Prologue

  I’m not like the other guys.

  I don’t chase after girls all the time, I don’t like playing football and I’ve never tried smoking a cigarette. I’m different, I always have been. I think it started back in first grade, when I found out that the boys in my class were just not like me. I felt weird and awkward, but at the time I didn’t know there was something wrong with me. 

  That changed when I transferred to a new school in Manchester. It’s an all boys grammar school and let’s just say that that wasn’t the best decision my parents have ever made. I’ve experienced bullying before, but this was worse. The guys in my year or even older ones would take my stuff and throw it out of the window or wait for me in front of school and then just beat the shit out of me. I was also in kind of a big disadvantage since I transferred there in the beginning of the year 9 after my parents noticed I was getting bullied in my old school. They thought they were saving me from all the trouble, but they had no idea that’s not how it works. Not really.

  It was terrible. I had no friends there and the older guys there were very mean and toxic. I had to adjust. It was hard, but people like me don’t really have a choice in these kinds of things.

  A few months after I transferred to Westside grammar my parents told me they haven’t been happy in their relationship for quite a while now and they need a change. I had no idea how to feel about that or what to say but I could see that they weren’t really lying.

  My dad would always stay at work late and when he came back home he would just go to the garage and work on his motorbikes. He loves repairing them and them selling them as new products. It usually takes him about three to four months to repair one but he says it’s “worth the hype”. 

  My mum on the other hand quit her job and stayed home for at least five months. She worked in the garden, learned some new meals and stuff like that. But they were just no longer together. Dad started sleeping in my brother’s empty room and whenever it was time for dinner one of them brought it to the tv and sat on the sofa just to avoid the other one’s presence.

  I’ve tried to hide my emotions but dad always noticed when something was bothering me. He’d tell me to come in his study and tell him what was on my mind all of the time. And he was really good at it. My dad is a therapist and runs his own consulting room on the edge of town. But it’s right what they say, when your therapist is your dad it doesn’t work as good as if it was a person you have no relationship with.

  Later during my first year at Westside my parents had a big argument about the house. My mum said the presence of him discusts her and she cannot work, eat or sleep knowing he’s in the house. My dad on the other hand didn’t say almost anything and when she stopped screaming, he walked up to her, took her hand and hugged her gently, as if they weren’t even touching. It was so weird for me to watch since the last time I saw them really touch was probably a few long years back. What was especially odd was that mum let him touch her. She didn’t say anything and just stood there in shock.

  ,,I’m sorry.” He said after a few seconds of hugging her. 

And that was the last time I saw them talk. The next day my dad said he was leaving to find himself a new place to live and then left with the words of how it's best for everyone and how much he loves me.

  I was devastated. I felt as if my whole world was burning down, as if my life was falling apart right in front of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  My situation at school wasn’t getting any better and my mum started to be really toxic and strict to me. I was never a bad child, my school records were above average and I would do most of my homework most of the time. But after dad left, it was as if she felt some kind of stronger responsibility and had to pay unnecessarily more attention to me and my work.

  And so she started arguing with me too. I didn’t blame her, I could see how exhausted she was and so I did almost all the things she asked me to do. But as it sometimes is, with time she became a lot worse and eventually she wouldn’t even let me go out with the few real friends I had saying I still had work to do and things like that. 

  And as much as I was trying to keep my temper, one day I just couldn’t anymore. 

  It happened one day in March, I think it was Tuesday. I had just came home from school and entered my room, totally exhausted and ready to sleep until the day I would die.

  At that moment my mom came in, didn’t even bother to knock, and gave me a really strange look. She started telling me all the things I forgot to do during the weekend and how I should work on my grades because my results just weren’t enough.

  Normally I would try and stay calm, but that day was never meant to be normal. I snapped. I lost it. I finally lost it. I started yelling at her saying that I’ve had enough of this bullshit and how I hated her for all the things she made me do against my will. I remember her face changed quickly and she looked me in the eyes with disappointment. But that didn’t stop me.     I started saying how dad left only because of her and how it all hurt me. How she didn’t give a shit about my mental health and condition and how she made everything so much worse. 

  I fucked up. I really did this time. She started crying and saying how sorry she was but I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t. Not after all the things that happened, not after how she hurt me. I simply told her that I need to leave the house for a few days and clear my head a bit. I explained how it would be better for the both of us and how we both need a few days to cool off in order to function again.

  She didn’t say anything. She just stared at me, her eyes slowly filling with tears. I got up, picked up my school bag, put some of my clothes inside including my phone and some money I saved up and walked all the way to the door. When I was in the doorway, I stopped.  I didn’t turn around, but I froze. Then I dropped the bag and looked back at her. And as much as I wanted to just go and finally have some time for myself, I couldn’t just leave her there. I took a deep breath and started walking back to her. It only took me two steps, really. 

  When I got to her, I put my arms around her instantly. I didn’t know what to do, but this felt like the rightest thing to do in the moment.

  She didn’t move at first, so I hugged her with my whole body and placed my hand on her upper back, showing her that I care. Then she finally took the signal and hugged me back. After a while I finally let her go of my grip and walked back to the door. And then I turned around for the last time. 

  I saw her there, standing in the middle of my teenage looking bedroom, I saw her short dark hair and big green eyes still filled with tears. I saw her small body thinner than ever, her oversized cardigan thrown over a brown sweater and her grey sweatpants. I noticed she was wearing her warm socks and grandpa’s watch on her left wrist. She looked older than I could remember and as slim as if she could crumble if I squeezed her even a little tighter. She looked as if she wasn’t her own self. What I saw, the woman I was looking at, standing in the middle of my teenage looking bedroom, I didn’t know her. She was someone I once knew, but she wasn’t my mother.

  It took me at least twenty minutes to get to my dad’s new place. He moved into a small house on the edge of Manchester so it wasn’t very far away from us. I knew this wasn’t my new home and I was okay with that, but I felt like I needed a change and also I haven’t seen him in a month now so I was really happy to go there. 

  When I found the street that he lived in, I called him to ask if I could come. Fortunately I know for sure he’d never let me down or do anything to really hurt me so when he said he’d be more than happy to welcome me in his house, I started walking even faster. So fast, that even my bruised leg started to hurt me. It hurt as hell, but I didn’t mind it. The only thing I paid attention to was walking as fast as I could.

  I knocked on the door and in less than ten seconds I saw him open the door with a rather joyful look on his face. As soon as he saw me, he stepped out of the house and hugged me as tight as he could.

,,You have no idea how happy I am you’re here kiddo,” he looked me in the eyes and took my face in his quite big hands. ,,Where’s your mom?” His smiled disappeared and a worried look suddenly turned up on his face.

  And so I told him. I told him everything. Even the things I had no need to say, it was like I had to tell him. And when I was finished, I looked at him with a scared look. I didn’t know how he’d react, what he’d say. And I was afraid he’d be mad at me for how I acted.

  But he wasn’t angry, he didn’t even raise voice at me. He just said that I should probably go back there to take all of the stuff I need and also to tell mom I’m sorry. I didn’t object anything and just nodded in agreement. And then I took his bike and rode back to my real home.

  When I opened the door, I didn’t see or hear anyone. The house was always quiet, but this time it was a little different. A little strange.

  I came into the living room to see if my mom was there but it was empty so instead I just went straight to my room to pack my stuff. I didn’t take many things, after all I knew that it was only for a few days and that I’d be back before I knew it.

  Once I was packed, I walked through the hall, down the stairs and then straight to the kitchen, to where I suspected my mom was. I slowly entered the kitchen and looked around but I didn’t see anyone from the first look so I walked around the fridge to look there. And then I saw her. 

  She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall and with her eyes wide open at me. Except she wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t looking at anyone. She wasn’t looking at all.

  When I looked closer I realised that her right wrist was cut, most likely with a kitchen knife. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe my own eyes even though I knew what I saw. 

  She was dead. She was forever gone and now there was nothing I could do about it. I couldn’t say anything to make it better, I couldn’t do anything to make the pain go away. All I could do was stand there in front of her and watch her soul leave her body. Watch her eyes get dry and colourless, her skin get lighter. All I could do was watch her die in front of me knowing I was the one who killed her.