***DISCLAIMER***

Tommy: (walks in with a bucket of black paint)

Adam: (confused) What's that for?

Tommy: You'll see (opens can and paints a long black line across the floor)

Me: Tommy . . .

Tommy: No. . . hang on, I'll explain. (finishes line and puts lid back on paint)

Adam: (groans and rolls his eyes.)

Me: What?

Adam: I know what he's doing. He did the same thing on the tour bus, only he used duct tape instead of paint.

Tommy: Thats cause I didn't have any paint!

Adam: But you just happened to have a roll of duct tape laying around?

Tommy: It comes in handy! . . .Now. . .(steps onto the oppiste side of the line as me and Adam) Anyone who is on this side of the line agrees that it is senseless to write a prequal because no matter what happens in this one, I still die. And anyone on your side thinks the oppisite.

Me: (Looks at Adam) He did something like this while you were on tour?

Adam: (sighs) Yep.

Me: Wow. . .

Adam: Oh yeah. . .

Me: (to the readers) While I try to get this sorted out, here is the next chapter to read. I don't own Adam or Tommy.

Chapter Four

'I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone"

- Boulevard of Broken Dreams

No one came to my rescue, of course no one usually did. Kids either ignored me, or laughed; most just walked the other direction. That was the worst part, there was no one around who ever wanted to help me when I needed it so badly. I was completely and utterly alone.

The cold damp asphalt scraped the palms of my hands and cheek. The dark pavement was smeared with my blood, which was pouring quite steadily from my nose and split lip. How the hell was I going to explain this to my parents? I couldn't hide this from them. I would just have to think up some other lame excuse like I did every day.

In the distance I heard the screeching sound of the bell, indicating I was late to my first class. Great.

Slowly I got to my feet, using my car as something sturdy to help balance me out. My head was spinning and the circular motion in which stationary objects appeared to be moving made my stomach uneasy. I stood for a moment, holding my torso until I was certain I wasn't going to get sick, then looked around. There was no one else in the parking lot, just empty cars and myself. Standing there alone I contemplated on whether or not I should just get in my car and drive away. My brain was over processing everything to the point where it was annoying. If I left, I would just be in even worse shit later. But I also knew I couldn't go to class looking beaten and maimed.

When most of my strength had returned, I slung the strap of my book back onto my shoulder, and made my way inside; ignoring the pain that shot up my bruised arm. The halls of my big city -big city being Indianapolis- high school were cram packed with people of all races and cultures, but as far as I knew, I was the only one like me. That thought brought on an even worse feeling than the empty parking lot did. It was a horrible mix of emptiness and neglect. I felt empty because never had I had any relationship where I felt like I belonged somewhere. The neglect was because I felt so alone. Sure I had my family, but you couldn't go through life with just family. A person needed more than that. I wanted friends, people who understood me. Even one person who could look past my sexuality and see me as me would've been nice.

The bathroom at the end of the hall was empty and I was thankful to find it that way. I turned the sink on and looked into the mirror. The red headed boy that was looking back at me made me want to cry. His expression was solemn. The cuts and scrapes on his face left thread like trails of blood on his fair, freckled skin. His split lip was swollen and the makeup he wore to hide his other injuries was fading to reveal an ugly, purple-ish, black bruise. Despite it all, his eyes were his striking feature. They themselves could tell their own story. The pain and confusion was plain to see in the boys eyes, and made I hated it. There was nothing about this boy that made him any different than everyone else, but society's stereotype has tourchered him. He had no friends, he was alone.

I splashed water on my face to remove most of the blood, then looked back to the boy in the mirror. The crimson stains were gone from his broken face, but he still looked beaten in every definition of the word. As for the flesh colored makeup over his eye, it was washed away , leaving the purple bruise.

With a sigh, and one last glance at the boy in the mirror, I went to class.

~oOo~

If things weren't bad enough, my last class of the day was gym. I didn't even want to sign up for the class because I wasn't athletic at all. Plus all the kids made me stand outside the locker room door until they were dressed and gone; which meant I didn't get to leave at three o'clock like everyone else. It wasn't like they had anything to worry about with letting me in the boys locker room, none of them were my type anyway.

"There ya go faggot." one of the boys said leaving the locker room. "It's all yours."

He and the group of his friends snickered and I moved passed them without meeting their evil gaze. Name calling, getting beaten up, those were everyday occurrence. You'd think I'd be used to it, but no one ever got used to bullying.

The locker room was dark and rank from the excessive amount of body odor that had accumulated over the years. The showers worked, but no one dared step foot in one, they looked disease ridden. I changed quickly, avoiding any and all mirrors-I'd had enough of my own pitiful reflection for one day. The bell rang and I finished dressing myself. Neil would complain if I was late getting out. He was never in a good mood after school; of course sometimes I wondered if he was just always in a shitty mood.

"Took you long enough." Neil grumbled getting in the car. "What happened to your face?" he asked looking at me.

"Uh. . .dodge ball in gym class." I lied pulling out of the parking lot.

"Did you play it with bowling balls?" He scoffed.

I controlled myself. "No Neil." I answered calmly

Hardly ever was there a time when we didn't argue about something. Just his presence sometimes irked me, but that was siblings.

"Maybe next time you should try to actually catch the ball, or better yet, sit out. That will make it almost impossible for you to get hurt. Sports aren't exactly your strong points any how. Remember soccer?"

Neils form of conversation always involved pointing out what he was good at and what I wasn't. The small soccer team my parents put me in when I was younger was a disaster. Three broken bones and a slight concussion didn't really make a kid want to play sports that much.

"Yes, now can we stop talking about it?" I huffed trying to get him to drop the subject.

Fortunately the rest of the car ride consisted of nothing but arguing over what radio station to listen to. At least it was better then talking about my face or how awful I was at soccer. I got enough shit from the kids at school, I didn't need it from Neil.

I pulled into the drive and before I even had the car stopped, my idiot brother jumped out. He did it to piss me off because he knew how much I hated it when he did stupid stunts like that. One of these days he would do it and break a bone and then I would be the one laughing.

"Adam learned the heard way not to play dodge ball with your face today in gym." Neil sang as he walked into the house.

"Shut up." I warned, putting my stuff off to the side.

My mother jumped out of her chair and rushed to my aid. "Oh honey, are you alright?"

Her soft fingers touched my face to inspect the injuries.

"Yeah, I'll live." I sighed. If only she knew the real reason behind my scars.

She fussed some more over my split lip and bruised eye before I said anymore.

"I'm just going to get my school work done okay? I'm fine." I told her as I headed for my room.

But I wasn't fine. I had bad habit of keeping my feelings trapped inside, and they slowly ate away at everything until the only thing left would surely be insanity. I would have to tell them before it came to that, because I wasn't sure if there was that much time left until I did go crazy. There was no one at school I could tell, so that left family. Families loved each other unconditionally right? I could only hope that was true. Things had to get better than this. I wasn't even sure what this even was. I wasn't a life, that I was certain of. A life you had to live, and I didn't feel like I was living. I felt like a victim to some messed up plot in a which I had no way out.

I sighed and sat on my bed with my books in hand. Another day was ending and another battle left to fight tomorrow. This poor excuse for a life was getting old and I wanted desperately to rid myself of it.

A/N: I finally got this updated! Yay! sorry guys it took so long, i was super busy all last month with Prom and graduation, but now i should have some free time to get these stories updated! Leave me a review and let me know what you thought!