Psychopath [solangelo au]

-How to meet new people-

September 25th, 2017

I started to take my pills again. Even though I hated them. Even if they annoyed me. They worked a little bit.
Tuesday morning I was woken up bright, early, delightfully at 5 fucking 45am, by the shit-head-child known as Marcus. Marcus, who was standing beside my bed, over my face, looming like the grim reaper. His morning breath alone was worse than death.
I rubbed my eyes and groaned, disoriented and confused. My senses were waking slowly, but my ears had checked in, which fortunately let me hear a whisper from Marcus.

"Guys! Guys, he's waking up!"

I heard a scramble of things being dropped. In my room. The room I didn't share. That was enough to have me shooting out of bed, just to see 3 littles and Daren grabbing something from my desk.

"Go, go, go!" Daren whisper yelled in the dark, pre-dawn light from my window, waving his arm towards the door, pushing the kids out. I jumped up on top of my bed, comforter and sheets falling off of me.

"YOU LITTLE-" I yelled as they all scattered, running through my door at top speed, yelping and laughing.

I jumped down from my bed onto the cold wooden floors and slid over to my desk.
They had gone through the whole thing, it seemed. All of my papers and notes were everywhere. As were my clothes from my closet. They had been looking for something.
I tore frantically through my bottom desk drawer and saw that they took my latest finished notebook. They were private, obviously— I used it to write down what the voices say. A stupid diary, of sorts, that Jenny had me write.

"Fuck!" I hissed, dashing out of my room towards the sound of insufferable giggling. The 5 boys were at the door in the kitchen, clutching their stomachs and laughing as Daren read aloud what was on one of the pages, performing like he was asked to read Shakespeare. He probably failed English.
I slid to a stop, vibrating with anger. I knew I looked wrecked, in my pyjamas and pale face from lack of sleep, but I couldn't care less. They were reading— laughing at— my thoughts. They were acting like it was a fucking joke.
The 4 little boys froze and stared in horror, but Daren didn't notice, leaning on the doorframe with my notebook held high.

"'I'm just so fucking worthless'" he spoke in a mocking voice, pretending to be me. He laughed.
"You know, it's funny 'cause he's right," he stopped when Marcus tugged on his shirt. "What?"
Marcus pointed at me and Daren's face dropped on horror.

"Give. It. Back." I growled, my fists clenched, nails digging into my skin. 
He looked like he was going to, but then glanced at the boys and yelled out.

"Sprint!" And they took off out the door. I chased after them, which was terrible idea. You see, I sleep with no shirt on, assuming I won't be seen at night since I don't share a room. Most boys do the same (I assume), because it was normal. Except there was a catch. My own personalized brand; my back was covered in scars. Also, it was an autumn, early morning type of cold that instantly seeped through to your bones. And I was bare chested, barefoot, and only wearing plaid pyjamas pants.

The sun was still dipped below the horizon, so the sky still being pulled out of its deep navy. The street lights were still on, and the dull stars were still blinking out. I was surprised I saw stars at all, because it had been raining late last night.

I chased the boys out the backyard gate, stomping through the wet grass and soaking my feet and bottom of my pants. My toes were frozen as they hit the rough pavement, after stalking the boys onto the front street.
Two of the boys who were more scared of me than others ran for the front door, but Daren, Marcus, and another boy who was nearly nine, stayed out and wandered onto the road.