Exit Point - Devision X

Wonder what Corin wrote? Or Fabian?

Fabian was in his room writing, and Evijorn was not allowed to go and bother him. The boy had just begun to write, when the front door of the living room was smashed against the inside wall.

"Coo-ee! I'm home!" Called a nasally voice, kitting through the stale silence.

Evijorn started and looked toward the sound as he cleared his throat.

"Yo." he answered.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps and a bag being thrown. Putting down his pen Evijorn grinned at the short youth that entered the kitchen moments later. He wore baggy denim jeans and a faded blue shirt containing more holes than Swiss cheese. The boy youth raked his square fingers through his thick, ginger red hair and smiled. He had an old textbook tucked under his arm, its pages sticking out and tattered, and boy sat down by the window next to Evijorn with a grin, his red and blue braces glinting.

"I got so damned lucky." He exclaimed excitedly.

"Viola and I went walking. Out of the ward, remember?"

Evijorn nodded.

"Just me and her! Her old man gave us a permit to go if she watched out for me. He said he knew how she would keep me in line! Dunno what that ment. We went to the foreshore. She watched and I wrote my piece. We sat on the beach together!" The redhead ginned as if nothing else in the world mattered.

"How was it today, did you finish?" He asked, pushing the thoughts of the beach out of his head.

Evijorn puffed out his cheeks so as that he looked like a goldfish.

The redheaded boy laughed.​

"I've been trying to write this blimmin' thing all day." Evijorn gestured to the pile of scrumpled papers in the corner of the room. "No nothing for me. I hate this stupid bastard of an assignment. What was the propose again? I can't even bloody remember?"

The redhead laughed.

"It's for our therapy, remember?" he made kissy faces and put on a sweet voice. "For the benefit of the whole reason we live here. It's all therapy."

Evijorn nodded.

"What'd you write Corin?"

Corin Grinned, something that was an infectious habit, and pulled out his textbook. Pages fluttered all over the desk's top.

"I'ss kinda-well-"

Evijorn leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"Well?" He asked.

The redhead grinned flashing his chunky braces.

"I was busy watching Viola. But I did write some after she threatened to throw a chink of drift wood at my head! It's very interesting, because I was not concentrating. Here it is.

My piece-

My name, dear reader, is Corin Youngblood. Yes, go ahead and think what you please about my name, but there it is.

My first name means Brave, and together with my last name, means Brave Blood. I grew up in a small town not far from god knows where, and spent almost all of my time playing tricks on anyone around. I found pleasure in spray painting-which was my specialty.

At twelve, I spent my days spraying my rival's names on the poshest cars I could find. I also loved drawing rude of impetuous images on old lady's front gates. White picket were my first choice. I would, however, use wash off spray. It always amused me, when the temporary damage was discovered, I would lie in wait to watch the results of actions. I was caught numerous times as I was never a good lier nor a good hider, and as a consequence, I spent a lot of my time in the godforsaken, conflagration of a hell hole we know as the youth detention centre.