Chapter 11: Dance Floor, Show Them On The Dance Floor"Everyone's looking at us Vanessa, you sure this is the right id–" he tried taking his hands off but she held it just as he was about to chicken out."Everybody's watching…so what?" She looked into his pitch-black eyes with an aura of confidence. Slowly resting her head on his chest, she whispered. "Like I said before, you think about stuff way too much. You got to live in the moment." She rose her head off his chest and now looked back into his eyes. "Squeeze it.""What? You're crazy.""Deadass, you're a pussy. Do you ever just– oouu" she shrieked a little on feeling his shaky hand double his grip on her. "Could've been a lot gentler, but that's a good start." She looked around and saw that everyone on the dance floor had stopped dancing. Every single eye was locked on her, not the first time if we're being honest. But then, as she kept looking and listening, it gradually seemed the attention wasn't on her. She looked back into hi

Chapter 13: You’re Only Looking For Attention"Come on. Hop out" Ryan said, dropping off his little brother as emotionless as always. The look he had on his sparsely pimpled face was different from the one he had a day before, but it was a very similar circumstance this time round. All eyes were glued on Marcus just as he alighted the Toyota Corolla. Although some eyes were still on his built, emotionless, older brother who never seemed to care about anything (still didn't know that people were gazing intensely at him every time he showed up), there were more eyes on the 6'1, Sixty-seven kilograms of less muscle than fat. Ryan, without caring, reversed and drove off, leaving his younger brother in the mercy of piercing eyes. "Okay. One after the other." He gulped. "Step by step."With every step he took there were whispers that he could obviously hear but unfortunately not ignore. "I thought he was gay to be honest, but yesterday…damn" one said. "Didn’t think Boaz had it in him to be

Chapter 15: Fuck the Talent ShowA Low-cut afro. A pair of piercing and scrutinizing blue eyes. A facial expression that made up for his lack of words, and a stance that demanded nothing but respect. Mr. Benedict wasn’t your average drama teacher. Most students wish he’d been the one cut off in order to afford the auditorium instead of the astronomy teacher, when in fact, he was the mastermind behind his sacking. And this auditorium/hall/making out hideaway for the senior students, was his torture chamber. More often than not, he walked and worked with someone who shared the same mindset as him. Basically someone who did the talking for him. This time around, it was…“Good day students. Now you all know me, Vice president of the drama club, Arthur Orion. And of course, the ever-talented Mr. Benedict beside me. Hope we all know why we’re here. The school’s annual talent show is just a couple days away, and if we want to be perfect before that time, then we’ve got to start practicing. N

Chapter 17: The Front Seat“Yo, could you move a little faster man? I’ve got places to be” Ryan said, bellowing from the car. The horn supporting his tired voice.“Yeah sure” Marcus muttered under his breath, gradually increasing his ‘trotting’ towards the car until he accidentally bumped into someone. “Oh sorry. Didn’t see you there” he said as politely as he could.“Is that so?” the character turned back to face Marcus. “Well I’m gonna make sure that you never—Oh it’s you” the familiar voice shrieked all of a sudden.“Mitch.”“Marcus.” They both knew the consequences of getting out of line. Better to call it a truce and live to fight another day. Marcus steadily breezed past him (wouldn’t have ended the same way just a couple days ago) and got into the car. “Need to appeal to mom this time” he changed gears. “I’m tired of this—” as soon as he put his foot on the accelerator, a figure just walked past the front of the car, completely unaware of the situation. Although he didn’t bum

Chapter 19: 911Ryan Rolland Boaz. A number of years in and out of therapy definitely did a lot to soften up the 6’3. When he was younger, he was a fucking hothead. He still is to be honest, he just finds his way around it. Just walk out of the room, keep quiet and just don’t engage, the sun’s getting real low big guy. You know, that type of shit. He wasn’t always that way though. You see, no one’s ever born with a mental or an emotional problem. No disrespect to anyone. I’m not a doctor or anything, I’m just saying more often than not, certain mental and emotional issues are products of the environment you grow up in, not the genes you were born with. What made Ryan really need therapy, wasn’t all accrued to the pain he felt with the whole Vanessa situation. What really hurt him, what he kept bottled up all this time, the one memory that actually made this maniac tick, happened sixteen years ago. About four days from today would be the anniversary. The day dad left. Never came back