I felt like doing some stories about my alter ego's. These are inspired by several MSN chats with Damien, Jo, Sonolan, Shadow, Kips, Puppet, and Chrissy. So cheers dudes.

This first installment is about Mark. He wasn't my first alter ego to get a name, but I feel like he is the most important one at the moment, because of something's in my life that have brought him to the surface. This is his story about why he is like he is, and how he came to be with the rest of us.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tippex, A-levels, or useless registers that won't send, N*Sync, Blue, or Elijah Wood. I do own all the characters mentioned in this story. Yes they are all mine. Especially Mark and Jezebel. Ms. Selby is based on my philosophy teacher, Ms. Pitkethly, who is one of the greatest women to have ever walked this Earth. And no offence to Christians. If I give you guys a bad image, I don't mean to. Anyway, here's the story.


Mark's Story

Chapter one.

All of life's problems I just shake off - The Streets.

Another night locked in his room. It was becoming quite the norm lately. There wasn't much else he could do. No friends to speak of; running away was out of the question as he wouldn't be able to survive, having no money or possessions; and he didn't want to kill himself. That would just prove her right.

"You're no child of mine! I hate you! You should never have been born!"

He had long since learnt to ignore these words. They bounced off him like a rubber ball. Yet the stinging from the first time he heard them would not go away. He was loved by her once. It only changed two years ago, when she became depressed. Having dabbled in the occult, she was told by a fundamentalist Christian friend of hers that she was evil. Not knowing what to do, she decided to join the cult of her friend, and was brainwashed into believing that her son was evil. It didn't stop at that. She soon became convinced that he was the son of Satan, for the pure reason that he didn't believe what she believed. He could have taken the easy way and pretended to be one of the group. But it wasn't him. He never once thought it would get as bad as this.

Razor in hand, he added another two lines to his arm. As the blood ran, he felt a bit better. Some of the hurt went away. He put the razor down and squeezed more blood out of the cuts, thinking about the times before this all happened. Eventually he fell asleep beside the door, shivering from the cold of the room, crying.


"Don't you dare come back late! I want everything washed and cleaned before I get home! Look at you you're disgusting!" she shouted at him while they were both standing on the front porch. It was morning and Mark was late for school. His mother didn't care, as long as she got her morning started off by thinking she could rid the demons from his head. Mark was dying to get away, he couldn't be late again - he would get suspended, and that would kill him. School was his escape.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Mark looked up, "and then after that the priest will be coming round. Now go on! You're late! You evil whore!"

'Damn the priest.' Mark thought as he turned away.

Jezebel was walking passed Mark's house, late for school again, when she heard his mother screaming at him. She decided to wait for him at the end of the road so they could go to school together. She didn't know Mark, well, only from being in the same class, but they didn't talk. However, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him when she heard the torrent of abuse.

Mark walked passed her in a hurry to get to school.

"Hey!" She shouted out. He turned around to see Jezebel running towards him. "Hey, you okay?"

"What's it to do with you?"

"Well, just, I heard your mum back there, that's kinda harsh."

"Yeah well what am I supposed to do about it?"

"I. I wasn't suggesting-"

"Who are you anyway?"

"I'm Jezebel. We're in Biology and Religious Studies together." she trailed off as Mark glared at her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried into your business-"

"No you shouldn't."

"I just thought you might want some cheering up. You look like a cool kid, and no one deserves that from their mother."

"She's not my mother. She's a psychopath." He said, walking off again. Jezebel followed him, trying to keep up with his pace. "Will you stop following me?"

"I'm not following you. I take this route to school too."

Mark looked at her again, and continued walking, only slower this time so Jezebel could keep up. For once he was glad of some company.


The bell had just gone for the beginning of the lesson, and no one had arrived, save for Mark and two others. Mark used the time waiting for the rest to write up the rest of his homework. Unfortunately, the religious studies teacher, Ms. Selby, noticed this. She decided to speak to him after the lesson.

Five more students entered the class, including Jezebel. Mark looked up from his work when the door opened, and was surprised to see Jezebel smiling at him. He looked around to see if there was anyone behind him that she was smiling too. 'You sit at the back of the class you dumb fuck, of course she's smiling at you.'

"Why are you late?" Ms. Selby asked, in the voice that made you know she was annoyed, but still having fun with you.

"Sorry miss, our form tutor decided to keep us all in for a few more minutes because the register wouldn't send," explained Chis, one of the five.


"Don't ask."

The five took their places at the tables. Jezebel sat at the desk nearest to Ms Selby, next to Chis. 'Teachers pet,' Mark thought.

Ms. Selby stood up, showing her five month bump, and took out her notes from the previous lesson. "Ah, I see we have an essay due in," she said smirking at them.

"What?" Came the reply from several members of the class. Mark groaned audibly. He had done the essay, but the night before his mother found it, proclaimed it blasphemous and burned it in the living room fire. He had no energy to write it out again.

"What about you Kenna? Where's yours?" the teacher asked her. Kenna shuffled about a bit looking embarrassed, and wrote a note on her hand reminding herself to bring it in the next day. "Have you done it at least?" Kenna nodded her head.

"Mark?" Mark looked up at her. He didn't quite know what to say. He had done it, and he knew it was a good essay too. But she wasn't going to believe that he'd done it, especially not with his record of homework. As far as all his teachers were concerned he never did his work, in truth, his work was constantly confiscated by his mother, under the impression that it was evil.

"I didn't do it." He lied. He didn't want to disappoint Ms. Selby, she was his favourite teacher. Besides that she was five months pregnant. "I forgot about it. I'm sorry miss. I'll try and do it by the end of the week."

Sighing, Ms Selby looked around at her class. "Listen guys, I know you all have busy social lives and so forth, but these A-levels are some of the most important exams you're going to take. If you don't do the work, you're not going to be able to do the exam because you won't know how to answer the question's. I want to see essays from the rest of you by next lesson or, plain and simple, I won't enter you for the exam." a chorus of disbelief came from those four that did not have their work to hand. "I'm sorry but you asked for it. Next lesson. Alright? And Mark, I want to talk to you after the lesson."

'That's right, just add to the already pent up pressure inside.' He thought. He knew what these A-levels meant. These were his one way ticket into university and away from the maniac that gave birth to him.


By the end of the second period, Mark's hand had cramped up from all the extra note taking he did. He wanted to make his essay even better than before, so thought the notes would help. He packed up his books into his bag, which was covered in various slogans made with silver pen and Tippex, and swinging it over his shoulder, followed the rest of the class towards the door. 'Damn.' he thought, remembering that the teacher wanted to see him. He turned back and sat at the table opposite her desk.

"Yes miss?"

"Mark," she started, then waited until the rest of the class left the room. "How's everything going for you?"

Mark raised his eyebrows, "why?"

"For the past few lessons, you've been doing your note taking homework at the beginning of the lesson, you've never handed an essay in, let alone on time, and I don't know if you noticed but your t-shirt is inside out." She added, on a lighter note.

"No I didn't but thanks." Mark said ungratefully.

"Now can you explain this pattern to me?"

"Well it's black with-"

"Do not get smart with me young man. I mean this pattern of doing your homework in school, and having no essays."

Mark sighed, not really knowing what to tell her. He didn't want to talk about his home life. But that was the problem. "I just forget miss."

"Every time?"

He nodded, trying to keep the tears in his eyes from dropping down his cheeks. He looked down so she wouldn't notice.

"Mark. You're a very capable student. You have the potential to go very far, but you're not going to do it by, 'forgetting' to do your essays and not making notes when you're supposed to. If you're having problems, then speak to me, or the head of year, and we can help you sort them out. We could help you with your time management so you can do your work and still have free time. But you've got to do this now because the exams are not far away. We have only until next week to enter you. Think about it okay? Now put your t-shirt on the right way round."

Instead he got up, took his bag, and left the room slamming the door. Ms. Selby shook her head as he left.


"Hey!" Jezebel shouted. "What did she want to speak to you about?"

"Do you always do this?"

"Do what?" She asked him, puzzled.

"Ask people you don't know questions." Jezebel shrugged, he continued, "or just me because I'm the outcast?" He walked off without looking back at her.

'Rude.' She thought, though smiling, and walked after him.

The tears stung his eyes as he refused to let them fall. He couldn't cry now. Not in the middle of school. Not in front of anyone. Not in front of Jezebel.

"You going up the hill?"

Mark shrugged a yes.

"Cool, me too." She ran after him and took his arm. He shook her off him, not just because of the pain from the cuts, but because he wasn't used to having anyone touch him like that. "What?" she laughed.

"Why do you sit at the front of the class?" he asked her.

"I've got bad eyesight, even with glasses." she replied, grinning.

The walk up the hill to their next lesson was in silence. Jezebel figured she may as well forget about trying to talk to him, as she wouldn't get anywhere. But she still found him interesting, and from that morning, she wanted to help him. She studied him through the walk. Tall, lank black hair, very pale. A blank expression most of the time. He seemed to show no feeling. From past experience, she knew that meant he was hiding something. He didn't seem too healthy, his hair told her that. It was too thin, and had no body. His skin wasn't much good either. His eyes were glazed over, as if deep in thought. She tried taking his arm again, only more gently, and this time, he didn't shake her off. Though he did wonder what was going on.

He looked down at the short girl holding him, he was confused. He was being an arsehole to her, but she was being so nice. He'd never been in this situation before, and didn't quite know what to do. So said nothing. He didn't want to mess this up. For once someone liked him.