Chapter Text
“The hospital, where the sheets are freezing and the air is cold and dry. Where the lights are overwhelmingly bright and the machines are pestering and unbearably annoying, The constant high pitched beeping that always seemed to be at the same pace. The hospital is where sad smiles are, concerned eyes and gentle but painful touches.
Where you are deprived of a careful embrace and comfort.
This is where I lost my parents. ”
Tom finished writing his poem, looking up at the teacher before handing it to him.
The man's rough and thick hand and swiped it from him.
A rather disdainful expression painted his face as he gritted his teeth.
“For taking half an hour this better be good.”
He snarled before heading back to his desk.
Tom pretended that he couldn't read the man's lips and looked back at his desk.
Tom, Tommy B. Ridgefield.
A young man, around the age of sixteen. A grade A student, a boy with tan skin. A teenager with thick black shades over his eyes and hair that was styled upright in an almost comical fashion.
He wore a hoodie his new family gave him, a navy blue hoodie with an Alien patch.
He just stared at the school clock, taking a moment read it through his blurry black eyes.
3:15 pm
That meant, 5 more minutes 3 times. Then he was free.
His foot bounced, placing his higher foot against the ground and his heel going up and down in an almost practiced manner.
This continued until the boy wearing a red hoodie sitting by him pounded on the table and shouted at him to stop.
Tom couldn't hear what he had said but obeyed, his foot setting flat on the floor before starting to tap at the desk with his pencil.
The boy sitting by him just groaned and put his head down in defeat.
Tom was so focused on watching the clock that he didn't notice that it was time.
The bell ringing and everyone ran out of their seats, bumping into Tom which just then realized it was time to go.
He grabbed his space-themed backpack and pulled it over his shoulder to head on home.
The walk was silent, everything was for him.
If he did hear anything, it was muffled and quiet, inaudible and indistinguishable.
Before Tom knew it, he awoke the next morning.
Being shaken awake with the vibrating alarm that was on his phone, in his pocket like it usually was.
Tom was wearing his usual tank top and pants before throwing his navy blue jacket over.
He went back to his nightstand and grabbed the pair of midnight black shades.
He took note of the reflection that shone across them when the morning sun that spread it's light through the window as if it was just another, boring day.
Tom grabbed his backpack that waited at the door, picking it up then grabbing his Bass, Susan.
He would stop to examine each sticker, each charm, and scratch on his beloved darling but was interrupted when his phone went off again.
He needed to hurry.
Tom put the strap around him, then put on his backpack before heading out. Grabbing a blueberry pop tart from the counter before heading off to class.
When the boy reached the campus he took a moment to gaze upon it.
It was clean, freshly painted green and purple. To be specific, Teal green and a dark violet. Tom took a liking to those colors, especially the green but he liked the lighter and more vibrant shade of it.
Tom hadn't noticed but he'd been starting off and the bell had rung.
Some kids were such in a rush they'd bumped into him, causing tom to stumble but get back on his feet. The boy ran to his class, just then realizing he was late.
He ran to his class, going to his math teacher trying to apologize but cut off.
“Shades off in the classroom”
Tom froze, his eyes going wide.
He had gotten a freak accident during surgery. They couldn't explain why but his pupil had multiplied and taken up the entire surface of his eyes.
He looked down before taking them off and heading to his desk.
He could see the rising shoulders and covered mouths.
They were laughing at him.
He put his head down and covered himself with his arms. He was always insecure about his body.
His Puerto Rican skin and light brown hair he gelled every day, along with the monthly bleaching. His thin fragile frame and a large amount of body hair on his arms and chest. His thick full lips and the clipped eyebrow on his left temple.
He slowly looked up at Mr.Smith who was explaining some bullshit on geometry. Or something to do with shapes and numbers.
He pulled out a piece of paper, pretending to write notes as he grabbed his pencil from his bag and began to scribble down what was in his mind.
- “Control is about as real as a one-legged unicorn taking a piss off the edge of a double rainbow, then what do we have?”
- “If we dream of anything, then isn't life just an uncontrollable dream?”
- “If being human is acting a certain way, then why aren't we allowed to be the animals we are?”
- “Why does society ruin itself?”
He stopped as he felt somebody tap his shoulder. He raised an eyebrow but his confusion went away as the person handed him a folded up piece of paper.
He carefully opened up the small lined sheet.
There was writing in a pink gel pen. Obviously, written by a feminine individual due to the circles for dots and the curvy lines.
“Hey where you from? Chernobyl?
Sure looks like it! You just need to lose that ugly color on your skin!”
Tom crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his bag to burn later. The dark-skinned British male with the shade of caramel as skin went back to his paper.
- “I wish we knew when we were in the good ol days, before we've already left them”
- “what's the point of sleeping when we live the same life over and over again”
- “why are we afraid of change when we celebrate it in history? “
- “you know when people say, when you fall you gotta get up! I reject that shit. The whole thing is a fall”
Tom's writing was interrupted by a boy sitting by him, Tom caught a glance of his green sleeve before looking up at the teacher. His lips were reading in annoyance; “Thomas, how do you measure perimeter on a square?”
“by the given number and multiplying it by four”
His voice was quiet, fearful before getting a sense golf courage. The boy sat up with a slight smug grin.
“Why'd you ask? Don't know yourself?”
“Principal's office!”
“say that again, I can't hear you!”
“Go!”
The man with wild brown hair and baggy eyes pointed at the door, his eyes narrowed in anger and his hand was shaking with fury.
Tom grabbed his bag and swung it over his shoulder before gathering his papers, stuffing them into his hoodie pocket.