Prologue

I wasn't considered a bad student. Sure, I had dyslexia and ADHD that no one knew about, but my grades were mostly average.
Besides English, English was my worst subject, I was lucky to get a C plus.
But I never got in trouble, never swore, even handed my homework in on time, well, mostly.I had some friends, but it didn't matter. They were all going to the same high school, just not mine. It was a nice school, Goode, I believe the called it.
To the world, I was just an average person who had a normal life.I sometimes thought that too, that is, until I came stepfather Gabe, was a pig who gambled and drank. I'm still shocked that his liver hasn't exploded.
Lucky for me, he was currently sleeping on the couch. Beer bottles littered the floor. His shirt was grimy and he reeks of alcohol.
Yep, just another day in the life of Jackson.
I walked past him, not wanting to wake him, I knew it would happen eventually but I could try. I knew I didn't deserve this. But I knew he would just blame it on my all the 'fights' that were on my record.
I had maneuvered my way through the empty cans and bottles, cigarette butts and broken glass silently, I almost reached my room when it happened.
I knocked over a can, causing it to fall into an already precariously placed tower of cans. All the cans fell over each other until Smelly Gabe was showered in cans.
He bolted upright. Looking around until his eyes locked on me.
"Percy." He growled. I backed away, tossing my bag into my "room."
"You little swine, you use my money, you eat my food, take my time. I took you in after your mother died, and all I get is a ungrateful child who is always getting in my way. Not anymore."
He walked closer to me, cornering me in my "room."
He punched me in the torso, carefully avoiding the face. I fell into the pile of cans stacked in the corner.
He kicked me, over and over again and again until I was seeing spots. I wiped my face, blood ran freely down my chin.
Some part of me was urging me to fight back. And so I did. I stood up slowly. He has stopped beating, turning to leave.
I clocked him from behind. He fell, the blow unexpected. I quickly ran past him, quickly taking the stairs down to the lobby. I could faintly hear him yelling behind me.
He was catching up, I could hear him running down the stairs. I had opened the door when he tackled me.
We fell into the lobby, Gabe landed on top of me, he was holding a knife. The receptionist screamed, grabbing the phone.
I wrestled the heavy man, trying to take the knife away.
"I'm going to kill you." He said, I knew he wasn't kidding.
I managed to get him off of me. I backed away quickly, eyeing the knife.
He was panting. He was surprisingly quick despite being drunk.
I ran at him, kicking the knife away. He punched me. Grabbing me by the throat he pushed me against the wall. Holding me there, slowly choking me. I tried to kick him, release his grip, becoming more desperate by the second. I heard sirens. My vision became blurry. Black tendrils creeped into my view.
Then the pressure was suddenly lifted. I dropped to the floor, gasping, holding my throat. I could hear Gabe struggling against someone, cursing and swearing at them.
A kind looking officer came over to me.
"Are you alright kid?" He asked, looking concerned.
I sucked in a breath of pain as I stood up. "Better than normal," I replied.
He looked at me strangely, but didn't ask. "I need to take you in for questioning if you don't mind."
"Okay." I said, slightly concerned, what if they actually believed Gabe?
He lead me to a different cruiser. I just watched New York City pass though my window. It wasn't dark yet, only around three o'clock.
What would have happened if the receptionist didn't call the cops?
What was going to happen to me?
I had no family and I couldn't live with Gabe, not that I wanted too.
The officer opened the door, shaking me out of my thoughts.
I silently got out of the car. Unsure of what would happen next.
I ended up in an interrogation room. Gray stone walls, a metal table and two metal chairs.
I walked up to the one way glass, studying my reflection.
My neck was bruised, a giant handprint around my neck. There was a slight dribble of blood coming out of my mouth and my forehead was busted open. I didn't think it would need stitches.
I lifted my shirt slightly.
My torso was covered in bruises, purple, green and yellow covered.
A different cop can in, he was the chief of police. He sat in the chair across from mine. The sound of metal scraping across the floor filled the silence.
I walked back to my chair. He handed me a wet towel. I wiped my face.
I got a better look at him. He has a military style buzz cut and he was wearing dark sunglasses.
He took his glasses off to rub his face.
"Look kid, from what the receptionist told us over the phone and what I've seen, I don't know what to think. I come and I see your stepfather? Stepfather strangling you against the wall, and a knife kicked to the side. And what do you think is going through my head?"
Percy didn't say anything. Just stared at him, not knowing what to say. His eyes were amber, but they reminded me of fire.
"I'm thinking that there's been abuse going on, for how long, I don't know. Judging by the bottles, broken glass and cigarettes, I would say it's been going on for a while." He said, casually, "How long?" He asked.
"After my mother died, he was nicer, until I got to middle school. So almost four years. I am 15 years old, going to high school."
He sighed, "God kid, and I thought my family was dysfunctional."
I sighed, "my mom loved me, I don't know why she married that pig, she used to tell me that he helped pay the bills. But he has a full jar of money, money he got from gamboling with his 'pals.' That's the only way he ever made any real money, the longest he ever had a job was a few weeks."
"We called your father, he's coming to pick you up while we sort things out."
"My father?" Percy asked, confused. His mother never mentioned him.
"Phillip Jackson."
"So my mother kept his name when she married Gabe?"
"Yeh, his last name isn't exactly desirable. Ugliano, that's a mouthful."
"Can you show me?" Buzz Cut asked.
I didn't say anything, just stared at the wall. Finally, I turned is his chair, getting up. It was time to show him.
I put his foot on the table, rolling his black sweatpants up.
Buzz Cut starred. I knew there were bruises, so many bruises, bruises that were fresh, some weeks old.
Black pants, to hide the blood, pants, to hide the bruises.
"God kid, why didn't you do something?" He asked, even I knew he had seen the school records.
"He has an alibi, he would just say that I got into fights, I never started the fight, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." I replied
The door opened, another cop walked in. Buzz Cut turned around.
"Phillip is here." She said to Buzz Cut.
"Thank you," he replied, she nodded, then walked out.
He turned back to me, "that's our signal kid."
I got up, unsure and untrusting of him. Why didn't I know about him? Why didn't I know about my 'father?'
I walked behind Buzzcut through the gray hallways. There was a man talking to the receptionist. We stopped, i studied him. His hair was average, he was wearing a suit. He looked over at us.
His eyes were sea green, with flecks of ocean blue scattered throughout. His eyes were so much like mine, but mine changed, sometimes they were dark blue, like the colors of the deep ocean. Once, when I came home happy with Gabe asleep, my eyes were light green and blue swept through them, mixing.
My friends eyes were like that, they didn't change like mine, but they were still cool. We used to call ourselves The Guardians, since we had had such unusual eyes. But we would never be a group again. They were going to a prestigious school and I was stuck just trying to figure out where I was going to sleep.
The man in the suit walked over.
"Hi Percy, my name is Phillip, it's been a long time."

So guys. What do you think about this? The idea just came to me. I honestly think this chapter is a lot better than any of my chapters for Ashes but oh well. What do you think of this? I feel like my writing style is drastically different from my writing style in Ashes. I feel like it flows smother. Like Ashes is extra chunky peanut butter and this is creamy peanut butter. I like both types by the way.
Yeh, weird simile, it's the first thing that came to mind.