I don't remember when the last time I updated was, but here's to hoping that this chapter will be good.

It hadn't even been two days since his parents had died in that pile-up. James was Mike's younger brother. He had just started his sophomore year in high school. He had been taken to a foster home where he shared a room with three other kids. He hated it there. It was small and old. It smelled like a retirement home. The boy older than him, that he was forced to share a room with, was an awful human being.

This boy refused to give out his name to anyone. He was quiet until some aggravated him, which was surprisingly easy. If someone even tapped him on accident, it was enough to set him off. Once he was gone, it would take him at least an hour just to cool down a bit. The boy wasn't tall, if anything he was on the shorter side. He had short black hair and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. His dark green eyes screamed hatred where ever he looked.

Early, last night, that bot had pinned another boy against the wall because he had sat where the black haired child wanted to sit. No one did anything. They just sat there and watched the two of them as the boy in his grasp cried his eyes out. Saying he was afraid was an understatement. The even smaller boy had looks of pure terror and hatred in his eyes. Whether or not the black haired child saw this was unclear to everyone.

When he finally let go, the younger child was gasping for breathe. James never wanted to see that happen again, but he was too afraid to do anything about it.

James stood in front of the mirror in the small bathroom. The dust and grime covered a lot of his reflection. Not that he minded. It'd just show a scrawny guy with green eyes, a mop of brown hair, and a scar running down his left cheek. He hadn't slept the night before and it was showing slightly. He pushed his bang back into place and headed down the stairs to see if there was anything left to eat.

When he got down stairs, he noticed something strange. There was a small group of children sitting in a circle, back to back. It was like they were trying to protect themselves from the black haired boy. James stepped closer and noticed the boy from the night before sitting in the tight circle of children.

They were protecting him. Even if they got hurt, they would protect him.

James laughed a little and his vision began to mist over. He ran back up the stairs as fast as his legs could take him. He stepped back into the room he shared and slammed the door shut. He glanced around quickly, making sure no one else was in there. He walked over to a corner and sat down, facing the wall. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly, burying his face in his arms.

I am alone. If that rumor is true, about those things. Mike was going to die. No more family. I never had friends in the first place. I might as well end it.

He started crying as quietly as he could. The door to the room opened with such force it slammed against the wall next to it. James didn't bother turning around to look at who it was. He stood up quickly and bolted out the now open door.

"Yeah, you better run!" A voice called after him as he ran towards the attic door. The second he had it open he ran inside and found an old chair to stick under the door handle. A few loud bangs on the door signaled that the black haired kid had followed him.

James curled up into a ball in the middle of the attic and started to cry again.

My parents, dead. My only sibling, dead, and if he isn't yet, he probably will be soon. Friends. Are you kidding? None.

James looked around the small attic as the banging got louder and more frequent. There was a window towards the front of the house. It seemed large since the room itself was so small. It wasn't as cluttered as it should've been. A large crash was heard and James grabbed the closest thing he knew he could break the window with. He grabbed a candle stick as the bully's head of black hair appeared and chucked it at the window. The glass shattered, but it wasn't big enough. He grabbed a rather large box and chucked it at the window. There were only a few bits of glass left in the frame. James stepped up to the window.

"What are you doing?" A voice called to him from behind.

"I can't live in this hell anymore!" He shouted. He spread his arms wide and jumped.

He could feel the wind rush against his face and hear it howling in his hears. The last thing he heard was a very loud scream before he hit the ground.

The black haired kid stood, staring down from the window. The only thing he could focus on was the sickening crack and splat. He shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to see what had happened. A firm hand grasped his shoulder and hauled him back from the window. He was shaken violently.

"What the hell did you do?" A stern and very, very angry voice shouted at him.

"I didn't mean to." He started.

"At the very best, that boy is going to suffer severe brain damage for the rest of his life!"

"I didn't mean to!" The boy shouted and ran from the man in front of him. He ran and hid. He refused to come out. He vowed he would sit there until the police came. And that they did.