The Misfit (Non Green Day Story), chapter 2
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Cold. A cold wind whipped across my face as I sat in a dirty alleyway. Pain, again. Not from the cold, not physical pain, but the pain to know that I never knew my real parents. The people back there, the strangers back there were imitations... also known as adopters. It was a bit too obvious really, they all have blonde hair, blue eyes, and I have black hair, green eyes. They gave, I stole.
They are good Christians; I'm a bad punk, a bad influence. Karen, my mother; a drug induced prostitute, my father, unknown, a one night stand, how he looked, spoke and thought I didn't know. Heck, I didn't know if he was alive or dead. Well, that was the information about my real family that those Christians told me when I was legally their adopted son. I knelt down on my knees and sobbed. Poured my heart out, over the ones I could never love, and the ones that could never love me.
Sun shone bright in my eyes. I arose from the gravel I had been lying in.
"Ouch!" I breathed, my whole left side was sore from the hard ground.
I was so hungry. I had hardly eaten anything yesterday. I needed food, but I had no money. There was one solution that I knew I was best at- stealing.
I walked towards the local supermarket. It was busy, like usual. What do you expect? It's Wall Mart. Well, all the better for me, I have less chance of being caught, not that I ever did get caught anyway. I walked slowly around the huge store keeping my head low, my profile down.
I made my way to the nearest food aisle and grabbed whatever I could and shoved it into my bag. My eyes scanned the store to make sure no one was watching. Everyone was far too busy looking at the products on sale and telling their kids to
'Shut your mouth before I slap ya summit bad.'
I sneaked out of Wall Mart unseen, unheard of. That was just too easy. I soon found a park bench to sit on and eat some of this food. It may be cheap, but it sure tasted a whole lot better than that tripe my so called 'mum' fed me.
I peered down at my winnings... a bunch of grapes, tin of beans, finger rolls and a pint of milk.
Great. I was too busy making sure I wasn't getting caught to take much notice of what I was stealing. The beans were out of it already... if only I had stolen a tin opener too... but I still had the grapes, rolls and milk, it'll keep me going I guess. I ripped open the plastic packaging and ate my fill, save the rest for later; I'm going to need it. I had decided while I was filling up, that in order to start my life once again, a new, fresh background I'd have to leave town. I'd be leaving my family and my friends. I stopped for a minute. Would I miss them? Nah, they hated me anyway, the ungrateful low-lives. With that, I rose from the green, wooden bench and made my way to the train station.
I heard the shrill of the guards whistle. It reminded me of the shrill voice of my fake mum. The train was preparing to leave, and I was aboard. I had snucked in when the guard had his back turned and now I was hiding behind some suitcases waiting for the guy with the tickets that walked around aimlessly selling tickets to you and constantly running out of change. I saw his sluggish posture walk past. He had ginger hair and was very fat and short, a bit like an orang-utan, I sniggered at the thought and kicked myself when he turned around for almost giving myself in. I held my breath. Eventually I saw the human orang-utan slump by once again.
Carefully, I crept into the nearest cabin and threw myself down onto the cushioned seat, allowing the seat to pull me into its torso. I had no idea where or who I was sitting next to, and what they had thought of me as I threw myself onto the passenger seat next to them, breathing heavily. I glanced up to see a man in his thirties with a rugged face, black, spiky hair and dazzling green eyes looking back down at me. I averted my gaze quickly and peered down at the chewing gum-ridden floor. He gave a slight smile and suddenly said,
"What's your name, son?"
"R...Ray," I stammered.
This stranger was talking to me. I looked up at him again, and smiled. I liked him. I don't know why, but I did. There was something about him that made me feel happy, made me feel wanted, made me feel loved. There was a few second silence.
The rugged man continued to half smile and he stared up, out of the window to the grey sky now beginning to turn blue towards the direction we were heading. He opened his mouth to speak again, this time; he had tears in his eyes. They weren't very noticeable, but there was a definite shine to his eyes, almost like they had been glossed over. He gulped, and finally asked,
"By any chance, is your mother called Karen?"
They are good Christians; I'm a bad punk, a bad influence. Karen, my mother; a drug induced prostitute, my father, unknown, a one night stand, how he looked, spoke and thought I didn't know. Heck, I didn't know if he was alive or dead. Well, that was the information about my real family that those Christians told me when I was legally their adopted son. I knelt down on my knees and sobbed. Poured my heart out, over the ones I could never love, and the ones that could never love me.
Sun shone bright in my eyes. I arose from the gravel I had been lying in.
"Ouch!" I breathed, my whole left side was sore from the hard ground.
I was so hungry. I had hardly eaten anything yesterday. I needed food, but I had no money. There was one solution that I knew I was best at- stealing.
I walked towards the local supermarket. It was busy, like usual. What do you expect? It's Wall Mart. Well, all the better for me, I have less chance of being caught, not that I ever did get caught anyway. I walked slowly around the huge store keeping my head low, my profile down.
I made my way to the nearest food aisle and grabbed whatever I could and shoved it into my bag. My eyes scanned the store to make sure no one was watching. Everyone was far too busy looking at the products on sale and telling their kids to
'Shut your mouth before I slap ya summit bad.'
I sneaked out of Wall Mart unseen, unheard of. That was just too easy. I soon found a park bench to sit on and eat some of this food. It may be cheap, but it sure tasted a whole lot better than that tripe my so called 'mum' fed me.
I peered down at my winnings... a bunch of grapes, tin of beans, finger rolls and a pint of milk.
Great. I was too busy making sure I wasn't getting caught to take much notice of what I was stealing. The beans were out of it already... if only I had stolen a tin opener too... but I still had the grapes, rolls and milk, it'll keep me going I guess. I ripped open the plastic packaging and ate my fill, save the rest for later; I'm going to need it. I had decided while I was filling up, that in order to start my life once again, a new, fresh background I'd have to leave town. I'd be leaving my family and my friends. I stopped for a minute. Would I miss them? Nah, they hated me anyway, the ungrateful low-lives. With that, I rose from the green, wooden bench and made my way to the train station.
I heard the shrill of the guards whistle. It reminded me of the shrill voice of my fake mum. The train was preparing to leave, and I was aboard. I had snucked in when the guard had his back turned and now I was hiding behind some suitcases waiting for the guy with the tickets that walked around aimlessly selling tickets to you and constantly running out of change. I saw his sluggish posture walk past. He had ginger hair and was very fat and short, a bit like an orang-utan, I sniggered at the thought and kicked myself when he turned around for almost giving myself in. I held my breath. Eventually I saw the human orang-utan slump by once again.
Carefully, I crept into the nearest cabin and threw myself down onto the cushioned seat, allowing the seat to pull me into its torso. I had no idea where or who I was sitting next to, and what they had thought of me as I threw myself onto the passenger seat next to them, breathing heavily. I glanced up to see a man in his thirties with a rugged face, black, spiky hair and dazzling green eyes looking back down at me. I averted my gaze quickly and peered down at the chewing gum-ridden floor. He gave a slight smile and suddenly said,
"What's your name, son?"
"R...Ray," I stammered.
This stranger was talking to me. I looked up at him again, and smiled. I liked him. I don't know why, but I did. There was something about him that made me feel happy, made me feel wanted, made me feel loved. There was a few second silence.
The rugged man continued to half smile and he stared up, out of the window to the grey sky now beginning to turn blue towards the direction we were heading. He opened his mouth to speak again, this time; he had tears in his eyes. They weren't very noticeable, but there was a definite shine to his eyes, almost like they had been glossed over. He gulped, and finally asked,
"By any chance, is your mother called Karen?"
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