The Student Life

Chapter Three

AN: If you head over to my profile there is a link to the playlist that I was listening to whilst writing this. :)

EPOV

Once upon a time, there was a little boy that lived with his loving family; his loving father and loving mother. Then, when it was time for the little boy to leave for college, he was offered a place at Julliard because of how great his music was. The little boy was extremely happy, and his parents were so proud of him. Later he got his degree and the little boy became a well respected pianist.

Yeah, that's nothing like my life. To make it anything like my life would make it unrecognisable. My life isn't full of butterflies and loving parents. No, it's full of darkness and one parent, who wishes I were dead.

**

That day started out like any other day. I was lying in my bed being that lazy ass that I was. Normally I didn't get up until my alarm went off. Hell, I didn't even get up when my alarm went off. And right on cue, the stupid, tedious, 'beeping' sound filled the room, getting louder with every beep. I groaned out loud and threw one pillow at the alarm and one over my face. Eventually, when I couldn't stand the sound anymore, I threw another pillow –the one that was over my face- at the clock.

I threw the cover to the other side of the bed and instantly regretted it. I'd forgotten that I'd left the window open last night and the cold Seattle air had filled my room and I, being the idiot that I am, was only in my boxers. Grudgingly I got up to pick some jeans or something off the floor to wear but the caught my eye. The bright green ink is what I'd seen against the black wall. The writing was big and really you couldn't miss it. In fact, I could read it from here. 'Dad comes home.'

Shit. Fuck. Repeat that in your head about twenty times, and you'll get a slight idea of what was going through my head.

The cold air was the only thing that reminded me where I was. Everything that was happening in our big blue planet was completely foreign to me. It was like I was being sucked into my own universe- like when you were a kid- and the only objective in life – the meaning of life- was to make sure that either this date never happened or to stop my dad from ever reaching home. That's how it felt, but when I was sucked back to the real world I knew I had to deal with this day. I just had to do something about those letters.

I picked up a pair of jeans and a shirt off the floor and quickly got dressed. I grabbed the back pack that was in the corner of the room and hurried over to my bed. My arms tensed when I lifted the mattress enough so that I could take the small collection of letters that I'd stored there. I shoved them into the bag and quite literally raced out of the house. I think I even forgot about the locks - I was in that much of a hurry.

I wandered aimlessly around the neighbourhood, not bothered by the Seattle weather – you get used to it. I didn't know what I was looking for. I guess I was just aimlessly walking about. But all too soon, my mind began to wander, and it reached my least favourite subject first: my dad. I kept thinking about his reaction, I knew he'd be happy. Hell, he'd be over the moon. But past the fake joy, I could still see the hatred. It always looked like his eyes turned black. It's like I could see two faces, one was the one that the rest of the world would see. The one that was proud of his son and happy that he still had a son- happy he still had a family. Then there was the one only I could see. It wasn't happy. The eyes were black with dark shadows under them. They were full of depth, going on forever. The frown on his face matched his eyes. Everything about this face was dark and accusing. It was a face that sent anyone cowering. I didn't even know if he knew it existed.

My aimless wondering brought me to Andover Park. This is the park my mom and I use to come to all the time. We'd walk about then sit down and just talk. But all that stopped about four years ago.

I sat down on the nearest bench and just looked out at the waterfront. The waves were crashing against each other with no sense of direction. It amused me, and I just had to smile at it. I had no idea why, though. I fished out my iPod from my pocket, and, as usual, when I turned it on, it automatically was ready to play my favourite playlist, 'Piano Music'. Not very imaginative, but that's what it is. All my favourite pieces. I shoved the earphones in and closed my eyes. Just letting the music take me wherever it wanted to.

I was standing in our living room, but there was something different. It wasn't cold and dark anymore- the one I'd grown so used to. It was more light and happy, a happy family atmosphere. Plus there was someone with their arms wrapped around me. When the secure arms unwrapped I got a chance to see who it was. It was a woman. I didn't notice much about her mostly because all I could see were the eyes. They were full of happiness and they where bright and that's all that they radiated from them. This woman was happy, really happy. She hugged me again and this time when I looked into the eyes I could see they accepted me. Something I'd been longing from more than four years. But then the waving notation of her hand caught my attention. There was a letter in it. The paper was thick and white. She kept reading it over and over again – yet I caught none of the words- and then started waving it again. There was a seal in the top left corner of the letter and I recognised it. It brought a lump to my throat and I felt nervous. I kept fidgeting on the spot, but the woman didn't even notice. But the more I got nervous and twitchy the darker the woman seemed to get until she just faded away. I tried to call for her to come back but my voice was gone. I was a mute.

Something kept hitting me. It was small and insignificant, but annoying. And I felt colder, too. Slowly, I opened my eyes, and they kept fluttering trying to close again but they gave up the fight and my hand involuntarily went up and rubbed both of them.

I had fallen asleep in the goddamn park. This kinda thing was always happening to me, mostly thought when something bad was happening at home. In fact that was the only time I normally fell asleep anywhere in public.

When I tried to get up I felt sick and instantly fell back down onto the bench. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. But that brought back the picture of the women and I knew her. This made me more ill, and I felt like I was going to empty it all there. And being sick in public is not something you wanna try. Believe me; people think you're some drunken idiot on drugs or something. They stare at you weirdly and deliberately avoid you. It doesn't matter if you are seriously ill. They always class you as a drunken idiot on drugs. In society, it's every man for themselves.

I ran back to my house; covering my mouth on more than one occasion causing those annoying gag reflexes that leave a sickening taste in your mouth. I just made it to the toilet, and, yes, whilst I was running people did look at me like as was an idiot, an outcast. But at least I wasn't being classed as some drunken guy, though I probably was with how hideously weird I looked running.

After emptying myself I went to the living room just to fall onto the sofa. On my way past the table, I picked up a photograph, and as I jumped on to the sofa, I brought it up so that I could look at it.

It wasn't an old photo, but it was in black and white. There were three people in it; a family, the parents and a son. The mom and dad were standing behind the boy. The woman had short dark brown – almost black- hair. She was smiling and her eyes were lit up and perfect white teeth shone. She had her hand on the boys shoulder. The boy had brown, scruffy hair. He was wearing a mischievous grin and had one eyebrow raised, but he looked happy where he was. On his other shoulder there was the man's hand. The man was wearing your standard suit. He had a similar look on his face as the boy, but his eyes weren't looking at the camera instead they were looking straight at the woman. It was a wonderful family portrait.

I instantly had the urge to go play my piano and when I had these I had to play. I kept the photo in my hand and when I got to piano I placed it on the stand that was meant for the sheet music. I moved my hand over every key trying to remember the how simple life was when I was younger. When I got to the 'middle C' instinctively I pushed down on the cold key and sat down. I pressed another and a few bars in I added my left hand. I wasn't trying anything fancy. I was keeping everything simple; just like it was when that photograph was taken.

My time at the piano wasn't long, maybe a minute or so. But it had helped me to decide what I needed to do. My dad hates failures, no matter what the situation and I'd gotten back three rejection letters from colleges. Yes, they were for music and my dad hated the idea of me going to get a degree in Music. It didn't matter - it was still a failure, and my dad would hate me even more for it.

I took away the safety guard to the fire and threw the rejection letters into it, onto of the wood. I lit the match, hearing the scratching noise as I lit it. I lit the paper and hope it that it would stay alight –I added a few fire starters just to make sure it didn't go out. As I sat and watched them burn into ash I felt as if something was missing. It felt like just by burning them, a part of my soul was missing. It didn't feel right, and I nearly reached into the fire in order to attempt to save them. But anytime I tried to get near them the heat would burn my hands. I was used to the pain, I just didn't like it being inflicted by anyone else but me.

I continued to watch the flames burn and sometimes my eyes would drop and it would be like I'd blinked for five minutes. I was really tired and I hadn't done anything all day.

I was so involved with watching the flames burn that I didn't even hear the car engine come up the drive way before it was too late. I didn't have any time to run up to my bedroom. I'd have to face my dad right now.

I was trying to compose myself and just concentrate on the flames. I would not give him that satisfaction of knowing I felt like this. Just looking at the flames seemed to work and I was calm and intrigued by them.

The slamming of doors echoed throughout the house, I was trying to prepare myself for what was about to happen. I knew what I was going to do but it we made eye contact them he would see right through me.

"Edward, are you home?" His loud voice penetrated the entire house and sent shivers down my spine.

"Yeah, I'm in the living room," I answered dully. I was trying to sound uninterested so that he could possible just leave it at that. But that idea didn't go so well.

"I meant to phone you. I wanted to know if you got your letters. Did you?"

"Yeah, Harvard's came through today."

"Well, what'd they say?"

"Well, they all said 'yes', but I obviously chose Harvard," I said, trying to act as calm as I could. Otherwise, it would be obvious I was lying.

"That's great! Great news... We should celebrate, how about I take us out for dinner tomorrow?"

"Eh, yeah sure, sounds... Great?"

The silence, for a few minutes, was peaceful almost comforting but after that came the awkward stage. I started shifting my weight from side to side and prodding the fire with the metal pole. Until eventually I heard the quiet, high pitched 'puffing' sound of the kettle. My dad had dismissed the conversation, and I ran to my room.

I was acting like such a wuss. I gentle closed the door and slid down it with my back against it. I pulled my hand down my face, dragging my skin with it until it reached my neck. I kept my hand placed against neck. It stayed like that for a few moments, until it started to hurt a little. I'd subconsciously been strangling myself.

After what happened today at the park and with my dad – who wasn't acting anything like I expected him to, something was up there- everything just seemed like too much. It felt like some weight had been added to my shoulders, and I was being forced to carry it despite my objections. I only knew one way to relieve this feeling. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a rusting razor. Slowly, I pressed softly against my skin. I kept doing this until a faint red line was visible, and then I forcefully pressed down.

It didn't even hurt anymore.

So hopefully you enjoyed that. Edward's POV always makes me nervous. I love hearing what you have to say, so maybe drop me a review telling me what you liked/hated? Thanks!

Thanks to my kick-ass beta, whose comments made me laugh:TRDancer.