Author's Note

General note: Characters and scenes from the show do not appear until chapter 3. I do apologize for not making these corrections ahead of time, I thought I had submitted all the chapters that were relevant to the MLP universe. Sorry.

Chapter 1- J'accuse!

Everywhere Ryan treads, he always seems to be bombarded by old adages from the adults that wander in and out of his life. It was always about how he should pay attention in school or that he should be grateful for living in the best time in his life. Whether it was genuine or whether it was because teachers just seemed to get the wrong message from his disheveled clothes, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him because they were right… usually.

The swift flick and slam of the locker door yanked Ryan out of his own whirlpool of an imagination and when he looked down at the books he gathered, the bold word Español stared him back in the face. I’m tired of this class, I can’t get a simple C. He knew exactly how to deal with the re-occurring problem and the solution wasn’t more studying.

As he glided down the dim halls, he thought about college again. His mind was the simplest of escape routes from that dungeon. His legs always carried him to that place every other day and every other day his mind protested. He imagined himself walking up to the front gates of Aversport City University like he’s done every Spanish class. Spanish just-

“-Hey, watch it, you klutz.” He was pulled into reality but only for a moment. He noticed the bright red marines logo stuck on the front of the annoyed girl’s backpack; the dusty sticker looked as if it might peel off at any moment. It reminded him of what he wanted to do, it reminded him of what he wanted to be.

He saw himself preparing to become a history teacher. He would listen and watch clips with the rest of his class, he would sit and eat with decent friends. Even if I get a terrible roommate, I’ll make the best of my new life. Turning left into a brighter hall, he remembered the logo reminding him of the Vietnam war and it only accelerated his mind.

He could see himself teaching his students about the Vietnam War and asking a guest speaker to give his account. Whenever people would ask him why he liked history so much, oftentimes with contempt, he would always say, looking into the past has always made sense to me.

The Marines logo reminded him of his other buried purpose. I’ve always wanted to join the military as well but I don’t think I’d be able to handle it; I mean when there’s a dozen helicopters burning down the forest above me, I don’t think I’d make it out. I’d look like a little freshman compared to the other military buffs from across the nation.

He’s visited ACU's campus gates, he’s sat in their classrooms before, and with only a few weeks of senior year left, he only has to count down the days before his imagination became his new reality. As he passed the giant bay windows looking out into the vast city of Aversport, he knew deep within him that college’ll be the biggest reset of his life. No, it’ll be a new life.

Life got hectic and exciting for everyone last Monday when the principal decided to let everyone out a week earlier than usual, and now Ryan could only think about his life ahead as he swam through the river of students. He could only think about his next school and how it would be infinitely better than the one he trudges through today. He could only think about how much brighter his life would be, and compared to how this school seemed to feel so dark, he could only imagine what freedom felt like.

This school though, he tried not to look at the neatly polished floor and the newly cleaned lockers in case it might give him the wrong impression of this... this school. The occasional burnt out ceiling light reminded everyone what this school really was on the inside.

"Ryan."

A voice boomed from his left causing him into looking past the sea of faces to find where it came from. With kids piling in from the hall to the left, there were too many students blocking his crucial line of sight. But he knew exactly whose voice that shout belonged to and he knew right then that the jam packed hall was a good thing. He didn't know what his problem was, all he knew was that the asshole had been targeting him ever since Evansbury lost that critical football game against Ironglade East High, the enemy high school down in Exeter Quarry City. He's been doing a little bit more than taking his anger out on me and I've about had enough of Alex. I definitely won't miss him when I'm off in college.

Managing to push a path through a few kids on the way to Spanish class, a wall of annoying, high-pitched chattering girls forced him to slam on the breaks. He looked back to see if he could see Alex but his searching eyes still couldn't find him. He might be right next to me and I wouldn't even know it.

A hole opened up to his right and he continued down the smaller right hall to the next class, the same hall Alex had to take to get to the very same class. Unlike the other halls, this one was all dirtied and dark from all the broken lights and trash strewn across the hall. The janitor in charge of this place must be slacking. Ryan resented this hall, it's where Alex had managed to kick him down to the gritty ground time and time again, it's where other kids tried their best to keep walking, and it's where even the tougher kids wouldn't want to linger for long.

Up ahead, the hallway made a sharp right turn. If I could make it around the corner, I would-

"-Ryan."

He whipped around in sheer terror to find Alex lumbering quickly towards him. Before Ryan could scurry away to the side, he reached his hand out and gripped him by the neck- his fingers jamming into skin like needles into tough fabric. The assault only made the other kids walking nearby speed up faster. No one, not even any of the other jocks around this place would ever stand up against Alex. He couldn't really blame anyone though, he just wanted it to be possible.

Alex just gave him another friendly reminder: that in the end, Ryan hated this school... and it was for this very reason. Remembering his many past years here, he knew he didn’t have as bad of a bullying problem before… not like he does this year at least. He could still remember, in a single, stinging instant, him struggling past some vicious students- the type whose eyes seemed to be awash with blood. At the very least, he always made it past and after every incident, he would tell himself that the main made him stronger. It seemed simple enough; lifting weights would make a guy physically stronger; bullying would make a guy internally stronger...

But today was different for some reason, Ryan wasn't feeling too good today and he and his spiteful eyes weren't able to keep his head down. I knew how kids like Alex operated: always cutting down the weaker kids if they grew too strong. They always did the usual scare techniques to keep in power like punching the lockers, choking smaller kids, cussing whenever, stealing and pickpocketing unexpected targets, and other stuff like that. But I never would question their ability to do worse things and for whatever reason, I was an exception.

"What the fuck do you want?" Immediately, Ryan realized he made the terrible choice of fighting fire with fire.

"Don't you talk to me like that, you faggot. Give me all the money you have, and I'll let you go."

"N...no..."

Alex seemed to freeze for a few moments, he was surprised that Ryan resisted, but he resumed by ramming his back into the wall of lockers. The metallic scream of the little doors rocked the entire hall, scaring off all the students passing by, and peeling away the first layers of the skin on his back. Alex's fists were clenched tightly as if they were clamped around an invisible aluminum baseball bat as sweat dripped from the insides and onto the floor.

All confidence seemed to drain out of Ryan when the shadow of his fists loomed over his sinking face and in that moment, he could sense that Alex's visceral hatred was the most potent he had smelled it in weeks. It was easy to tell that he really wanted to beat the shit out of him. That son of a bitch knows he can do it too if he really wanted to... even though we have class together next.

But he was still apprehensive and Ryan decided it was the best time to defend himself. With his entire weight pinned to the wall by the neck, he lifted up his right leg and kicked Alex right in the gut sending shock waves that ignited his eyes in fury. He didn't double back; he didn't do anything.

His anger, which might have been dull before, sharpened and ignited right before he ripped him from the wall, threw him against the wall again, and followed up with a punch to his jaw. The metal lockers performed their percussion rock solo as Ryan's back, neck, and head pounded the doors repeatedly. He wound up for another when Ryan's ear's immediately tuned into something distant and consoling.

He saw a nameless girl walking up to Alex from behind out of the corner of his eye. “Cut it out you two, give the poor kid a break-”

“-Shut the fuck up. Just shut up. No slut’s ever gonna order me around, this kid’s been a pain in my ass.” Alex’s eyes glowed with fury, his veins crawled through his neck and forehead, and his hands and fingers were all curled up in tension.

But it didn't matter, Ryan was already on the ground. Lately Alex has been bad, every time I walk to Spanish class, this asshole’s there waiting for me… sometimes he beats the shit out of me but other times he just calls me a fag and goes on his way. I guess life was trying to break me before I graduated and I, I won't let that happen. Alex wound up for a horse stomp on his face before the girl shouted once more.

“Stop, just stop.” The nameless girl defended him though he didn’t recognize her. Ryan thought he used to be able to tolerate Alex but now since this girl intervened, it seemed that his mind forced him to realized how far he's stooped.

“Girl, you see that piece of white shit? He just don’t get to walk ‘round here, there ain’t no place for faggots like him.” I just couldn't figure out why he was so angered today; what was it? Out of money for lunch? Another detention? I wasn't going to spend the time thinking about it.

Alex lunged at the redheaded mess on the ground before the girl wrapped her arm around his neck. He answered with a brutal slap to the face and the girl collapsed on the ground with a painful thud. After regaining focus, she slithered away from the scene. “Dumb bitch.”

He was relieved for a moment but a twisted feeling, like guilt, flooded his aura. He couldn't believe someone would stand up for him, that he was worth the pain. “You leave her alone.” It was too little too late. Great job, Ryan, you pissed him off even more.

“What you say to me, boy?” Alex delivered a nasty kick to the poor kid's gut leaving him completely winded; He noticed Alex could see a threat after all but he didn't know what. Another kick widened Ryan's eyes, he no doubt lost a part of his vision. The poor kid could barely hear anything. “Don’t you ever tell no one ‘bout this, ya hear? I will find you, little Ryan the fag bag.” He shook up and unzipped his backpack before lumbering away to the same Spanish class while mumbling loud enough for him to hear, “What a piece of shit…”

He's afraid of something.

Ryan cleaned up the mess like any other time he crossed paths with Alex, an event that now seems to happen more than once a weak. Any decent person passing by would ask himself why he didn’t just report Alex and his rather special kind of bullying. I know Alex... enough. He's got his own way of finding me and figuring out where I've been. Alex would instantly know that I had reported on him.

Ryan unfortunately did not have many allies to turn to for help and many people were oblivious. In his next class, Spanish, the teacher was oblivious as well. The real problem was Alex faking another personality- he acted like an angel everywhere else. He heaved the backpack over his shoulders and trudged a bit slower today.

He sighed. I always recover, I always get back up again... but today's different. I just couldn't get back up again today. Only Ryan's legs carried him forward like a zombie, the rest of himself, his heart and his soul, stayed behind in that dimly lit part of the school. Nobody says anything that would make that hell on earth place any brighter.

He always sorely looks back on the times when he's confronted by bullies but never has his bullying issue been as bad as it is this year.

Room 232

The crappiest class of the day, Spanish, was held in Mr. Jeronimo’s lair where he taught with an iron fist. His blindness didn't stop him from ruling over the students and keeping them in line.

“Sentarse, callarse!” Chairs and desks squeaked against the floor as all the students sat and shut up at once. Mr. Jeronimo leaned over his desk right in the front and center of his dungeon and looked around at all the students as if he could see. His cloudy eyes rested on Ryan's for a split second longer, he knew exactly where all of them were at any given time.

The authoritarian analog clock seemed to tick too slow, lengthening the time before the students would all be freed from their prison.

“Ryan!” Mr. Jeronimo snapped, waking him up out of his daze.

“Que?”

“Cual forma gerundio deberia le aqui utilizar?” Those blind eyes of his narrowed as he pointed at a sentence on the chalk board.

“Yo no se... le que querer decir.”

He heaved an angry sigh, “Por supuesto te no! Alex!”

“la forma gerundio es perfecto pasivo.” Alex proclaimed without hesitation. He fixed his image since I last saw him, Ryan observed. It was obvious to him that he was hiding some kind of alter ego. No one would ever suspect that upright, preppy Alex with that ridiculously combed blonde hair and white teeth would harm another student. No one. That fucker has it all figured out, there’s no way anyone except for that girl who defended me would ever know he’s a violent kid. We’re all practically blind.

The rest of class passed uneventfully and it was still painfully clear that Ryan sucked at Spanish. No one was better than Alex except for Mr. Jeronimo’s own son Panfilo. He remembered the only interesting Spanish class all year back in October. Mr. Jeronimo was telling a story, in English thankfully, of his and his son’s escape from the labor camp of a particularly powerful cartel down in Colombia of all places. The United States accepted him after a while and he used his English skills to get a decent job as a teacher. But he hates his job, anyone can just tell. After all, the same drugs that he was forced to make in that nation ended up in the hands of some of the students in Evansbury High School, one of the crappiest schools in the city. He was the only teacher aware of it.

And he's blind one.

Did I believe the story? I don't know. I don't have much faith in this school and I know if I could keep my head down, I would make it through to college. He only had a few more weeks of senior year after all. Unfortunately, some of the kids even target other kids with their heads down. Ryan's bullying issue really started to escalate that October and it wasn't until today that he smelled a sort of fear in Alex, a fear that he couldn't hope to understand.

The bell interrupted his thoughts.

“Deja!” shouted Mr. Jeronimo opening up the gates from his hell hole to the glorious outside world. The same slamming and chatting sounds flew through the hall along with all the paper airplanes, texts, invitations to parties, and some hateful vibes. Ryan bolted to his locker as fast as his two feet could carry him. He threw all of his shit into his bag wanting nothing to do with this school anymore. Ryan felt the pangs of doom return.

Norman approached him from behind and looked him in his electric eyes, sparkling with excitement. "I aced the English test, yes!" He didn't notice anything wrong with Ryan's mood. I know you’re clueless but come on, help me out here. Much to Ryan's horror, he saw Alex gliding silently behind Norman.

Alex yelled at Norman first leaning up against Norman's locker. “Hey, you piece of shit, don’t you know Ryan doesn’t give a fuck about life right now, would you just look at him- he came from Spanish, isn’t that right?" He turned to Ryan, "I almost feel bad for you, you have no life and you're retarded. Hey Ryan, try translating this, ‘muerete en un hoyo, te maricon’” He walked away laughing without giving him the chance to say anything back… which was probably good for Ryan considering that dozens of students now flooded the halls.

“Wow, he’s bad today.” Norman wasn’t exactly on Alex’s good side, none of those ‘lifeless shits’ were.

“Yeah, he isn’t that bad-”

"-You're telling me that? He yelled at me after he followed you out of your Spanish class... and on top of that, he said go die in a hole. He's really bad today."

"Oh, is that what he said?"

"Well, you know it's an insult regardless if you're good at Spanish. Never mind, you didn't have this problem last year and you need to do something about it, I'm serious."

Ryan paused sighing, "I know, I will. I've gotta go."

Norman glared at him for a moment. “You know we’re supposed to get slammed by this giant hail storm, right?” Norman knew he doesn't drive and it wasn’t because Ryan wasn’t old enough, it was because his new family just couldn’t afford to pay for a car, new or used. He takes the bus but Ryan has always had the suspicion that Norman thinks he walks all the way to and from Storm’s End every single day.

“I know about the storm, I don’t think anything’s gonna happen. Everyone keeps saying it’s this storm of the century”

“Yeah, well I feel bad for you anyway, it’s gotta suck living all the way down at Storm’s End. Are you at least near Running Avenue?”

“No, my apartment’s at the intersection of Chance and Operator.”

“Jeez, that’s even worse… that’s almost an hour ride by car over here, I can’t imagine what it’s like walking all the way-”

“-Come on, Norman, you can’t be serious. I take the bus.”

“Oh.” He looked down as he walked away. He's usually not this clueless, he’s really a very sharp kid.

“Okay, well, I hope I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What do you mean you hope?” He whipped his head around and his eyes searched Ryan in fear. He could hear the resonating angst in his voice as if he quietly asked this question inside a vast cavern.

“I mean...” he felt the point of no return feeling return and begin to cloud his mind. “...that’s not what I meant, I mean I’ll see you tomorrow.” Norman narrowed his eyes in suspicion searching for a weakness in Ryan's composure. Ryan could sense his suspicion but he was at least glad that he at least cared about him enough to give him a little bit of trouble. Too bad he lived on the opposite side of town.

“Alright,” Norman huffed. He turned and walked down the main hall back to his locker while Ryan just stood there staring. Now the feelings really made his head hurt, Norman had walked out of sight and Ryan somehow knew he surely wouldn’t see him again. He just didn't know why. Alex attacked him harder than usual and he was afraid of something, why? A girl actually stood up for him this time around, he suddenly had the courage to stand up to Alex, and now he's afraid of never coming back. Something different, something sinister is going on. I really don't believe in the supernatural but this was getting ridiculous. He headed outside before anyone could do anything else to him because once the hallways emptied, there would be no witnesses. Of course he was paranoid.

People accuse me of being way too anxious and they would be right. I just can't help it.

When Ryan pushed the double doors to the outside world, the world far away from Alex and all those other kids who hated seemingly useless kids like him, he expected to get bitten by the chilly winter air. His skin felt only the mercy of spring. At least weather would give me a break until I got to the bus stop. The station was all the way over at Greystone Mall. I hate that walk, it takes so long. A sudden gust of wind blew all the papers out of his hands. Shit, now I'll miss the bus.

Ryan's anxiousness after the whole incident wasn't completely useless, for when he turned the corner, he saw a group of Alex's friends. Not again. He tried the best he could to avoid the other kids but they found him out rather quickly. "Hey Chris, it's that faggot Ryan."

The guy named Chris snorted. "Heard some bitch finally tried to stand up for you, how'd that go?"

The first guy chuckled. "Oh look, your homework, you can't possibly live without your homework."

The three of them laughed and the third guy added, "You can't fight Alex, you have no balls. Why don't you get your shit and leave. Go on, no one's watchin'." His smile was dangerous.

Don't look them in the eye, it only makes them stronger. Ryan rushed to the papers strewn across the sidewalk on the other side of these guys. The third guy tried to trip him but he recovered. That was close. Making sure not to bend down in case they were gonna kick him over on his side, Ryan managed to gather his stuff and walk away without any other injuries. The wind still pushed him away from the bus stop on the other side of the street.

The wind shoved all of them again. "Oh shit, it's windy out here."

Ryan made sure to hold onto all of his stuff but before he could reach the bus stop, rain fell and the temperature dropped like a stone. When he finally reached the station and boarded the bus, a sudden burst of wind rocked the vehicle sending all the standing passengers flying all over the place. He looked out at the soaked streets in alarm as the sky became an eerie shade of dark red and as the rain transformed into vicious hail.

Sirens blared in the distance, it was a tornado.

"Everyone remain seated, the bulk of the storm'll pass to the north of us." As soon as the bus driver got off the intercom, a huge hailstone slammed into the roof of the bus creating a huge dent. This is insane. The rain was blowing sideways. Glass shattered everywhere and hail flew inside the bus as the screams of all the passengers were drowned out by the howling wind. Ryan wormed his way out of that forsaken bus and managed to latch onto his stuff as the storm blew the kid in the complete opposite direction of where he wanted to go. I can't push back, the storm's too strong.

Before anything else crazy happened, the bus driver got out of the bus and watched rather sheepishly as the vehicle blew over on its side. Sirens continued wailing in the distance but he couldn't see the supposed twister. Ryan dug his feet into a dry crevice in the concrete and pushed forward, slowly trudging to his apartment.

The wind forced him not to think... and he was grateful for those brief spaces in time, but the blasting cold wind amplified the feeling of impending doom while it stirred up thoughts long ignored. The cold of the storm blew down all of his defenses. He thought about his legitimate parents for the first time in a long time. His new father would always shove him around and tell him how worthless he was, and he could never get rid of those assholes like Alex. Remembering all the things he tried to forget, he knew that the only way to push through the storm causing his lapse into memory was to imagine another life. He needed a better life on Storm’s End where he lived. That's how I always got though the rough parts, imagining things were better. But for some reason it hasn't yet worked today.

As Ryan thought of this new world, he found the more detail he put into his thoughts, the faster he was able to push through the hail and wind. Before he knew it, Ryan had crossed over Running Avenue; his apartment building loomed only a few dozen blocks away. Harder and harder the wind buffeted overcoming him; it blew his body backwards billowing with the threat of bombarding his brains out. Ryan painted with increased dexterity and detail in his imagination hoping to pull himself through this storm. The landscape Ryan painted was much different than anything he had ever thought of before and it surprised him. Great blue mountains loomed in the distance and epic cloud cities with spiraling towers and houses floated peacefully over villages nestled in rolling hills. Where have I seen this place?

Passing the rundown doughnut shop, Ryan knew he was close, but the storm only grew stronger. Exiting his imagination for a moment, he saw entire trees, bikes, loose chairs, and all kinds of trash flying around in the air. The lights of the lampposts and the traffic signals shattered from the vertically blowing wind now sprinting in midair without direction. He was pushed closer to home one moment, he was pushed back another, he got shoved across the street and then got forced back onto the sidewalk again almost slamming into the window of a tiny mortgage settlement company.

I need to fight back.

Returning to safety in his mind, the scenery there was calmer and more beautiful but it was completely abandoned. He tried to imagine other people but the the only thing that materialized were rough sketches of silhouettes, not nearly as detailed as the landscape. He couldn’t draw anyone with good precision and though he tried, he couldn't imagine any decent and genuine people beyond the detail of angular and unnatural images of holy men immortalized in stain glass windows. Faces, posture, and even the soft strokes of speech were blurred together without character, without a name. This was his imagination after all but if he was gonna get past this storm, he needed to jump further into his soul and he needed it to become true.

He was stuck in his beautiful and empty world.

Using instinct, he echoed the same words everyone seems to mumble when they're stuck. What am I supposed to do now? Huh? Ryan didn’t believe in a God but he needed to believe in one now. He was too terrified and weak to feel guilty about it. Where are you God? ...I… ...I’m dying. Nothing he said felt genuine especially as the wind numbed his skin.

He looked around for an answer but nothing happened in his imagination landscape. After a few moments of concentration, he couldn’t help but notice that the lines and edges seemed to darken: the mountains and the clouds popped from the background a little more and the scene became more detailed and intricate altogether. He noticed how serene the place felt and just when everything calmed down in his mind, the clouds in his imagination grumbled together and grew heavier and darker until rain poured over the little villages.

The rainstorm and the clouds grew larger and more powerful, ripping fields of crops apart with the same force of the hail that smashed roofs of cars in reality. The wind blew Ryan around in his imagination. He was powerless even there but instead of his vision getting all blurry, the details instead became even sharper until he found himself looking up at the dark red clouds looming above.

Hearing something strange, Ryan turned his head to the right and saw a gigantic twister racing towards him. Oh shit.

The twister boomed at him.

You have failed

He spoke aloud, “What have I done?”

Do not make the same mistake Hyzedia made or you will suffer a violent death. The voice was long, strong, and unyielding.

He knew who was talking, his whole body felt it, “What do you mean, I don’t understand, God.”

With storms like yours comes darkness.

“But what have I done?” ...Shouldn't have said that.

I know what you will do and you will lead no person.

I really didn't know what I've done, I shouldn't be punished like this, it wasn't fair. “Why are you punishing me like this, why did you give me a crappy life, God? Why do you hate me, God; you’re no better than the other kids at school.” I was a senior, I shouldn’t be worrying about this shit…. but I was. He was terrified.

I give, I take away. I will show you true mercy, you murderer of hope, I will bring you to the Storm's End.

God’s voice trailed off as the twister shattered his imagination into millions of glass shards as it rolled towards him in his reality with the force to pick him up and throw him across Aversport. Ryan felt a strange pulling sensation as if his skin was getting peeled off from his body. It didn’t hurt, it was like getting cleaned thoroughly enough that the entire outer layer of gunk was purged. Zero gravity kicked in along with jet lag, blurry visions, strange noises, and all kinds of other sensations. I'm gonna die, God doesn’t want me to live… it isn’t fair, I'm not a murderer.

Ryan blacked out.

“...He’s… ...re… ...come… ...conscious.... he’s waking up, I can tell. Can you hear me?”

Ryan couldn’t open his eyes, it was like trying to lift two anvils over his shoulders. After his eyes rolled around closed for a while, they opened. He saw two worried women standing over him. The storm looked as it had completely passed but it was still dark, it was the dark of night. Only now did he realize that he was sprawled all over the sidewalk and plastered with bruises; luckily, there were no open scrapes.

“Where am I?”

“Uh,” one of the women looked around, “We’re at the intersection of... uh," her eyes landed on the sign, "Chance and Operator. Does that help?”

“It does.” His apartment building was a taller beige building squeezed in between a light grey hotel loft and a squatty and mostly empty office building with a sketchy garage. I was practically home but I have no idea what time it is… my father's gonna kill me, well at least harder than usual.

One of the women helped Ryan onto his feet and as soon as he conquered the spinning feeling in his head, the kid sprinted down Operator street to his apartment building. Blue and red lights flooded Ryan's vision as silhouettes floated around what looked to be like a crime scene. Unfortunately, the door into the apartment building was blocked by all the bright yellow police tape.

A cop pulled him over. “What are you doing here kid?”

“I need to get inside that apartment building, sir.”

“Use the side door, we’re still investigating a nasty death.” Ryan nodded without saying anything else and trudged around the taped off scene protecting the chalk drawing of a person lying on the street. It looked eerily like a suicide, someone must’ve jumped off the top of the apartment building or the hotel next door. Suicide. Ryan sighed. It's just something I can't tolerate. I know that sometimes my life can get really shitty... but... no. No, I won't ever stoop to that level. He trembled and hoped he didn't say anything aloud. Something's not right though, where's the body?

“Officer?” He called out to another mustached cop writing down a few notes down on his clipboard.

“What is it, son?”

“Where is the body?”

“We don’t know, the chalk lines marked where forensics investigators say the body landed. Either the person ran off, which is completely absurd and highly unlikely, or someone snatched the body before we arrived. Don’t worry it was probably a relative-”

“-Do you know who it is at least?” The policeman wasn’t happy about getting cut off but Ryan tried to sound desperate, making it sound like he knew the person.

“I have no idea yet, sorry son.” This guy may have been frustrated but he was more empathetic than the first, the soft glint in his blue eyes told Ryan that he did care. He must think that he was a relative of mine. As the strange feeling of no return flooded back to him, Ryan felt like he did know this guy somehow, like there was some kind of connection, but he had no idea how. Ryan remembered something the powerful voice told him, You will lead no person. It didn’t make any sense to him and as he opened the side door into the apartment building, he told himself deja vu wasn't going to rule his thoughts or his life. If there was any chance of making my life better, I was gonna have to lead my own life. Ryan needed to be in control of his own life to be happy... if that's even possible.

Unfortunately, he had my father to deal with.

Punching the up button on the elevator, Ryan knew he was walking into hell when the elevator doors welcomed their new victim inside. The carpeted ground swelled up to the twelfth floor where his father paced, pissed off that he was late getting home. I bet he's not worried at all that I was outside in the middle of a tornado storm. Usually Aversport doesn't get tornadoes, they usually touch down towards the east, but when they do come, they wreak havoc.

Lumbering off the elevator floor, Ryan walked as slowly as he could to his apartment, number six, dragging his feet along the ground so he could collect his thoughts. I’m gonna get murdered, was the only thought.

Ringing the doorbell, Ryan knew this was the point of no return. The door swung open revealing his new father’s girlfriend, Megan who, unlike papa bear sitting on his leather throne in the living room, actually cared about his safety, his schoolwork, his friends, and… well, she cared about Ryan's life. She can't help me now.

Staring straight into her glimmering hazel eyes, he tried to console his poor new mother with apologies... but to no avail. His mother deserved to live in the palace of a strong and gentle king, not on the painful bed of her new boyfriend.

“Ryan, where were you? We were worried sick.” Only she was worried sick. Ryan had a good explanation but even admitting that he was in danger was too much for her hazel eyes to bear; he could only say he was sorry so much.

“The bus had to pull over from the hailstorm and I had a hard time walking home from there. The bus wasn’t even at Storm’s End by the time the storm ended. I’m sorry.” He was more sorry that she was so sorry. She was mighty strong nevertheless. My new father hasn’t broken her yet. She needs to get out while she still can.

She digested what I said. “Well, Your father wants to talk to you.” His new mother stared down at her pride.

Talk to me, sure, kill me is probably more like it. But when Ryan walked over to his adoptive father, Jeremy, who sat in his leather throne with a Budweiser, he didn’t even care to turn and acknowledge him. His father's face lay slack as it stared at the blank television screen. He had a handsome face that looked almost kind.

“Dad?” He said plainly making sure he didn’t let any fear slip out of his mouth.

“What?” He snapped, though not angrily. He turned to him with a strange, confused look, “What do you want, boy?” Ryan realized he was safe now. Relax, he doesn't care.

“Well, I was late coming home, the bus got stuck in the hailstorm.”

“Why the hell do you think I should care?”

“I don’t know, Megan told me-”

“-Fuck Megan," his face contorted when Ryan pestered him, "I don’t give a shit where you go, you can just haul your sorry ass out of this apartment if you want to make me happy. She thinks you’re actually worth something, she don’t know nothing.” He never did turn around to face him but Ryan could feel his eyes narrowing. Now that Jeremy said something, he won't be able to wedge it out of his mind for a while.

Not wanting to say anything else, Ryan walked over to his usual spot by the window where he battled through his homework. All of his textbooks and notes sprawled across the splintery old wooden kitchen table and soon he found himself steadily cranking out answers to his pre-calculus homework. What the hell am I even doing? He thought as he peered over the textbook instructions; he was decent at math but sometimes the homework was just bizarre. He taught himself using the textbook and, after finishing math, he heaved through the rest of the work.

The rest was easy. Thank God I don't have Spanish homework. It's an event that happens only once in a blue moon. He looked out the window at the maze of chain-link fences behind his apartment freeing his mind from all thoughts and leaning against the sill for a long time.

The front door shook until Megan unlocked it sliding through and carrying dinner; Ryan and probably Jeremy didn’t even realize she had left. “Dinner’s here, Ryan. Get up Jeremy.” She couldn’t convince papa bear to rise from his couch.

“Grab me another beer, boy.”

He knew complaining only made him more pissed off. Ryan got up and lumbered to the fridge but after opening the old white door, he saw there were no beers left, only that plastic loopy thing remained.

Ryan didn’t want to break it to him. “We’re all out,” he yelled a little louder than he intended to.

Seeing the figure of his father suddenly freeze in his leather chair, he knew he was in deep shit this time. He turned his head around slowly to face Ryan with those freezing blue eyes already strangling him with the force of their hatred. Glowing anger coupled with the insatiable force of violence his new father harbored inside warped his deceptively kind face into a wrinkled and red animal terror. In a flash, he stood up almost knocking over the coffee table by the couch. “I work my ass off everyday to feed you, boy, and this is what I get?” He stood still shaking like a leaf caught in that storm earlier.

He wanted Ryan to make the first move. He unknowingly obliged. “It’s not my fault.”

…

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be stuck in this filthy apartment, ya hear?” Before Ryan could escape, Jeremy lunged towards him, grabbed the collar of his shirt, and pulled him up to his face. “I shouldn’t have to take care of a worthless piece of shit like you, I didn't agree to it, now get out.” He let go throwing Ryan away from him. He managed to keep his balance but he eventually his back landed on gnarled hardwood floor.

“Jeremy, you’ll wake Lily.”

“Why the fuck should I care, Megan? This kid isn’t worth the trouble.” Ryan noticed that Jeremy's face relaxed even though he didn't lose any of his anger.

“We adopted the child, he’s our responsibility. We couldn’t just leave him with his real parents, they would probably all starve on the streets and… and his mother was kind enough to know that he needed a better family." She definitely didn't put it lightly. "We’re that better family, Jeremy.” Megan narrowed her eyes in doubt; maybe this wasn’t better for Ryan.

“Why should I care, it was your decision. I hate that useless boy with that retarded red hair of his.”

“Well I think his red hair is wonderful, it sure does light up depressing old Storm’s End a bit. What’s wrong with him anyway? He’s been getting decent grades, except in Spanish. He’ll grow up to be more successful that any of us and he’s the type of kid that won’t drop out of school no matter what happens.” Megan looked exhausted. Ryan was thankful that someone like her knew that he wouldn't give up. The scene of the chalk up police scene flashed by his eyes for a second.

“If he thinks he ain’t gonna go through the same shit I went through, then he’s wrong. He thinks he’s better than me because he has good grades? Dammit, I’ll show him he’s no better than me, that fucked up boy doesn’t have no friends anyway. I hate him, Megan, he’s a good for nothing little bastard.” Jeremy got up but Megan didn’t move back, she stood her ground.

“Isn’t that what you want, then? If he’s good for nothing, then he won’t be any better than you. Why should you be jealous, he’s our child.” Megan hasn't solved him yet but she pushed on trying to figure out the source of Jeremy's anger.

“He’s not our child, Megan, at least I’m good for something. I feed this family and go to work everyday. That ungrateful boy doesn’t do nothing to help us except go to that shitty public school and when he graduates, what is he gonna do for us? Absolutely nothing!” Jeremy roared probably waking up the apartments next to them. The mother still didn’t flinch

“He doesn’t have to do anything for us, he’s his own man. We both didn’t do what we were supposed to do in school and look where we are now, don’t get angry at him for it. All parents want their children to do better in life than them, you sound like you don't want Ryan to do anything important-"

"-He's a-"

"-You can't be a father if you think like that." She lowered her voice not wanting to escalate the shouting match any further. "I’m not willing to argue you on this one.” She folded her arms.

“Whatever you say, I don’t deserve this shit.” Jeremy sat back down and looked straight ahead at the black television screen. Megan walked away knowing she could never really win an argument against that stuck up asshole. Why does she even tolerate him?

Ryan heard the entire argument sitting on his bed in his room, a room he had to share with Megan and Jeremy’s legitimate daughter Lily. I don’t care what Jeremy says, I’ll make my real parents proud. They’ll smile down from the skies and see how successful I’ll become... if they really are dead. Escaping this family and Alex is essential or else he'll never make it out of high school alive. Why does it matter? This time was different, the voice of the tornado from his strange vision land took control of his thoughts. I will lead no person. Don’t make the same mistake Hyzedia made. What does any of that mean? Knowing that figuring this out was a lost cause, Ryan settled to simply looking around the room in boredom.

The tiny room was bare on my side because Ryan wasn’t going to spend his work money on posters. I'm saving up for a computer. His sister’s side was flooded with posters and toys from My Little Pony, Monster High, and other shows he didn’t recognize. As usual, his mind shifted into hyperspeed when all he wanted to do was remove his own mind from the crazy world altogether. Ryan's head twisted and turned before it found a resting place facing his sister’s wall knowing he didn't have the energy to adjust again. Great. I would have to stare at her posters until I fall asleep.

Wait, something wasn’t right. Something in Lily’s My Little Pony poster set him on edge and he took a closer look at it. He saw it, the landscape in the poster was exactly like the one he saw in the vision and soon the words made sense. All the little villages floating in the sky and all the towns tucked away in countless river valleys, all of that was in the background he saw in Lily’s favorite television show. They same cartoons I had to sit and watch every morning. He rolled his eyes at the thought of it but he recounted the voice's words again: I would lead no person. But could it be? No. It was impossible.

He managed to roll onto his back to straight up at the ceiling. It was the best way to fall asleep because the kid could never stare at the ceiling for too long or else his head would get dizzy. For some reason, staring directly above made him lose balance and his thoughts. Travelling to the landscape I saw wouldn’t be too bad, it would liberate me from my life whether this God wanted me to leave or not. A giant cosmic re-start button would help.

He wasn't ungrateful, his legitimate parents were good people, but they gave me up to Jeremy and his girlfriend. No, not even my legitimate parents had looked out for me, I'm all alone in my life. He grew more frustrated with every thought that passed and he felt he had to believe himself. Was there no one I could trust. Norman? No. He’s given up on me many times in the past and he’s walked away from numerous bullying scenes and never apologized. He’s still a comfort, I can't deny that.

Is there even a legitimate and genuinely good person I knew? He searched through his inner memories and dived into the more important thoughts that spiraled violently around the center of his mind. That’s the place where freezing rain and hail always seemed to fall. Harder and harder he racked his mind trying to remember a good person he happened to run into even if it was only for a passing moment.

But he couldn’t think of anyone. The investigation made him exhausted quick and soon his head hurt from merely being so tired. His brain did a last second sprint to the finish line before he could fall asleep and suddenly he found his person. The one girl who defended me before Spanish class. I didn’t know who she was and I didn’t even know her name, but if there was any hope, it was her.

Trying to compute what she looked like and what her name was, his mind objected from all the obsessive thinking and shut down for good.