Even eight years after the murder, Jim would still awaken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. He and Richard shared a room, and for the first month or so, he had woken up the entire house screaming nearly every night. But no one became cross with him. Instead, his Aunt Grace would do her best to console him, and they would cry together. Now, he'd learned to control his reactions, the most sound coming from him being a gasp.
To say that living here in Brighton was better would be an incredible understatement. When at home, he did not have to fear being thrown into walls, hit, or humiliated. At first, he'd instinctively flinched whenever anyone made even the slightest sudden movements around him, but he'd soon learned that things would be okay here. That he was safe.
The same could not be said when he was at school. His grades were decent, but despite not greatly excelling in the classroom, he was gifted in many other aspects. For example, he'd continued to pursue his interest in art- though instead of crayons, he'd grown into pencils- and even had taken up dancing. Not the kind of dancing that was so popular at the time. He preferred classical. Ballet. And he was clever. He could pick apart what a person was thinking with ease, determine and influence their next move. A few times, he used his abilities to his advantage, but he prefered to keep them to himself.
He was on his way to his Physics class when it happened. Not that he wasn't expecting it. He'd learned to. It happened every day. He felt his body pushed into the lockers, shoulder slamming into the metal. That would be bruised by tomorrow, no doubt. "Hey, Moriarty." Even his voice was smirking. "What the hell was that in History this morning?" Jim looked up at the boy, who was slightly taller despite being two years younger. Carl Powers had that look in his eyes. That look that said that Jim wasn't going to have a good day. "You think you can just go around acting like you're so smart all the time? Like you know more than everyone else?"
"I didn't-"
"Did I ask for your opinion?" Jim fell silent, and his head impacted the locker again.
It could very well have gotten a lot worse had a new voice not intervened. "Powers!" Carl's head whipped around. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He left without another word as Richard came forth. "You alright?"
Jim nodded ever so slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked over his cousin for a moment. "Though I wouldn't be opposed if something unfortunate happened to him during your swim meet tonight."
"You don't mean that." Richard smiled, despite honestly being a bit worried. As he grew older, he'd learned why Jim had come to live with them, what he had seen. But there was an unspoken rule between them never to bring it up. Somewhere, buried inside him, he feared that his gruesome past would have a disastrous effect on his mind.
Jim grinned a bit. Of course he didn't. There were times he thought about it, but he always pushed the idea away. Then spent hours on end wondering if he was a bad person for allowing it to cross his mind. "Well, obviously. I'm not some sort of freak." He paused for a moment. "Don't respond to that."
"Please, you're not a freak." He insisted. But Jim wasn't having that.
"Then why can't anyone see things the way I do? You've said so yourself. Remember that time you brought that girl over and I said she was planning to make a make a move on you?" He smirked at the memory. "Remind me again, what did she do about an hour afterwards? Throw you onto the bed and try to rip your shirt off?"
Richard elbowed him- though he made sure to do so very softly. "Shut up. That doesn't make you a freak. You're just clever. All the others, Carl and his gang, you intimidate them. They know what you can do. That you could ruin them whenever you choose. And it terrifies them."
If Richard's words were an attempt to be encouraging, it had been a miserable failure. Jim didn't want to be clever. All that had ever gotten him was pain, both physical and emotional. And most of all, he didn't want people to be frightened. He wanted a normal life, with normal friends, and normal problems. He wanted people to look at him and see a boy whom they would respect, see as an equal. But he wouldn't let Richard know this. He wanted to ensure his cousin's peace of mind. "You're right." He faked a smile, sure that Richard would be unable to tell the difference. "Thanks."
A friendly hand on his shoulder now. "You're late to class."
"Well, so are you. Or are you blackmailing someone into taking your spot?"
"That was one time." He admitted. "And no, I'm supposed to be picking up some books from the supply closet."
Jim gave a teasing look. "They trust you in a small dark room alone?"
Another gentle elbowing. "Shut up!" Richard's grin was wide now. "Go to class. I'll see you later."
"Right. See you." Just as he began to depart, he turned around, speaking one more time. "Richard? You won't... you won't tell your mum about this, right?" Grace always worried about him, almost too much. He hated to see her upset, especially when he was the cause.
Richard nodded. "Yeah, of course." Jim smiled a bit, and continued on his way.
When he finally got to his Physics class, Jim produced the counterfeit hall pass from his bag. He had a few on hand at all times, just in case. No one ever really examined them. They were just discarded.
As the lecture droned on, Jim found himself doodling in his notebook. They were never anything extraordinary. Just simple shapes and designs. But they were very intricate. Sort of like him. Simple at first glance, yet so full of ideas if someone were to bother paying attention.