Before I Ran || Perrentes

Chapter 1: Nineteen

Tony flicked the lighter and held the flame to the wick of the candle, waiting patiently for the tip to catch fire. When it was flickering with a gentle yellow flame, he put the lighter to the side and smiled plainly as he hummed the tune of 'Happy Birthday' to himself.

"Happy nineteenth, Tony," he mumbled to himself. "Make a wish."

He closed his eyes and thought for a moment, settling on the same undisclosed desire he did every birthday, and then gently puffed and blew out the candle.

The stick of wax stuck out at a wonky angle from the miserable little lemon cupcake Tony had bought from the corner bakery on the way home from work. It had already begun to melt beneath the flame, and a few drops of pale white wax had dropped onto the thin layer of swirled buttercream atop the little cake. The cupcake itself wasn't the best bake - slightly burnt, slightly lopsided. But, as usual, it was the closest thing Tony would get to a birthday cake. So he sucked it up and took what he could get.

Sighing to himself, he plucked the candle from the cake, tossing it to the side with the lighter, and then removed the wrapping and bit into the cupcake. Although it didn't exactly look all that fantastic, it didn't actually taste too bad. It had a runny lemon centre and a fluffy texture, and the sweet, citrus flavour sharpened his senses slightly and brought the faintest of smiles to his lips. This was definitely better than last year's birthday - a disappointingly dry chocolate muffin that had been over baked and under sweetened.

As usual, no presents. No balloons. Not so much as a whisper from his parents. The few friends he did have lived halfway across the world and only ever spoke to him through the internet, and so wouldn't even know it was his birthday until he was asleep and they finally got up to face the day. After so many years of being ignored, Tony would have thought it didn't bother or surprise him anymore. But some foolish part of him dared to hope. He dared to think every year that maybe, this year, something would somehow be different and his parents would be alerted to the fact their son had turned another year towards death, and would show him some degree of elusive affection. And so every year, he allowed himself to be disappointed, and his wish when he blew out his singular candle would be exactly the same: 'I wish I didn't have my life'. He still didn't know why he bothered wishing it. Every year, his desire went unnoticed.

The cupcake vanished before Tony was ready for it, and he sighed once more and tossed away the candle and the wrapper before shoving the lighter in the back pocket of his jeans. Flicking his wrist, he checked his watch - it was only half two. He was home from work early today; the coffee machine had broken and some smart ass had left the fridge switched off, and so the kitchen had flooded and the coffee shop forced to close long before closing hours. Realising his parents wouldn't be home for another few hours, Tony smiled slightly. Some time alone on his birthday was almost certainly better than the alternative.

He took the stairs two at a time up to his room, where he shut the door behind him and picked up his guitar, plugging it into the amplifier and switching it on to overdrive. The electric sound of the top E string soaring around the room brought a genuine smile of joy to Tony's lips; music was the only thing that ever did that. So, without a second thought, he launched into a recently learnt guitar solo and let his fingers fly across the frets. Having been home schooled for most of his life, withdrawn from the public education system and the prying eyes of the authorities after fourth grade, Tony had a lot of time for other things. His parents had somehow dodged the obligation of providing their charge with a half decent education despite him not being in school and had not been chased down by social services, so Tony had had a lot of time to focus on the things that interested him: Modern history. Biology. Most of all, music. After years of steady practising, despite a distinct lack of support, Tony's skills were almost unmatched and his knowledge extensive and in depth.