Yay new chapter and it is somewhat a decent length. Howard WILL be in the next chapter, which I have started and might post tomorrow, assuming I don't get dragged off to do Easter stuff. Anyways, thanks so much for all the lovely reviews :) Enjoy. Oh one more thing, I know it is strange that when I do dialogue I don't go on to a different line, but I'm a really descriptive person when it comes to writing and I find it is awkward for me to go on to another line for one line of dialogue followed by four lines of description and then followed by another line of dialogue. Either way I can say that dialogue is one of my least favorite things to write. haha ANYWAYS, enjoy.
Footsteps, the folly a foot naturally makes as one walks, the sound that now rung in Charles Merriman's ears as he stood dumbstruck, unwavering from the slaughtered girl. He felt the sudden urgency to flee and run; images of punishments he might receive for his deed, punishments he felt he deserved; they flowed through his mind rampantly. Crossing his vision, shaded red, five years old, cold and dark, the crack of a belt, the yell of a voice, the wallowing in guilt, and the endless repetition. For every time in his childhood Orc had taken a beating from his father he had broken, enraged, taking his anger out on everyone else, a constant cycle. He was a bully no doubt, though never a killer, until now.
Severed from himself, he retreated, taking unaccustomed sanctuary in the blessed darkness that the evening provided. Cast on the floor was the drawn figure of the boy from Honduras, it moved, following its master's body as he strode forwards, staring down at the horror, the horror that Orc had inflicted. Cloaked in the obsidian cover, Orc gazed up as Edilio kneeled down, holding the hand of a girl since passed. "Why?" Edilio's voice faltered, speaking to no one, "why is this happening?" He reached out with his free hand closing Bette's eyes for the final time, her irises dull and empty, bleached, being only the reminiscence of life, a somber fate, and the first death of the FAYZ.
Edilio rose from his spot on the floor, shaking with an emotion he would become quite accustom to, he cocked his head, searching the shadows, something in his gut told him he was no longer alone or had never been alone. Frightened Orc stepped back, hiding, a clang echoed out as his back met with a shelf, a toolbox spilling open, falling to the floor. Metal and chrome bounced back, screws rolling, pulled along by gravity; Orc yelped a nail embedding itself in the sole of his foot, running straight through his shoe into the sensitive flesh. His shoe filled with the sticky substance, running scarlet, pouring out. He felt the coolness, the roughness of the metal ripping at the tissue and muscle, biting, tearing. "Orc is that you?" In a flash of panic induced by the thought that he had indeed been found Orc forgot entirely of the thorn trapped under his skin. "Orc are you there?" The second question left unanswered. Pressed against the smooth brick, chest heaving, Orc waited, waited to be found, waited for the light. Orc liked the light. "Orc," the naturally tanned boy stepped forward, inching his way to the place where Orc resided, where Orc was praying to disappear.
Light penetrated Orc's dilated pupils, automatically shrinking in size as colorful dots danced in and out of his vision, this wasn't the light he liked. Orc yearned for the other light. Before him the fourteen year old Honduran stared back, a black flashlight shining a beam that made Orc feel as if he was burning. A spotlight pointing him out to the world, evaporating the little solace he'd found, branding him as the filthy murderer he was, the boy damned to Hell. And all for what? A six pack of beer.
Edilio's next words knocked him back into reality, "Oh there you are, man I thought you were Caine or Drake for a moment." His words were spoken slowly, as if Edilio knew of the drunkenness Orc had subjected himself to. Not that it wasn't a known fact that he was a budding alcoholic, and all the staggering and exaggerated slurring that had taken place that evening only supported the theory that was quite clearly forming itself in the other boy's thoughts. "Man, you look terrible, do you feel ok?" Orc's eyes were sunken in, swollen from the tears, bloodshot from lack of sleep and alcohol abuse, he was covered in a thick layer of sweat giving his appearance the look of wet nail polish that had been smeared before it had dried. His body shook, an odd sight for someone so big, someone who had always been feared as the most terrifying, most threatening bully. He had been reduced to a child, a pathetic sight, in a matter of a few hours. Dried blood, flaky and brown, was smeared in small droplets across his clothes and face, blood of an innocent, the blood that had persecuted him. He rubbed at his face trying to remove the damage, his skin protesting at the roughness of his calloused hands, the pain almost refreshing. He'd forgotten that Edilio was there, time then filled with dry heaving, the want to puke, the hope that he would pass out once more, and several violent spasms that lasted only seconds before he would fall still once more. "Orc?" Remembering he shook his head, "Uhh," he stuttered, unsure how to respond, "I'm fine...yeah…just tired. Why would you care anyways, you filthy..." Orc couldn't think of an insult. The lie was blatant, but not even the calm hand of Edilio wanted to pursue the situation to anymore of an extreme, the drunk before him was a disaster, a ball of emotion waiting to roll down, crushing everything and everyone in its path. "Well I got to go bury Bette, she's gone, I just don't think it is a good idea for you to be around here." "Why don't you hate me," Orc barely managed to get the question out, regretting his curiosity as soon as he had asked. "I don't know, I probably should, you could kill me in a second," he paused,"I guess I just don't believe you will."Orc nodded walking off, he winced, the nail making itself known, he wasn't sure how to get it out, to drunk. Where was Howard? Howard would know how to get it out. Orc liked the light.
He staggered, the air felt chilled, a knife dragging across his skin, raking pain and muted agony, the combination of his speared foot and his surroundings making it that much more difficult to walk. He was tired, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion, his mind clearing with each step as the alcohol slowly lost its effect. The pain intensified as the induced form of pain killer disappeared; he was weighed down by both physical and emotional pain, he felt as if he would burst, unable to support himself, the pain to great. He heard the click of a gun as the safety was turned off, the sound of normally happy kids muting, turning into hushed whispers as they saw the predator. But it wasn't the gun they were running from, it was him. The barrel of the gun was pressed hard against his neck; it tickled such a funny feeling for something so deadly. He half hoped the unknown figure would just pull the trigger. "Do it," Orc tempted them. "I wish I could, hell, you have no idea how much I want to, but that wouldn't make Caine very happy now would it? He thinks you're useful apparently, I disagree your nothing more than a coward with a stupid expression." "Shut up, Drake, I don't want no trouble." "Oh calm yourself you big baby, as tempting as blowing your brains out is, I'm only here to deliver your promised beer." The bottles clinked together as Drake pulled the gun down from its stance of Orc's neck. "Well take them," Drake sneered, he loved seeing the idiot look like he was about to wet his pants, hell he probably did. He laughed as Orc fumbled with the bottles. "Oh one more thing, if you puke on me I swear to God I'll kill you." He turned on his heel, stalking off, reeking arrogance in his step.
A crash and a flower of broken glass careened down inches from Drake, ripping at the material of his pants, soaking the edges in musty brown booze. "Watch it; you don't want to test me," anger radiated from his words. "That's what I thought," Drake walked off, the sound of a gun quickly followed by the collapse of a child echoed through the block only seconds later. The kid had made the mistake of walking past an infuriated Drake and had paid. Drake laughed a sadistic laugh, turning and giving Orc a spurious wink followed by a sneer. "See you later."
The bottle fizzed, liquid pouring over the edges as the cap was hastily expelled. Orc brought the mahogany colored bottle to his lips, the glass reflecting the light that was flickering down from the lamp post. The pungent taste so familiar in Orc's mouth, he swished the liquid between his teeth several times, the booze fondling the roof of his mouth. He swallowed, loving the searing effect the alcohol had on his throat. Already he could feel the drunkenness resuming its position, the pain fading.
The sun was just beginning to dawn by the time Orc collapsed on to his bed, eyes fluttering shut.