Sequel: Running With Scissors ›
Those Worse Off Than You
Part 55 [one month later]
It's been a month since that night. Ace has a lot more freedom now; he can pretty much come and go as he pleases, as long as he signs himself out and is back by curfew. The care home would automatically send the police out looking for him if he left without telling anyone; just disapeared. He wasready dealed with that one...
Since he still isn't in school, he occupies himself by drawing... all the time; it's like a sudden burst of creativity. He's almost ran out of space; he's already got three portfolios and a wall full.
His mood swings have slowed down a bit (thankfully). There have been more good days than bad. But, occasionally, there will be a day where all goes wrong and a little invisible raincloud sits ontop of his head. It's name is misery.
But's he's like a fallen angel, with the charm of a young boy. With sad crystal eyes telling the story of a tragic past, well hidden behind layers of dark bangs. A quiet mysterious personality; nervous, paranoid habits. But he hasd a way of being senstive about how he goes about his business. If you would have just met him, you would think he was an arrogant, almost full of himself teenager; almost like I did... But he really wasn't. He was usually very sensitive; he just had a weird, protective way of showing it.
Besides the fact that he was aloud to leave, he barely left his room. Unless I was with his, or he was on his way to his counselling session with the phycologist.
One of the owners of the Care Home, Mr. Anderson, suggested that Ace started eating in the lounge, with all the other kids. But he didn't; he felt strangely different then them... as if he didn't belong. So he stayed in his room and almost never ate since they stopped delivering food to his room.
Turns out, everytime he tries to leave his room on his own, there's always a larger kid with an anger problem waiting to do him in; waiting to take out their anger on someone. Not necessarily shorter or weaker, but someone they could get a good reaction out of. Ace hated the Care Home, and all the kids in it.
Except one kid. His name was Thomas, but Ace calls his Angel [I think it has something to do with the type of drugs he used to be into]. He's a short and scrawny kid sent here by his parents, who were sick of dealing with his eating disorder and involvement with drugs and alcohol. He was a lot bolder and outgoing than Ace; not as shy or introverted. When I first met him, I thought he would be a bad influence, but then I found out he was doing really well in his program; one of the best.
He was a joker. His hair was light brown and longer that Ace's; almost down to his shoulders. He had dark brown eyes and sunken in cheeks with a reddish, sun-burnt coloured complexion. He was coverred in scars from random fights with other kids, gangs, muggers. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses for reading that were cracked in one corner and wore baggy clothes. He half couldn't help it since he was so small.
Everyone else I had seen, or met there, were trouble causers with anger management problems, who walked around punching anything they could. They had bad attitudes and permantent records longer that my last english essay. They'd been given one too many chances and now did whatever they wanted.
The kids there were crazy! The ydid whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Started fights, set fires, walked around with knives slashing furnature and walls. Some kids even try smuggling drugs in so they can sell them to other kids. They did it because they could; because no one could stop them. They weren't going to get kicked out of a last resort...
Since he still isn't in school, he occupies himself by drawing... all the time; it's like a sudden burst of creativity. He's almost ran out of space; he's already got three portfolios and a wall full.
His mood swings have slowed down a bit (thankfully). There have been more good days than bad. But, occasionally, there will be a day where all goes wrong and a little invisible raincloud sits ontop of his head. It's name is misery.
But's he's like a fallen angel, with the charm of a young boy. With sad crystal eyes telling the story of a tragic past, well hidden behind layers of dark bangs. A quiet mysterious personality; nervous, paranoid habits. But he hasd a way of being senstive about how he goes about his business. If you would have just met him, you would think he was an arrogant, almost full of himself teenager; almost like I did... But he really wasn't. He was usually very sensitive; he just had a weird, protective way of showing it.
Besides the fact that he was aloud to leave, he barely left his room. Unless I was with his, or he was on his way to his counselling session with the phycologist.
One of the owners of the Care Home, Mr. Anderson, suggested that Ace started eating in the lounge, with all the other kids. But he didn't; he felt strangely different then them... as if he didn't belong. So he stayed in his room and almost never ate since they stopped delivering food to his room.
Turns out, everytime he tries to leave his room on his own, there's always a larger kid with an anger problem waiting to do him in; waiting to take out their anger on someone. Not necessarily shorter or weaker, but someone they could get a good reaction out of. Ace hated the Care Home, and all the kids in it.
Except one kid. His name was Thomas, but Ace calls his Angel [I think it has something to do with the type of drugs he used to be into]. He's a short and scrawny kid sent here by his parents, who were sick of dealing with his eating disorder and involvement with drugs and alcohol. He was a lot bolder and outgoing than Ace; not as shy or introverted. When I first met him, I thought he would be a bad influence, but then I found out he was doing really well in his program; one of the best.
He was a joker. His hair was light brown and longer that Ace's; almost down to his shoulders. He had dark brown eyes and sunken in cheeks with a reddish, sun-burnt coloured complexion. He was coverred in scars from random fights with other kids, gangs, muggers. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses for reading that were cracked in one corner and wore baggy clothes. He half couldn't help it since he was so small.
Everyone else I had seen, or met there, were trouble causers with anger management problems, who walked around punching anything they could. They had bad attitudes and permantent records longer that my last english essay. They'd been given one too many chances and now did whatever they wanted.
The kids there were crazy! The ydid whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. Started fights, set fires, walked around with knives slashing furnature and walls. Some kids even try smuggling drugs in so they can sell them to other kids. They did it because they could; because no one could stop them. They weren't going to get kicked out of a last resort...