WARNING: Strong language and some content.
Summary
Tristan Corre doesn't really give a damn about anyone but himself and his "needs". He doesn't care that his friend has become a jerk, and he doesn't care that his family isn't nearly as bad as it could be. All he wants is to remain numb and perhaps accomplish a few "goals" relating to rather unnecessary "needs". Until he meets Shaylie Mitchells. She's a girl unlike anyone he's ever met before... but she has a dangerous secret, a secret that is slowly tearing apart her life. Will Tristan finally let himself feel enough to act on someone else's behalf? And what will become of him once action is taken? And does devastation strike like he expects it will?
Prologue
The monster snatches the thick branch, my arms attached to it, and uses the advantage to fling me back into a wall. At this moment, I was seriously wishing I had tried harder in gym.
I think I hear a crack when I hit the wall, but I can't give up. Wincing, I push off and force myself forward. From the floor, the girl whimpers. My grip tightens on the branch and unwieldily aim the branch at the man, and it collides with his shoulder. He hisses and punches me in the face.
I reel from the blow, but I still manage to whack him back, more driven than ever. When I look at him, his face is bleeding and he stumbles backward before landing on the floor. I get down next to him, filled with a power and rage I'd never felt before. And then I'm punching and punching, my fists pounding into him, his chest his face. At first, he coughs and writhes, but eventually, he stops his pathetic attempts to fight back.
A moment of panic, and my fist rests. I feel the faint beat of a heart. The monster has a heart? One last time, I slam my fist where that supposed heart is, then pull back.
The victim is crying without trying to hold back, from the floor, no more than five feet away. I stagger over to her, collapsing to her side.
"Hey..." I whisper, gathering her gently in my arms. "Everything's going to be alright..."
She shakes her head, trembling.
"N-Nothing's... e-ever... going... to be... alright," she whispers, leaning her head into my chest, her tears dampening my shirt.
******
Chapter 1
The acrid scent travels up my nostrils, though after years of doing this stuff, I barely notice it anymore. Yet somehow, this afternoon reminds me of the first time I tried it.
It was my freshman year of high school...
"Dude, what's up with the distant look? You actually have something to think deeply on?" Teesha says, snapping me out of my flashback-worthy reverie.
Actually, I do. I have lots to think about. But I just silently inhale, and wait until I bore Teesha off my case.
"Chill out, Tristan."
She inhales, but she starts looking angry for some reason. I wasn't even talking, but whatever... Teesha should take her own advice. She's not good at "chilling out". Well, at least today she isn't. She's pissed that Chris, our asshole of a "best friend", ditched us again. But at the top of this hill, among the gravel, the powerline, the dry, brown grass, and the small boulders we sit on while we get stoned, we're untouchable to the rest of the world.
We do this every day, after school, until we feel the urge to go home. Which I never like to do.
Now that I think about it, I guess I'm sorta pissed at Chris too. Ever since his parents forced him to quit, and got him to go back to church, he's been an entirely different guy.
"Chris has been such a douche since he quit. And since when did he give a shit what his parents think? He's such a dumbass."
Her insults, language, and general pissiness is just how she expresses that she's_
"I mean, who the hell does he think he is?!"
_probably not just mad that he ditched us again, but...
"Hey."
Chris makes his way up the hill, clean hands stuffed in his clean pockets, looking nervous and guilty as he takes a seat in his old regular spot. Like he just sit there and everything's back to normal. I offer him a curt nod of acknowledgement.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Saint Christy the church monkey, come to save us dirty sinners," says Teesha, sarcasm coloring her tone. They'll be going at each other in no time. I do my best to remain "chilled out".
"T-Teesha, you know it's not like that... but... I... I do have something I need to talk to you guys about."
He shifts uncomfortably on his rock. He really doesn't belong here anymore. I take a long drag on my joint.
"What, Mommy and Daddy tell you that you can't hang out with us 'bad' kids anymore? That we're a 'bad influence' and that we're 'leading you into temptation'? Is THAT what you came to talk to us about?!"
Chris is holding his head in his hands, shaking it, frustration written on his face as he looks up.
"Yes, Teesha! That is EXACTLY what I came here to talk about!" he shouts. Teesha stands. Chris follows suit. I inhale.
"You are ABSOLUTELY RIGHT. You're a TERRIBLE influence and the two of you need help!"
I resent the fact that he brings me into the Chris/Teesha fight, but all I do is glower briefly in his direction.
"Well, if you think we're such terrible crap, then why did you even come here?!"
Teesha steps forward, still holding her joint between her fingers.
"Why don't you just go hang with your parents and your hypocrite cult buddies?"
She shoves him, and Chris glares at her.
"Church is not a cult, and_"
Again, she shoves him. He takes a few steps back, eyes wide for a second as he got a little close to the edge of the hill. Her hands grip his shoulders.
"Tristan, back me up here!"
Chris now looks absolutely exasperated. I look up at him and Teesha.
"Yeah, uh... I agree with you, that Chris is a total dick, but, um, that's no reason to push him down the hill."
"Thank you!" Chris ignores my remark about him being a dick, slips out of Teesha's death grip and starts down the hill. He turns his head back and pauses for a moment, about halfway down the hill.
"I'm not supposed to hang with you guys, but feel free to come to youth group!" he yells up, and I think he's doing it just to spite Teesha. She flips him the bird and I wonder if I really even care that our "best friend" is mostly no longer a part of our "group".
"Never really needed 'im anyway," I mutter, after taking another drag. I'm starting to feel pretty mellow now. And the grey clouds in the sky are suddenly fascinating.
"We sure as hell don't," says Teesha. She tosses her joint to the ground then smashes it under her foot. She pulls her backpack to her rock and pulls a bottle of beer out of it. I eye it. I really don't want to give a damn about anything today.
"Sorry, I only brought enough for one."
Teesha pulls out a six pack. I shake my head and give her a half-smirk and I reach over and take one. Hers is already almost halfway downed.
After about a half an hour, we're already done and the clouds keep on rolling in, darker and darker. The fight has totally blown over and we're talking about how weird and hot it is when Brittney Alexander sharpens her pencils, when water starts falling from the sky.
"Damn. We should pro'lly head home about now," says Teesha. I find Teesha attractive. Especially when she talks about Brittney with me. Of course, I don't tell her this. And it doesn't really matter.
"Yeah, probably," I mumble. And then it begins to pour, as if whatever's up there just decided to put the showers in the sky on high, the kind that pounds onto your back that's more like a waterfall than the pathetic little drippy sprinkler thing they have in hotel rooms. Teesha sprints down the hill like tripping wouldn't make her crack her head open, and I follow, very carefully.
She dumps the bottles into the garbage at the park and hops onto her bike. She can use a car, and yet she insists to walk or ride her bike everywhere. I find that totally ridiculous.
"See ya tomorrow, Tristan!" she yells as she bikes off, cutting through someone's yard in the pouring rain.
With that, I begin my long, undesirable trek home.
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