Steven

Steven looked up and frowned. 

Something wasn't right. He crept towards the edge of the woods,his ice-blue eyes dilating a bit,abandoning his mechanical Tyrannosaurus Rex play-thing in favor of the beginning of the spruce trees at the edge of his house.

"Steven?" He froze and looked back to see his mother watching him a few feet away with a concerned expression on her face. "What are you doing,sweetie?" Steven straightened up and put a false-happy smile on his pale face. "Nothing,Mum," he called back,and just to reassure her, the ebony-haired 12-year old devoted his attention to the long-forgotten mechanical dinosaur, knowing that it was childish but not caring, as his mother smiled faintly and walked back into the front yard.

"Nerd!" a boy yelled, and threw a can right at the back of Steven's head. He turned around, just in time to catch a glimpse of three boys his age pedaling away on Acro Bikes, one turning around to give him the finger. His head hurt, but he ignored it, tossing the toy over his shoulder and practicing his....unnatural ability. 

Opening his palm, he felt a tingle, like his hand was going numb. Focusing harder on his hand, Steven saw a sort of black mist come spiraling up from his opened hand. The mist began to coagulate, turning into a long black staff. Silver mist began to swirl at the top of the staff,solidifying enough to turn into a sharp, silver blade. Instead of black and silver mist, Steven was now holding a four-foot long, sharp-as-a-kitchen-knife scythe, lighter than air.

He suddenly felt a pang of dread course through him, and he turned around, only to be met with an unnaturally tall, white man with four long, black tentacles writhing from his back. He wore a black tuxedo, black dress pants and black dress shoes.

But the part that scared Steven so much was hat the man had no face. 

The man stared at him for what seemed like eternity. Quickly standing up, Steven clutched the scythe tighter in his cold, clammy hands. His vocal cords attempted to work, but he was too constricted with fear to speak, only making random whimpering or moaning noises as he backed away, suddenly breaking into a run towards his house, only daring to look back when he was in the safety of his own house. 

The faceless man was not there.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

That night, Steven lay awake, replaying the afternoon in his head. Now, it was hard to sleep when you're in a new town in a new house.

But it's way harder to sleep when you're an only child, your dad left your mom when you were two, and you had just seen a hellish entity in the woods near your house. He kept thinking about it, and finally, he fell into a lethargic slumber, muttering some unintelligible words in his stupor.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Steven slung his blue backpack over his shoulder and waved good-bye to his mom, walking down the street to the school, Elias Rodgers Elementary. The school,as Steven's mom liked to put it, was rather 'aerial', with classrooms about nine feet off the ground, held up by large concrete supports, which also doubled as an arcade and restrooms. Footsteps snapped him out out of his daze, and he looked back to see a boy his age run up to him.

(please don't trip me please don't trip me please don't trip me please don't-)

Instead of tripping him and laughing about it, the boy caught up to Steven and smiled. The boy, probably 12 as well, had fair skin, medium-length light brown hair and light blue eyes. Steven smiled back, hesitantly at first, but when he realized that this kid wasn't going away anytime soon, he gave in. 

"Hello," he muttered. Steven had an unfortunate habit of being painfully shy around other people. 

It started after the accident. He was young, maybe ten, and was with his older brother. David Reed had short black hair, slightly almond-shaped brown eyes, and a knack for inventing.

And now he was dead. 

Steven shook the memory out of his head and turned his attention to the boy beside him, probably wondering why he was so silent. Steven cleared his throat.

"I'm Steven Reed."

The boy smiled again.

'I'm Jeffrey Woods."

And thus, a friendship was born. 

They had talked about...whatever they wanted to talk about, just not anything personal, like, 'Oh, what's your phone number so I can stalk you relentlessly?' No, just stuff like, 'Oh, you're a cool dude. Wanna hang out?" Then Steven looked at his watch and bit his lip. "Crap," he muttered. "We're going to be late." Jeff shrugged like this was no big deal. "Well, we can take a short-cut through the woods."

(the woods)

Steven forced a weak smile and commanded his legs to move.

(oh no not the woods)

Jeff was talking, but Steven couldn't hear him, his heart pumping blood and adrenaline faster than normal. 

Soon, his own heartbeat was unable to be heard over the white noise.

( i can't hear)

Static flickered at the edges of his vision, and Steven found himself unable to move, temporarily disabled from his own mind. 

(he knows. he knows I'm here)

Rooted to the ground, frozen like a stone statue. 

His hands began to twitch on their own accord. 

And the faceless man was there again. There was never really a legitimate reason of how he got here; one minute, Steven was walking to school without a care in the world. The next, Mr. Faceless was beckoning him to come with one clawed, white finger.

(come to me, my child)

(but I don't want to)

The faceless man seemed to hear his thought, then Steven lost all control of his body, letting out an ear-splitting shriek and crumpling to the leaf-strewn forest floor, Jeff frantically shaking his shoulder before Steven's vision cleared itself of static, his ears stopped ringing....

(it's revenge)

And then everything went black. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Steven woke up in the worst possible way. He was screaming and whipping his head around, giving one the illusion that he was an extra for The Exorcist. He calmed down, luckily, after five seconds of screeching that would have given H.P. Lovecraft's creatures a run for their money.  He sat up, realizing that he was still in the woods where he passed out. 

As if he Jeff had answered Steven's unspoken thought, he pretty much appeared from behind a pine tree, relief flashing in his eyes as he exhaled. "Dear God, Steven, don't scare me like that," he said, shaking his head. Of course, the first thing that popped into Steven's head was an extremely important question:

"Where's that guy?"

Jeff frowned, leaning against the tree and helping his friend up. "What guy?"  Steven then proceeded in telling him about Faceless Man and what the had seen, but Jeff froze, looking at Steven with absolute terror engulfing his features. "Dude," he whispered quietly, "I don't know what the heck you saw, but it can't mean anything good." The relief he saw in his friend's eyes faded away, to be replaced by worry, maybe fear.

(stop staring at me god dang it)

"Steven, are you sure you're okay? You don't look normal..."

(i tried so hard to be normal)

"I'm fine," Steven snapped, seemingly out of nowhere. "Sorry," he added quickly, after seeing Jeff's hurt expression. "I'm fine, Jeff, I promise,'' he said again, smiling, a small one, with little to no effort. 

Then he paused. "You think the principal'll be mad that we skipped school?"

It was Jeff's turn to smile. "We're not skipping school. We're.... not-going-to-school-on-account-of-something-made-you-pass-out. A very big difference." 

Steven laughed.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Let me get this straight. You went traipsing off from school....to go sneaking off with some kid you barely even know and make out in the woods."

Steven felt heat rising up to his pale face. "That's not how it was, Mum." 

"Oh, really? Then how was it, honey, hmm?" 

Steven was silent, his pale, flushed face pointed downwards to look at his toes. 

"I'm going to miss the bus, Mum," he muttered instead, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes. His mother glaring at him as he gratefully hopped off the couch

(i'm such an idiot)

and rushed to the comically yellow bus, where he'd be transported to a place like hell. 

(i hate her)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Mr. Reed, can you please explain this equation?" 

Steven's head snapped up, his ebony hair gently sweeping over one startlingly blue eye.

"Mr. Reed, please explain this equation." Sure, it might've been a little impatient asking, but to Steven's highly sensitive ears, it sounded like begging.

(humiliate yourself)

To humiliate himself.

(come on just once)

"No," he whispered, just loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"Excuse me?"

"No.'' 

A boy snickered. 

(idiot)

(fool)

(retard)

Steven heard the voices, telling him that he wasn't worth it, that he should just hurry up and kill himself.

(they know they know they know)

The voices grew louder, and Steven spun around, trying to find the source of the hateful voices as the laughing grew and teacher was telling him to calm down, Steven. 

Finally, something broke inside of him. The perfect world he'd been trying to create, one with no errors, no flaws, finally crumbled away inside of him like crackers

(graham crackers)

and he got up and grabbed his desk

(wait for it)

and he flipped it over

(easy as pie)

and the desk fell on its lid with a jarring thud, scattering books and papers and pencils everywhere as the rest of the class drew in one collective breath. 

"Steven Reed!" the teacher said, horrified of this student's power. "Detention!" 

But the pale-skinned 12-year old ignored him, like everyone else ignored him, and ran out of the class, laughing manically

(never have i felt so free)

and bursted out of the school and into the cold January air, the numbing wind biting at his cheeks, turning them apple-red

(i'm rudolph the red-nosed reindeer)

and he ran back to his house, materializing his deadly weapon, his scythe, with one thing-person-in mind.

(mom you've always been such a homophobe)

The front door creaked open and Steven snuck into the house and up the stairs, aiming for his mother's bedroom, like a cat stealthily creeping up on an insignificant mouse.

(a rodent)

His mother stared up at him, horrified, clutching her bedsheets, moving her mouth, her throat closing in terror. Steven advanced over to her, grinning, staring at her desperately trying to reach the bedside phone.

Then Steven brought the scythe down.