Right to Revenge

I stared pointedly at the slight teenager at the other side of the pitch, seemingly flicking a knife back and forth across his wrist. I nudged Harry, my eyes never straying from the dark haired guy leaning against the disused bleachers. His skin was pale, and his dark, angry eyes gazed out from beneath a painstakingly straightened fringe. He wore skinny jeans and dirty white plimsolls, and a white shirt and tie, paired with a waistcoat. He had a dark red and grey scarf wound round his neck, and a black security band around his sharp wrist.
"Who's he?" Harry followed my gaze.
"Oh, that's just Shay. I stay away from him if I were you, he's a freak." I frowned. With wide brown puppy-eyes and a tired, almost resignated look, I found it hard to believe he'd done any evil. Well, not evil enough to be in one of the worst reform school in the USA. And be wearing a tag. Harry said it was just the right nutters that had them. He was too quiet, too secluded. Maybe that was why he had it.
I wasn't used to reform schools. They were rough, and isolated, not that there was any way to make contact with the outside world if they weren't. There were twelve foot, barbed wire fences all around the school, and even then, an all night ground patrol, with dogs. Luckily, the first day, I met Harry. Yesterday.
He was short, with a huge mass of curly hair perched on his head. He had a zillion piercings, like a nose ring, snake bites, and eyebrow piercings, and a flesh tunnel in each ear. He'd had his cartilage pierced too, and his septum (the bit inbetween your nostrils). He had light skin, covered in freckles and a sick humour to match his sick head. He'd been in reform school for three years now, he said, just cos he used to steal, and dabble in drugs. His parents were control freaks, like mine. They stuck me in here, said it was for my own good. Yup.
Cos two years ago, I was a bit like Harry. I dabbled in drugs, shoplifted drink and shit that I didn't really need. I got stoned one night at a party. Like, really stoned. I was legless for a lot of the time. Being out of it, I guess I was vulnerable to the whores that gatecrashed our party. It requires the loss of one's senses to get into bed with a slut, and I didn't have any sense at all.
Two months later, and the little bitch was at my door, screaming and crying that she was pregnant with my kid. My mom came to the door, and she started screaming at me too. I couldn't handle it, and blurted that I was gay, and I couldn't possibly have slept with her. She had the wrong guy. The girl left, and mom was making a fuss about homosexuals and stuff. I spent seven months like that, and actually came home with a dude one night, deciding that I might as well explore it.
Half a year later, and social work was over, telling me that I was actually a dad. I told them to wait a minute, went upstairs and OD'd in the bathroom, on heroin. I was rushed to hospital, and the girl visited me, with this baby. I broke down then, and said, fine, I would help, but I wasn't gonna move in or anything. Two weeks on, I was babysitting my own fucking kid, and she started crying. She wouldn't stop. I couldn't take it, I decided I would give her a little something, just to calm her down. It wasn't even half a needle full, just the teeniest drop of smack. I thought it would make her sleep. She did more than that. She passed out, and I realised she wasn't crying. She didn't cry for ages. I tried to wake her up, and she wasn't breathing. When I called the ambulance, our neighbour called mom, and she came round too, and started screaming at me. I said I just wasn't made for kids... The doctors found heroin in her system, and asked if it was me. Naturally, I lied. Then they found all my needles and shit in he house. I was arrested, and mom decided that I should go to reform school.
Ickle Rae is still alive, but even when I get out of this place, I'm not allowed to see her. I'm not dangerous enough for a tag, but I do get drug checks every month.
Anyhoos, back to the present, I was still watching Shay.
"Why's he a freak?" Harry raised a single eyebrow, his piercings glinting in the dim sunlight.
"'Cos he's a cold blooded killer, and he's just a weirdo. No one goes near him. You can't go near him. I tried once, and just went full circle. He messes with your mind." I nodded. Harry knew I was unconvinced. "He shot both his parents, then his two brothers came down, and he shot them too. He nicked his dad's car keys, drove to his sister's friend's house, then killed her and four of her friends. He got in the car and hit two police officers, and then he ended up in casualty 'cos he crashed into a road block on purpose." His face remained deadly serious. "They put him in a max security loony bin, and apparantly 'he got better'." I glanced back towards Shay in surprise.
"He did all that in one night?"
"Yeah. There was a campaign to get him into jail, but he went all emotional on the judge, and he his lawyer was basically Superman in a suit. He made it seem like Shay was the victim all along." I frowned at him.
"You sound like you were there." Harry shook his head.
"It was on TV. We got to see it. I reckon the whole thing was rigged. There is no way you could kill twelve people and just end up here. He should have a guard, really, but he made him go away. He's tried to top himseld about a million times since he got here. Gets stoned, starves himself... Once he broke his wrist by accident, and the officers were like, what's wrong with your wrist? It's all swollen, and he was just like, it's broken, like it was the most normal thing in the world. They took him to the medical bay and took off his tag, left him alone for five minutes, and when they got back- BAM! He was gone."
I was intrigued. I smiled at Harry.
"Imma go talk to him." His eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead.
"You won't manage. I don't know anyone who has, apart from the hard-ass officers." I shrugged, starting towards Shay. He continued to slash at what I realised was his security band. It relieved me of some fear, him being bound to a network of alarms. I got closer, and I really believed I was gonna do it. Then I stopped.
Why did I want to talk to Shay? I didn't know. I didn't even want to talk to him. Maybe I should just turn around and leave. I glanced around and glimpsed Harry's triumphant smirk. Ahead of me, the corners of Shay's mouth curled up in a wry smirk. No! I could beat him.
I shook the unwelcome thoughts from my head, forcing myself to put one foot in front of the other. Oh god, it felt like I was tripping. Shay's smug grin fell as he realised what was happening. He deftly slid the knife up his sleeve and tilted his head to one side, bemused by my effort.
Eventually, though it took every ounce of strength I had not to turn and run back to Harry, I stood in front of Shay. He smiled and I wanted to collapse, mentally and physically drained by his freaky little mind games.
"Hi," he said, then the world went black and I was falling.
But I didn't feel the ground hit me, I didn't feel the pain, or the humility. Actually, as my legs buckled beneath me, I realised I was still conscious and standing. I straightened up and frowned at Shay, mirroring his confused expression.
"Umm... hi, I'm-" He cut me off.
"Fletcher, I know. I'm Shay." I nodded.
"I know." He looked at me, his eyes narrowing.
"Why?" I appeared confused, although I knew exactly what he meant.
"Why what?" He raised an annoyed eyebrow. Oh god, why was he so perfect? Why was his voice like velvet, and why was he here?
"You know what. Why not just ignore me? Why force yourself to get all the way here, to reach me? I'm commonly dubbed a freak, after, and the majority of people don't like the freaks."
I shrugged.
"You... you caught my attention. Not everyone ignores what they don't understand." Shay chuckled, flicking out the knife and slashing it against the seats. He sat down at the edge of the bench and squinted up at me against the glare of the sun.
"You don't understand me? I'm an enigma?"
"Who does understand you?" He smirked, drawing the blade up his own arm. Blood was drawn to the surface, spreading across his skin in dark red lines. I turned away in disgust, feeling my stomach flip. Shay seemed to sense my discomfort and put the knife away... before wiping his arm against my sleeve. I blanched, staggering back a step.
"More to the point, Fletcher dear, is who doesn't understand me? Not the people here, anyhow. They're too easy to keep away. If you don't understand, you're oblivious to what has and could still happen. It's guilt that keeps them away Fletcher, not lack of understanding. I have a perfectly good reason for what I did, and they know it. They just can't accept it. You, however, don't know my reason, and therefore, don't have the good sense to stay away." I swallowed.
"Go on then. You've been dying for someone to talk to, I can tell. What is your great excuse?" I could feel my confidence grow, against the person who thought he could overpower me.
Shay leant close, his mouth close, his warm breath tickling my ear.
"They killed me, Fletcher, and I have every right for revenge."