Chapter One:
Unpleasant Days.

If there ever was a child as morbid and morose as Colin Saird, he would have loved to meet them. Colin was a pale boy of high school age. His black hair, contrasting against his white skin, hung over his eyes, cut into points. Everyone told him he looked insane because of his hairstyle, but what did he care? Humans were impotent and worthless. Yes, he knew he was included in that too, and despised the fact. All the time Colin was mocked because of his choice of clothing, and his dark manner. He was labeled, very quickly, the school Goth. And he knew it was true. He the most part. His family was full of devoted Christians. He was hated and unaccepted by all of them. They thought him unworthy of their love, since he believed not in God.
That fateful day, Colin was walking down the halls of his school, especially depressed after his learning that there was a church youth gathering that his parents required him to go to. Colin's particular dress that day consisted of his usual color and black. Mostly black. His shirt had a black background, with incredibly realistic bloodstains on the front. He hadn't bought it that way, and his arm was still tender from the incision. His pants, again, black for the primary, had a red pentagon on each leg. They came from the same source as the stains on his shirt.
Colin stopped in front of his locker, which, for once, was not vandalized in any way, and opened it, proving himself wrong. Immediately, he was drenched in tapioca pudding. He growled, and wiped some off. He began to clean himself up, knowing the perfect point of disposal for the pudding. He saw it walking down the hall. The cheerleader. Oh, how loathed them. But, what sweet revenge this would be. Colin stopped the head cheerleader, a very bright, cheery girl named Amanda Hart. He asked if she would like a snack, and she grimaced. "I don't have a taste for blood, freak. Step off. Get the hell away from me." Colin shook his head, and smeared a huge glob of pudding from her face, all the way down to her stomach, which was uncovered, and against dress code. She screamed and ran off, the rest of her preppy gang following, acting as though they shared her agony. Colin snickered, and wiped the rest out of his locker. How they got in there, he didn't know, and didn't much care. He got his revenge, and it was perfect. Colin felt MUCH better now. But certainly not happy. No. Not happy.
He pulled his belongings out of his locker, and walked to first . ' , first period. Lucky me. I don't think I could be much merrier. You know, if I didn't need this class, I would be out of it So quickly. Hmm..maybe I still can be. What if.' Colin continued his scheming, but hurried to class none-the-less. When he reached the gym, he looked around and sneered. 'The same spiteful room where they broke my nose last year. Oh god, look at the uniforms! They ? Nuh-uh. No way. Screw 's credits, so I will withstand this freaking agony.' Colin walked into the locker room, his eyes meeting an unpleasant sight. The entire gym class stood, mooning him. He closed his eyes and walked to his locker. He knew where it was. He had a photographic memory. He reached the locker, and opened it reluctantly. Nothing fell on him, nothing poured onto him. Nothing. 'Wow. What did I do to deserve this?' Colin shrugged, and pulled out his uniform. He decided the blue didn't bother him as much as the fact that they were shorts. He never wore shorts.
Colin walked to the bathroom, choosing not to change in the locker room. In the stall, he slipped his beautifully stained shirt over his head, and rubbed at a bruise on his chest. He remembered that particular one. It was his step-dad. Colin was punched there because he refused to go to weekend or so. Colin shook the distasteful memory to the back of his head and slid his white gym shirt bearing the school logo over his head. Next dropped his jeans. A large bite mark was visible on his upper, outer thigh. His tiny little step-brother bit him there, really hard. It had nearly pierced his skin. Colin grieved over the bite not piercing, and pulled on the gym shorts, which seemed reluctant to cover the bite mark; they only just did.
Colin walked from the bathroom and onto the gym floor. Hockey nets were set up, and sticks were on the ground in neat little lines. The coach was standing against the stage, holding a puck, with many more in a bag next to him. He stepped back onto the stage as Colin came closer. "Hey kid, what do you want? You even in this class?" Colin simply nodded and walked away. The coach sighed in relief and watched the other boys, mostly, and a few girls come from their respective locker rooms. They all began to line up, and Colin followed suit, ending up being the last one in line.