Authors note: I'm terribly sorry for the long delays upon uploading the new chapter. I've been extremely busy this summer. Anyways, here's the next chapter. There may be some grammar and spelling errors, but oh well.

~Age 12~

The low humming of the fan and the loud city noises from outside were the only sounds that were heard in Dave's room. The sun's rays pierced through the window and shined upon Dave's bed. Under the blankets was an unconscious boy who was dreaming of many wonders and things.

Many of those not consisting of what was about to happen.

"Dave!" Bro's voice boomed as he kicked open the door dramatically. "Wake up, lil'man. You have to go to school." Hearing no response, Bro walked over to the sleeping Dave and yanked the blankets off of him.

Immediately, the red-eyed boy screeched and stuffed his face in the pillow.

"I'm not gonna say this again, Dave—" Bro flopped himself upon his little brother, crushing him. "—Get up."

Squealing and yelling furiously under his brother's weight, Dave finally replied, "I will if you get off of me!"

Getting off Dave, Bro stood up and said, "Oh, and Dave, don't you have to go to school early for that tutoring session?" He watched as Dave nodded. "Well, I can drive you there. So hurry get ready and I'll make you breakfast." And with that, Bro left to the kitchen.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Dave threw on a red t-shirt over his head, put on some jeans and fumbled for his shades. After getting ready for the day, he went down the hallway and smelled burnt toast. Making his way into the kitchen, Dave found Bro trying to spread butter on his toast with his fingers.

Dave narrowed his eyes at the sight. "Bro, what are you doing?"

His brother turned to look at him. "What does it look like? I'm putting butter on the toast."

"But you're using your finger. Use a knife."

"We don't have knifes." Bro stared at Dave as if it were obvious.

Face palming himself, Dave shook his head disapprovingly. "Wha—that makes no sense. We just used knives last night though. What did you do with them?"

"I threw them away." Bro stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh my god, you are unbelievable." Dave opened the refrigerator and grabbed one of his brother's katanas. "Just use one of your shitty swords."

Using as much effort as he could—which was not a lot—Bro tried to look offended as he gasped, "Those are totally non-shitty swords, lil'man. And those are anything but butter knifes."

Dave shook his head. "Whatever. Let's just get going." He said as he grabbed one of the burnt toasts that were already prepared by Bro. Sure, it was burnt toast. But Dave agreed with himself that it was better than drinking piss for breakfast. Pft, Dave thought. As if anything similar to that would ever happen.

It was thirty minutes until the morning bell rang. Dave Strider was walking down an empty school hallway, trying to get to the other side of school for his teacher's classroom for tutoring. Shoving his hands nervously into his jeans, Dave passed by the hallway full with tall lockers big enough to fit a kid in there. Just looking at those lockers made shivers run down the red-eyed boy's spine. It reminded him of memories of his past years in school.

"You there, Red!" someone behind Dave yelled.

It was about a year ago that people in his school started calling him by the name Red. It was quite obvious onto their reason why: his red eyes. That nickname always made Dave want to scream at them and tell them that they were wrong; that their reason of bullying him and listing him an outcast was completely childish and wrong. But nobody would've ever listened to him. After all, he was just a boy who everyone ignored.

Not looking back, he quickened his pace, finding himself gripping his shades tightly. Not now, Dave thought. Please not now. The sound of footsteps behind Dave only got closer. "Don't ignore me, Red!" the same person yelled. Biting his lip nervously, Dave started running, not remembering where the classroom was.

The next thing that happened seemed to happen quickly. A hand suddenly gripped Dave's shoulder and turned him around roughly. He found himself staring up at a tall boy older than himself. Then somehow, the boy snatched Dave's shades and tossed them behind his shoulders. And for a moment, Dave could have sworn that he heard them crack. Eyes wide and mouth gaping, the red-eyed boy found himself stuttering, "D-don't do t-t-that."

The older boy cocked his head to the side and snickered, saying in a sarcastic voice, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What did you say?"

"I-I said—" Dave attempted to speak louder now, but was interrupted as the boy shoved him against a locker. The sound of metal banging echoed throughout the rows of lockers. The older boy held him against the cold metal as Dave kicked and yelled, opening up the locker right next to Dave.

And before he knew it, he was shoved into a locker that was quite large. Darkness soon enveloped him as the locker door shut with a loud bang and a click. Only a few holes in the locker provided rays of light for the frightened boy. "Let me out!" Dave yelled, panicked and scared.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, Red. I'm afraid I can't hear you." The older boy said, his voice carrying through one of the holes in the locker. Then he cackled in laughter as he walked away.

Gritting his teeth, Dave kicked and pushed at the locker door. But it was no use. "Dammit," Dave cursed. "Someone help me please!" He attempted to kick at the metal again, only yelling in pain and gripping his foot. It was until a few minutes later that Dave realized that it would be a long time until help came.

Sliding down onto the cold, hard ground of the locker, Dave pulled up his knees to his chest tightly and cried.