Dark Side |COMPLETED|

Chapter One

15 PAGES

The judge's words didn't register in my head. I had no intent in being here, I'd rather have just ended it right then right there. I closed my eyes recalling the eventful night just days ago.

It started out as a normal day, I woke up and glared at my alarm clock who refused to shut up. I was feeling sore from the night before when I was pushed and my ankle twisted. A small shove sent my alarm clock toppling over and broke on the concrete floor. I sighed, that wasn't going to sit too smoothly with Mike A. K. A. my so called dad. I stood favoring my right foot, a slight pain traveled up my leg. I winced, but pushed the pain back. I slipped out of my sleep wear and into casual school clothes. I snatched my backpack and slung it over my shoulder.
I had bought it with runaway money... other wise known as pick pocketing. I had done it so much there was no shame in it anymore. My feet dragged as I strolled out of my room ever so quietly. A picture of my mother hung high on the wall, I sighed. Her light blonde hair shimmered in the sun, her blue eyes shined, the baby blue dress she wore made her look even more breathtaking. An empty pit swelled in my stomach, my good morning skip, faded within seconds. I had no right to be happy, kids like me, didn't even know the definition.
I huffed when I saw Mike sitting on the couch, scowling in my direction, great. "Did you get my beer last night, kid?" He sneered. I knew what was going to happen, no point in soaking up to him. "No, all you do is sit around and drank all day. Why don't you do it yourself? I'm not some kind of slave to you, Mike," I definitely asked for it. He hated when I used his first name, talked back to him, and all the other disrespect held within that sentence. His brows drew together in fury. He had dark brown hair, stormy gray eyes, a gross beard, and wore a big beer belly.
His burly figure stood, he stumbled over in my direction. I turned to make my getaway, but a grubby hand grabbed ahold of my bag. I was spun around and in an instant slapped across the face. "What'd you say to me, boy?" He spat in my face. I struggled, there was only one way out of this. I inwardly cringed, thinking about the beating coming my way tonight. With one last burst of courage I kneed him in the groin, he bent over yelping. I took off out the door, I sped down the sidewalk. It was a thirty minute walk, twenty minute run, and today I was in no mood to be mugged or drug into a fight.
My ankle throbbed as I dashed to the school yard. I lived in the bad part of town. Drug dealers, alcoholics, gangs, basically any person that screamed bad news lived here, myself included. How exactly could a fifteen year old boy be bad news? Like I previously stated, I picked pockets, stealing money, Mike never got a darn thing other than beer and potato chips. Everything else he spent gambling or camping on at the town bar.
After ten more minutes I arrived at school, most people crowded in groups talking amongst themselves. I slowed to a walking pace, my side aching from the run with my injured ankle. I made sure to keep my head down, not that I was one of those shy and introvert type kids, I just rather not be noticed. If anyone stepped up to me, I wouldn't hesitate to put them in their place. Some are a few years older than me, but it only takes one good hit and you've already won the fight.
I shoved my sweaty hands in the pocket's of my jacket, while walking into the vacant halls. Most of the kids were either in morning practice, tutors, detention, chatting outside, or hanging in the cafeteria. I, of course, had no desire to do any of the listed activities, instead I head straight to gym. Gym was my first period, today the coaches were evaluating the students for track. I never once found interest in a sport, but that could be because I knew Mike would never allow me to participate.
It required too much physical activity, most of which would kill me if I ended up with a beating the night before. I sprawled out on the cool, waxed, floor, leaning my head against the stands. It wasn't long before the bell rang and hoards of students stampeded into the once silent halls. A small handful strolled into the gym, most wearing scowls or dismay due to having to run today.
I didn't mind running, I did that all the time from escaping police, dashing from violent people, scurrying to snatch a wallet, fleeing from Mike, to sprinting to school, running became my life without so much as my input on the matter. I've learned to accept it, in fact running helps me not only get away from danger, but also think. It's as if I was suddenly covered in a cool shade after being in 100 degree weather for an hour.
"Change out!" Coach hollered. I smirked, I happened to already be in mine. A few minutes passed before the rest of the students came back. I finally stood up, stretching as the coach had instructed. We all lined up on the green line, the objective: see who can run the fastest and who can outrun them. Simple, really. "You will start from the green line, run a lap around the gym, out to the football field, two laps around that, and a straight sprint from the farthest football goal to the building," Coach explained.
I huffed, my side had thankfully stopped throbbing as well as my ankle, I was going to finish, no matter what. I bent low to the ground in a running position. My head focused on the clean, reflective, green line underneath me. "On your mark, get set, go!" He yelled. I took off in an instant, slowly brining my head up to direct me. Various kids were already in the lead, I didn't bother to get in front of them, I knew I could run longer than they could sprint.
A lap was finished and I was in the very back of the race. There was a distant throb in my ankle, but I pushed it aside, I had to finish this. We ran out to the football field, everyone red faced. About a lap and a half in people started slowing down, my pace never ventured. I kept my composure, passing up person after person as if I was a racehorse in the midst of donkeys. I finished the lap a girl left in the lead, she looked tired but her exhaustion didn't seem to affect her stamina.
We exited the back of the field, going into the fenced football area. The goal post stood tall, unmoving. "Just... past.. that," I said between breathes. The girl's speed increased as she passed the goal, she was fast, but her fuel was running low. It wasn't but about two seconds before I was neck and neck with her. She gave me a small wave, I, of course, glared at the hand. What? No attachments, remember?
My stamina fought her speed, eventually winning in favor. I was a good few feet away before I reached the building, face red, side aching, ankle threatening to detach itself, and throat burning. My leg muscles tingled of pain, two hard runs in one day really did a number on an injured kid in a wool jacket. "That was somethin' kid, what's your name?" Coach Brown asked me. I sighed, knowing I wasn't going to be able to contribute to anything school related, but I replied nonetheless, "Fault, Ash Fault." He grinned shaking my hand, "Brown, Kennth Brown, but it's Coach Brown to you."
A few seconds after the informal greeting, the girl finished, sucking in long gasps of air. "Whom might you be young lady?" She gave him a tired smile, "Heather Weston, freshman." Coach Brown shook her hand eagerly, "Ms. Weston, you are a sight for sore eyes on the field, but even more in a race. Mr. Fault, outstanding stamina you seem to have conjured. I except to see you both here tomorrow morning six A.M.." My head shot up at his request.
"I-I can't sir, Mi- my dad wouldn't accept of such a thing," I tried my best to seem nonchalant. Inside, I really wanted to do it! I loved to run, why not do it for sport? Mike would end me if I did however, I wouldn't have enough time to be his butler. "Nonsense, either you show up tomorrow, or that's detention as well as failing PE or as of now Athletics," Coach Brown threatened.
I fumed, "that's against school protocol! You can't just fail someone if they don't want to participate in a crappy sport!" He smirked at my underrated outburst. "I know talent when I see it Son, you have passion to go with it. I could always talk to your dad myself and work something out," he took out his phone clicking dial.
I threw out my arms, "no, look it's pointless!" He ignored me, looking up my information and copying Mike's phone number. "He won't even answer!" He went back to dial and pasted the number, his thumb moving to the call button. "Fine!" I said panicked, he raised a brow at my frantic voice. I quickly changed to normal tone, "fine, I'll join your track team... just don't call my d-dad." I mentally cursed myself for tripping over the word!
A victorious look took over his once skeptical facade, he turned his phone off, shoving it in his pants pocket. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Fault."

A/N:

Not a very nice 'dad' at all! Poor, Ash, just trying to get on with the test only to have to actually join the team. This is just the morning... things are about to get A LOT worse as the day conspires.

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