The Misfit (Non Green Day Story), chapter 1
You can read new chapters of this story and post comments on Mibba.
I picked up my bag and walked away without looking back. I could still hear their voices sniggering at me. I cringed. Why? Why me? Why me of all people? God, I have great friends, don't I? This was unfair. Life was unfair.
I fell back upon my bed and stared at the ceiling. The clock blinked 7:00 pm. Great- dinner. I get to go and sit down with my wonderful family and talk about what's been going on in our lives. Nothing. Nothing that they wanted to know of. Nothing that would impress them anyway. Then, mum's shrill voice pierced the silence.
"Ray! Come down, dinner!"
Oh I couldn't contain the joy.
I slumped downstairs and stood in the archway into the kitchen. Everyone was talking, mum, dad, my brother and sister... even the dog looked somewhat happy. My sister, Jane, saw the black, spiked hair and the emerald eyes heavily underlined with kohl. She went quiet and hung her head; almost as though ashamed. Ashamed of what? Oh, me. The others followed suit, one after each other.
The room fell silent and they all stared, the dog had gone, vanished. I wasn't even worthy to a dog. I sat down. I could feel their stare weigh down on me. I stared at my dirty, old Converse, then at their clean, new, black shoes. Someone coughed, a couple shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Let's say grace," Dad swallowed, breaking the taunting silence. Everyone bowed their heads and held hands; I was the last. Hesitation. Then I took my mum and dad's hand and closed my eyes.
"Our great Lord," Dad began. "We thank thee for this meal, for this gathering, for this life."
I held my breath.
"Without thou mercy for us, let alone thou creations, we wouldn't be to worship thy great self."
Sweat dripped from my forehead. Dad continued,
"And all thou work."
Temptations, temptations to get up. Get up and leave.
"And as we bring this prayer to its end,"
Oh, God, When was THIS going to end?
"We wish for thy aid in guiding all believers of false idols, and..." he stopped mid sentence and raised his gaze upon me, his eyes burning a hole in my soul.
"And," he began again. "Lead these blind, unworthy beings to see the true light, the true path, the true life and forgive their foolish mistakes." He clenched my hand so tight I winced in pain.
"Amen," they chanted; I whispered.
He let go of my hand and I gasped and hid the crushed lump of flesh under the table. He gave me another look of disgust and tucked into his meal. So did everyone else. Like they do. Like they always do. Clones. Cloned to copy and obey.
I pushed the vegetables around the plate, I daren't breathe a word. Minutes passed, my food remained untouched. Everyone had finished, now they were waiting. Waiting for me. Jane and my other sibling, Robert, looked at their feet and swung their legs. Mum cleared her throat. Dad sat there. Sat there and allowed a huge pulsing vein to grow on his forehead. He was angry. No, he wasn't angry, he was furious.
A delicate, peachy hand fell upon the cleared, white plates and piled them upon a thin, tired arm. Mum had left the room. Cowardice. That's all it was. I glanced up at Dad, then back down at the meal. I wondered how Jane and Robert felt, then I realised they had already left the room too. More cowardice.
I thought it might be best to try eating something, at least it would make him happy, well, less to be angry about anyway. I sighed, and just as I was lifting the silver trident to my mouth, Dad slammed his fist on the table and snapped.
"What is your problem? What the heck is your problem, Ray?"
I lifted my head, trying not to make eye contact.
"You are like this at every meal, every get together. Actually, you are like this ALL the time! Why do you have to be so anti-social? You are the youngest sibling of three, why can't you be like Jane or Robert? They are perfect examples!"
I brought my tired stare level with his. I couldn't be bothered with this. Not again. Why couldn't he just shut up and leave me alone? In fact, why couldn't EVERYONE shut up and leave me alone?
"You are so difficult."
The voice was still there, picking at me, bullying me. Verbal abuse. It continued,
"You are a problem. You disgust me. You bring shame upon this family." He began to shout.
Yup, just like every other night. I continued with my stare.
"I wanted a perfect family, a family without its kinks, its mistakes, its imperfections. But there's you. You are the mistake. My image was meant to be four. Four Christians. That's all. Not four Christians and a Satanist!"
Every word sliced through me like a knife. Then, I felt a sharp, throbbing pain in my stomach; the knife must've now been stabbed and twisted in my stomach. I knew the culprit. I was staring right at him. Then, something inside me gave me a new strength because now I was standing on my feet.
"I am NOT a Satanist!" I screamed.
My breathing had increased dramatically and I was shaking all over. My fists clenched so hard I felt my nails dig into my palms. Pain. Dad glared at me.
"Black clothes, black hair, for goodness sake, even your NAILS are black!"
"I can't help it if I have black hair, it's in my genes; it's natural!"
"But you could help everything else though, couldn't you?" Dad spat.
"Oh right, now I get it, you want me to be all blonde haired and blue eyed so I can fit in with this quartet. So then it can look like the perfect family. Well I guess that makes me a misfit then, and I don't care! You can think twice if I'm going to be like YOU!"
"You are the black sheep of this family, Ray, and you always will be. You are nothing more than a piece of dirt under my shoe."
"I'm glad I was that piece of dirt then, because I was there where everyone would leave me alone and I didn't have to follow your stupid, false religion."
"Get out," growled Dad. His eyes were alight with red hot, angry flames. "Get out and go to your room."
"I'm not going to go to my room!" I screamed back. "I'm going to leave this place, once and for all!"
"You've said that many times, and not once you have! What makes you think that this time I'm going to care?"
"Because this time, I'm serious," I snarled and ran out of the kitchen, ascending the stairs to my room, my space, my world.
I gritted my teeth and stamped backwards and forwards, my fists clenched. I turned and punched the wall so hard my knuckles split and begun to bleed. Blood. It drip, drip, dripped onto the carpet. Stains. Red upon white. It was obvious. It was me.
I was the red stain that stood out of the white background, the rebel among Christians. The Misfit, me... throwing a bag onto the bed, I filled it with clean clothes, my toothbrush, lighter and a few other objects too. I had no choice but to get away. Get away from all this. They'd be better off without me and anyway, I said I was serious, and I was, I knew it. It was gut instinct. Without hesitation I clambered out of my bedroom window, down the oak tree and disappeared into the night.
I fell back upon my bed and stared at the ceiling. The clock blinked 7:00 pm. Great- dinner. I get to go and sit down with my wonderful family and talk about what's been going on in our lives. Nothing. Nothing that they wanted to know of. Nothing that would impress them anyway. Then, mum's shrill voice pierced the silence.
"Ray! Come down, dinner!"
Oh I couldn't contain the joy.
I slumped downstairs and stood in the archway into the kitchen. Everyone was talking, mum, dad, my brother and sister... even the dog looked somewhat happy. My sister, Jane, saw the black, spiked hair and the emerald eyes heavily underlined with kohl. She went quiet and hung her head; almost as though ashamed. Ashamed of what? Oh, me. The others followed suit, one after each other.
The room fell silent and they all stared, the dog had gone, vanished. I wasn't even worthy to a dog. I sat down. I could feel their stare weigh down on me. I stared at my dirty, old Converse, then at their clean, new, black shoes. Someone coughed, a couple shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Let's say grace," Dad swallowed, breaking the taunting silence. Everyone bowed their heads and held hands; I was the last. Hesitation. Then I took my mum and dad's hand and closed my eyes.
"Our great Lord," Dad began. "We thank thee for this meal, for this gathering, for this life."
I held my breath.
"Without thou mercy for us, let alone thou creations, we wouldn't be to worship thy great self."
Sweat dripped from my forehead. Dad continued,
"And all thou work."
Temptations, temptations to get up. Get up and leave.
"And as we bring this prayer to its end,"
Oh, God, When was THIS going to end?
"We wish for thy aid in guiding all believers of false idols, and..." he stopped mid sentence and raised his gaze upon me, his eyes burning a hole in my soul.
"And," he began again. "Lead these blind, unworthy beings to see the true light, the true path, the true life and forgive their foolish mistakes." He clenched my hand so tight I winced in pain.
"Amen," they chanted; I whispered.
He let go of my hand and I gasped and hid the crushed lump of flesh under the table. He gave me another look of disgust and tucked into his meal. So did everyone else. Like they do. Like they always do. Clones. Cloned to copy and obey.
I pushed the vegetables around the plate, I daren't breathe a word. Minutes passed, my food remained untouched. Everyone had finished, now they were waiting. Waiting for me. Jane and my other sibling, Robert, looked at their feet and swung their legs. Mum cleared her throat. Dad sat there. Sat there and allowed a huge pulsing vein to grow on his forehead. He was angry. No, he wasn't angry, he was furious.
A delicate, peachy hand fell upon the cleared, white plates and piled them upon a thin, tired arm. Mum had left the room. Cowardice. That's all it was. I glanced up at Dad, then back down at the meal. I wondered how Jane and Robert felt, then I realised they had already left the room too. More cowardice.
I thought it might be best to try eating something, at least it would make him happy, well, less to be angry about anyway. I sighed, and just as I was lifting the silver trident to my mouth, Dad slammed his fist on the table and snapped.
"What is your problem? What the heck is your problem, Ray?"
I lifted my head, trying not to make eye contact.
"You are like this at every meal, every get together. Actually, you are like this ALL the time! Why do you have to be so anti-social? You are the youngest sibling of three, why can't you be like Jane or Robert? They are perfect examples!"
I brought my tired stare level with his. I couldn't be bothered with this. Not again. Why couldn't he just shut up and leave me alone? In fact, why couldn't EVERYONE shut up and leave me alone?
"You are so difficult."
The voice was still there, picking at me, bullying me. Verbal abuse. It continued,
"You are a problem. You disgust me. You bring shame upon this family." He began to shout.
Yup, just like every other night. I continued with my stare.
"I wanted a perfect family, a family without its kinks, its mistakes, its imperfections. But there's you. You are the mistake. My image was meant to be four. Four Christians. That's all. Not four Christians and a Satanist!"
Every word sliced through me like a knife. Then, I felt a sharp, throbbing pain in my stomach; the knife must've now been stabbed and twisted in my stomach. I knew the culprit. I was staring right at him. Then, something inside me gave me a new strength because now I was standing on my feet.
"I am NOT a Satanist!" I screamed.
My breathing had increased dramatically and I was shaking all over. My fists clenched so hard I felt my nails dig into my palms. Pain. Dad glared at me.
"Black clothes, black hair, for goodness sake, even your NAILS are black!"
"I can't help it if I have black hair, it's in my genes; it's natural!"
"But you could help everything else though, couldn't you?" Dad spat.
"Oh right, now I get it, you want me to be all blonde haired and blue eyed so I can fit in with this quartet. So then it can look like the perfect family. Well I guess that makes me a misfit then, and I don't care! You can think twice if I'm going to be like YOU!"
"You are the black sheep of this family, Ray, and you always will be. You are nothing more than a piece of dirt under my shoe."
"I'm glad I was that piece of dirt then, because I was there where everyone would leave me alone and I didn't have to follow your stupid, false religion."
"Get out," growled Dad. His eyes were alight with red hot, angry flames. "Get out and go to your room."
"I'm not going to go to my room!" I screamed back. "I'm going to leave this place, once and for all!"
"You've said that many times, and not once you have! What makes you think that this time I'm going to care?"
"Because this time, I'm serious," I snarled and ran out of the kitchen, ascending the stairs to my room, my space, my world.
I gritted my teeth and stamped backwards and forwards, my fists clenched. I turned and punched the wall so hard my knuckles split and begun to bleed. Blood. It drip, drip, dripped onto the carpet. Stains. Red upon white. It was obvious. It was me.
I was the red stain that stood out of the white background, the rebel among Christians. The Misfit, me... throwing a bag onto the bed, I filled it with clean clothes, my toothbrush, lighter and a few other objects too. I had no choice but to get away. Get away from all this. They'd be better off without me and anyway, I said I was serious, and I was, I knew it. It was gut instinct. Without hesitation I clambered out of my bedroom window, down the oak tree and disappeared into the night.
Page 1/2 | Next
