Faceless.

Transition.

    "Learn your place. Know your role. Straighten up." All echoes in the mind of young Christopher Jendset.The sound of those words scraped against the edges of his already scarred skull as he slammed his tired hand hand onto his principal's desk. His eyes widened,breaking his usual careless expression,shocking his two friends who had joined him in his oh-so familar trudge to the principal's office. A place that had started to feel more familar than his own home. The intimidating figure of their pompous superior was the only one in the room who'd maintained his composure. Both elbows resting on the table,fingers laced over each other,flare from the lights hitting his glasses in just a way that hid his eyes. Only he knew they'd widened at this delinquent's sudden movement.

                            Christopher's long,edged,blonde hair hung in the air as his gaze,one of pure,intense rage pierced his superior straight through,right between the eyes. He had so much he could've said. But instead he burst out,kicking Mister Masters door open,with his boot,walking out,and gesturing non-challantly for his friends to follow. Being the disciplinarian he was,Mister Masters couldn't believe this. His dry voice piercing the air of Networn High's office,rang out. "Where do you think you're going,you disobedient garbage?"

                                 The principal stood there,pointing his thin index finger at him,but the rough looking seventeen year old paid him no mind. His expression remained blank. He was tired. Tired of his school. Tired of his friends. Tired of his family. But mostly he was just tired. But he couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept. Not for three days. He'd been dreaming about waking up in a strange desert,where the sand was pure white,and there was nothing in sight. Just his own existence. And emptiness. Until the sand swallowed him,and he awoke.

                                   He just kept walking,each step resounding in his own mind as a step home. Where he could lay down. And seek the release of slumber. Everything around him was blurred. His friends had followed,and were talking,but there words were just static.

Bzzt.

Bzzzt.

Bzzt.

Once he and his cohorts parted ways,for the afternoon,he opened the door to his house,walked by his mother,who questioned why he was back before school was out. Not that he had heard her..

Bzzt.

He walked straight past his father,bumping into his shoulder,and slowly everything around him unblurred,and he heard his father's words drag by,and become more clear.

Bzzt. Bzzzt.."Asked you," bzzt "..question..." bzzt "..answer it!"

                         For some reason,a burning hot anger raged through Christopher's body and this rage was the force that drove his fist into his father's stomach,and what allowed him to knock him out with an uppercut that followed. He didn't know why he did it. He didn't think about it. Now his own thoughts started to drift. Drift off into the same static he'd been hearing. He didn't even look at his mother. The blank-faced,straw-haired boy had trudged up the stairs to his room,where he'd collapsed onto his bed and finally embraced the sweet void of rest.

                                       Though perhaps,one would wonder,what pushed this boy to this state of teenage rebellion. It is a road not worth travelling down. A road many are all too familar with. A road paved with defiance,and recklessness. Pain,and even sometimes remorse. The road your parents warn you to stray from. Whether or not you've experienced it,someone around you has. And it's not one that leads somewhere good. Especially for Christopher Jendset,this blonde-haired,crystal-blue eyed ruffian. His worn gray shirt,torn jeans,and empty wallet attached to said jeans,all reminding him he wasn't worth anything more than the dirt that was on the bottom of his work boots. At school,at home,in public,he was nobody. He was faceless. At least,in this world.