So what's your favourte colour punk?

Matt's POV

I stumbled up the stairs of the home, my legs were shaking heavily. Probably a mixture of standing out in the cold for so long and my nerves. This was the first time I had been in a proper house with 'normal' people in it for five years and tomorrow I’m starting school, at sixteen I had been taught by tutors all my life, needless to say I was shiting myself. I dropped my duffle bag on my bed and opened it up. The contents of my bag were limited; they didn't want anything to tempt me. I chuckle quietly to myself as I close my eyes and remember the first time. The adrenaline rush was absurd, I could have killed so many people but they never knew it was me...well not for a while anyway, by then it had gotten worse. The addiction had taken over and soon I was too dangerous to be around others, they took me and locked me up in a 'special hospital'. Those who work there are supposed to call it 'rehabilitation clinic for the mentally insecure’; those who didn't just called it the loony bin. I don't really know who was more correct; the guy who shared my room was obsessed with hands. You heard me right, hands. I didn't mind though, I let her study my hand time and time again, I'm glad to see they couldn't prevent her from her fixation like they did mine. Seriously, the problems are so deeply rooted that it's near impossible to root out. She told me that my problems started as a child, but not to worry because problems and I would usually go hand in hand, if I worried about it, I would surely go mad. Haha isn't that funny coming from me. I'm used to problems, I tend to do 'stupid' things, and I call it experimenting. Experimentation is how the human race moved forward, and I see no problem in it. I do whatever the fuck I want whenever the fuck I want. Want to know why? It's because I can. I lay down on my bed and laughed myself to sleep.

Frank's POV

No one had ever been to my house. No surprise, I never invited anyone over, not even my close friends. I lived alone, my parents were involved in drug dealing, they got on the wrong side of dealers, too many missed payments later and bang, they never came home. No investigation, no one ever knew. From the age of ten I have lived alone and no one knows. Funny that. I sat slumped on the floor of the corridor, back to the door staring into the house. The pale pink wallpaper was now peeling, revealing snippets of the wall behind, red, blood red letters stood out against the white washed wall, death threats rang loud through the house. We were meant to die the night they did that, but we were up in the country side. It wasn't a nice family weekend; there was a supplier up there that had a good bit of stock that was worth a three hour drive to get to. We got back and the words were written on the wall with pansy's blood. The loyal family dog, lay on my bed, her stomach ripped out. That’s where my parents hid some coke, where no one would find it. I had never known that.

I was nine then, the blood wouldn't wash of the sheets and I remember lying on my bloodstained carpet crying that night. My whole world was one of fear, but I'm not the kind of kid to cry for long. I hate those kids who sit in an empty house feeling sorry for themselves. I'm not one of them, my view on it is;

'I'm meant to be dead at the moment, but those motherfuckers left me alive. Why be sad about that, my parents were never great so they were no loss. I only have a few family members left and I doubt they know I'm alive and I want it to stay that way. I can do whatever the hell I want on my own. No one to tell me what to do, to lock me up. One of my distant family members was locked up in a mental institute a few years ago, I heard it in the back pages of an old newspaper, and his picture was awesome. Definitely one to scare the people, eyes glazed over with a lopsided smile on his face, a deranged madman, what a way to go out.

I'm not cool enough for that excitement. I could do what he did, but I have nowhere else to go if something went wrong.

I picked myself up and went to my room, I wanted to see the picture again, I hadn't looked at it in so long. I also needed to do something to clear my head of thoughts of the day for a few hours. What the hell kind of crazy would this shit turn me? No to the same extremes of my cousin hopefully, but hell that would be cool, if your gonna go out, go out in style!

I finally found it and walked down to the kitchen where I lay it out on the table on the page, his face sprung up at me, the picture was in black and white but you could see the insanity that hid in his eyes, bless, he was just exited at -

My phone suddenly started buzzing in my pocket, I checked the caller ID, Oli. Of course.

"Um...Hi" I had no idea what to say.

"Hey Frankie, I was so worried you wouldn't pick up" there was a long awkward silence, at that point I noticed a flash of lightning out of the kitchen window, followed swiftly by a deafening crack of thunder which echoed in the receiver.

"FUCK!" trust Oli to get caught in a storm.

"Dude you'd better get inside!" I chuckled slightly as he swore under his breath, it was kinda funny. That was until he said;

"Well then you'd better fucking open the door spastic!" he what? There was a large knocking at the door and then I understood, he was here and he wanted to come inside. He clicked off the phone line and pounded on the door again.

What the hell do I do, he can't come in, no one comes in here but me. But then I can't just leave him standing there.

I grabbed my jacket and ran out of the front door which slammed behind me, Oli was standing directly next to me on my porch and looked rather confused at my decision to join him in the rain. I began walking down my road towards the local park, Oli hot on my heels.

“Why can’t I come into your house?!” he was crying, I could hear it and I slowed to a stop, but still not facing him “are you embarrassed that I tried to kiss you?”

"Frank! What the fuck! Talk to me!" I turned on my heels to face him, he was about two feet away from me, obviously upset and confused. I opened my mouth and let out a mental scream falling to my knees, I think I would have seriously scared some people on the street if at the point of my scream, thunder had echoed through the street. I ran out of breath for screaming and for a minute complete silence, apart from the storm over head;

“No” I managed to croak before bowing my head and screaming again, I must have looked mental, I had no idea why Oli hadn’t run scared yet.

We were in the middle of the storm and soaking wet, I knelt on the ground screaming into the ground. Oli crouched down next to me, pulled my chin up with his hands cupped. He seemed to hesitate about two inches from my face, maybe I looked twisted and weird, maybe he didn’t like me anymore. But he soon decided to continue and leant in to kiss me. I was still screaming, only this time, I was screaming into his mouth, and after about ten seconds my lungs collapsed and I couldn't scream anymore. That's when his tongue entwined itself with mine and his arms wrapped around my back, he was drenched as well and I could feel ran running down our faces as we made-out in the rain.

What a twisted scene.