Erin

                Life Begins Here

    Beginning with his uneventful birth, it seemed as if the fates had set Erin upon the path which would inevitably lead to his self-destruction. It wasn’t that he was a bad kid or a risk-taker, he just didn’t have much luck. Nobody’s ever born bad, they’re either just too soft or too hard to  cope with life. Very few survive in the median… for long.

        In this year, the Ex generation was one step closer to becoming canon fodder. None of them were intelligent enough to realize this, though, and so continued to meddle in the affairs of their daily lives. Nor did they realize that they were just tests for life, experimental human beings. Before they were born, the need for IDs anywhere had long since fallen by the wayside. Identification cards were too easily faked and the plastic for them was becoming too expensive and environmentally hazardous. A solution was needed.
    The solution came in the government funded form of tattoo PIN numbers. The idea had been a good one, after all, you don’t just lose a tattoo, nor could it be faked or duplicated considering the government issued ink used in the process  had a funny way of binding to one’s DNA via radioactive molecular markers, making it unique to that person. The only problem that remained was the question: what to test it on? Usually, scientists would use a rat or a monkey for these kinds of tests, but why would a rat or a monkey need an ID, where would they go that required computer identification? Someone had come up with a decent alternative to  the tattoos claiming that ‘tats’ were unhealthy and suggested  that optical scanners be installed in places requiring IDs  and everyone’s iris patterns should be logged into a giant computer data base and then fed into every scanner. This idea was scrapped , not for the fact that the laser scan could cause cancer or blindness, but for the simple reason that that would be too expensive. The unwarranted war in Iraq, started years before under the presidency of George W. Bush, was growing too costly to spend much on anything other than war, and high-tech equipment in such large masses was far out of reach. The law for the tattoos was passed, and the search for test subjects began.
    Government workers searched tirelessly for a city, just one to start with, that represented the American population the best and would not be missed or even remembered if , for some unforeseen reason, it should be wiped from the face of the earth. They found what they had been looking for in the city of Hammond, Indiana. Now they just needed an entire generation of test subjects. They chose a date and passed  a city-wide law that any child born on, and after that date, would be tattooed.
        On the night of December 29th at exactly midnight, Shelley McClaud, the mentally estranged wife of Ian McClaud, gave birth to a son, Erin McClaud. Erin was unusually pale for a baby and had startling blue eyes the same shade of blue as the ice and a small patch of charcoal hair on his head. He didn’t scream either, like most babies. He only stared out at his surroundings, his nostrils flaring with every breath. Out in the hall, his father, drunk and violent as usual, was making a ruckus with the poor nurses and screaming about his ‘freak’ son. In his haze of alcoholic fog, Ian managed to turn on his cell phone and dialed the number for the government workers to come tattoo his “miserable freak son”, as he put it.
    Quickly, the workers that had been stationed in the lobby of the maternity ward walked to Shelley’s room and set up to tattoo the child. Any normal mother would be concerned with the fact that their newborn was going to be inked for life without their consent, but Shelley wasn’t. Before she had left for the hospital, she had smoked enough marijuana to keep her docile for hours.
    Ian would always yell at her about this saying, “Jesus, woman! It’s you that’s smoking away our  fucking money! No wonder we’re headed for the poor house! And you’ve got that damn kid now, how’re we gonna live with that?!”
        She would usually retort groggily with, “You asshole, how dare you yell at me when you blow just as much money on your goddamn hooch as I do on pot, if not more! And, it’s YOUR fault we’ve got this little shit on the way, you’re the one who wouldn’t shell out the money for birth-control pills and  wouldn’t wear a rubber!”
    This was usually followed with alternating “Fuck you”s. You and me and baby makes three indeed.
And so Erin was marked with the first tattoo of his generation. He screamed loudly as the tattoo pen was dragged across the back of his neck, leaving a bar code in its wake. Because he was the first, they also inserted a  small tracking device under the skin of his shoulders so that they could keep an eye on him, even in places that didn’t require a scanner.
    Meanwhile, Ian was outside having a homemade smoke made from some of his wife’s stash.
    The next day, Ian looked into his son’s bassinet to stare at his son as if he were some sort of side-show attraction. He was drunk, as always.
    “Hey there, Little Shit,” he began. “I’m yo daddy, and you betta’ git that straight. You’re gonna listen to me, and do what I says, or you’re gonna fuckin’ regret it. Got that?”
        There was only silence as Ian stared at him.
    “Go on, cry, you little fucker! Let me know ya hear me,” he snarled in disgust. Angrily, Ian reached down and slapped him. Erin instantly began screaming. Satisfied with his son’s misery, Ian calmly walked out and shut the door.
            And so the life of young Erin went, one bruise after another. Always to the tune of, “I’m yo daddy , boy, and don’t you forget it! I brought you into this world, and by god, I’ll take yo pale ass out, swear I will!”

                    Shelley

Shelley was not as terrible as Ian was, or at least not as violent. She was just apathetic about everything. It seemed that the only thing she cared about was getting high enough to escape it all, Ian’s fury, and ‘the brat’ as she called him. She rarely went shopping, except to buy supplies for her drug-induced munchies. Since Erin’s birth, she had progressed from getting stoned to snorting cocaine and popping speed. Anything was better than life.

    As the years went by, her addiction grew steadily worse and she became consumed by depression. All her life she had been depressed. As a child, her parents had told her it was just a phase, and that it would pass. That was before she started with all the drugs. She always remembered how innocent she had been back then, how sweet and care-free. She had only a few photographs of when she was little, the rest she had burned. She looked almost genuinely happy from far off in the pictures she had saved, but her eyes always gave it away. Behind the mask of make-up she always wore, her tears streamed freely. It wasn’t that her family was abusive, on the contrary, they were always nice to her. They forgave her anything, she only wished they could see her for what she was. And so, she ran away. The night was cold and as dead as the leaves scattered across the asphalt, as dead as she felt inside. She had glanced one last time at her home and was gone.
        For a while, she lived like a drifter, showing up only at night to offer her services in exchange for a little scratch. She blew every penny she made on drugs, almost. She went along like a tumble weed until she found herself sleeping under the Hohman overpass in Hammond, Indiana. She would have continued to live and wash in the Rotunda fountain across the street, she would have remained homeless and whoring herself out nightly for a couple of bucks. She would have moved on, were it not for one thing: Ian McClaud.
    When she had met him, he was a caring, considerate young man with a good heart. He had spotted her peddling her wares one night on the corner of Stateline and Pulaski in Calumet City, Illinois, not far from where she slept, and instantly felt a pang of pity wrench his heart. He pulled over his Chrysler LeBaron and dragged her into the car, with her kicking and screaming the entire time.
        “What the Hell’s wrong with you?!”, she howled, “Can’t ya see I’m working here?!”
    He smiled calmly and said, “Yes, I know, but you don’t belong outside at this hour of the night. I’m going to take you to a hotel where you can get cleaned up, get you some clean clothes, and find you a real job, one where you won’t get killed, ‘cause, you are way too pretty to be working the streets like this.”
    He did just what he said he would do and gave her the seeds for a new life. Before he left her at her new job, he pressed five hundred dollars into her hands.
    “Here, it’s not a whole lot, but it should cover some groceries and part of this month’s rent. Good luck,” he said as he kissed her cheek and drove off.
    She stood in the fading sunset on Harrison Avenue and watched him go.
            “I love you,” she breathed.
    A few months later, Ian returned and proposed to her. He truly loved her, back then.
        A couple of years passed before her depression took hold of her again. He tried to cheer her up, desperately he tried to get her to smile and be happy again, but could not. He also could not afford therapy for her or anti-depressants because his insurance wouldn’t cover it and his job at the steel mill didn’t pay for much besides the essentials, except gasoline. Gas prices had sky-rocketed since the beginning of the war in Iraq, so even if he had the money for therapy for her, he certainly couldn’t afford to drive her there, and the nearest place was too far to walk. Her job as a cashier at Wal-Mart wouldn’t cover it either, and so she just went on with her depression.
    To cope with Shelly’s misery and his own in the fact that he couldn’t afford to help her beyond his care, Ian began hitting the bottle. It was terrible to see him like this, and so to cope with her newfound pain, she turned to her old friend, Mary Jane. This was when the marriage began falling apart. That was when Ian, the nice boy she married who wouldn’t hurt a fly, became abusive.
        Life after that became a haze of pot, alcohol, beatings, and screaming. She was even more miserable than she had been before, and to top it off, she now had a screaming brat who looked like neither of them, and clung to her like a leech. It wasn’t that she hated Erin, deep down, she did love him, it was just that she didn’t want a kid anywhere near her. She worked all day cleaning up after the little buggers and tolerated their snot-nosed screaming with a smile, and now had to come home to one. What she didn’t understand was that Erin wasn’t screaming for a toy or junk food, he cried because he was hurting, and he clung to her in hopes that Mommy would protect him. She didn’t. She just shoved him away, called him a little shit, and lit up.
    This had to come to an end. One night, while Ian was a passed out on the couch from too much to drink, Shelley snuck into the bathroom, sat down in the bath tub and grabbed her razor. She pulled the blade out of her silky pink razor and held it in her hand. It wasn’t terribly sharp, but it would do. She thought of reasons for doing what she was going to as her mind threw up reasons against it, manic images flashing through her mind. She closed her eyes for a moment and dragged the blade across her throat deep enough to sever her carotids. She never felt anything after that.
        Unknown to her, Erin had been watching from the crack in the door the entire time. His blue eyes grew wide as he watched her bleed out until her entire body from the neck down was smeared with blood. He never screamed again.

                    Life in Inferno

    The life of Erin McClaud was not a  pleasant one. Beginning with his birth,  it seemed he was on the path to self-destruction that would inevitably lead to his demise. Ever since the death of his mother, Ian, his father, had been left to raise him alone. To say the least, Ian was less than thrilled. He had deeply loved Shelley, but barely recognized the husk of herself that she had become. He believed it was his damned son, that blasted freak Erin, that was responsible for the suicide of his beloved Shelley. This was all his fault, and so Ian decided to avenge his fallen wife with every waking breath.
    Erin was not a bad child. He was quiet most of the time. He didn’t make messes, didn’t tear up the house, didn’t even leave his room in disarray. However, Ian still despised him. Ian looked for any excuse to kick the living shit out his ‘horrible’ son.
        Ever since the death of his mother, Erin never screamed. He held back all cries of agony no matter how merciless the beatings from his father were. He held his tongue seeing that there was no point in it. Mommy was gone, so no one would save him. Not that she ever saved him before, but she was still his place to run. Now he was alone, and no one could save him.
    He never played, even though he had a few toys, he never touched them. He just sat in his room, staring out the window, dreaming of a better place.
        Sometimes Ian would be generous and let his son play at the park with other children. If Erin did anything, he was alone.
    No one really knew the thoughts of young Erin, his eyes never betrayed him. He always watched the world with the same pale, drawn expression. He wasn’t autistic, there was nothing really wrong with him, nothing that required medical attention. He had just learned early on that you should never betray how you feel, especially in this house.
    “Why do you NEVER show any emotion, you little rat?”, yelled Ian, “Goddamit! Show me what the fuck your little pale ass brain is doing besides sittin’ in your head!”

        It was then that Erin answered with the first words he had ever spoken, “I feel it unnecessary, sir. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling, nothing matters in this place.”
    “WHAT?! Shut up now boy! Stop talking like Shelley, goddamit!”, screamed Ian as he proceeded to beat the hell out of Erin. “I need a drink.”

                    Her

    Over time, Erin had grown into a lanky, gangly youth. His skin was still pallid and pale, it seemed unaffected by puberty. He never had acne, not ever. His eyes were still the same shade of blue, only time seemed to have made them colder. His charcoal hair hung down in tussled hanks and always looked unkempt. His clothes always hung off him because he was so thin. He and Ian had been living off of junk food ever since the death of Shelley, they didn’t eat anything that wasn’t pre-packaged or couldn’t be microwaved. Ian shopped at Aldi’s because it was cheap and left enough money to pay the bills and keep his boozing supplies in stock. 
    Whatever clothing they bought was found at Village Discount because it was cheap there too, and the clothes were in okay shape. Despite this lifestyle, Erin still looked healthy. His skin was always clean, his clothes smelled like cheap detergent, and his hair was never oily. Still, he looked so wrong.
        If his lifestyle had been somewhat different, he may have been considered quite handsome, but as it stood, his face was thin, his cheekbones hollow, his eyes sunken, and his skin colored only by bruises and scars. His eyes were frightening. And so young Erin was predestined to spend his life alone. Thanks a lot, Daddy.
    In school, Erin had tried to make himself invisible, and for a time, it worked. This was until he had an unexpected growth spurt in the fourth grade. It seemed like over night, he had grown two feet. By sixth grade, he was almost six feet tall. Because of this, everyone noticed him. A few may even have tried to befriend the strange tall boy, but his eyes, oh those eyes! His eyes were cold, always so ice cold, that no one dared to talk to him. That was just as well, he had nothing to say.  His silence was inhuman, and so he was harassed. Being used to getting picked on and hurt, he never showed any sign that he cared at all. This frustrated his tormentors to no end. 
        Gym was his worst class. He hated the fact that they had to change into uniforms. They also had to be scanned in order to enter the locker room. He chose an empty locker away from everyone else and began to disrobe. For some reason, his tormented body was something to see, and so the rest gawked at him. They were amazed by his emaciated condition and horrible blotchy bruises on his deathly pale flesh.  They were also surprised that he had no hair anywhere except for his head. They all thought this was strange and so ridiculed him for it. They also thought the bump on his shoulder was strange and mocked him for it.
    One day, the rest of the boys decided that it would be fun to humiliate Erin in front of the whole gym class.
        “Hey, Ice Man!”, called one of the annoyances to Erin. “Come here, I wanna talk to you.”
    Erin didn’t even look at him and continued to undress. “Damn it, I said come here, you hairless freak! What are you, some kind of retard or something, come here!”
    Erin didn’t look at him still, and raised his middle finger in the boy’s direction.
    “That’s it! Get him!”, yelled the ring leader in this little prank. Twelve boys fell upon Erin, tied him up with jump ropes, and dragged him, naked except for his boxers, in the gymnasium just as the girls were coming out of their locker room. “Look at him! Look at the hairless freak! Even his frozen eyes won’t save him now!”
    Erin was flung to the floor as everyone laughed at him. “He’s so skinny,” laughed one girl.
        “And so pale,” remarked another.
            “And small,” screeched another as she stared at his boxers. She was widely regarded as a whore, but still people laughed. The only one not laughing was Erin, until one last girl came out of the locker room. She was widely regarded as an outcast and a weird-o, so people picked on her too.
    She saw Erin on the floor and exploded with rage.
        “You assholes! How dare you do this to him,” she snarled as she ran over to him. “You little motherfuckers! He ain’t done shit to you, and you do this! You touch him again and I’ll snap your fucking necks!” she quickly began untying him while she cursed them out.
            “Oh look,” sneered one. “Ice Man’s got a girlfriend!”
                “Maybe she’ll fix his dick!,” laughed the whore.
    “Fuck you, Bitch!”, growled the girl as she spat in the whore’s face. She then helped Erin to his feet and escorted him to the locker room and guarded the door as he dressed.
    The entire time, the gym teacher was absent.
  When the other kids all went outside to run laps, the girl came up to Erin and said, “I’m sorry the others are such jerks to you.”
    For the first time in his life, Erin actually smiled and said, “That’s okay.” She returned the smile, her teeth pearly white through her black lipstick. The smile reached her heavily lined eyes. Erin had made a friend.

                    The Snake

Two years had passed since the gym class incident. Erin and the girl, whom he had found out was called Morgan, had become good friends, even though they rarely talked. They always sat together at lunch, in class, and outside. They didn’t need to talk, they understood each other. They both just wanted to be left alone, so they got along fine.
    One day, Erin came to school with his left eye bruised and black. It was so swollen, he could barely see out of it. She saw this and broke the silence by asking, “What happened?”
    He looked at her eyes and saw genuine concern sparkling in them. For the first time he answered, “My father.”
        She put a cool hand over his eye. “He did this to you? Why?”
            “Because he could. He’s always done this to me, always,” he responded.
        “Doesn’t your mom stop him?”
            He looked down and said, “She’s dead.”
        ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
            “It’s fine,” he answered quietly. For a while, their eyes met. She was not frightened by his cold eyes. She didn’t care if they were an unnerving shade of blue. He was her friend. They gazed into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity, they moved closer to each other until…the bell rang. They were both now late to class. Damned clocks.
        
        “Erin McClaud,” called out Ernest Oakridge as he attempted to take attendance. “Erin McClaud?”
    “Here,” said Erin as he sat down at his desk in back.
        “Mister McClaud, it is quite obvious that you are ’here’ now, but one does wonder, where were you when the bell rang? Never mind, from your scruffy appearance, one might infer that you were in a fight, but you never fight back, do you, Mr. McClaud? Hmmm, McClaud, now there’s an interesting name. Sounds like the name of a man who drinks too much and beats his son. Who would that be? Ahhh, yesssss, your father. What would your mother think? Oh, she wouldn’t now would she, she’s dead. In any case, you are late, Mr. McClaud. I suggest getting your daily beating earlier so you won’t be late to my class. I also suggest that you trim that unruly mass of tangles you call hair, it’s jamming the scanner,” hissed Mr. Oakridge.
    Erin just glared at him. It was apparent that the other students hated him, but the teachers thought he was okay. He did his work and was quiet and well-behaved. Mr. Oakridge, however, was a sadistic bastard who hated his job and felt it was his duty to make the world as miserable as he was. Heaven help the poor soul that came to his class late. It wasn’t that he cared about the education of the student, he hated all young people, he just didn’t like the extra work it created when a student was late and the scanner had malfunctioned. This meant an extra twenty minutes of pecking at a keyboard trying to tell the computer that the student was tardy, not absent. Just another perfect start to a perfect day.
    “Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to open your book to the chapter on the board?”, sneered Oakridge. “What is they call you again, ’Ice Man’, can’t see why, you’re not cold or chilling. Your eyes are little bit startling, I’ll admit, but you’re nothing compared to me. Now get to work.”
    Oakridge may have been an asshole, but no one jumped him after school or vandalized his Ford. He had the dirt on everyone and could tear you down if you messed with him. He knew about every scandal, crime, and comment, and if you weren’t careful, he’d turn them on you.
    Erin opened his book and continued to glare at Oakridge. Oakridge was a short, balding man with a needle nose and yellow eyes. He was around the age of fifty, most people guessed, and looked very mean, as mean as his nasty disposition. He never wore any jewelry, not even a wedding band, so most figured he was single. Single or not, he was still a sadistic bastard.
        “Did you hear me, Mister McClaud?”, said Oakridge, he practically hissed like a snake in his over-pronunciation  of the ’s’ in mister. Erin showed no sign of having heard him, he just continued to stare. Oakridge simply walked over to him, grabbed him by the chin, and pulled his face so close to his own that his needle nose almost touched Erin’s. “Stop staring at me, Ice Man. It’s not polite, didn’t your mother ever teach  you that? Oh, I guess she couldn’t, now could she, after all, she is dead. How did she die again, ohhh…that’s right, she committed suicide. She dragged her shaving razor across her throat, she…”
    “Stop it!”, yelled Erin, a fire blazing in his eyes. He suddenly leapt out of his desk and sent his fist crashing into Oakridge’s stomach.
        “You will regret this, boy,” wheezed Oakridge as he doubled over in pain.
    The whole class was silent as Oakridge called security and had Mister Erin escorted to the office while he followed behind.
    
            In the office, the police officer security guards sat Erin down in a chair across from the principal. Oakridge gently floated down into his seat next to Erin.
    “What’s the problem,” grunted the principal over his newspaper.
        “Mister McClaud here attacked me, sir, in front of my whole class,” hissed Oakridge, like the snake he was.
    “Huh. I don’t blame him, you are pretty annoying,” said the principal without looking up. “How’d he attack you?”
        “He punched me, sir. Right in the stomach. Normally, that wouldn’t be so bad, except, I have an ulcer, and that punch set it off. I’m in a terrible amount of pain right now, might even vomit blood,” answered Oakridge.
    “What do you want me to do, the usual out of school suspension for three days?”, asked the principal as he reached for the stack of suspensions on his desk.
          “Oh no sir, seeing as this is his first offense, I thought a nice three hour detention would be in order. I agree I was being a bit of a …pest in asking him to open his book, but I forgive him. He can help me clean the classroom, maybe that will straighten him out,” suggested Oakridge, a hungry look in his eyes.
      “Fine, the school board will probably have my head for this if they find out, but as long as it keeps you and that freak out of my office, I’ll do it. Goodbye”, muttered the principal as he looked at both of them.
        ‘Perfect’, thought Oakridge with a smirk. As they left the office, Oakridge came up alongside Erin. “I’ve got you right where I want you, boy. And when I’m through with you, you’re gonna wish your mother had never gotten knocked up. This I promise you, Mister McClaud,” he whispered in Erin’s ear as he laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder, his fingernails like claws. Misssssster McClaud. Something in that voice made chills of fear run down Erin’s spin. This wouldn’t be good.

                     Detention

As soon as Erin set foot in señor Oakridge’s classroom after school, he knew something wasn’t right.
    “Ahh, Mister McClaud,” said Oakridge as he looked over the paper he was grading from the stack on his desk. “You’re on time, for once. Good, you can begin by sweeping the floor. The broom and dustpan are in the corner over there.”
    Erin just shrugged and  walked over to the broom and began working. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end when he realized Oakridge was watching him. He nervously looked up at the clock and wished that his time would be up. Time never cares, no matter how tense the situation.
    After sweeping for half an hour, Erin heard Oakridge’s loafers clacking across the linoleum floor towards him.
    “You’re not doing it right,” he hissed as he placed one hand on Erin’s shoulder and the other around the broom handle, almost even with Erin’s crotch. As he bent forward to demonstrate the proper technique,  he inhaled audibly at the nape of the boy’s neck.  With that, Erin let go of the broom and jerked away from Oakridge’s grasp. His ice blue eyes were wide with the shock of potential violation. Oakridge saw this and grinned, “What’s wrong, Mister McClaud?”  Misssssster McClaud. “Scared? You can’t run, you won’t be allowed out of the building until you finish your detention. I have to scan you out, and I will do no such thing until it’s time. If you cooperate with me, I’ll be nice. As I said, I forgive you for hurting me yesterday, now it’s your turn. Think of it as an acceptance of my forgiveness.” That hungry look came into his eyes as he spoke. “You are reportedly the most hairless of your brood, let’s see if that’s true.” Oakridge’s cold hands slid under Erin’s T-shirt and over his chest. A cold hand slid down his bare belly to about his hips. Erin was so horrified, he could barely breathe. He jumped away just as the serpent’s cold hands began to slide into the waist of his jeans.
    “Get away from me!”, cried Erin, a mixture of fear and fury blazing in his eyes.
        “You’ll never get out of here, Mister McClaud,” laughed the serpent man. Misssssster McClaud. “So it’s true, you are virtually hairless, I haven’t had one like you in many a year. I’m going to enjoy this.”
    Erin backed into a bookcase and began to pelt the serpent man with textbooks screaming, “GET AWAY! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!” He looked to his left and noticed a window, it was small, but he felt he was thin enough to make it through. He wasn’t going to let this be done to him. He wasn’t going to let this sadistic bastard sadomise him to make up for a justified attack.
    He continued to throw books at his molester until the serpent lay crumpled up on the floor. Erin grabbed the last book and used it to shatter the slit window. As he was climbing outside, Oakridge got up and caught his prey by the shirt.
        “Mister McClaud, where do you think you’re going?”
    “Let me go!”, yelled Erin as he jerked away, causing his shirt to tear off and hang empty in Oakridge’s hands.
        “This isn’t over,” called Oakridge as Erin ran like Hell down the street. “Not by a long-shot, Mister McClaud. You haven’t seen the last of me!” Misssssster  McClaud.   

                    Together

    Erin ran as fast and as far as he could from that godforsaken  school and that creep. That was way too close a call. He also knew he couldn’t go home, his father would be drunk by now and would start kicking the shit out of him as soon as he stepped through the door. He didn’t know where to go, he also didn’t know that the serpent  was watching him via the tracking device in his shoulder.
    Rain began to pour down as the wind grew cold and he ran. He came to one house and furiously pounded on the door, begging to be let in. She answered. 
    “Oh my god,” she began as she rushed forward to catch him as he fell from exhaustion. “what happened to you?”
        “Oakridge…he tried to…tried to… Oh god, it was bad!”, he said between breaths.
    “Get in the house, you’ll catch your death out here,” she said as she pulled him into the house.
        “He just, just started touching me…FEELING me and…saying he wouldn’t scan me out until he was done with me. If I hadn’t escaped, he would’ve… would’ve…”, he said as tears of pain and embarrassment fell down his cheeks. 
    “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she whispered as she held him and rubbed his back in an attempt to comfort him. She lightly kissed his forehead and left a black smudge.
    He looked up at her with tear-dimmed eyes and kissed her. The taste and feel of her lips against his calmed his pain and quieted his fear. She was the only person that cared about him, ever, and he didn’t care what became of him for doing this.
    She blushed slightly, but deeply enough to show through her pale make-up. Her family was out of town and would be for a while, and she wanted him as badly as he pined for her. She didn’t care what happened next.

                     Return
    
    It was two days later when Erin and his friend returned to school, it was a much dreaded return. The two walked side by side until they had to go to their separate classrooms, and he would be left to face the serpent alone.   
    “Good luck,” she said as she hugged him goodbye in the hall. Erin had to face the snake alone. He took a breath and headed across the hall to room 207, the plaque on the wall read: Oakridge.
    Erin stepped into the room just as the bell rang. 
        “Good morning, Mister McCloud,” said the serpent as easily as if nothing had happened.  Misssssssster McCloud. “You are on time to my class. Good. Now come here and let me scan you in.”
    Erin just stood there, almost dumbfounded. 
        “Are you going to just stand there with that bewildered look upon your face, or are you going to get over here and allow us to continue with our day, Mister McCloud?”
    Erin snapped out of it quickly and approached the serpent’s desk. As he was scanned, he saw a message flash across the computer screen on Oakridge’s desk.
    ‘Hello iceman. You’re going to fry for what you pulled, you know that, right? I know where you hid, and I know where you are. You’re gonna fry.’
    Just the tone of the message sent shivers down his spine as Erin stepped away from the serpent. On Oakridge’s face there was still that satisfied smirk.
        As the day ended and students began  to leave, Erin was on his way out the door when he felt a cold hand with claw-like fingernails grab the back of his neck.
        “Where do you think you’re going, Mister McCloud,” hissed an unpleasantly familiar voice behind him. “The principal wants to see you. He wants to know why you vandalized school property. I told him that you, quite simply, didn’t appreciate his and my generosity and wanted out. I tried to talk reason to you, but you went ape and started throwing things at me. You broke the window, and when I tried to stop you, you leapt away, leaving only your shirt. I would love  to see you try to tell him anything else.” As he spoke, he pushed Erin towards the main office.
    “Mister McCloud,” roared the principal as Erin was slammed into the chair in front of his desk. “What is  wrong with you?! Do you have any idea how much that window will cost to fully replace?! What makes you think it’s okay to destroy school property, didn’t your mother teach you otherwise?!
        “Excuse me, sir,” said Oakridge quietly. “She is dead, I’m sure if you checked the records…”
    “Shut up!”, he growled as he turned on the serpent. “I’m talking. You’re lucky I don’t fire you. You had a hand in this. Suggest to me how I should do my job, will you? Cause me to have to explain a big expense to the school board will you, I ought to have your head for this, you weasel! And you…” His eyes burned into Erin’s. “You have no right to rampage and destroy school property, you twisted little freak! Just because you don’t like being stuck working in his classroom for a few hours is no reason to assault staff. What do you have to say for yourself, mister McClaud?!”
    Erin stared down at the oriental rug in the office and said, “Nothing.”
    “Nothing? NOTHING?! What kind of answer is that, young man?!,” spat the principal as he spilled his coffee all over his desk.  His brown eyes blazed furiously as his tie became soaked with coffee as well. Erin could’ve sworn he saw some of the man’s brown hair fall out of his toupee. “GET OUT OF HERE! TAKE THEM BOTH AWAY! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!” His bellowing could be heard in every hallway.
        “But sir….”, squeaked the serpent.
    “SHUT UP! DEAL WITH IT IN YOUR OWN WAY! NOW GET OUT!!!!” Get ooooouuuttt! 
    Erin was only too happy to oblige and bolted for the exit. The serpent latched onto his arm, his claws biting into his pale skin.
    What was left of Oakridge’s hair hung in unruly springlettes in his face, his eyes almost pure red from ruptured blood vessels. “You played…right into my hands. From now on…I own you. You’re gonna fry now, boy. Wouldn’t Mama be proud of her little boy, you’re gonna be my bitch just like she was your old man’s. Following family tradition. Does that make you blood boil, is your little heart racing? Good. I like ’em fiery. And if you think you can escape, you’re wrong. I KNOW where you live and where you hide. I may decide to pop by any time, I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind. Hell, he’d probably watch. He enjoys his son’s misery, I can tell.,” he hissed as his serpent’s tongue nearly flicked into Erin’s ear. “Now get out of here.”
    Erin returned home to find the house dark and littered with empty beer bottles. 
    There was a groan from the couch as  he noticed  Ian holding an icepack to his head.
            “Where have you been?,” asked Ian.
    “School,” answered Erin quietly.
        “Any good? Got a call from the principal today, says you broke a window the other night and you weren’t scanned out either. Says that teacher o’ yours, Oakridge or Oakroad or Oakhill or whatever, claims you attacked him. In my day, you would’ve got the switch for that. But you never do anything, and I’m too hung over from last night to move. There’s some spaghetti O’s on the counter if you’re hungry,” muttered Ian with his eyes closed.
    “Thanks.”
    At this point, food probably wouldn’t sit well, but his father being nice was a rare thing. Erin decided that spaghetti O’s sounded pretty good, washed down with a side of unease. The serpent’s words still ringing in his ears.
    I KNOW where you live and where you hide.

    That night as Erin lay down to sleep, he dreamt he was running down the hall to the cafeteria. He had an idea as to how to escape the serpent’s grasp and was running to do it.
    He jumped up on the table, his shoes squishing in some kid’s gross mashed potatoes, and began screaming something alien to him. He reached back to the lump on his shoulder and yanked at the tracking device, the lump bursting like a pimple, sending blood flying all over someone’s green beans. He threw the device onto the table and smashed it with his foot. Suddenly, a shot rang out and  a bullet tore out his heart and he fell. He fell into an endless sea of darkness and landed with a thud on the floor of his room. He woke and saw Oakridge reaching for him from under the bed, his teeth like knives. “Missssssster McClaud,” he hissed as he caught him and dragged him under.
    Erin woke up, drenched in sweat and screaming. What a nightmare. What did it all mean, though? Erin decided silently that it must be those spaghetti O’s taking their revenge. The thought echoing in his mind, No one survives in the median for long. 

                Time

    After the previous night, Erin knew something had to be done to stop Oakridge. He couldn’t go on like this much longer. He had been abused and beaten and hurt all his life, he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. He had taken hit after hit, kick after kick, unkind word after unkind word, no more. No more. He went into his father’s room as Ian snored loudly on the couch, and  found his pocket knife. He examined the blade for sharpness. He rolled up his sleeve and dragged the blade across his wrist to test it, watching the blood well up and roll away in crimson tears. Yep, this would work. He pulled his sleeve back down and put the knife in his pocket. This was going to end today.
    He walked to school in the morning chill, a strange smile fixed on his face. When it came time, he strolled into Oakridge’s classroom as casually as ever, his hand in his pocket.
    “Ah, good morning, Mister McClaud, have you accepted your fate?”, asked the serpent as he scanned Erin in.    
        “Have you accepted yours?”, asked Erin in reply as he turned to face him, that smile becoming sneer.    
    “Wha…”, Oakridge began to say, but never got the chance to finish. Erin yanked the knife out of his pocket and opened it in a blur of motion. He reached up and jammed the blade in Oakridge’s left eye, and then pulled it out and slit the serpent’s throat with a sickening laugh as the man’s blood sprayed into his face and mouth. The rest of the class stared at him as Oakridge’s body hit the floor in a pool of blood, a look of surprised horror frozen on his face and the scanner still in his hands.
    Erin then ran from the classroom, wiping the blood from his face as he ran. He wasn’t done yet. He dashed to the cafeteria and leapt through the sliding glass doors, shattering them and spraying students in a shower of broken glass.  He raced to the lunchroom monitor and stole his microphone and jumped on the table, stepping in someone’s turkey and mashed potatoes.
    He held the microphone up to his mouth and began to yell, “HEY! LISTEN TO ME! YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE, AND IT WON’T BE FOR ANYTHING WORTH WHILE! THESE TATTOOS ARE ONLY SO THEY CAN IDENTIFY YOUR BODIES OVERSEAS AS THE OPPOSING ARMY MOWS YOU DOWN! THEY’RE BRAINWASHING YOU HERE, RISE UP! REBELL, SHOW THESE PIGS WHAT YOU’RE GOOD FOR, PROVE YOU’RE NOT CATTLE! TAKE CHARGE OF YOUR FUTURE, DON’T LET THESE FUCKERS TAKE IT FROM YOU! RISE UP, RISE UP, REVOLUTION!”
    Suddenly, a shot rang out through the building as a strange look came over Erin’s face. His eyes grew wide as he looked down to see his blood pouring out through a hole in his chest. His eyes glazed over as he fell forward, sprawling into someone else’s lunch.
    The principal stood at the entrance, a twelve gage shot gun in his hands. One of the security guards handed him the microphone that had just been in the hands of the dying boy.
    “I will have no disruptions here,” said the principal, a cold glint in his brown eyes. “Do not weep for him, do not weep for those that waste their life.”
    Erin lay there dead, blood spilling from his wound and mouth into somebody’s lunch. No one survives in the median for long.