Alone again. But surprise. A teenage boy around the age of fifteen sat on the edge of his bed, his bright blue eyes blazing, staring daggers at the door which had, once again, been slammed and lock from the outside. He had been told just seconds ago that he was not to have dinner tonight, and that he wasn't to leave the room he was currently in except to go to school or to the bathroom, which he had to ask permission to do. 'I don't care. I'll piss out the window.' the teen thought to himself, and he and everyone that knew him knew that he would if he felt like it. He did what he wanted, and didn't really care what other people told him to do. Why should he listen to someone who doesn't know any more than him? He would rather learn for himself why he shouldn't do something instead of begin told. If you were just told, a lot of times you doesn't believe it. You have to know for yourself.

Once it seemed that it was impossible to win a staring contest against the door, the blue pools were averted and began to wander around the room. His guitar that had been sitting in the corner opposite of his room had been knocked over, one of the speakers from his stereo had fallen to the ground off of the nail that it had been hanging on, and the room looked like a tornado had railed its way though it; not that it had been much cleaner before the yelling fight, though. With a sigh the boy got up, ready to clean up the disaster that he was so used to seeing by the fifteenth year of his life. But first he lifted up his mattress where one of his greatest possessions was always kept; right between the box spring and the actual mattress. It was an extremely high powered magnet that his uncle, who was quite funny, had gotten him when he was younger, seeing as he had always had an interest in science. He walked over to the door that had a metal sliding lock on the outside and pressed the magnet to it. He pulled the magnet, still on the door, to his left until he heard the little click so that he knew it was officially unlocked.

He tossed the magnet back down on his bed and looked around the room once more before starting the cleaning process. He started with the speaker first so he could listen to a bit of music while he cleaned up. There were a few wires that had been sticking out of the side and the side was coming off. He could fix that easily. He went under his bed and took out a tool set he had gotten from the garbage, his dad was going to throw it out, and he thought that he could make use of it, which he did. It took him less than five minutes and a bit of ductape to fix. Now for the music.

His dad had taken his, quite impressive, CD collection from him before storming out, but the boy knew exactly where he would keep it. Same place he had kept things since the day he had been born. Under his bed, right where his son did. The teen brought a screwdriver with him and made his way to his parent's room which was always kept locked. Again, it took him less than five minutes to take off the door handle so he could push it open freely. He just grabbed a few of his favorite CDs out of the case before shoving it back where it had been before. His dad wouldn't look inside to see if any were missing, but he knew that he could notice if the case wasn't where he had left it. He had learned these things over the years.

On his way back to his room, he thought about how much time he would have before the real Hell would begin. It normally took between an hour and an hour and a half for the couple to eat, which they were doing now, and possibly even longer, depending on what kind of things they had to talk about. Well, seeing as his mother was extremely upset when they had left because his father had freaked out, it had always scared his mom more than it did him, there would be a bit of cheering up needed. He had at least an hour and a half. He was good.

Once in there he placed The Sex Pistols' CD in. Revolution In The Classroom began to play through the tattered speakers. Perfect. With that, he began to clean, taking his time because he knew that his parents wouldn't be home for a while and he didn't want to rush and do a terrible job. His dad would be even more pissed then.

Now, you may ask, what could a kid of fifteen do to piss his father off so bad? School trouble, like it always seemed to be with this specific teen. He had been caught skipping his band class, a class he hated to go to, because the music they played sucked. The teacher seemed to think that they weren't ready to play any Bach, Brahms, Elgar, or anything that was actually good. No. They played things written by amatures. He could make it up and do better than the crap that was written down, which he did quite often. But not only was he skipping class, he had been caught making out with a girl. When his father had asked him if he even knew her name, he had just shrugged like it was no big deal and replied 'I don't know. I've only been in France for a little over a month. I haven't learned their language yet,' which was a complete lie. He could speak it almost fluently already. After being moved around to all different countries with all different languages, he knew how to pick things up, and fast. They practically had the boy's number on speed dial already, and he had only been there for about a month. He didn't mind. At least he wouldn't have to recite it all the time like he had had to in other places. These French were some smart people.

But it wasn't only that that had really angered the older man. It was his son's attitude with the whole thing, and everything, really. He was sick of his smart mouth, his don't-give-a-shit attitude, and the fact that he never put all of his effort into everything. He thought it was disrespectful when his son mouthed off like he did, and he had on occasion, smacked him in the mouth for it. He had completely gone cra-

The boy stopped cleaning instantly when he heard the door open. He hadn't heard the car coming, which he almost always did. "Shit!" He yelled out loud, hurrying to put everything back right, even though he knew it was too late. His door was wide open and there was no way of getting out of this one.

"Gregory!" John House bellowed through the house, ready to strangle his son.