Chapter One

Chapter One

I watched the hands of the clock move in a steady rhythm. They were counting down,

stealing the time that I so greatly valued. There were three minutes and twenty-seven

seconds until school was out; then we would get on the buses and make our way home.

I dreaded the school bell. I would rather stay in that lonely hellhole than go home.

My name is Ezekiel Morgan.

I am seventeen and in my junior year of high school.

I don't have many friends. Most of the kids think I'm weird and the ones who

accept me for who I am end up backstabbing me. Any one who has been in

high school would understand how I feel. Trying to please these ruthless,

fickle teenagers is as futile an effort as trying to chase the clouds. About

halfway through freshman year, I shifted my focus from gaining friends to

earning grades. As a result, I gained the respect of all my teachers, (Which is

far more valuable than the ‘love’ of teenagers.)

I like all of my teachers, but I undoubtedly favor my english and history

teacher, Mr. Elijah Eragon.

An odd name for an odd man.

The bell rang before I could put any more words down. The entire classroom turned to

chaos. People sprang up from their desks, papers flying everywhere. The yelling could

probably be heard from the street.

I stayed in my seat until the classroom was empty. I wasn't even going to attempt to

push my way through the crowd. I carefully placed my papers in my folder and strode

casually through the door. Mr. Eragon sighed at the sight. It was Friday, so he must

have been more than excited to leave. The smile on his face said so.

“Have a good weekend, Ezekiel.” Mr. Eragon said.

I stopped in the doorway and looked at him.

“Are you going straight home?” I asked.

The keys in his hand led me to believe he was.

“Yes. No way would I stay here on a Friday! I can take my work home.”

He twirled the keys in his hand and locked the classroom door behind us.

The hallway was still and some-what crowded, but I managed to keep up with him as he

made his way out. We walked silently until we got out to the buses.

“See you tomorrow.” He said.

I nodded and got onto my bus. I walked to the very back of the vehicle and sat in the

single seated section. I put in my headphones to muffle the sound of the ride.

The words of the song played on repeat in my head.

“There’s truth in your lies, doubt in your faith. All I've got’s what you didn't take.

But I wont be the one to leave this in pieces. You will be alone with all your secrets and

regrets.”

Words from Linkin Park that described my idea of life.

The wind blew through my hair, making me feel like some type of bikini model, or

something.

My hair was unusually long for a guy my age.

What can I say? Im not a usual person.

I’m known here at school as the ‘emo kid’ because of my long hair and piercings

-Which I did myself.

The bus stopped in front of my house. It’s a pitiful excuse for a living space.

It’s old and run down, the door doesn't have a handle anymore, (leaving us susceptible

to burglary) and the pipes are full of leaks. It doesn't help that my dad is a complete

loser. He doesn't do anything to fix it up, he let the house get to the way it is. I walked in.

I cringed as the door let out a loud creak. I knew it would come before it even

happened. Dads voice pierced through the air.

“BOY! GET YOUR A*S IN HERE!”

I turned the corner and saw him sitting there with a bottle of beer in his hand.

There were about seven empty bottles on the floor, which means he’s hammered by

now. I knew what that meant for me. He spoke as best he could without slurring his

words.

“What took ya’ so long? I thought I tell ya’ to come right home after school!”

I could feel my legs start to tremble.

“I did, Dad. I got on the bus and came straight…”

He threw the bottle at my head angrily. I ducked as fast as I could, but a piece of it cut

my forehead as it shattered against the wall behind me. I clutched at the open wound,

trying to stop the bleeding.

“DONT’CHA LIE TO ME BOY! WERE YOU DOING DRUGS AGAIN? IS THAT WHY

YOU'VE BEEN GONE SO MUCH?” He yelled.

“N-no Dad. I swear, I’ve been staying after to get help with my schoolwork…”

He laughed.

“course ya’ need help. You always been a good for nothin’ p***y…”

He took another swig of his beverage and flashed a toothy grin.

There was a moment of silence before he returned to his lethargic state.

“Git’ outta my sight…You disgust me.”

I stumbled into my room and huddled in a corner. The blood from my head was starting

to drip onto the floor. I wanted to go to the bathroom to clean the cut, but I was too

afraid of running into father. I tried using a bedsheets to stop the bleeding, but the more

I wiped it the more it bled. I eventually gave up. After about five minutes, it stopped on

its own. I lied down on my bed and waited for tomorrow to come.

My dad was an angry drunk and you'd be lucky to find him sober at any point in the day.

He’s been that way since my mom died in a car accident fourteen years ago.

He blames her death on me. I was sick that day, and she was going out to get medicine

for my fever. She was only minutes away from getting home when a semi truck hit her

head on, killing her on impact. My dad said that if I would've took better care of myself, I

wouldn't have gotten sick. Then, mom wouldn't have died.

I know its not my fault, but sometimes I can’t help but feeling that everything would be

better for him if I never would have been born.

I spend most of my time away from home. I stay after school, I go to friend’s houses, I’m

trying to find a job…Anything to get away from here.

The next morning, I got to school earlier than usual. If students get here before school

starts, the teachers usually force us to go into the cafeteria. I was an exception.

Mr. Eragon knew that I’m a writer and that it’s difficult to focus in a noisy lunchroom,

so he let me stay in his room with him until my first class.

I sat in the desk closest to him and worked furiously on my novel.

I had been writing it for nearly two years, and the longer I wrote, the better it got.

I was so engrossed in my book that I barely noticed Mr. Eragon peering over my

shoulder.

“How’s it coming?” He asked. I shrugged.

“Its ok. Im having a hard time with this part though.”

He grabbed his chair and scooted it next to mine dramatically.

“What do you need help with?”

I pulled out a drawing of my main character, Coal Manor, and pointed to it.

“He was captured by his evil father, the king. He's tortured everyday and has no way of

escape. Should he keep waiting for someone to save him…” I picked up the pencil and

began to draw. “Or should he just give up?” I lifted my hand to reveal a lead noose

embracing Coal’s neck. Mr. Eragon looked slightly concerned, but he didn't probe me as

to why I thought of that as a solution for the story. He stroked his beard in thought.

“Well, If he were commit suicide, wouldn't that mean that his father won?”

“What do you mean?” I asked. He shifted around to get comfortable in his chair.

“There are only two reasons for torture; Manipulating a threat, or punishment.

Either way, the father is trying to be dominant over him. If Coal lets himself sink into

despair, his father wins.” He took the pencil out of my hand, erased the noose and drew.

“If I were in Coals situation, I would wait it out and try to make the best of whatever

comes. Whether its freedom, or death, salvation will eventually come.”

I looked down at Coal. An intricately drawn smile was etched into his face.

Just then, the school bell rang. I got up and grabbed my things.

Mr. Eragon stopped me as I was walking out.

“Ezekiel, I'm always here if you need someone to talk to. You don't have to go through

anything alone.”

I nodded. “I know. see you later, Mr. Eragon.”

He had always said things like that to me. If anything, he cared more about me than

anyone else in the school. I was still slightly hesitant to open up to him though. I was

hesitant to talk to anyone. Any time I start talking about my true feelings, people leave.

I don’t want him to leave.

I walked to my math class as fast as I could so that I wouldn't be tardy.

“Hey man!” My buddy, Nick yelled over the crowd. He ran over to me and patted me on

the back. “So, you're hanging out with that teacher again?” He said almost accusingly.

“You know, some of the kids are starting to talk…They think that you and him have a

weird teacher-on-student thing going on (If you know what I mean).” He said jokingly.

“Just because your a*****e friends say something about me, it doesn't make it true.”

He clutched his heart with an overly-exaggerated expression of pain on his face.

“Man! That hurt!” He smiled. “Seriously though, you need to stop talking to the teachers

so much, its weird.”

I shrugged. “You can think what you like. At least they don't talk bad about me behind

my back.”

“True…aw man! What’s that cut on your face?”

My hand immediately went up to cover the mark.

“Its nothing.” I walked faster to get away from him, but he slammed his hand up against

the locker between me and my class.

“Did your dad do that to you?” He asked angrily.

I looked down at the floor, unable to respond. He shook his head in frustration.

“This has got to stop.” He grabbed my arm. “You and I are going to the office, and we’re

going to talk to the principal about getting you out of there…”

I pulled myself from his grasp. “No!”

He looked confused. “Why not?”

“I just…I don't want to.”

“Zeke, if we don't do something now, its only going to get worse.”

“No!” I said as I stormed off to my class. Nick finally gave in and walked to his class, but

he said that we were going to talk about it later. We never did. I ignored him the rest of

the day just because I knew he’d bring it up.

I tried to get help before. Ive tried calling Child Protective Services but they never came,

and the times that they did, they said that my father, ‘wasn't a threat to my safety’.

It was bullshit. Complete, utter, bullshit.

There was this one time in the fourth grade where my teacher saw the bruises on my

arm. She tried to call someone, but when they came, my dad (Somehow sober at the

time) said that I was a “selfish brat” and that I had bruised myself to get back at him for

not buying me a video game. Somehow, the CPS bought it! Since then, they never take

any of my calls seriously. I wanted to run away, but I knew that if I did, I probably

wouldn't survive more than a week on my own.

If I had a place to go, and someone who could provide me with food…then I could

leave. Until then, I was stuck.

I thought about it until passing time. Thats when my day got even worse.

I was so busy thinking that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, and ran into

the school jock, Brandon. He started yelling at me and puffing out his chest

intimidatingly. I tried to get away from him, hoping he would just leave me alone.

I thought that he would retaliate like all the others did and talk s**t behind my back.

I thought wrong. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pinned me up against the

lockers. I tried to break free, but I couldn’t. I flew into a panic and started shaking.

Brandon laughed, “Whats wrong, f****t?” He started talking in a childish voice.

“Does some one want his mommy?”

I couldn't take it anymore. I swung at him, hoping I wouldn't miss.

I sucker-punched him straight in the nose and he started bleeding.

My moment of victory only lasted a couple seconds, then Brandon regained his

momentarily lost consciousness. His eyes burnt into me like boiling lava.

“Why, you little..”

I ran and made it to my classroom as fast as I could.

It was my final class of the day, english with Mr. Eragon.

I ran in the room and shut the door behind me. I grabbed the handle and tried to keep it

from opening despite the three people on the other end trying to smash it in.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and saw Mr. Eragon with the scariest look I had

ever seen. “Get in your seat. I’ll deal with them.” He said slowly, trying to keep from

erupting. He opened the door. Brandon tried to get in, but Mr. Eragon blocked the door

with his hand.

“Let me through!” Brandon yelled.

The entire class grew silent as they waited for Eragon’s response.

“No. If you want to cause trouble, then go ahead and start trouble, but you are not

bringing it into my classroom.” He said as calmly as he could muster.

Brandon stood there for a moment, trying to determine his next move.

He must have decided that I wasn't worth the risk of being sent home, because he left

and went to class. The kids in my hour seemed disappointed. They were probably

hoping there would be a fight. My heart was pounding in my chest from adrenaline.

Mr. Eragon was still upset, but he tried to mask it and sat down in his seat.

“Okay, class. Get out your assignment from yesterday and keep working on it. Its due

before you leave.”

Some of the kids started to work, but most of them were just talking and wasting time.

Once everyone’s focus had shifted away from me, Mr. Eragon gestured for me to come

to his desk. I walked over silently, trying not to make eye contact with the students.

“Stay after class today. I have something I need to talk to you about.” He said in a

whisper. “I don't know if I can…”

“Please try. It’s important.”

“Ok…”

It took a long time for school to end, but eventually the bell rang like the day before.

I sat in my seat and waited for the people to leave. Once the last kid walked through the

door, Mr. Eragon shut the door and locked it from the inside. He came over to me with a

grave look on his face. I wondered what he was about to say.

“You need to get out of that house.”

I was shocked. “What do you mean?”

“I know what’s been going on, Ezekiel. It’s not hard to tell. You come to school everyday

with bruises and cuts just out of sight.”

I clutched my face. I wanted to object, but there wasn't anything I could say in my

fathers defense that wasn't a lie.

“You’re seventeen, correct?” I nodded my head.

“By law, you can legally move out if you have a safe place to stay. Do you have friends

or family that can house you?”

I shook my head. He sounded distraught.

“I don't like the idea of having to stay there any longer. It’s not safe.”

“I’m sorry. I don't have anywhere else to go.” I said honestly.

He sat down in his chair and started to think.

“Well, think about places that you could stay. Talk to friends, maybe they could help you.

And if your dad tries to make a case in court about you leaving, I will testify for you.”

“You don't have to…”

“But I will if it comes to that.”

I nodded. Mr. Eragon has always cared about me as a student, but I didn't know he

would go to such great lengths for me.

I walked out to the buses. Right after I exited the front door of the school, the bus shut

it’s doors and left without me. I only had one option left. I had to walk home.

Last time I walked it took me twenty minutes compared to the ten it took on the bus.

I started running because I knew if I was more than a second late getting home, there

would be consequences. I was sweating bullets by the time I got there. I opened the

door hastily and rushed in. My dad stood in front of me, his fists clenched and his

expression mimicking that of a devil.

“Boy! What’d I tell ya’ about bein’ late!”

I knew right then and there that I was doomed. He grabbed his leather belt from of the

couch and staggered towards me. I knew that in his state, he wouldn't be able to hit

accurately. The problem was that while his aim was off, his strength was unwavering.

I tried to back away slowly.

“Dad, stop. You’re just drunk again…”

He ran towards me with the belt raised above his head like a whip. I ran to my room as

fast as I could and tried to barricade the entrance. He rammed into the door, causing it

to split in two, and forced his way in. Then I tried to jump out of the window.

Maybe I could get out and run to Nick’s house. Before I could open the window, he

grabbed me by the leg and threw me facedown on the bed like a doll.

I wanted to scream for help, but no one would have come to my rescue anyway.

The first blow hit my legs like the crack of a whip. Searing pain shot through my spinal

cord and registered vividly in my brain. I tried to cover my body with my arms, but it only

put them in harms way. After what seemed like an eternity of torture, he started wearing

down. There were a couple moments of peace. The only sounds that could be heard

were my fathers heavy breathing and my body trembling in pain. I shakily tried to get up,

thinking it was over, when something struck the back of my head. I fell on the ground,

slowly losing consciousness.

I heard my dad mumbling before I completely blacked out.

“P***y-boy cant even fight back. What a waste.”

I only saw black. I couldn't move. I couldn't feel anything.

Was this it? Had I finally died? There was nothing but relief. Relief and hollowness.

It started as a soft background noise, then it grew louder, and louder.

The ringing filled my ears and caused me to grimace in pain.

I jolted forward and nearly hit my head on the bedpost.

It was only a dream. I was still alive, still damned to suffer.

My entire body ached, and shooting pain resided in the back of my head where I had

been hit. I put my hand where it hurt, and it came back covered in dry, crusted blood.

I groaned and slipped into a different shirt. I couldn't go to school wearing blood-stained

clothes. I glanced over at the clock as I pulled the collar of my shirt over my chin.

I nearly s**t myself. There were two minutes until my bus got to its stop. I ran out and

got to the street corner just as it pulled up. I walked to the first open seat and plopped

down hastily. I fell asleep a couple times, but I officially woke up when we got to the

school. I walked to Mr. Eragon’s classroom as fast as I could without falling. He wasn't

in his classroom, but the door was open. So, I sat down in my usual desk and laid my

head down. More than anything, I wanted relief from the injuries that plagued me.

I heard footsteps as he entered the room.

“Are you okay, Ezekiel?” He asked.

I nodded my head, but as I lifted it, Mr. Eragon looked terrified.

“Dear Lord, what did he do to you?”

I didn't respond at first. I hadn't thought the bruises were in eyesight, but the disgust on

his face proved me wrong.

“He beat me…” I said. “He beat me because I got home late.”

He sucked in apprehensively and pity flooded his eyes. After a long moment of silence,

his sympathy was overtaken by determination.

“Meet me after school. You are never going back to that house again!”

I looked at him like he was crazy.

“What are you talking about? Where will I go?”

“I have plenty of room in my house, you can stay there for as long as you need…”

I thought about what he said carefully.

“Wait…Isn’t it illegal for a student to reside with their teacher?”

“Only if they are under seventeen, or if there are sexual activities going on,

-Which there wont be. Its typically frowned upon, but I can’t take this anymore!

It’s sickening what he does to you!”

I didn't know what to do. He was the person I trusted the most in my life, but I didn't

know if I liked the thought of living together. What kind of person would possibly ruin

their reputation for a student they had only known for a couple years?

He pointed to my folder.

“When you write about Coal, you’re writing about yourself aren't you?”

I slightly nodded. He pulled out the picture from the folder and placed it in front of me.

“Coal…Zeke, is looking for a way out…This is it. This is the salvation you’ve been

looking for. It’s your choice whether you embrace it, or push it away. But if you end your

life story the way you planned to end Coals, I would never be able to forgive myself.”

His words, drenched in emotion, flooded my heart.

“Fine. Where do you want me to meet you?”