Chapter 1
Farmer Francis Will Have
Her Revenge on Seattle.
It's so relieving,
to know that you're leaving
as soon as you get paid.
It's so relaxing
to hear that you're asking
whenever you get your way.
It's so soothing
to know that you'll sue me
this is starting to sound the same.
I miss the comfort of being sad.
In her false witness
we hope you're still with us
to see if they float or drown
Our favourite patient, a display of patience
A disease- covered Puget Sound.
She'll some back as fire, to burn all the liars,
and leave a blanket of ash on the ground.
I miss the comfort of being sad.
- NIrvana
I have alot of problems.
Ask anyone they'd say my biggest problem is that I'm an arse whose goal in life is to become the Minister for fuckin' Magic. Of course these are the persons that once called me, brother or son. Never friend.
Sometimes I feel as if I'm bi-polar, my mind is that fucked up. I'm the opposite of the image everyone have preceived.
My smile... I've never actually been happy.
My entire life is debauched on the fact that I'm miserable. That I love being sad and remorseful.
No one really knows me. I like that, because it means I can disappear into thin air...
Staring at the wedding invitation makes me hate them all the more. I don't want a family who will help me, love me be there for me when I am down. I don't want to any of that...
There's the letter as the counter I throw away in disgust. My small unused kitchen. My brother who knows nothing about me.
Hey Perce,
I'm coming to stay with you for awhile. Bill's marriage means Mum and Dad's place'll be overcrowded. And The Twins are too loud. So why not crash with you? I can take the sofa, it's no problem.
Your brother,
Charlie.
God. As if I don't have enough to think about. My job is in jeopardy. My hatred for everything has risen. Yet my mother sends my older brother to make sure I go to Bill's wedding.
Why can't they just leave me or give me the pain I so deserve...
"Hey Perce?" I turn my head slightly. I didn't hear the door.
"Yes?" I know I'm making an already awkward moment more so.
"Mind showing me where I can set up camp?" His voice is raspy, most likely from the gastrous posions in dragon's breath.
I turn around to face him fully. He's standing uncomfortably with a hand bag. His overly freckled face looking tanned. His friendly face plastered with a false giddiness to see me. Stockier than most men. Very nomadic looking...
But his hair... I hate his hair.
The annoying red glint of it. Blond and red. No dark colours that I enjoy. No darkness I feel is reflected in the strands. The only chaotic feeling in my same coloured hair is my curls. Whom I slaughter as often as I can.
He's unnerved with my staring, looking around the flat. I know what he must see.
Not Percy.
The place is cold and only one chair remains in the middle. One light that is dim, making the white walls look grey. The dirty bowl and coffee cup still on the rickety table with one broken stool.
The chips and cracks, unhealthy feel of a place I do not even know the word to describe. The bathroom is murky coloured. My shampoo and razor the only things in sight. Everything else is hidden.
There are other rooms. My own which holds a mattress with a lumpy pillow and a black comforter. I have only music in the Muggle form. There lies the electric guitar I purchased out of pure stupidity.
My paper's that litter the floor, along with the many music disks. The other rooms are just as desolate. One bed for a guest with a nightstand and dresser. The other room is closed. Even I do not like to go in there.
"In there." I gesture wearily to the middle room.
It's strange that I could be so cold to this man whose smile lights up a room. Turning around I move towards the coffee pot to make a new brew.
The smell is burnt and overwhelming.
How I love it.
A/N: I just started this. I have a good idea for this story.