A Twist In A Twist

This is a resurrection of a FanFiction story that I started about a year ago. I have since gone over it and made it more Awesomesauce.
Please comment. J




A Twist In A Twist
By Jsaymmeess


Prologue:

As I approached the bus stop I realised that what I had done was more than what I could handle, it was more than what either of us could handle. Life is a weird thing, first it was hate, then it was lust and now it was love? Not once did I think it would end like this. The person I loved now far from my side.

~~~

I thought I knew him, but clearly I didn't. He just walked out on me. Right through those doors without a look back. I stood and stared not daring to think more than I had to, for fearing what reality would do to me if I did. Why does life have to be so harsh?



Chapter One: Day One
Fletcher

Moving school is hard, there is no denying that fact. Every teenager who has experienced such an event can sympathise with me and understand the difficulties that I am facing. Losing friends, having to make new friends, leaving everything you know and facing the fear of not knowing what would happen in the distant future is a horrible experience.

Okay, that was somewhat of a lie. There wasn’t really a bunch of people in my life I would call 'friends.' I don't think I've ever had any close friends. People generally avoided me or chose to ignore me. It wasn't because I was bad looking or anything, nor did I have anything wrong with me. People just didn't like me.

I have always wondered why I was an outcast but nothing really rung the bell as to why. Maybe being two years older than everyone else in my year was partly the reason. But, I doubt that was really the case. I have such a baby face people thought I was 16 instead of 20.

Being introverted, timid, shy and scared of everyone around me was probably the main reason. My mother has always constantly told me that I need to be more 'open minded, meet new people, socialise' and such. However, little does she know that socialising is like injecting poison into my veins. I simply won't survive. So as I sit here waiting to leave for school I realise that my life was downright as screwed as well, a screw.

When I was twelve years old I was out shopping with my dad. That day was the day that my little life was going to be changed forever. I always thought my dad was screwed up in the head but that screwed up? I had no idea. After the shopping my dad drove us out to this little hut on the outskirts of town. I can still remember everything about that hut, it was hell, it was small and smelly. I can still remember that disgusting smile on his face. He was grinning and rubbing his hands together. He handed me my little bear and I still remember how happy I was to see it. That was probably my last happy memory of my early teenage life.

The pain and trauma my dad put me through scars me to this day. I remember how he had tortured me with water. It's funny how drops of water constantly falling onto your forehand could drive you mad. Those sleepless nights counting the cracks in the sealing praying that those ropes holding me to the floor would disappear. Praying that my mum was with me, hugging me and keeping me safe.

Day in, day out he would tell me how much he loved me. I didn’t believe it. I grew up real fast in that hut. I learnt many things about myself and I learnt many things about life as well.

Trust no one.
Believe in no one.
No one can help you.
You are alone.

I remember how he sexually abused me over and over again. Not only did he rape me he made it seem like we were a couple. I wondered how you could tell someone you loved them but hurt them so badly? I wish there was a way to find out all the answers.

When I had lost count of how many days I had been locked up and many moons after I had stop screaming in the middle of the night, there was loud banging and sirens everywhere. One thing led to another, I was untied from the floor and my arms were let loose. I was wrapped up in a warm blanket and I heard a calm and gentle voice that I missed dearly. It was like the voice of an angel calling from the clouds between the roaring thunder of the sirens. It was mum.

After that it was almost as if nothing had ever happened. My mum had knocked on my door one night after a long phone call to tell me my dad was gone now. Far away, never to hurt me again.

Ever since those scary months locked up, I have not let a single tear drop my eyes. I was cold and distant to everyone except my mum. That night though I cried more than I have in a long time. I let the tears wash my fears away, knowing that I will still be in my warm bed the next morning. Knowing that my mum will be with me the next morning. Knowing that I had a home to go to.

Since those early days of my teenage life. I have gone to visit my dad in prison once. And I am glad I did. All I saw in those eyes of his was a lost, broken and dead soul. Once glance was all I needed to feel all my hatred turned into happiness. Knowing that he was suffering more than I had made me feel remotely better. Nothing can even come close to repairing the scars and stab wombs to my soul and self-esteem that had he, my dad, had caused.

I remind you, this was a man who had said he would love me no matter what the circumstances. And maybe it was love, maybe it wasn’t. Will I ever know? Do I want to find out? Probably not. Not at this moment in my life. I was trying to get my life back in order.

I had spent a year in trauma rehabilitation. So all in all, I started year seven two years later than everyone else. For an introverted, starting year twelve at a new school was going to be more hell, especially if anyone found out that I was already twenty.

It must be that feeling you get when you meet someone and you know that they're new to campus. Every eye was on me. Watching. Judging.

I just stood there confused, lost and nervous. No one approached me. Everyone was waiting. Waiting for something. Books were half pulled out of lockers. Conversations were ceased. It was a like time itself had been stopped and was waiting for someone to un-pause it with a remote.

Funny isn’t it? How a guy who towers at over 6 feet can be intimated so easily. I had a good build, lean and well defined. My black and messy hair resembled something out of Harry Potter. My mum often joked that I was Harry from Harry Potter. I too had a scar across my forehead almost in the shape of a lighting bolt all thanks to my no good father. I can’t remember if Harry had green eyes though. I was born with two different coloured eyes. My left eye was a shade between green and blue, with a network of amazing yellow-brown iris. My right eye was hazel with a less defined iris.

Sometimes I wondered if God made me different to torment me. Sometimes kids would call me a freak for having different colour eyes. Maybe it was something else for the Potter to laugh about as he realised his creation was flawed.

I put my hands inside my pockets, sucked in a big breath and continued walking. The Australian heat was making me sweat. Each step I took was slow and excruciating. I had already drawn so much attention to myself. I adjusted my backpack and hunched my shoulders hoping to make myself as a small as possible. Then I remembered that being this tall, it was a pointless exercise.
Like everything that has happened to me so far, in my twenty years, nothing seems to go right for me. All I wanted was to be happy with my life and be happy with this new school. I had three goals when coming to this school. One, try not to be bullied. Two, don't make a fool of myself. And three, try and get to know some people. Clearly someone else had other plans.

Without a moment to think, my face was falling, falling to the white tiles below. My feet had been pulled from the floor and laughter started almost before I had hit the ground. Maybe that was why everyone one was waiting, staring. Everyone had known what had been installed for me. I was a sitting duck in a field of shooters. Walked straight into my demise.

I already hate this school. I hate it as much as I hate my old school. Every single person in that place did nothing to help me. Everything I did was either wrong or not right. I tried to make friends, and all I got were bullies. I really did try my best, my very best, as much as an introvert can. Nothing seems to work out for me. I don't even think the old saying, ‘if at first you don't succeed, try again’ applied to me. I've tried for twenty years. So clearly I'm the only exception.

There is only one thing in my life that I have done that I am not proud of. Making my mother cry. My mother is the only thing to keep me going but life likes to kick me back. My mum would push me forward each and every time I fell. Sometimes I fell because I lost faith, I lost hope and I lost courage.

I am not proud of it to say that I’ve tried to end my life once or twice. Each time in the hospital bed I would promise my mum that I wouldn’t do it again, only to do it again some months or years on. Pause.

Checking to see if I had broken my nose, I noticed that I hadn’t actually damaged anything. Weird, I thought my nose would need bandaging. I lifted and dusted myself off. Looking around to see the who on the culprit that had tripped me was. A blonde hair, with blue eyes and the most amazing smile was snickering at me. At some point we had locked eyes and that’s when I opened my mouth to speak but he spoke before I could.

"Take it as an initiation," said the unnamed blonde guy. And before I could say even a single word he just walked off. Several seconds passed before I had processed what had happened. I leaned over to pick up my bag and noticed that a few people had approached me.

"Are you all right?" said a voice. I looked up and realised that it belonged to a another guy. This time a guy substantially shorter than me, a good foot even. I eyed the guy up and down. He had this appearance about him to suggest that he was different to the other people I’ve met so far. I couldn’t put my tongue on it exactly but I knew he was different.

I have a habit of being lost in my own thoughts. Developing ideas and hypothesis about different people that sometimes I forget where I am. Or who I am with. I must have missed another question because the guy nudged me again.

"Are you all right mate?” He asked again.
"Yeah, um, thanks." I said after a while keeping my eyes low.
He smiled. When I didn’t return it he smiled again. Should I give him points for trying to be nice? Was this nice? Was I suppose to be nice back? I didn't know what to do. Smile back or look away. He smiled again. I couldn't help myself. I let out a weak smile, nonetheless it was a smile.

"The names John," he said putting his hand out in front of me. I looked at my own palm and hand wondering whether I should return the gesture. I reluctantly shook it, softly though.

"And yours?" John continued happily.
"Fletcher," I mumbled trying not to catch his eye. Without bating an eye John continued.
"Fletcher, had a little fall did ya? I saw what they did to you man, don't take it to heart. James and his gang are always doing havoc. You're not the first so, yeah..." he trailed off, looking at me as he said the last words.

More awkward silence followed.

 

To be continued. 

 

Thanks everyone!