt his face turn red with anger.
"Hey, I gave you a roof over your head. I kept you fed and put clothes on your back. I may have spent a little more time at the office than I should, but at least I knew my responsibilities. I cared about my family's well- being."
"Oh and just when have you ever cared about me, mom, or Delia?! You've missed out on every birthday, holiday, and anniversary since I can remember. Now, you expect me to sweep all that under the rug and pretend it never happened. Mom should've left you a long time ago."
"Don't bring your mother into this, God rest her soul. This has nothing to do with her. It's you I have the problem with, not her." Andy raised his voice.
"It took mom's funeral to make you realize that you had a family. If she hadn't died, would you have even noticed me and Delia at all!?! Was her funeral your awakening?" Ephram yelled at the top of his lungs. He wanted to make his father angry and he seemed to be succeeding.
"Don't you dare talk about your mother that way. And if you weren't so useless and caught up in yourself, you'd know the sacrifices I had to make for you." Andy shouted furiously.
A flashing red light went off in Ephram's brain. He hung on the word 'useless.' His own father called him 'useless.' All of a sudden, it occured to him that 'useless' was the very word he had been searching for to describe his life for the past year. The great Dr. Brown was right. His life was indeed useless.
"I hate you. I hate you so much." Ephram said thru clenched teeth.
"Ephram.." Andy softened, realizing his temper. Holding back tears, Ephram backed away from the kitchen corridor and ran out of the room.
A scuffle of footsteps thudded up the stairs and a door slammed. Andy had knocked on his door several times only to be ignored. Ephram put on his stereo headphones and turned up the volume on his discman. The intense sounds of Paganini's Violin Caprice No 5 was his only comfort when things got bad. The piece was played with such force and velocity that he can usually lose himself from the world. Though, it wasn't much help for him that night. Unstoppable tears flowed from his eyes.
* In The Morning *
He awoke realizing he had cried himself to sleep the night before. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked 7:30 am. It was time to get up for school. He peeled the headphones off his ears and climbed out of bed. The word 'useless' still echoed in his troubled head as he threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean white T-shirt. He put on his favorite sweatshirt - the black one that zipped up in the front with the block letters B-R-O-O- K-L-Y-N across the chest.
By the time he came downstairs, his father and Delia were already preparing breakfast.
"Ephram, come join us for a gourmet breakfast." Andy said as he plucked a strawberry PopTart out of the toaster.
"Not hungry." Ephram said nonchalantly.
"C'mon, you must be hungry. You didn't eat dinner last night." Andy said comically. Ephram shrugged and flung his backpack over his shoulder. "Delia sweetie, why don't you go wait in the car. I'll be out in a minute."
"OK daddy." Delia said as took another PopTart and skipped out of the room.
"Look Ephram, I'm sorry I yelled at you. Said some things I didn't mean."
"Whatever." Ephram muttered, trying to avoid eye contact with his father.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Gotta get going or I'll be late for school."
The car ride to school was dead silence. No one said a word. It wasn't so much as no one had anything to say, it was more like no one knew the right words. "Bye" was the only word Ephram said to his father before he got out of the car. How appropriate, Ephram thought.
Ephram went to his first period Literature class. His class had been reading Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Ephram always hated his teacher's book choices, but for some reason, he liked this one. He felt a special bond between him and the character Raskolnikov. It was frightening how much he empathized the guilty emotions this character. Raskolnikov had taken two lives and was paying the price thru mental torture and suffering. Same as Ephram, not in the literal sense, but he always felt deeply responsible for his mother's death. Ephram knew he was on the verge of a mental breakdown and he needed to do something about it. Suicide seemed like an easy escape from his solitude.
After Literature class, he ditched the rest of his classes and walked home. He had something he needed to do. He threw his backpack on the sofa as he entered his home. The house still had a faint aroma of PopTarts. He made a beeline for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Questions ran thru his head. Was he really going to do it? Did he want to end it this way? Did he have the guts to do it? He got angry thinking that last question. He'd been running for too long and giving himself too many excuses. He was not a coward.
Tormented, he took the glass of orange juice with him to his room, sat down in front of his computer and started typing.
** end of chapter 1 **
Author's Note: This is my first stab at fanfic writing. I've had a couple of ideas tickling my brain, but I've never actually put them down in writing. Reviews are appreciated. Please let me know if I'm any good at this or if I should give it up and keep my day job. Haha.
Title: A Cry In The Dark
Chapter 1: Silent Scream
He stared blankly at the shard of glass he held between his thumb and index finger and thought to himself how one simple slice can determine his fate between life and death. It was almost too easy. He was completely absorbed in the prismatic way the light shone thru the piece of glass until something caught his attention. It was his reflection from the bathroom mirror. He was a complete wreck. His gleaming greenish-gray eyes, which at one point had been his best feature, were now bloodshot, tired and empty. The purple streaks in his hair were long gone. His fair complexion had become paler than usual. He had already decided on a clean suicide. There was going to be no mess for anyone to clean when they find him. He always knew there was something amazingly discreet about the tub.
Nobody saw it coming. He did an excellent job of masking the torture he was imposing on himself. It was the longest secret he had ever kept. No one saw the sadness in his eyes. No one knew about his despair. His guilt. All of that was buried under a happy-go-lucky grin. He fooled them all. It was easy to maintain decent grades. He was a smart kid - a steady B average to deter any suspicion. He always considered himself a loner and kept to himself. He attended his classes, did his chores, took his piano lessons, made a couple of new friends, and even tried getting along with his dad. For the most part, he was content with all these things, but when he was left alone, the eternal darkness overwhelmed him. It was excruciatingly dark and he was so lost. He cried.
It was all because of her. He loved her, yet he hated her. She was his stepping-stone, his moral support, his courage, his teacher, his best friend, and his mother. The only person who understood him completely was dead. It had meant so much for his mother to be at his piano recital that night. Beethoven's Piano Sonata No 2 in A major was the piece he was to play. He begged her to be early so she could watch him warm up. Then she said she was running late. But she never made it to the recital at all. She was taken away from him forever in a fatal car wreck and he was to blame.
It's your fault, Ephram Brown. If it weren't for your selfishness, she'd still be alive right now, his brain taunted. His eyes watered and he squeezed the piece of glass hard to stop the voice in his head. He let out a sob as he released his grip of the glass to find fresh blood forming from the cut in his palm. He ignored the pain and curiously watched the blood pump out of his skin for a few minutes. Not once did he attempt to wipe it away. He just let it drip into the sink.
* The Day Before *
Ephram knew he was pathetic, maybe a bit on the sluggish side, but he had never been called 'useless'. Never by his father. It was another heated agrument between the great Dr. Andy "the miracle man" Brown and his less- than-perfect 16 year old son Ephram Brown.
"Ephram, I can't tolerate your behavior. All I ask is for you to do one simple thing and you managed to screw it up. You were supposed to pick Delia up from school today. She had to wait 2 hours in the principal's office. Where the hell were you??" Andy yelled as Ephram walked into the kitchen.
"I forgot." Ephram retorted. He had no good excuses to give. Truth of the matter was, Amy wanted to show him the floral display she designed for the Homecoming Committee after school. And they got into talking and he lost track of time.
"You forgot. Well, that's just great. I don't know where your brain is lately. How about some responsibility here?"
"Responsibilty, dad? You shouldn't lecture me on responsibility. Responsibility like the way you neglected us all these years and all of a sudden now you decide to wake up and do the good fatherly thing?" Ephram felt his face turn red with anger.
"Hey, I gave you a roof over your head. I kept you fed and put clothes on your back. I may have spent a little more time at the office than I should, but at least I knew my responsibilities. I cared about my family's well- being."
"Oh and just when have you ever cared about me, mom, or Delia?! You've missed out on every birthday, holiday, and anniversary since I can remember. Now, you expect me to sweep all that under the rug and pretend it never happened. Mom should've left you a long time ago."
"Don't bring your mother into this, God rest her soul. This has nothing to do with her. It's you I have the problem with, not her." Andy raised his voice.
"It took mom's funeral to make you realize that you had a family. If she hadn't died, would you have even noticed me and Delia at all!?! Was her funeral your awakening?" Ephram yelled at the top of his lungs. He wanted to make his father angry and he seemed to be succeeding.
"Don't you dare talk about your mother that way. And if you weren't so useless and caught up in yourself, you'd know the sacrifices I had to make for you." Andy shouted furiously.
A flashing red light went off in Ephram's brain. He hung on the word 'useless.' His own father called him 'useless.' All of a sudden, it occured to him that 'useless' was the very word he had been searching for to describe his life for the past year. The great Dr. Brown was right. His life was indeed useless.
"I hate you. I hate you so much." Ephram said thru clenched teeth.
"Ephram.." Andy softened, realizing his temper. Holding back tears, Ephram backed away from the kitchen corridor and ran out of the room.
A scuffle of footsteps thudded up the stairs and a door slammed. Andy had knocked on his door several times only to be ignored. Ephram put on his stereo headphones and turned up the volume on his discman. The intense sounds of Paganini's Violin Caprice No 5 was his only comfort when things got bad. The piece was played with such force and velocity that he can usually lose himself from the world. Though, it wasn't much help for him that night. Unstoppable tears flowed from his eyes.
* In The Morning *
He awoke realizing he had cried himself to sleep the night before. The digital clock on his nightstand blinked 7:30 am. It was time to get up for school. He peeled the headphones off his ears and climbed out of bed. The word 'useless' still echoed in his troubled head as he threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean white T-shirt. He put on his favorite sweatshirt - the black one that zipped up in the front with the block letters B-R-O-O- K-L-Y-N across the chest.
By the time he came downstairs, his father and Delia were already preparing breakfast.
"Ephram, come join us for a gourmet breakfast." Andy said as he plucked a strawberry PopTart out of the toaster.
"Not hungry." Ephram said nonchalantly.
"C'mon, you must be hungry. You didn't eat dinner last night." Andy said comically. Ephram shrugged and flung his backpack over his shoulder. "Delia sweetie, why don't you go wait in the car. I'll be out in a minute."
"OK daddy." Delia said as took another PopTart and skipped out of the room.
"Look Ephram, I'm sorry I yelled at you. Said some things I didn't mean."
"Whatever." Ephram muttered, trying to avoid eye contact with his father.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Gotta get going or I'll be late for school."
The car ride to school was dead silence. No one said a word. It wasn't so much as no one had anything to say, it was more like no one knew the right words. "Bye" was the only word Ephram said to his father before he got out of the car. How appropriate, Ephram thought.
Ephram went to his first period Literature class. His class had been reading Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. Ephram always hated his teacher's book choices, but for some reason, he liked this one. He felt a special bond between him and the character Raskolnikov. It was frightening how much he empathized the guilty emotions this character. Raskolnikov had taken two lives and was paying the price thru mental torture and suffering. Same as Ephram, not in the literal sense, but he always felt deeply responsible for his mother's death. Ephram knew he was on the verge of a mental breakdown and he needed to do something about it. Suicide seemed like an easy escape from his solitude.
After Literature class, he ditched the rest of his classes and walked home. He had something he needed to do. He threw his backpack on the sofa as he entered his home. The house still had a faint aroma of PopTarts. He made a beeline for the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Questions ran thru his head. Was he really going to do it? Did he want to end it this way? Did he have the guts to do it? He got angry thinking that last question. He'd been running for too long and giving himself too many excuses. He was not a coward.
Tormented, he took the glass of orange juice with him to his room, sat down in front of his computer and started typing.
** end of chapter 1 **