Boarding School {completed}

~ 1 ~

Virgil stood with his back to the entrance to the alley way, no one cam this way, so it's not like anyone was going to catch him. Either side of the walkway were two abandoned buildings, they used to be restaurants or cafes, but they shut down years ago, making this alley the perfect place for Virgil to take out his spray-paint and leave his mark. He would draw a wolfs head, his mother's favourite animal, and he would make the lines run slightly, just to represent tears, and the agony he went through.

The sleeve of his hoodie covered his nose and mouth as he decorated the plain brick wall, to ensure he didn't breathe in too many of the fumes.

He spent hours spraying his design around the town, the police had given up looking, he left to fingerprints, no evidence it was him, just the design on the walls and sides of buildings, the police would drive past where he was every once in a while, but he was always plenty hidden and they wouldn't even think to look around for him, he was the kind woman's son, the woman that went out of her way to make sure everyone was okay, and everyone had something to eat, or was warm, she was the kindest person in the town, and everyone knew her, which benefitted him in some way, however, he hated all the looks he got. The looks that he was given when people thought he wasn't looking. The sympathy in their eyes, the look that made him want to punch a wall, or their face, and yell at them, tell them to stop looking at him like that, he's experienced death before, but he kept to himself, and he, inside his sleeves, clenched his fists, digging his nails into the palm of his hands.

They thought he'd become quiet because of his mother's death, but he was always like that. That male that had no friends, that didn't want to talk, that suffered anxiety attacks in the middle of the night from the time he walked in on his mother throwing up blood, the way her eyes were so lifeless, her hair was limp, and left over blood glistened on her lips. The nightmares that woke him up with wet cheeks, shaking body, sobs wracking his small frame, he couldn't stop them despite how much he wanted to. Nothing worked, and he couldn't talk to his father, his father hated him. He would be shouted at every day, he would feel worthless and useless, and he would spend hours in his room, hiding away, crying, often crying himself to sleep that caused him to wake up and continue crying again.

Virgil put the cap back onto the aerosol can, and hid it in his pocket, he took a step back and admired his work, he liked spraying art around the city, because it helped him grieve. He watched the paint dry in the light of the setting sun.

He'd been out of school for hours, and he hadn't once been home, his father was going to be so angry with him, yet that thought didn't seem to bother him, he had gotten used to the constant yelling, and he couldn't be bothered to stop his father, it wasn't going to change any time soon. 

Virgil headed home, he could only prolong the inevitable. He put his key in the lock, and twisted it, unlocking the front door. A part of him hoped his father wasn't home, but the more logical part of himself told him it was foolish, he knew his father was home, he was always home, unless it was one of the rarer exceptions that he went to the bar and got so drunk he passed out on the floor.

He crept into the seemingly silent house, and took of his shoes, and began the ascent up the stairs, he was able to hide his hoodie, and the paint before his father came storming into his room.

"Have you ever heard of knocking? You should try it sometime." Virgil spoke sarcastically, even if he had heard his dad, he may not have had the chance to do anything, so knocking would be beneficial. Especially if he had slipped into one of his anxiety or panic attacks, they would make it harder for him to deal with his father, especially when he came barging in just to yell at him.

"I have had enough of your behavior, Young Man!" His father shouted at him, and without giving him any room to speak, he continued, "You are no longer welcome in this house, you stay out all day, until the sun begins to set, and you waste my money and expect me to provide you with shelter, that you have no respect for." His father referenced the pile of clothes on the floor that just so happened to cover the spray paint cans. He hoped his father didn't pick anything up, because if he found out about the graffiti he would be even worse off.

"You will go to a new school, and you will not be welcome back in this house again. You have until the end of the week to pack up everything, and if you forget anything, too bad, it'll be burned." His father walked out of his room, and slammed the front door shut.

Oh how he loved being at home.

Virgil set about packing his bags, and doing laundry, he hoped to be out of the house before the end of the week, he didn't want his father taking control of him any longer.

But the end of the week, Virgil had all the information he needed, and he stepped out of the house one last time, his father slammed the door behind him, and locked it, after making sure Virgil didn't have a key to the house.

Virgil made his way to the train station, ready to start his new life...

So there's chapter 1...

Hope you enjoyed
Take care
Xx