Prologue

"Your parents? Worthless, unemployed drunks, the both of them. Didn't even have the courtesy to leave us with anything but your mangy hide, however little we wanted it. Don't ask about them again..."

"Where'd you get those toys? From Dudley's room? Why you little thief! Stealing my son's toys are you? All we do for you and you repay us with this behavior? I won't have it! …"

"Dudley tells me you were watching tele with him while I was out at the grocer this afternoon. The chores aren't done yet. What were you doing taking a break? There will be no supper for you tonight ..."

"My mother's vase! Don't! Don't try to tell me Dudley did it! You're the one that led him on that game of tag! It's your fault! Why did my sister have to dump you off on me?"

"No, officer, it couldn't have been my little Dudley, but I think I know the real culprit. He's here, my deadbeat sister's son. Orphan. Nothing but trouble, he stole the electronics I'm sure, not my poor Dudums ..."

"We never asked for you, never wanted you, and yet you've been here thirteen years. We've had to clothe you, feed you, provide you shelter. It's taken more quid than I care to count and I've had enough of it! You're an ingrate and it's time for you to leave. They're on their way to deliver you to your new home. We're through with you, freak ..."

"You're nothing but a freak ..."

"Freak ..."

He jerked awake with stunning alacrity and rose into a sitting position. His breath came heavy and fast as his hands supported him on the damp sheets. A slight acrid smell of sweat hung in the air around him. He brought one hand to his face and rubbed his fingers and thumb across both eyes to bring them together at the bridge of his nose then reversed the motion across his brow before finally running the hand backwards through his hair.

A well-toned arm reached out to pull the curtains back from his bed and revealed the dorm style room he slept in, along with four other boys his age. It was coming up on the end of May now and the nightmares were returning. They always did before the short summer break; designed to give families a little bit of time to see their children before the students were required to return.

He turned in the bed and lowered his legs to the ground, resting his head in his hands as his short raven hair stuck out in a hundred directions. He composed himself within a few moments and glanced at the clock on the wall: 4:30am. Early, but certainly not the earliest he had ever been up. At least curfew had just ended. He had never seemed to require as much sleep as the others in his dorm, often getting by on just a few hours a night. The bags one would expect to find under his eyes were never there, his vibrant, verdant eyes always gleamed with a hidden intelligence and wisdom beyond his fifteen years.

With careful and practiced ease he rose from the bed without making a sound or shaking the structure of the bunk as to allow his dorm mate in the bed above him to continue to sleep. Carefully measured and memorized steps brought him through the relative darkness and to his dresser, where he quickly grabbed a change of clothes and his personal effects. Seconds later found him outside the room shutting the door with nary a squeak.

A sigh escaped his lips as the door closed and he clenched his teeth in a passing irritation at the dream that had woken him. It had been three years and still he was occasionally plagued by the memories. His family hated him, of that he was sure, and try as he might, he could not seem to just let go of them for good. Twice a year he had to see them, and they had to pretend to like him, for the current arrangement to work out. He shook his head to clear the thoughts and fumbled with a box of cigarettes and his lighter for a moment before taking his first drag of the morning. It was harsh as always, and he let out a quick bark of a cough. Sucking down another drag he began the walk down to the gym complex for his daily workout regimen.

Forty minutes later found him in the showers, slightly sore but feeling quite a bit more energized than upon waking. Standing in the steaming water of the shower he caught himself once again dwelling on the events that led to his rude awakening and groaned in frustration. Quickly pouring a dollop of shampoo into his hands he scrubbed his fingers through his raven hair and massaged his scalp before washing out the suds, and in an unprecedented act proceeded to follow the "repeat" instructions on the bottle to the letter.

Grabbing the bar of soap he lathered up his body, taking special time as always to run his fingers across the various blemishes on his skin. A slightly raised scar on the right side of his stomach was all that remained from an attempted jumping the year before. A small burn on the back of his right hand remained from where he spilled hot oil while cooking his family breakfast when he was seven, a couple more matching scars on the top of his left arm and one on the shin of his right knee were evidence of their continuing desire for their morning food to be ready when they woke.

He looked down at his wrists with a grim pursing of lips. Raised scars there were the cause of his consternation. He had long considered covering them with ink. They remained a constant reminder of past weakness. His guardian's reaction at the time had been expressed only in their disappointment that he had continued to spite them by failing in his every action.

A throaty growl released as he shut off the water rather more violently than was strictly required. Quickly drying and tying the towel around his waist he walked to the mirror. He rested his palms on the counter and leaned forward, staring at his reflection. Things had changed since then. Things were better now.

"We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams," he whispered to himself, his commitment to the philosophy renewed in that statement. He didn't even remember the name of the film he had originally heard it from, but he had caught the one scene while dusting the living room. His family would never had allowed him to stay and watch the whole thing.

He quickly finished the rest of his morning ritual when others began to leak into the shower room. Stepping out of the locker room fully dressed and ready for the day he saw he still had an hour before his first class at seven. He started to his normal morning hangout, the library, and was quickly buried in a book, absorbing information at an astonishing rate. He forgot all about his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley. After all, they were still living at 7 Copper Road, far away from where he was, and though he would be seeing them soon, he would not be required to deal with the Bartons today. No, it would be just another day for him here at St. Brutus' Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys.