4 Pictures

CHRISTOPHER

Click. Christopher tossed around his bed in his sleep, sweat dripping on his forehead. He groaned and sat up slowly, waking up from his dream.

"Another one of them nightmares, kid?"

Christopher craned his neck and rolled his shoulders, trying to make the stiffness go away, but it rarely ever did. He shook his head in reply and banged his fists against the thin mattress and groaned again. "Stupid bed!" he muttered, frustrated that ever since he had gotten there he had been unable to get a good night's sleep. He didn't have a sheet to clutch onto and his pillow was as soft as a rock was.

Back home he didn't have the pleasure of sleeping on a soft bed, nor did he have thick, fluffy sheets to cover his body but it wasn't as bad as the beds in the cells.

"Get used to it, kid. There's no use whining about it," the man said, grunting. He pulled out 2 cigarettes from his pocket and handed one to him. Christopher turned his head away, not accepting it. "What's the use of biting on it if you don't have a flame to light it?"

The man shrugged, "Habit." His voice was hoarse and he mostly spoke in grunts but after a month of sharing the same cell with him, Christopher was used to it and could understand him, not that he spoke much.

Why? He wondered. Why people would throw their health away by smoking when they could do so many other things? He never questioned them directly because he knew they would never quit it and he wasn't very good with lectures, so he never bothered himself to try.

The man pointed toward at his bed with his stubby finger. "Back to sleep?" he asked, chewing the edge of the stick that was held firmly between his big lips. He was sitting cross-legged leaning against the cell door in the same grey clothes that Christopher had on. He was short and thin with white hair and crease lines on his forehead. He stared at Christopher with his tiny eyes and waiting for a reply.

Christopher shook his head, "No," he said, sighing. He couldn't go back to sleep again. The image from his dream was still in his mind and he knew he would keep seeing it if he closed his eyes again.

It was a still picture of Stey squealing at the trophy she grasped in her hand: she had won a sketching competition that the school held once a year. She was walking toward him to show it, a drawing curled up on the inside of a paper tucked in her arm. She was going to surprise him with it but he had already received a photo of it through his friend; it was a pencil portrait of him. She had drawn Christopher fast asleep on his usual corner chair in class. The theme of the competition was Life and its Blunder, to be depicted in pencil only and she had won for realistic skills as well as uniqueness.

Shaking the image from his mind, he went over to the old man, Bill, and took the cigarette from the floor. He sat on the ground and began peeling it from the outside, trying to slowly peel of her smiling face from his mind.

KYLE

"This is…stupid," Kyle muttered, panting.

"I don't think you're supposed to be talking right now," Jayden ordered, hovering above him, his fist clenched. Kyle almost rolled his eyes but the pain from where Jayden punched him earlier, didn't allow it.

Kyle tried to stand up but Jayden kicked him hard in his stomach making him fall over, sprawled on the corner of a warehouse with nowhere to run. He coughed, ignoring his aching sides and looked up at his attacker, managing a smirk. "Come on, Jayden," his chest heaved as he spoke, "Everybody goes through breakups. You just got to-" he paused and grinned at him, "To deal with it."

His head fell back down, "Let it go," he finished.

Jayden bent down swiftly and grabbed the collar of his shirt, dragging Kyle to his feet and then he kicked his right knee snarling, "Shut up."

Kyle groaned and fell back down, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his hurting eyes. "Bullying isn't cool, Jayden. It just makes you another one of the thugs."

"Shut the hell up, Kyle. It was all your fault, right from the beginning. You never approach Stey but the second she dates someone, you butt in-"

"Jeez. I would never need to butt in to stop her dating you. She was bound to dump you anyway," Kyle retorted. He didn't want to speak anymore but if he stopped, the pain would become too unbearable and besides, he didn't want to give Jayden the satisfaction of winning.

His throat hurt as he spoke and his voice was rough and broken. "You're a coward. What did Stey see in you anyway?" Jayden was going to hurt him anyway, so Kyle was going to allow him to have as much fun as he could. That way no one else would be in pain.

When the bell for lunch had rung Luke had pulled Kyle aside and had told him that Stey needed to meet him by the warehouse thirteen blocks away from school. She didn't pick up when he had already called her twice before and she had also disappeared before Math period. Worried, he rushed over and was met by a very angry and revengeful Jayden. Kyle didn't try to run away and was ready to take all that Jayden was going to hit him with. It wouldn't have made a difference even if he had known, he would've gone anyway- if he chose not to Jayden would have taken it out on Stey.

Kyle wanted to laugh, as his vision blurred, when his best friend's ex-boyfriend kicked him again. 'Oh the things I do for you, Stey,' he thought, 'I might as well date you.'

A bang echoed from the opposite side of the warehouse and then a loud crash as something heavy fell to the ground. Jayden jumped, shocked and suddenly afraid.

"Yo, Kyle!" a voice called out. A series of louder bangs sounded, followed by the creak of the door as it was forced open. Kyle pulled himself up to sit and felt a smile form on his lips, knowing the voice all too well. It wasn't necessarily a happy smile, but he was relieved that Jayden wouldn't hit him anymore.

In contrast to Kyle, the latter froze and turned around his fists in the air.

"Eyy, that was annoying," a tall, fair skinned boy walked in, a cold look on his grinning face. He raised his phone and said, "SMILE." The boy was quick to capture the stunned look on Jayden's face and Kyle's bruised body on the floor behind him.

"Give that to me!" Jayden exclaimed, advancing towards the boy adorned in a white jacket zipped up to the top, with brilliant white cargo pants, a little dusty from the break-in. Kyle knew it was hopeless for Stey's ex-boyfriend, for only had he taken 2 steps forward, that his rescuer pounced on Jayden like a cat and hit his head with something he was clutching in his hand- a plier, Kyle noticed.

Jayden dropped down in pain, howling, while the white boy walked over to Kyle and extended his hand. "Can you run?"

"Will he be alright?" he asked, gesturing to Jayden.

The boy nodded as he pulled him up, smiling with his perfectly even white teeth. "That hit won't be enough to kill him, don't worry," he claimed.

"Where did you get the plier?"

"It's a warehouse. I found it on the floor," he replied calmly, sliding it into his pocket. "It's a precaution, in case the owner of the car comes back," he explained, looking at Kyle's injuries. He had short eyelashes and eyes that slanted upwards and as he bent to press his fingers against Kyle's wounds, Kyle almost thought he cared- but he wouldn't. Han would never do anything with having an ulterior motive or expecting something in return.

"Car?"

"The car I hot wired to run into the front door. How else did you expect me to break down the door?"

"Yeah I can run," Kyle confirmed, ignoring what he had just heard and answering Han's initial question. Han, four years his senior and from another country, grabbed hold of his shoulder and pushed him forward, "Let's go, then," he commanded. Flinching from the pressure of his big hand pressed on his skin, Kyle said nothing but ran ahead. He blew upward trying to get his blond hair away from his sweaty face, wondering what exactly Han's payment would be.

STEY

Terrified she would choke on her tears or scream out in rage, attracting unwanted attention, Stey decided to hide in the washroom that was in the unused section of the school building; they called it The Block. She wasn't in the mood to go to her lessons nor did she want to meet the new girl again. She ignored the bell when it rang, gripping her wet books against her chest as if they were some sort of protection. She had cried for so long that her head, throbbing from exhaustion, was a swirling mass of pain and longing. Along with it came a torrent of memories- slowly at first but rushing in after a few seconds.

Fumbling for her phone, she dialed Kyle's number but it was engaged. She tried again, desperately hoping that he would pick up, but his line was still busy. Her phone dropped to the ground, her fingers trembling as she rocked back and forth, alone on the washroom floor, crying.

Kyle had always been there for her- he was always supposed to be there for her, but right then, he had disappeared. He had promised to never leave her side but he was not with her when she needed him. She screamed and kicked her phone away, watching in satisfaction as it bounced on the dirty beige wall and dropped face down.

She didn't need her phone, she didn't need Kyle and she didn't need any of the "friends" in her contact list. She had no one, only too many unanswered questions.

The tornado in her mind was growing bigger and bigger turning her vision darker as she strained her throat, silently screaming, yanking at her chest. As she groaned helplessly, the pain slowly turned to rage and directed itself towards Vixxen. 'Yes, she didn't know a thing,' Stey thought. 'She knows nothing about me.'

Vixxen, who didn't have the common sense to realize she was treading on sensitive matters, a delicate matter, such a delicate person. The last thing Stey thought of before the darkness swallowed her mind was Christopher and his soft gentle hands holding her face, ever so gently and rocking her to sleep.

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ISABELLE

Missing someone is hard, isn't it? You feel so alone and you long for them every day, but once you continue to miss them, over time, it becomes a normal routine. You have thoughts of them in your mind and you go on living your life with those thoughts. Eventually you miss them but it doesn't hurt. They follow you all the time and they are in whatever you do, but it doesn't hurt. It becomes a good thing. I think I can live like that. It has been a year already. Four years will go by soon, so yes I'll be alright. I'll be happy without him.

But what if someone comes along and asks you about it; you can't help but think of them again and go over those memories again. The memory of someone you have forgotten always becomes clearer when you are questioned about it. You feel hurt and misery and you're just SAD.

For those few hours you struggle on your own because an immense amount of sadness has settled on your heart, your limbs and you can't move, you can't breathe. You can only cry and wail until someone comes along and stops you.

Why.

No one is going to come for me today. I'm alone- all alone…so alone. I hope you find me. Find me and take me home. Writing in this makes me feel better. Perhaps I will write here again and perhaps you will see it once you come back and perhaps you will realize how much I have missed you and maybe you will love me again. Love me again...please.