Greg Ryoushin woke up to dim sunlight streaming through his window.
He had blinds, but he'd left them partially open last night, he didn't
remember why. Suddenly he started, a cold sweat forming upon his body; was
he here? Was he here again?
Panting, he suddenly remembered his surroundings. He was far away from him, and unfortunatley to far from his mother. Mom, what would she do? Stuck alone with that bastard... Why didn't she leave him? Why? If she had... Sachi wouldn't have...
Bip-bip-bip-bip.... His alarm clock rang out it's strident call, he was supposed to get dressed for school now. He stared at a picture on his night table. It was a simple frame, nothing fancy about it. It was one of those generic "gold"-plated frames you could buy at department stores. A picture of his mother, and his sister Sachi was in it. They were happy, because it was before that... that... man came.
Greg stomped down the stairs, regardless of the complaints the other kids were making. They were supposed to be awake anyways, and he wasn't hurting anyone. The foster mother looked at him when he came down, genuine worry etched in her face.
"Morning!" She greeted, then after taking a look at his face, "Greg honey, are you alright?" She asked.
Alright? When was he ever "alright"?
Don't cut out my paper heart
I ain't dying anyways
Take a look an eiffel towers, never trust them dirty liers
School was the usual. Stupid punks mocked him, he took down homework, and the guidance counselor babbled on about how it was good to get your problems out, and some other shit. Greg stared out the window whenever he got these speeches, or if there was no window; he looked straight ahead, not meeting the eyes of the speaker.
The school bell rang. It was time to go. Greg strode into the bathroom, ignoring the stares from all sides. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, and examined what he saw there.
A thin, tall boy with glasses and black hair stared back at him. The boy's eyes were cold, grim, and unhappy. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth set in a grim line. Black eyes, black hair, pale golden skin; which would have been a rich bronze tan if he went outside more.
He wore the standard school uniform, which was a bit different than those at other school. It was a navy blue cardigan so dark it appeared black, a white short-sleeved shirt, and khaki brown pants. His glasses were taped where the metal created a bridge towards the other lense. It had been broken in a fight.
Sippin' lemon yellow booze
Ol' lead belly sings the blues
All dressed up on wedding day, keep on tripping anyways
Stepping outside, he found that school had been vacated almost entirely. No surprise, it was Saturday after all, and the kids had all afternoon to hang out and do stupid things. Maybe those assholes wouldn't be around... but wait-- no such luck..
"Hey look, it's Ryoushin." a tough, thug-wannabe said. Greg had never bothered to find out his name. Why should he? It was just another stupid punk.
"Heh.. does he talk? I mean.. like, ever?" Said one who was obviously the leader of this little gang. "Why don't we... find out?"
They pushed him down, and pummeled him with their fists. Greg withstood the violence, quite uncaring what they did to him. He knew he was better than these jerks... But then... they had a picture...
"Hey lookee here! Ryoushin has a girlfriend!" A thug held up a picture of Sachi, it had been her last. She'd only been 13 when it had been taken, and she was a graceful, lithe young girl. Somewhat prone to weakness, but still cheerful and happy.
In the picture, her long black hair tumbled down her pale shoulders, and she wore a white sundress, with spaghetti straps. Her pale pink lips were curved in a sweet smile, and her eyes sparkled as if they were laughing. The thug waved it around, and Greg said:
"That's my sister." Then after a slow, deliberate pause, he got up and said. "Give it back."
"Why?" The grubby looking bully said. He licked his cracked lips and said, "I think I might just keep it, and maybe I'll--"
Greg punched him.
I am I am I said I'm not myself
I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
So keep your bankroll lottery eat your salade day deathbed motorcade
Greg had punched him in the gut, and he watched the jerk double over in pain. He lashed out again, making sure that the boy fell to the ground. His face cold, Greg yanked the picture out of the thug's hands.
He whipped around to the other thugs, and kicked one in the stomach. He was punched in the back by another, and he whirled around, ignoring the pain. Greg used uppercut on this one, and then he looked at the last one standing.
The last guy looked fearfully at him, and his teeth chattered. He mumbled something unintelligible, and ran inside, presumably to get a teacher. It didn't matter. Greg didn't give a damn what they thought about him, he already was an A+ student, and if they suspended him; he'd recover quickly enough.
Fake the heat and scratch the itch
Skinned up knees and salty lips
I'll breathe your life, vicks vapor life
And when you binge I purge alike
Greg was in his room again. He'd walked away from the scene, not wanting to go through the whole damn suspension process, if the fool had actually gotten a teacher. So instead, he walked to the foster home.
Asako, the foster mother looked at him worriedly. She'd never gotten anything but good reports for him, but he'd gotten in trouble for fighting lately. She wished he'd tell her what was going on, but she knew that Greg was the kind of kid that never opened up to just anyone, and she'd have to get his trust first.
His trust was impossible to get.
She'd tried and tried, and sometimes she felt like she would cry. Why couldn't he trust her? Why? He was like a block of ice, unmoving and uncaring. But Asako was sure that inside he was screaming to get out.
Greg fingered the blankets on his bed, and stared at the cieling. He felt hollow, soulless. But he guessed he deserved it. He should have fought him, he should have fought that jackass for pushing Sachi...
Sachi, Sachi... are you in heaven? He laughed you know, he told me there wasn't such a thing as heaven... He told me you were in...
......
Let's go it's harder holding on
One more trip and I'll be gone
So keep your head up, keep it on, just a whisper and I'll be gone
hello?
Greg started... had he just heard someone say hello?
don't be scared...
"What the hell??" Greg exclaimed. The voice was coming from his head. Was he really that crazy??
no.. you're not.
"Who are you?" Greg asked.
please, it's easier to talk telepathically.
"Whatever..." Greg thought.
heh.. tough guy huh?
"What of it?"
what if i told you, i was here to help you?
"You'd need to do a lot of helping."
haha.. very funny
"Look, what do you want?"
i said. i want to help you
"But you don't even know who I am. Why would you want to help me?"
because... i know everything. i know about your mom and your stepfather. and...
"And..?"
sachi... i know what happened to her. they think it was your mom and that's why they sent you here. but i know what really happened. it was him.
"Who the hell are you!?! How do you--"
i am.. well, my name would be easier for you pronounced this way: daryl. i am from another planet... another dimension. my people seek out souls and help them
but not like i do. i -talk- to the people -i- help.
Take a breathe and make it big
It's the last you'll ever get
Break your neck with diamond noose, it's the last you'll ever choose
It had been a couple of months, and Greg had found someone to talk to; to become friends with. Daryl was completely open about everything, and even sent thought-pictures of his planet. Greg often said that he wished he lived there, and not on earth. Daryl said that warriors weren't accepted very well in his planet, and that he and Greg were both warrior k'iaore or souls.
Daryl was helping Greg become a lot less hostile. But he still didn't talk so much, and really not much had changed. Still, he wasn't bored during those stupid counselor sessions. He talked mentally with Daryl during this time, and Daryl usually taught him how to utilise mind tricks.
But even though Daryl was his first and only friend since Sachi's death; he still couldn't open up and talk about it. He knew that Daryl already knew, and was keeping away from it until Greg was ready to talk. But Greg couldn't ever talk about it.
The guilt was too strong... it was his fault.. he knew it was. He should have said something, to anyone! He should have begged his mother to divorce, to run away, to help them... but--
I am I am I said I'm not myself
I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
Hold me closer closer than before
Let me be just let me be
The world shattered.
Greg's mind link to Daryl was torn away abruptly, and Greg could feel himself screaming as he was transported into a dark void. The pain from the severed mind link made him delirious, and he blacked out from the searing agony.
Sunlight shone gently on his closed eyes, and breathing raggedly, he struggled to wake up. He found himself sprawled in dewy grass, in the midst of a group of children his own age.
Suddenly, he realized...
He was not in his world.
Panting, he suddenly remembered his surroundings. He was far away from him, and unfortunatley to far from his mother. Mom, what would she do? Stuck alone with that bastard... Why didn't she leave him? Why? If she had... Sachi wouldn't have...
Bip-bip-bip-bip.... His alarm clock rang out it's strident call, he was supposed to get dressed for school now. He stared at a picture on his night table. It was a simple frame, nothing fancy about it. It was one of those generic "gold"-plated frames you could buy at department stores. A picture of his mother, and his sister Sachi was in it. They were happy, because it was before that... that... man came.
Greg stomped down the stairs, regardless of the complaints the other kids were making. They were supposed to be awake anyways, and he wasn't hurting anyone. The foster mother looked at him when he came down, genuine worry etched in her face.
"Morning!" She greeted, then after taking a look at his face, "Greg honey, are you alright?" She asked.
Alright? When was he ever "alright"?
Don't cut out my paper heart
I ain't dying anyways
Take a look an eiffel towers, never trust them dirty liers
School was the usual. Stupid punks mocked him, he took down homework, and the guidance counselor babbled on about how it was good to get your problems out, and some other shit. Greg stared out the window whenever he got these speeches, or if there was no window; he looked straight ahead, not meeting the eyes of the speaker.
The school bell rang. It was time to go. Greg strode into the bathroom, ignoring the stares from all sides. He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, and examined what he saw there.
A thin, tall boy with glasses and black hair stared back at him. The boy's eyes were cold, grim, and unhappy. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth set in a grim line. Black eyes, black hair, pale golden skin; which would have been a rich bronze tan if he went outside more.
He wore the standard school uniform, which was a bit different than those at other school. It was a navy blue cardigan so dark it appeared black, a white short-sleeved shirt, and khaki brown pants. His glasses were taped where the metal created a bridge towards the other lense. It had been broken in a fight.
Sippin' lemon yellow booze
Ol' lead belly sings the blues
All dressed up on wedding day, keep on tripping anyways
Stepping outside, he found that school had been vacated almost entirely. No surprise, it was Saturday after all, and the kids had all afternoon to hang out and do stupid things. Maybe those assholes wouldn't be around... but wait-- no such luck..
"Hey look, it's Ryoushin." a tough, thug-wannabe said. Greg had never bothered to find out his name. Why should he? It was just another stupid punk.
"Heh.. does he talk? I mean.. like, ever?" Said one who was obviously the leader of this little gang. "Why don't we... find out?"
They pushed him down, and pummeled him with their fists. Greg withstood the violence, quite uncaring what they did to him. He knew he was better than these jerks... But then... they had a picture...
"Hey lookee here! Ryoushin has a girlfriend!" A thug held up a picture of Sachi, it had been her last. She'd only been 13 when it had been taken, and she was a graceful, lithe young girl. Somewhat prone to weakness, but still cheerful and happy.
In the picture, her long black hair tumbled down her pale shoulders, and she wore a white sundress, with spaghetti straps. Her pale pink lips were curved in a sweet smile, and her eyes sparkled as if they were laughing. The thug waved it around, and Greg said:
"That's my sister." Then after a slow, deliberate pause, he got up and said. "Give it back."
"Why?" The grubby looking bully said. He licked his cracked lips and said, "I think I might just keep it, and maybe I'll--"
Greg punched him.
I am I am I said I'm not myself
I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
So keep your bankroll lottery eat your salade day deathbed motorcade
Greg had punched him in the gut, and he watched the jerk double over in pain. He lashed out again, making sure that the boy fell to the ground. His face cold, Greg yanked the picture out of the thug's hands.
He whipped around to the other thugs, and kicked one in the stomach. He was punched in the back by another, and he whirled around, ignoring the pain. Greg used uppercut on this one, and then he looked at the last one standing.
The last guy looked fearfully at him, and his teeth chattered. He mumbled something unintelligible, and ran inside, presumably to get a teacher. It didn't matter. Greg didn't give a damn what they thought about him, he already was an A+ student, and if they suspended him; he'd recover quickly enough.
Fake the heat and scratch the itch
Skinned up knees and salty lips
I'll breathe your life, vicks vapor life
And when you binge I purge alike
Greg was in his room again. He'd walked away from the scene, not wanting to go through the whole damn suspension process, if the fool had actually gotten a teacher. So instead, he walked to the foster home.
Asako, the foster mother looked at him worriedly. She'd never gotten anything but good reports for him, but he'd gotten in trouble for fighting lately. She wished he'd tell her what was going on, but she knew that Greg was the kind of kid that never opened up to just anyone, and she'd have to get his trust first.
His trust was impossible to get.
She'd tried and tried, and sometimes she felt like she would cry. Why couldn't he trust her? Why? He was like a block of ice, unmoving and uncaring. But Asako was sure that inside he was screaming to get out.
Greg fingered the blankets on his bed, and stared at the cieling. He felt hollow, soulless. But he guessed he deserved it. He should have fought him, he should have fought that jackass for pushing Sachi...
Sachi, Sachi... are you in heaven? He laughed you know, he told me there wasn't such a thing as heaven... He told me you were in...
......
Let's go it's harder holding on
One more trip and I'll be gone
So keep your head up, keep it on, just a whisper and I'll be gone
hello?
Greg started... had he just heard someone say hello?
don't be scared...
"What the hell??" Greg exclaimed. The voice was coming from his head. Was he really that crazy??
no.. you're not.
"Who are you?" Greg asked.
please, it's easier to talk telepathically.
"Whatever..." Greg thought.
heh.. tough guy huh?
"What of it?"
what if i told you, i was here to help you?
"You'd need to do a lot of helping."
haha.. very funny
"Look, what do you want?"
i said. i want to help you
"But you don't even know who I am. Why would you want to help me?"
because... i know everything. i know about your mom and your stepfather. and...
"And..?"
sachi... i know what happened to her. they think it was your mom and that's why they sent you here. but i know what really happened. it was him.
"Who the hell are you!?! How do you--"
i am.. well, my name would be easier for you pronounced this way: daryl. i am from another planet... another dimension. my people seek out souls and help them
but not like i do. i -talk- to the people -i- help.
Take a breathe and make it big
It's the last you'll ever get
Break your neck with diamond noose, it's the last you'll ever choose
It had been a couple of months, and Greg had found someone to talk to; to become friends with. Daryl was completely open about everything, and even sent thought-pictures of his planet. Greg often said that he wished he lived there, and not on earth. Daryl said that warriors weren't accepted very well in his planet, and that he and Greg were both warrior k'iaore or souls.
Daryl was helping Greg become a lot less hostile. But he still didn't talk so much, and really not much had changed. Still, he wasn't bored during those stupid counselor sessions. He talked mentally with Daryl during this time, and Daryl usually taught him how to utilise mind tricks.
But even though Daryl was his first and only friend since Sachi's death; he still couldn't open up and talk about it. He knew that Daryl already knew, and was keeping away from it until Greg was ready to talk. But Greg couldn't ever talk about it.
The guilt was too strong... it was his fault.. he knew it was. He should have said something, to anyone! He should have begged his mother to divorce, to run away, to help them... but--
I am I am I said I'm not myself
I'm not dead and I'm not for sale
Hold me closer closer than before
Let me be just let me be
The world shattered.
Greg's mind link to Daryl was torn away abruptly, and Greg could feel himself screaming as he was transported into a dark void. The pain from the severed mind link made him delirious, and he blacked out from the searing agony.
Sunlight shone gently on his closed eyes, and breathing raggedly, he struggled to wake up. He found himself sprawled in dewy grass, in the midst of a group of children his own age.
Suddenly, he realized...
He was not in his world.