Take My Breath- Chapter 1 (and edited Prologue)

PROLOUGE

Hi, I'm not too sure about this whole writing thing to be honest with you. Let's get that straight from the start- That sounds awkward. Instead say, "straight from the start" I have never written more than about 500 words in my life, let alone more than 500 words about my life. As my life is kinda fucked up, I thought I'd do this account in an also fucked up way. Kinda reflective, don't you think? That's why I decided I'd start here at the beginning of the end. Yep, you got it, I'm starting this narrative not at the start, but further along down the line, the part just before the end but not quite there, where there are still a few things left to happen before the grand finale of my life. Still with me?

Okay, so here I am, sitting in a darkened room in a warehouse. One of those old, abandoned and lonely sorts of warehouses. At the moment, I'm in an office with just a torch, my diary, a pen and paper, and a bottle of Smirnoff keeping me company on this night, as they say, to end all nights. I come here often to reflect when I really am feeling incredibly shitty and at my lowest ebb (and believe me I have been here a lot over the past few months). And tonight, being one of those shitty nights, I'm here again. But this time I've had a crazy thought (probably alcohol induced), what if I write down what's being going on in my life recently, try and come to terms with what it all means and shit, plus I hope that someone will find it, that they will read it and realise the truth, not the one everyone believes about me, but what actually happened (more on that later) – especially good if it gets to a policeman.

I suppose in all this mucked up work of that I call a piece of literature, you the reader has been left out in the dark at this point, haven't you? You're probably wondering why am I sitting in the warehouse, why am I writing this thing (I’d like to say my memoirs, makes it sound important and posh, more than it currently is) Well, to be honest with you, I'd rather not be writing about this in the first place. That is to say I wish the things that I am writing about had never happened, plus as I sit here and reflect, thanks to the wonders of hindsight, on what I did wrong and how I managed to get myself into this horrible, horrible mess. I mean this mess was horrible anyway, but then I went – BAM- and made it a thousand, no scratch that, a million times worse.

CHAPTER 1

It began for me, I think -my memory may be slightly impaired by all this alcohol I have been comforting myself with, plus the fact that my memory has never been good anyway- as all good stories don't begin, in a boring-as-hell R.E lesson. Our indescribably boring teacher was going on about some old religion or another and posing questions to the class, that had 'neither a right or wrong answer'. The thing I never understood about these questions was when one of the class answered, they were usually -although not told directly- wrong, and had to be lectured by the teacher to understand the 'correct' answer. Pointless ey?!

Most things in life are pointless, I have realised in recent years. I use religion as an example. I have nothing wrong with people believing in a God, but to me all it is is lots of 'clubs' trying to gain as many followers as possible to worship something or somebody that they have never, and probably never will, see. The fallout from all these religions is pointless as well. Holy Wars, persecution, terrorism -debatable, I know- of all kinds, and social segregation. I'm drifting away from my tale, I know, but I want this to be a personal account, and to do that, I feel I have to air my views etc. (and mostly because I keep forgetting the main story!!!)

Anyway, enough with the bullshitting -my written thoughts are more jumbled than most people general thoughts in their head- and on with my life. The lesson was hot and boring, and I wasn't listening to a single thing the teacher was saying- like the rest of the class, I reckon- because my mind was focused on something else much more important than some ol' religion who I don't care about. Have a guess. What thoughts run amok through a teenage boy's mind more than any other thing? Yep, you guessed right. A girl. But this was not just any ol' gal, this was one of the fittest girls in our year- and one of the nicest, come to think of it- and I was about to ask her out. I planned to do it after school today, as I'm not in any of her Thursday lessons. She had been making all the right signals to me- we'd been flirting and chatting for a long time- plus all of my mates and her mates were egging me on to ask her out. Although, it must be said, she must have far more friends that me. Bored, and consumed in thought, I glanced around the room to see Oli, one of my best mates- probably my best mate- trying to catch my eye.

He raised his eyebrows in that comical expression of his, when he arches his eyebrows in different directions. I can never help but snigger whenever he uses it. He followed on with a complicated hand gesture involving a heart and sexual references, at which I nodded whilst trying to contain my laughter. It was one of the main reasons I liked him, his infallible ability to make you laugh, especially when it was needed most. Most other people see him as very immature, and I suppose he is in a way, but he doesn’t seem like that to me. Maybe that’s because deep down, no matter how many friends we have, we are both outsiders at heart. Separate from the rest of the crowd. Segregated.

Mr. Mardo caught my eye and saw the expression on my face instantly.

“Donald,” he began, placing extra emphasis on my first name, the name I loathed with the utmost hatred. I mean, come on, how could a parent do that to a child, how could they name him, or more especially me, Donald? It’s alright though, anyone who knows me calls me either Don or the occasional Donnie. I like those names, at least, one hell of a lot better than fucking Donald!!!

“Would you please concentrate on the board at the front please, instead of making sexual gestures to your boyfriend during the maths lesson.” Mr. Mardo continued, drawing titters from the class, like he knew it would.

Everyone knows that Oli is gay, it was just one of those things. No-one minded it, people mostly accepted him, I ignored it most of the time, and girls, well they loved it! I rolled my eyes and turned back to look at the board at the front, sneaking a quick glance at the clock, which told me that school was over in just 10 minutes!

Butterflies began to start doing summersaults and backflips inside my stomach. I was extremely nervous, nope scratch that, I was literally peeing myself as I started to imagine asking her (or to use her actual name- Rose) out. What if she said no and all her friends laughed at me? What if I made a complete fool of myself?

Just then, the bell went, it’s pierce ringing startling me out of my thoughts. As we began to pack away, Oli tapped me on my shoulder.

“Good luck mate” he said to me jovially. “Try not to make a complete fool of yourself now!”

If I hadn’t been nervous then, I really was nervous now. I punched him on the arm to make him know that I appreciated his support, before moving out the classroom. Withing the jotling crowds of students struggling to get out of school, I caught the eye of Gemma, Roses’ best friend. She winked at me whilst a cheeky little smile, and I grimaced back. If I got turned down this would be sooo embarrassing it would be unbelievable. I made it outside of the school building and down by the buses stood Rose. My heart, which was already beating fairly heavily, went into overdrive and I thought I was going to have a heart attack!

As I came up to her she turned and saw me;

“Oh hi Don,” she said, smiling at me.

Now I really was wetting myself!

“Hi,” I said nervously “I was… I was wondering if you…if you wanna go to the cinema with me next weekend?” Oh god, I thought, I’ve made a right idiot out of myself.

“Sure,” she replied, sounding very pleased that I’d asked her.

Only know did I realise that I had actually been working myself up for failure, to be rejected. And now she had not only accepted, but sounded pleased to accept my offer!

“Well,” I said, my mouth drying up. “I’ll see you then then”

“Guess so.” She replied, a twinkle in her eyes and a grin on her face.

YESSSSS!



I was practically bouncing as I walked home that day, more out of relief than anything that I hadn’t been humiliated- anything but! As if the weather was reflecting my mood, the sky was sunny, with only faint wisps of clouds floating lazily along in the sky. It had been warm enough for me to take my blazer off, and I was whistling as I strolled down my road.

As I passed the neat, ordinary houses of the middle-class citizens who lived in my street, I happened to spot my Dad’s car in the driveway. Nothing odd about that, you might think, but to me it was very odd indeed! He was never home from work before 8 o’clock in the evening, such were the long hours of his finance job. Often he went away from long periods of time as well, so generally I never saw much of him during the week, although I’m not complaining, because the job paid pretty damn well!

That really should have set alarms off in my head then, but I didn’t really think much of it, happy as I was, and I saw it as a pleasant surprise that Dad was home early for a change. As I got to my house, big and grand, the showpiece of the road, a quick route through my pockets revealed that I had once again left my keys at home- as per normal. No problem, I thought to myself, Dad can open the door for me. However, once I got to the front door, I noticed that there would be no need to ring the doorbell for Dad, because the door was already half-open.

Now I really was I intrigued. Why would Dad be home early and leave the door open (which he is always telling us not to do!) Dismissing these thoughts as just a coincidence, I pushed the door open further, and stepped into my house.

As soon as I got in, I could hear raised voices coming from the living room. Not unusual though, because Mum and Dad were always arguing whenever they were in the same room together for long enough. However, I could hear two male voices, one of them maybe Dad’s, instead of Mum’s very feminine voice. There was also a quite sobbing in the background, stopping and starting now and then.

I pushed the porch door open, and creeped down the hall. What was going on? The door open, Dad home and two men shouting in the living room? Something was definitely up. BANG! Suddenly a loud gunshot went off.

I was shocked, not just by the sudden noise, but by the fact that a GUNSHOT had been fired in my house. It didn’t happen. Not in your normal, average, middle class household. It just didn’t. It was almost immediately followed by the sound of sobbing increasing dramatically. Stupidly, and blindly, I ran along the hallway, pushed the door open, and stepped into hell.