The last glistening white rose fell on to the coffin as it slowly edged its way in to the dark depths of the cold, unforgiving world. The boy stood alone once again, towering figures surrounding him, black, depressive, unfriendly and ready to rush back to work. All he wanted was the once lively, bouncy and warm father that now lay six feet under.
Small droplets of water ran over his red cheeks, tears flowing as if he was the source of a great river. He looked to the ground whilst shuffling his feet around a bit, ripping out the growing grass that now annoyed him, and then looked up at the sky for some hope. Instead the heavens opened up, and the rain tumbled down in to the hollow hole that was carved in to the ground. The small boy turned his back on the grave, as a scrawny old man began to shovel the damp earth on to his father’s frigid body. As he slumped away, he walked away from his life, his childhood, and strode into a far darker, less colourful world; he grew old within ten tiny steps.
James lifted his head as he came to the long, winding steps that lead home. He clambered half way up, then suddenly stopped, sat, and broke down again. A stream began to form, as his tears rolled down the steps, a never ending waterfall, as James simply did not move for hours. His mind flickered over the last nine short years of his life, his first shiny bike, his first crash on his now scratched up bike, and of course his first visit to hospital. Yet he never in his wildest dreams thought that he would be fatherless, and stuck with a now reverting mother, who partied and took drugs repetitively, to such a point that she never made her husband’s funeral. Whilst these thoughts mulled around inside James’ bedraggled mind, he realised he now had to straighten out his rebelling mother. As the responsibility began to crush down on him like snow smothering the crisp, brown autumn leaves, his tears dammed up, he stood tall, and bravely climbed the remaining steps towards a house he now felt like burning down.
His mother was slumped across the couch, dismantled after her late night. James had listened to her stumble in, knocking over a lamp, and shoving the contents of the fridge out of the way, to find what she so longingly craved. He couldn’t believe her, in his moment of need, he had been thrust in to a position of great responsibility, one he truly despised, and one he was struggling to cope with, she just runs off with any guy, and comes home, unable to provide James’ needs.
He locked himself in his room and jumped on the computer as fast as humanly possible. Two clicks and he was on his Face Book home page, and cruised around, checking updates, looking at pictures, dearly wanting to be in some. Except, he was home bound, not forcefully, but out of want. He didn’t want human contact, he wanted to be alone, his thoughts, his life. He exited the browser, and opened up The Sims, and begun to live the life he wanted, leaving behind his dreary world.
Eleven hours passed, and James finally heard grunts and slight movements from the main room. He left his ideal world behind, lumbered out of his room and into the kitchen. He filled up a large glass of water, grabbed three aspirins, and cautiously edged into the living room. His Mum looked awful; dark black circles surrounded her eyes, like water engulfing its victim. Her hair fell in tangles, and her throat sounded parched when she groaned James’ name. He carefully walked over to her, avoiding the shards of the lamp, and laid the aspirin in her hand, left the water on the table, and walked back to his room. No talk, just do what’s needed and leave. He knew she would be asleep again shortly, and leave sometime after midnight, and arrive home whilst he was at school, this suited him fine.
The weekend finally passed without too many hitches, his mum had brought a new lamp with her new boyfriend’s money, and another long school week had begun. Monday and Tuesday came and went, and James didn’t leave his room. His mum kept asking him to meet Jacob, her boyfriend, but James wasn’t ready for another fatherly figure; having said that, from what his mum had told her about him, he was a bigger partier than her, yet another worthless soul.
James’ principle came over on Wednesday, knowing what he had been through; he thought it better James was in the school environment rather than tucking himself away in a cave. James stood at the door quietly eaves dropping on Mr Hanaway and his mums talk. He caught a few words, ones he didn’t want to hear. He had to go back to school was the sentence he caught wind of clearly, he screamed, loud, long and at an excruciating pitch. He dived under his bed, and felt the firmness on the wood floors under him, then nothing. He was in to a trance only the tight, dark space of underneath his bed could bring. He lay there for what seemed like days, in and out of an odd sleep, where dreams flowed freely, dreams he dreamed of being in.
Unfortunately James had to return to school, and he did so unwillingly three weeks after his father’s dreary funeral. He asked his mum to drive him to school, but Jacob had taken it to go to work.
“Can I have some money for the bus then?” He didn’t understand her; she didn’t want to look at him anymore. Tears welled up as she simply shook her head and kicked the door shut in front of his face. He turned his back on the red paint peeling door, and bent down to tighten his black school shoes. Running his fingers along the separating sole, and the ‘leather’ that was tearing off, all he could think of was how the resembled his now fragile life. Then all in one motion he sprang up and bolted for school, 18 blocks past barking dogs which he crossed the road for, then hammering in to a large postman who simply stood his ground whilst James went flying backwards dragging his bare skin along the ground. Now dripping with blood James ran the last few blocks to his prison for the day, and halted underneath the large twinning bronze gateway to Saint Lendows, James’ school, home away from home, and his death trap.
