Status: On hiatus until further notice
Run Away With Me
Chapter 1
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. My eyes snap open at the shrill ring of my alarm clock. I attempt to hit snooze whilst letting my eyelids shut out the world around me, but end up smacking it off the nightstand. The sound of manufactured plastic striking polished wood echoes through the room. Groaning, I reluctantly open my eyes and sit up in bed. Looking to my right, I see my roommate, Justin, snoring away as if the ratchet I induced never even occurred. Figures. The guy could have slept through the bombing of Hiroshima. I roll my eyes as I lean down to pick up the unscathed machinery, placing it on the stand before getting up to yank the curtains open. Behind me, Justin stirs as beams of radiant sunlight invade the room.
”Close the curtains, you asswipe,” he mumbles, pulling the covers over his face. Viewing this action, I shake my head and proceed to tug the covers off of his body entirely, letting them drop to the floor.
”Sorry, Jus, but you have to get up. The Mr. Yevz will be conducting the weekly room checks this morning.”
Mr. Yevz is the headmaster of the Troubled Boys Home. He says he started this program twenty some odd years ago because he wants to ‘help’ today’s generation of fuck-ups ‘get better’. Blah. Blah. Blah. His mother and father apparently struggled with severe alcoholism and schizophrenia, and he didn’t want their futures to become our’s. The only reason I’m here is because my parents found my stash of drugs that I had hidden in my room alongside my razor blades.Worried about my well-being, they sent me here, where I am surrounded by other crazies. Having been here for almost a year now, they have declared me drug-free and are currently working to find and demolish the source of my cutting.
Justin is here because he is addicted to marijuana and cigarettes. He says it started out with just cigarettes, but escalated after a drunk night at a party. He’s been here for three years.
”Alright, alright. I’m getting up,” Justin says, reassuring me by rubbing his eyes with his fists. I silently laugh at him and grab some clothes before heading to the bathroom we share with each other. Each pair of roommates gets a bathroom to share, which is accessible from the main hall, with employee key cards, and their bedroom. Yet, with that being said, this place isn’t all that big. Two stories with four bedrooms (and the adjoined bathrooms) on the top floor and the kitchen, dining room, living room, and a bathroom downstairs. Mr. Yevz’s room is on the first floor as well, but no one is allowed to go in it. Not that I really care to know what he’s hiding because it’s none of my business. I just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.
Coming out of the bathroom, clean and dressed, I see that Justin is finally up and has straighten up his side of the room. My side is always fairly clean because I tend to be a neat freak, my bed being the only object in need of straightening up. I do so while Justin takes his shower and just as he walks back into the room with clean clothes on, our bedroom door opens and Mr. Yevz enters.
”Morning, boys,” he says in his usual slightly slower-than-normal pace. His eyes dart about the room a few times before he walks around to investigate. His weekly room checks consist of him walking around and looking, never touching unless something seems suspicious. As he strolls slowly through our room, there is only silence. Mr. Yevz makes his way back to the door and looks at both of us before giving his evaluation.
”You boys have passed this week’s check. Congratulations,” he says, completely unenthusiastic, then walks out of the room. I let out a deep breath that I have been holding since he came in and smile to Justin as we high-five one another.
”Oh, and Bostwick, Hills,” I hear Mr. Yevz at the doorway again and turn to look at him, “we have a new delinquent coming today, so I expect you two to be downstairs with the rest of the boys in exactly two minutes.” With that, he takes leave once more.
I raise my eyebrow and look at my roommate. He just shrugs his shoulders. Returning the shrug, I stride towards the door.
”Close the curtains, you asswipe,” he mumbles, pulling the covers over his face. Viewing this action, I shake my head and proceed to tug the covers off of his body entirely, letting them drop to the floor.
”Sorry, Jus, but you have to get up. The Mr. Yevz will be conducting the weekly room checks this morning.”
Mr. Yevz is the headmaster of the Troubled Boys Home. He says he started this program twenty some odd years ago because he wants to ‘help’ today’s generation of fuck-ups ‘get better’. Blah. Blah. Blah. His mother and father apparently struggled with severe alcoholism and schizophrenia, and he didn’t want their futures to become our’s. The only reason I’m here is because my parents found my stash of drugs that I had hidden in my room alongside my razor blades.Worried about my well-being, they sent me here, where I am surrounded by other crazies. Having been here for almost a year now, they have declared me drug-free and are currently working to find and demolish the source of my cutting.
Justin is here because he is addicted to marijuana and cigarettes. He says it started out with just cigarettes, but escalated after a drunk night at a party. He’s been here for three years.
”Alright, alright. I’m getting up,” Justin says, reassuring me by rubbing his eyes with his fists. I silently laugh at him and grab some clothes before heading to the bathroom we share with each other. Each pair of roommates gets a bathroom to share, which is accessible from the main hall, with employee key cards, and their bedroom. Yet, with that being said, this place isn’t all that big. Two stories with four bedrooms (and the adjoined bathrooms) on the top floor and the kitchen, dining room, living room, and a bathroom downstairs. Mr. Yevz’s room is on the first floor as well, but no one is allowed to go in it. Not that I really care to know what he’s hiding because it’s none of my business. I just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.
Coming out of the bathroom, clean and dressed, I see that Justin is finally up and has straighten up his side of the room. My side is always fairly clean because I tend to be a neat freak, my bed being the only object in need of straightening up. I do so while Justin takes his shower and just as he walks back into the room with clean clothes on, our bedroom door opens and Mr. Yevz enters.
”Morning, boys,” he says in his usual slightly slower-than-normal pace. His eyes dart about the room a few times before he walks around to investigate. His weekly room checks consist of him walking around and looking, never touching unless something seems suspicious. As he strolls slowly through our room, there is only silence. Mr. Yevz makes his way back to the door and looks at both of us before giving his evaluation.
”You boys have passed this week’s check. Congratulations,” he says, completely unenthusiastic, then walks out of the room. I let out a deep breath that I have been holding since he came in and smile to Justin as we high-five one another.
”Oh, and Bostwick, Hills,” I hear Mr. Yevz at the doorway again and turn to look at him, “we have a new delinquent coming today, so I expect you two to be downstairs with the rest of the boys in exactly two minutes.” With that, he takes leave once more.
I raise my eyebrow and look at my roommate. He just shrugs his shoulders. Returning the shrug, I stride towards the door.
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