#preferably before Patrick (or whatever his name) died. so when they are explaining that dude can be like 'i hear that clock' and they make | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

westywrites · 7 years

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The Teller of Stories and Keeper of Secrets

Chapter 5 - Christopher Marcel

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Warning for bullying, violence, and murder

Last but most definitely not least, in fact, I'm tempted to say that I saved the best for last in this case, we have Christopher Marcel. The second son of a very rich businessman, in Florida, U.S.A. Early in his life he was always the quieter of the two sons and Christopher spent most of his young life hiding in the shadows of his older brother, who took after his father and was heir to the business. Christopher however, took after their mother and was very meek child, he hid his face when the press were near and rarely spoke louder than a whisper. He was too shy to even say that he preferred being addressed as Christopher rather than Chris which is what everyone ended up calling him. Now he would've liked to have taken after his mother in height too but he did not and is at least 6'3", making it very hard for him to hide or blend in with a crowd, so he grew his black hair long and lets it fall over his eyes, giving him a feeling of being protected from the world. Given his quieter nature he was always the subject of the neighbourhood kids jeers throughout his childhood, and that's where we start his story. On a fine afternoon in spring when he had just turned 16 years old.

Christopher sat silently on the swing in the old playground behind the ball park, in the distance you could hear the sound of his older brother's baseball team playing a game they were sure to win. He sat and slowly moved back and forth, the swing creaking. He was in a different place in his mind, the place he goes to escape when he feels down. He had been going there more often lately as his brother was graduating and it was such a big deal everyone forgot Christopher's birthday a few weeks before. Christopher sighed, the game would be ending soon, he should leave before the rush of other teens come back to celebrate the win with all their beer and noise. As he went to get up he saw something under the slide across the playground. He froze where he was as the two worst people in Christopher's life, other than his brother, came out laughing and totally drunk.

"Oh my gawd." Hannah's mouth fell open. Everyone knew Hannah, her dad was a lawyer and no one messed with her, she was also a total jerk. Especially to Christopher. "You were totally watching us, you perv!" She fixed her shirt really quickly, making a horrified face that was framed by her always messy brown hair.

"Chris, dude. Let me teach you something, here." Patrick, the famous surfer's son, started walking towards Christopher. "You don’t watch people when they're going at it under a slide."

"Yea, really. What's wrong with you?" Hannah slipped on her sweater, which was too big for her and had a huge pink butterfly on its hideous purple background.

"So you listen up," Patrick was close enough now that he reached out and grabbed Christopher by his hair, "never do this again. Freak." Hannah was giving Patrick this googly eyed, head over heels look, and he looked back at her and winked, flicking his shaggy blond hair. The other teenagers from the neighbourhood were out of the game now and were starting to make their way back to the playground.

"What the hell's going on here?" One of them asked and suddenly Christopher was bombarded with insults and threats as Patrick explained his version of what happened. They yelled at him, calling him horrible things and he tried his hardest but he couldn’t help crying. As the first tear dripped off his chin, they laughed.

"Ah, you poor big baby." Patrick stuck out his bottom lip, his eyes shining. "Are you crying for your mommy?" Everyone fell silent as Christopher looked up with rage in his eyes. "Oh that's right she's dead." Patrick finished his joke and it fell flat in the silence. Christopher stood up, towering over Patrick and kicked him. Hard. It landed but Patrick just stood there and everyone started laughing again. Even though he was so tall, his kick wouldn't move a fly, at least that's what they said. They jeered and laughed. Christopher cried, sitting back down on the swing as they mocked him.

"I betcha he can't even look at a girl."Hannah said her nasal voice piercing his mind. "Come on, baby. Come on you freak." Hannah started hitting his head, shouting out insults. "Pathetic." Patrick joined in. "Nerd, hah you're just a joke." Drunken meaningless words that stung Christopher down to his very core.

Patrick put a hand on Christopher's shoulder. "A shame to your family name, your mother is probably crying out of disappointment this very second." Christopher felt heat bubbling through his body and he lifted his hands towards his face, stopping half way. His breathing was heavy.

"SHUT UP." He shouted, twisting his upturned hands sharply and as he did with his hands, so did their heads. There was a horrible snapping noise, and blood sprayed everywhere. Hannah and Patrick fell to the ground, limp, their heads twisted backwards and their necks snapped. The blood ran pooling at Christopher’s feet, staining Patrick’s white shirt red. The others were frozen for a second and he looked up at them, his hair out of the way for the first time anyone had seen, and his eyes were like green flames, filled with rage and sudden confidence. They ran. All of them gone, screaming back to the ballpark, the ones who had been at the front were covered in blood. Christopher stood triumphantly over the bodies and he smiled for the first time since his mother had died 10 years before.

Christopher quickly walked off into the woods a little ways behind the playground, taking a shortcut through to town. Before he left the shelter of the trees he ditched his black hoodie and made sure no blood could be seen on his pants, face or hands. He strutted down the street standing straight and smiling. A store caught his eyes, just a simple tailor shop, one of the ones his father’s company owned. Christopher waltzed right up to the front desk and demanded a suit, just a simple casual suit. The man behind the counter was confused at first and had begun to ask Christopher if he had any means of paying, but then it struck the man. This boy was Christopher Marcel, unlike anyone had seen him before.

"Quickly now." Christopher demanded again sweeping his hair out of his eyes.

"Yes sir." The man scuttled off. They already had Christopher's measurements, for they were making a suit for him to wear to his brother's graduation, so it was done within ten minutes.

"Do come again Chris." The man said as he handed the bag that now had the suit within it to Christopher.

"It's Christopher." He slammed the door behind him on his way out. The feeling of talking to someone like that gave him a rush. He ducked into a small cafe and changed in their washroom, as he walked back out people gave him strange looks and he didn't care. For the first time in his life he didn't care that people were watching, he didn't care that someone was taking a picture on their cellphone. He could kill anyone of them with a flick of his wrist, and he was happy.

"CHRIST, CHRIS WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?" His father came storming down the stairs when Christopher had opened the door.

"I found myself, father." Christopher smiled looking up at his dad. "I found myself in the death of those two jerks."

His father’s steps faltered. "Chris?" Confusion was painted all over his face and he ran a hand back through his greying hair.

"Christopher, father, my name is Christopher." Christopher walked past his dad up the stairs, patting his dad on the shoulder as he passed.

"Christopher?" His dad was frozen on the stairs completed shocked at the change in his son.

Christopher was up in his room now laying on the bed laughing, he just laughed and laughed. Laughed at the look on his father's face, laughed at the people in the cafe, laughed at the tailor, and most of all he laughed at all those other teenagers who would probably need therapy for a good, long, time. He layed there and laughed for an hour or so and then he slept. Who knew killing people would tire you out so much.

Over the next few weeks Christopher's father said he was proud of Christopher about a thousand times, took Christopher with him instead of his brother onto 3 different T.V. interviews and payed off the parents of Patrick and Hannah, and threatened to police and media so the whole murder thing got dropped. Christopher had moved up the social ladder at school and now everyone was at his feet doing whatever he wanted, including most of the teachers. No one messed with him. Except one stupid kid who had been there that day following Patrick around with a camera and ended up getting the whole thing on tape and putting it on youtube. Of course that kid was never heard from again and the video was taken down, but there was enough internet attention that it was affecting business on a high enough level that Christopher's dad agreed to sending him to therapy to get the public off their backs. Christopher didn't protest and smiled and waved at the cameras as they drove off to the nearest, cheapest form of therapy, at a cheesy little place called "WALTER'S HAPPY CHILDREN'S HOUSE!"

#west's words #original fiction #ya fiction #writers on tumblr #fantasy #TSKS #final kid #now on to the story :)#again please tell me if you're liking this #or even just reading it #give it a like or something and I'll be overjoyed

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