Sunlight streamed through the classroom window. The wittering of the kids filled the classroom. No one's spirits were dampened expect one boy. He gazed out the window watching the spaceships fly past the sticky classroom. While the boy had been gazing out the window the schoolmaster had strode in and was calling out a register.
" Harkness this is the 3rd time I have called out your name. Will you please reply to your name when I call it out." The schoolmaster shouted.
The boy looked at his teacher.
" Sorry sir I wasn't paying attention." The Boy swallowed.
" Would you prefer if I called you Jack? Or Captain Jack? Isn't that what you want to be called? Face it Harkness you'll never, never be a Captain." The schoolmaster scorned.
Jack could feel the tears run down his face.
" Look Jack's crying he's a girl!" one of the other children jeered.
The Schoolmaster chalked the date onto the blackboard. Jack stared at it, completely destroyed.
" Harkness start writing." The schoolmaster bellowed throwing the chalk at him.
Jack shakily grabbed his pencil and wrote the date. 31st January 5000.
" Look out ship incoming! Yay it's destroyed the Harkness' ship." One child taunted hitting Jack with the back of his book.
Jack opened his eyes. He let out a cry of frustration. Why did it still affect him about 20 years on? He had succeeded in his ambition he had proved them all wrong. In theory this hadn't even happened. It was the 21st Century not 51st Century. Why did his childhood affect him now? Why not earlier. He remembered his childhood. The fights, the taunts, no friends, school, the drink and drugs. He remembered how his mother shouted at him when she had an argument with his dad. How the drink and drugs affected her.
" Bug off you piece off crap. When will you grow up and piss off. Go play with your crappy planes." Jack's mother would scream as he cowered away.
The missiles would come. Anything she could reach. Food, clothes china and plates. If Rose thought her mum was bad, she should try and cope with his. And then those nights she'd hit him. He would crawl into bed, covered in bruises. How he would silently cry himself to sleep. Those nights had been the worst. The day he had the chance to he left home for the Time Agency. Along to the end of his memory.