Ignite m.yg [HYYH pt. 2]

Prologue

"You! Get out of my house."

He looked up, not sure if he heard her right. This was his mother, why would she tell him to get out? He'd only just walked in the door, what could he have done wrong? He recalled the whole morning, searching for something to apologize for. Because it was always something.

"Mom, I..."

"Don't start with that bullsh*t!" She said, walking up and pulling him roughly by the arm. Yanked him over to the kitchen. It was the same as he remembered it, so whatever he did, wasn't here, but his mother liked a more private place away from the door and windows to smack him across the face. That was either because she didn't want the neighbors to see her doing that, or because she didn't want him thinking of leaving. "What the hell is that through your lip?!"

He looked up. That wasn't what she was actually upset about, but it fueled the fire. It always made her upset when she found out about one of the piercings he'd given himself.

"You stupid, worthless, bastard! OUT OF MY HOUSE!" She yelled. "You have half and hour to get your ass out of here, or I'm calling the police, and I don't care if you die in prison you--."

He stopped listening, turning away and going toward his room. Who's fault is it that I'm a bastard? That was your own stupid decision. She said repeatedly that she wished he was never born, blaming him like it was his fault she couldn't think clearly and see that dad wasn't going to stick around.

He threw his school bag hard against the wall, then took the stupid stuffy school jacket off, just throwing that on the floor before sitting at the edge of his bed, the old springs creaking as he sat down. There wasn't anything to take that he wanted, he'd take some money, some clothes, food if he could, but he knew his mother wasn't going to take what she said back, she wanted him out of the house.

Because I'm a stupid, worthless, bastard. He scoffed. What a joke. He looked out the window, seeing the garage, the sad shack that it was, it kept the car mostly dry. He got up, looking out at that garage for a moment longer, his mind not so much on the garage, but what was inside.

He went over to the window, opened it, and climbed out, the air smelling damp and mostly like dirt, the yard being without grass, all there was was dirt, and the clouds hanging over the world made it seem even more bleak and hopeless. It made the world look hopeless, everything look hopeless. Because the world is hopeless. It's obvious on cloudy days.

He opened the old door that was only half on it's hinges, he had only one thing he wanted out of the whole garage, and it wasn't his mom's crap car. His hands only reached for one thing--a gas can.

He lugged the bright red can out of the garage, climbing back through the window, not caring about the mud he'd tracked in. He set the gas can down, then wandered over to the table by the bed where he kept a lighter.

Taking the lighter, he sat on the edge of the bed, rolling his thumb over the flint and causing the flame to go off and on. To burn, then die, repeatedly. That's what his life was. There were alright days, and there were days that were sh*t, and his mother couldn't make up her mind if it was worth it to even keep him around.

It was all decided now. He sighed looking down at the floor, but thinking of all the hell he went through living here with this mother that didn't give a damn, and it made him angry, infuriated. The more he thought about it, the more it pissed him off.

Eventually the feeling built up, and he grabbed the gas-can, spilling the contents all around the room. If living here was hell, then it should look how it felt, it should match his perception of it, everything should burn just like how his heart did, just like his opinion did, just how his passion used to.

After he'd emptied the gas-can, he threw it aside. Then he took that stupid school uniform and put the lighter to it, lighting the thing. He threw it to the far corner of the room where he'd spread the gas. The area going up in flames almost faster then he thought, almost like a sudden burst of orange light on an otherwise gloomy day.

He watched it for a second, the flame spreading around the room, then backed toward the window, climbing outside.

He wanted nothing to do with that place anymore, nothing to do with it at all. If all he had was the clothes on his back, the five dollars* in his pocket, his phone, and a lighter, that was fine with him.

Finally out of that hell-hole.

But now he was homeless and broke.

Sh*t.

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*5$ As in the equivalent to it, if it was yen, it would be 500 yen. I just don't know the system for Won ^^"

A/N:

I wrote this a long time ago actually :3 Well....not LONG, but yeah~ xD

I guess You don't have to read Through the Glass to read this one, but I mean, you'll miss most of the references, and a few points and stuff, but if you want, then you can read it anyways~~ though I do suggest reading the first one first? lol :)

Ahhh~ Join me for another trip through my imagination~? Pack a backpack~! ^______^ Bring that hot chocolate and something to hug~ :D

~Neri~