Chapter Two

Dangling my leg off the window, I sat, quietly basking in the sunrise and serene silence. It's been days since I last had a meeting with sleep. I've grown accustomed to insomnia, my new friend.

Leaning my head back at the window panel which supported my head, I closed my eyes. The calm breeze and welcoming atmosphere almost made me want to smile, almost. I curved my lips up in a mocking smirk. I was really mocking my new found peace. Watching the sunrise, always brought my inner peace. The view always reached deep into my soul and spread tingles of peace. Sunrise was the only time I become at peace with myself.

I gently inhaled the early morning air. It's cool and refreshing feeling was different from the normal into the hours air. It was soothing. I finally smiled. Early mornings were always my happiest moments.

I traced the bandages which I had flimsily dressed and scoffed. My wounds are a two week old, yet they still bleed like a fresh cut.

"Young sir..." I groaned internally and hissed irritatedly. So much for my moment of peace.

I could hear his footsteps swiftly moving around in my room. I knew he was approaching were I was hiding myself. He had discovered my spot a few months ago and so far, he's the only one that knows it. I know it's wrong to hide from the world sometimes, but when that becomes your way of rebuilding your sanity, you take it.

"Ah, there you are young sir." His eyes dipped to the book in my hands and he fell silent for a quick moment before twisting out his words. "The sunrise is a beautiful view. Not just because the scene, but also the atmosphere just brings serenity." His brows dipped in observation as his eyes accessed my drawing.

For the past few years, I had secretly relapsed. Old habits die hard, they say. And it's true. Even after pledging to never indulge drawing, my inner self could not swear loyalty to my pledge. I had enchanted myself with art, once there was a pencil or anything of the sort, my inner self would show itself.

Bernard, our butler, was the only one who knew. After seeing me a couple times and trying to dissuade me, he finally accepted that it was my nature. Art, was my calling.

I was okay with Bernard knowing because I knew he wouldn't snitch on me. There are several things I had on several occasions that were absolutely unacceptable in this house but he would never snitch on me, despite knowing the real perpetuator.

Bernard had worked for us for quite a long time. After two years that I was born and Maria died, he was hired based on the recommendation of him being efficient, effective and appropriate. No doubt he was all of that. I grew fond of him because he treated me like a father would treat his son. He took me like his son and that soft, dedicated fatherly love was all I ever wanted. I did make mistakes but his corrections came appropriate and nothing like the flood of harsh, agonizing words my father always rained. I began to genuinely respect him, not because of his age alone, but because of his kindness towards me. He was my confidante, my friend, someone who directed me. And I'd never lose him.

"You better keep that locked up. Your mother would be here anytime soon and you know how she is about such innuendoes. She considers it foolery and a serious waste of time and being." There was no lie in everything he just said.

I jumped down and darted to my wardrobe, I swung the door open and dug out an ancient box my grandmother had gifted me. It contained an gold necklace with an emerald pendant. She had claimed her mother got it as a gift from her father and she wanted me to hand it to my, according to her, better half when I've found her.

I sighed and scoffed inwardly at the thought of a partner. I found it a bondage. I was barely at peace my distorted self and finding a partner? That's just not it. I found it a waste of time and energy. Besides who'd want me as a partner? That would just be unfair to her because I'd rarely pay attention to her.

After staring at the box for a couple minutes, I was finally solid on my decision to remain single. It would be better for me and her as well.

I stuck the book in the compartment underneath the box, closed it, and dropped it carefully back in the wardrobe and shut it.

"My mother and father are going where?" I asked while peeling off my forest green T-shirt, flexing my back to release some muscles that stiffened due to my compromised position earlier.

"Well they're heading to Sir Oscar's University." His British tongue laced each word with an accent.

Confusion creased my brows. Oscar's University? What would they be going there for? Did he win another award?

"His graduation is today." He added as though reading my mind.

I paused, letting deep creases pattern my forehead. It's not possible. How could I have lost track of the dates? I couldn't have forgotten my brothers graduation date. Turning slowly towards him, with my bare chest on display, I proceeded to ask carefully, "Are you sure?"

He nodded gently, affirming his words.

I sighed, dragging my palms across my face in exasperation. "I thought it was next week. I couldn't have possibly forgotten." I said the last part lowly and slowly, more to myself. "I'd get dressed immediately and..."

"No need." Brianna, my mother swiftly said as she strutted in, in a graceful manner. "Your father and I certainly expected this. Where were you today?"I rose a brow at her and she sighed. "I had been in your room in the early hours of today and you weren't there. That was when I sent Bernard to look for you."

I shot Bernard a gaze then reverted them to meet her stare. She had been in my room today? Bernard didn't tell me that. All he told me was that she was yet to come to find me.

Shit!

"Well son, where were you?" She crossed her arms.

"What were you doing in my room?" I found myself asking.

"The tuxedo wouldn't exactly wear itself now would it?" She stated pointedly at me.

I traced the gesture of her hand and landed my eyes on a black, brand new tuxedo lying in wait on my bed. I didn't see that there before. Probably because you never really cared to look around.

I cleared my throat to ease the thick tension. There was nothing more to say.

"Your father is downstairs and so would I, in a matter of seconds. You have ten minutes to get ready. At least be responsible for once my dear child." She said the last part in rather mockery.

I let out a frustrated, heavy sigh. It's the beginning of a new month and it's exactly turning sour. I met Bernard's quiet gaze, his eyes scanned my flaccid look and he sighed. He was well aware of my rocky situation with my parents and the pity laced in his gaze did not go overlooked. I picked up my towel from my wardrobe and slipped into the bathroom.

I dropped my gaze upon my two-week old wounds and hissed. I dropped the bloodied bandages into the waste bin and landed my eyes on my pale reflection of my miserable self. I gripped the sink in a pitiful attempt to calm myself. You're more than this, you're better than this.

Am I? Was I?

You might not be Oscar but you can be a greater version of yourself.

How exactly am I to that? I'm a pathetic rich boy who just looks intimidating and nothing more. I'm not even tough. Behind my quiet gazes and expressions which are indifferent, tough looks and rich kid aura due to my background, I'm nothing but a damaged kid who's a pushover. I have low self esteem and I'm worth nothing. My existence to the world is nothing. For goodness sake, even my parents find me a burden.

What do they call me? Irresponsible, dumb, not worthy, sickly, retarded... They find me shameful. My father had Oscar take is first name as his surname, thus, Oscar Noel. While I just had the basic surname. Most times he finds it a disgrace. I do all I can to gain his acceptance yet he can't see it. After all, I was always the sick, fragile child.

As a child, though Oscar and I were enrolled in almost the same activities, mine were limited to an extent because of my health condition. When my father destroyed my blue ribbon from my drawing contest, I had resorted to self harm. My heart break that day was soul crushing, till date I still feel the pain because crushed along with that ribbon was a piece of my heart, my soul. I could feel the life slipping through me as voices echoed around me.

Vivid flashbacks of that day came back to me in haunting pieces. I could feel myself reliving that moment, muttering the only words that knew my lips that moment, "I'm sorry."

My eyes snapped open as I felt warm liquid stain my hands. I was bleeding courtesy of my Hemophilia and hard grip of the sink. I could feel my body shaking as my heart raced. My mind echoed thousands voices all at once and it felt like I was the only one that could hear them.

"You're not good enough."

"Why can't you be like Oscar."

"Is this your idea of an achievement?" His cold eyes burned me with his fiery gaze as his cold voice boomed.

"No!" I screamed as everything shattered.

I could feel it, It felt like I could hear every action... Every detail. It's not possible, just my sick mind having my anxiety disorder mess with my sanity.

Pills.

I needed my pills. I was trying to force my mind out of it's insanity but it wasn't working. I was throwing and smashing things, having the sound of shattering ceramics ring in the room. My hard breaths were hitched as I groped both sides of my head, screaming with the aim of numbing the voices. "Make it stop!"

"Sir, sir, open the door at once." Bernard's worried voice rang.

I turned my shaking body towards the door, least concerned about the dripping blood. With shaking hands, I reached for the door knob and turned it, not caring that the pure white has been stained with blood.

"Young sir, what have you done?" His wide eyes held fear. Though he's witnessed my episodes not once nor twice, nor thrice, he could never get accustomed to it. "You're bleeding... Again."

He made to take a step towards me but I help up my hand to him as I took little shaky steps out of the bathroom. "It's fine. I'd just..."

My mind went foggy as everything became a blur. I shook my head and blinked a couple times but that felt indifferent as something cold greeted my skin and warm arms wrapped around me. Every sound became an echo as I kept blinking my eyes. Then white, everything turned white as my body felt even lighter.

‡‡‡‡‡

"... He's stable for now. Just give him his vitamins, expose him to fresh air and make sure he takes his pills as per prescription and he'd be fine. What he had was a severe anxiety attack due to his relapse in his drugs. But he'd be fine." Her Indian laced accent was unmistakeable.

Doctor Rai Monroe has been our family doctor for as long as I can remember. Her thick brown hair framed her glasses adorned face in her famous bob.

"Thank you doctor." My mother said.

I slowly opened my eyes, and let them wander and adjust to reality. I coughed as my dry throat itched me.

"Careful." My mother said as she handed me a glass of water.

"Thank you." I whispered in a rough, hoarse tone.

Using my arms, I was able to pull myself to a sitting position. My mother was silent as she set my pills in her hands.

"Here," She handed me my pills and watched me gulp them down in silence. "You haven't been taking your antidepressants nor your blood clot pills." She sounded more like she was informing me than she was telling me. I knew she was expecting an answer.

I sat quietly as I knew this wasn't a good show for me. I rested my head on the pillow padded headboard and sighed, staring at the window. "Dad?"

"He's at the event with Oscar. He'd be home in an hour or two." She said nothing else, returning the small chatter to the usual silence.

"Have you been cutting yourself?" Have I? Perhaps, but not intentionally. Your fists colliding with the mirror did all the damage. "Your injuries have gotten worse. How did you get them Eldse."

I brought my eyes to meet hers and with the most bland expression, said, "I hit the mirror."

"When you know you have hemophilia? How reckless and irresponsible can you be?" Her voice sounded disappointed and agitated.

"I'm sorry..."

"You should be, for yourself. Why do you do the things you do? On your brother's big day, you just had to?"

Wait what? Was she really saying this to me. Though I partly deserved it. I let my weaknesses rule me again. I had another episode, that too on my brother's special day. How bad of a brother am I? I was supposed to be there next to him but no, I was lying in bed with a weak body.

"It wasn't intentional Okay." I managed to mumble out. I looked away, turning my attention to the window. "It wasn't." I whispered the last part mostly to convince myself it wasn't true.

I heard the door open and caught a glimpse of Bernard standing by my bed stand with a silver tray in his hands. His pleading look was glaringly deep. "I'm not hungry so don't bother." I had my face turned to the window. What was the use letting him look at me? I was pathetic.

He sighed defeated before I heard steps towards my night stand. He set down the tray and turned to me. "In case you change your mind." He was silent for a moment. What else was there to be said? "If you need anything, just call and I'd be there as soon as possible okay?" He sounded so assuring.

He lingered around in silence waiting for my response but when none came, he finally nodded and left.

I sat in bed, feeling guilty. I hoped Oscar would forgive me for missing his special day. No doubt mum had gone out to join dad and Oscar; I knew she would. She wouldn't miss it because of me. I'm sorry Oscar. It wasn't intentional. Was it? Hell no.

Having my eyes still trained on the window, I sighed, recalling voices and having trips down the memory lane. I had it all but I had nothing. My parents were right, I could never be what they wanted. They deserved a better child.

Ignoring the protests and warning my aching body gave me, I willed myself to stand. I needed air, I was feeling suffocated and choked in my own body. I made my way to my closet and took the first big thing my eyes caught sight of. My black hoodie. Which brought somewhat warmth to my soul because black in all it's glory held a mysterious aura; a prefect color for me because I was damned but not condemned. Most people associated it with ominous speculations but it was still a beautiful color.

I made my way down the stairs wearing my baggy cargo pants. I heard sounds from the laundry room and immediately knew Bernard was there. I was grateful because I wasn't exactly ready to explain my whereabouts to him because in all honesty, even I had no idea where I was headed. I just need to go for a walk. I needed the fresh air.

I walked out the door and quickened my pace out of the compound. I pulled the hood over my head and stuck my hands into the hoodie's pocket. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the stars clustered across the sky. The air was cold just as expected and refreshing. I took deep breaths and sighed. A ghost smile was tugging on my lips. The cold breeze blew strands of my bangs across my face.

The street was lone and quiet just as expected. After all, it was night. I darted down to street with only my hard breaths as company. I wasn't far gone when I heard a familiar voice. "Hey."

Shit! Oh fuck!

I cursed inwardly. It was her. The unmistakeable low tone of her raspy voice was glaring.

"I knew I'd see you again." There was a sharp happiness laced in those words. "You know, I never really got a chance to say a proper thank you for everything, the last time we met. So I hoped I'd see you again." She reasoned.

How did she know it was me? I had on a hood.

"Eldse, yes?" She knew, but she just wanted me to talk. She went silent for a moment before saying, "you do know it's rude to hold a conversation with your back turned."

I didn't want to talk to her nor anyone. I wasn't in the mood. I just wanted to slip away from reality and there she was talking to me. "It isn't exactly called holding a conversation if you're the only one talking." I pointed out to her.

I could feel her smirk. I guess I predicted it because when I turned a little to peek from my side, I saw it. "Well it is now." She said victorious. She got me to talk.

So much for holding a one time conversation with her. I honestly thought I wasn't going to see her again but it appeared the odds were a greatest percentage against me. Had she been trailing my street or something?

"Well I'm lonely again this night and déjà vu again, I happened to have a couple bottles on me..." She went silent as if contemplating then finally said, "want to drink? Take it as my thank you gift."

She was right about the déjà vu. It was happening again. I wanted to say no but my mouth beat me to saying something else. "Do you trail my street just so you'd do this again?"

"Um... In all honesty, yes. For the past two weeks, I make sure to walk past here at least twice. I did mention to you a couple minutes ago that I wanted to see you again."

Well if that wasn't determination then what was? Why was she hoping to see me again? Does it matter? You're a mess that's in desperate need of a distraction. Take up her offer.

My mind was saying and once again I found myself agreeing with it. Just once again won't hurt. I gently turned, greeting her with my pale face as I gently pulled the hood off my face. "Well you have my attention now. But this time, I have something to say too."

I was dying slowly and silently. I just wanted someone to listen to me, someone to talk to and at this point, I really didn't care if she was a street girl or not. Fuck status, my sanity was more important.

"Good, because I plan on doing the listening this time around. You're looking like a mess rich boy." She teased me with a scrutinizing gaze and disapproaving twist of her mouth.

"I'm suicidal." I watched her mouth drop as I let out those two words. She really didn't see that coming and I really wasn't expecting myself to admit to the sad truth I've been trying to deny. Those wounds weren't planned but I was happy to have them. Hoping to bleed to death and be free from all my shit. Maybe then my demons would finally let me be.

Fuck my life. I'm screwed.