》Warning: The following story touches up on some pretty sensitive topics such as Domestic Violence, Alcohol Abuse, and Suicide. Please do not read if you know you will be effected. Know that you have been warned. Read at your own risk. 《

There was nothing like sketching.

There was something so satisfying about being able to create a picture just by connecting and curving lines using only the tip of a pencil.

There was just something amazing about how the human mind could manipulate the streak of a mineral to be able to create life-like images on a sheet of bleached cellulose.

For Teilan, it only fed his creativity.

For every picture he created, he felt the need to create another and another.

It was a talent of his, and people at school knew about his artistic abilities. He had never enrolled in any art classes; it was just a God-given gift he was born with.

Wherever he went, he would carry his thick sketchbook that was filled to the brim with random sketches. To the outsider, they were sometimes just lines or random objects put together on a single page. For Teilan, they were more than just random objects sketched on the same page; they were symbols.

He never just sketched for the Hell of it - it was how he coped.

He drew how he felt, and sometimes how he felt was a mix of different things that he himself couldn't explain, which was why a good amount of his art just looked like s--t doodling.

One thing he drew often was his father.

In his sketch books, the man always had a set of horns curling from the sides of his head, sharp teeth protruding from his mouth, and a bottle of booze clutched within his long, sharp claws.

In some sketches, he was throwing up blood, or he was sucking the soul right out of an angel's mouth - the angel that he liked to call his mother.

In most of his sketches, though, the demon was baring its fangs and roaring at a smaller being that cowered in fear somewhere on the page.

Out of all the sketches that he created, he drew the demon, the angel, and the little being the most.

"What are you drawing this time, Teilan?"

The young boy looked up from his paper to see a girl his age hovering over him. He allowed a smile to take over his serious expression as he scooted over on the bench he was seated upon. The girl sat close beside him, her waist-length strawberry blonde hair wavering towards him in the wind.

Once she got comfortable beside him, he responded, "Hey, Kara. I'm just drawing the dog in the trees." He looked back down to his paper, which showed a white dog sniffing the multiple scratches that were supposed to resemble grass. The animal looked close to a lab. It stood in front of a tree line that was shaded to show the eeriness and mystery of the woods beyond.

Kara peered down at the sketch before glancing up to the trees that were lined up not too far in front of them. Sure enough, there was a white lab sniffing around, its tail wagging happily as if it was smelling something exciting.

"Wow, there's almost no difference between the sketch and the actual dog! You're really good at this!" She looked to him with those bright hazel eyes that he loved so much. He stared back into them for a few moments before thanking her shyly. He always hated getting complimented. It made him feel embarrassed.

"I wonder whose dog that is, by the way," Teilan thought aloud, finishing the shading of his image. "It doesn't have a collar, and it seemed to just pop out of nowhere. In all honesty, I was going to start drawing a dog anyways before it showed up."

Kara shook her head slowly, her gaze not leaving the brunette that she came to love. "Well, maybe it's a coincidence. That dog must have known and maybe wanted to be the star!"

Teilan chuckled softly as he allowed his attention to shift from his drawing to the canine that had finally lost interest in the grass. Just as he looked to it, it lifted its broad head, the ears standing erect. Their eyes met, and it almost seemed as if they knew one another.

"He... He looks familiar, doesn't he, Kara?"

"Uhm... I don't know, I haven't exactly seen any labradors around here recently."

The dog huffed, looking away from Teilan as it disappeared back into the trees. The only thing left of it were a few brown clumps in the grass.

"Oh, gross! Who's going to pick that up??" Kara scrunched up her face in disgust and stood up from the bench. "I'm not gonna sit here with dog poop just laying there in front of me."

"You wanna go someplace else then?"

"No... I gotta go home anyways. I was on my way, but just decided to stop and talk to you when I saw you."

"Oh, okay," he replied with disappointment present in his voice. "Catch you next time, then."

"Yeah, see ya!" She waved to him before walking the opposite direction.

He watched her slim frame disappear within the crowded sidewalk. Once she was out of his sight, he closed his sketchbook, packed up his pencils, rose from the bench, and started on his way homeward as well.

The walk home, to him, was the scariest walk of all. He never knew what could be in store for him. His father could be there, waiting for his arrival with a leather belt in his grasp. His parents could be fighting again, yelling loud enough to where it almost seemed as if they could break the sound barrier.

At some points, he dreaded coming home at all. It was a dangerous, traumatizing environment. He wished he never had to endure the torture, but it was nearly inevitable.

At the doorstep of their rundown cottage, his heart was fluttering within his chest. He could almost feel the chaotic atmosphere radiating from the oak barrier. Taking a deep breath, he twisted the doorknob and entered the Hell House.

"Where have you been?"

Teilan stopped in his tracks, swallowing the marble-sized obstacle that formed in his throat. Turning to his right, he saw his father, sitting in his favorite leather chair. It sported many stains that told stories of years of liquor and tobacco. Some of the leather was torn here and there, but it didn't change the fact that his father loved to sit in it. It had a perfect view of the boxed television that sat in front of him, which displayed a heated game of football.

"Uhm... I was just relaxing on the bench near the park." He could already feel himself shrinking even if his father wasn't even looking at him. Something deep inside told him that this would not end well, nonetheless.

"On the bench near the park, huh?" his father repeated in an uninterested voice, his eyes glued to the television screen. On the small coffee table right in front of him, an unopen can of beer sat with persperation beading the cold aluminum. He must have recently got it out of the fridge before Teilan came home.

"Yeah... Sorry if I worried you, but I'm alright!"

"I'm not worried about you," his father grumbled, rising up from his tattered throne. He grabbed the TV remote, which was resting on the arm of the chair, and switched off the picture. He then turned to his son, assessing him with deep gray eyes that were aged and impaired from a risky lifestyle. "I'm worried about those damned dishes you still needa do."

The young brunet bit his bottom lip as he took a few small steps from the rising figure. It always alarmed him when his father stood his full height of 6'2" to him. Oh, the times he wished he could have fought back, but his dad was too tall, too strong, too angry.

"Right... I'll get to those right away, dad." He allowed himself to fall under full submission, something that didn't take him too long to learn to do. To avoid anymore confrontation, he scuttled away to the kitchen, the fear seeping into his skin.

"Hold on just a minute there," his father continued, not taking his cold eyes off of him. "Fetch me another beer while you're in the kitchen, will you?"

Teilan pinched his brows together and moved his gaze over to the coffee table that still had the unopened beer can sitting atop of it. He pointed to it and said, "There's one right there. Is there something wrong with it?"

The corner of his father's lip twitched a little bit, but he didn't say anything for a second. He allowed himself to look back at the can, then with frightening speed, swept by the table, picked it up, and growled, "No, ain't a damned thang wrong with it!" He then disappeared into one of the bedrooms, slamming the door shut.

A sigh of relief escaped the young boy's parted lips as he allowed himself to relax a little. His tensed shoulders fell slightly, and his fingers found their way to his temples, rubbing them gently to help comfort himself.

He was surprised how well that had gone. Somewhere inside, he almost expected his dad to feed him a hearty knuckle sandwich. It was stupid enough for him to not get a beer in the first place, but thank God that there was some fleeting sense in that man.

Teilan approached the sink and turned on the faucet, allowing the water to fill in over the dishes. He set down his art supplies on the countertop nearby, rolled up his sleeves, and dunked his hands into the water to begin his wet, slippery work.

~ ~ ~

The bell rung obnoxiously, but to the relief of almost every student that attended Belmont High: This bell marked the beginning of first lunch.

Teilan, being in the group for first lunch, never ate school lunch. He always made his own meals, since his mother was usually too tired to make it for him. There wasn't much to pack, and he usually always ended up with a sandwich. Though, it wasn't all that bad! At least he was able to put whatever he wanted on his sandwich!

Sitting in the courtyard near the garden, he opened up his lunch box and pulled out his typical meal. He took a bite of the cold-cut turkey that was adorned with fresh lettuce, a slice of provolone cheese, and two slices of white bread on either end. He never got tired of these type of sandwiches - they were still delicious!

Once he marked his food with his trademark bite, he pulled out his sketchbook and opened it up to a crisp new page. He didn't exactly have any friends here - they were all in second lunch, as well as Kara. It really did suck though that he had to sit every afternoon by himself with no one to talk to.

"Hey, Taiwan!"

Especially with the knuckleheads that enjoy pestering him.

He turned around to see two boys his age, hovering near with food trays in their grasps. Both of them were blond, but one was taller than the other with a more sturdier build. His eyes were brown while the shorter one's were a deep blue.

"Haha, very funny," Teilan responded with sarcasm strong in his voice. "So you've proved to me that you can rhyme at a third grade level. Congratulations." The shorter boy surpressed a laugh while the other just sucked in air through his teeth.

"Sometimes, I wonder why your mother gave you such a weird name. Makes ya sound Asian."

"Because my mom's original, much unlike your own mother, Jerry."

The nuisance's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as his partner failed to hold in his laughter. Jerry lifted his fist, and allowed it to fall onto the other's head as a physical way of saying, 'Shut it, doofus!'

Teilan gave in to a small grin of victory before continuing, "What do you want anyways? Why are you here?"

At this question, the blush faded from Jerry's cheeks, and the smug look returned to his nicely-sculpted face. "Oh, I was just wonderin' if your girl finally had the sense to leave you. I saw ya sitting here all by yourself!"

"Holy crap, Jerry, we go over this at least twice a week. We don't have the same lunch!! And no, she hasn't left me yet."

"That's all about to change, Hefton!" Little Blond stepped up, but couldn't have made it as dramatic as he wanted to because of his shameful height.

"First of all, don't ever refer to me by my last name ever again, Lord Farquad." As soon as he said that, the short-stack hung his head and muttered an almost-inaudible apology. "Second of all, what do you mean by that?"

Jerry thumped a fist against his stony chest. "Because she'll be with me!"

"What?!"

"You heard me! I'mma steal your girl, Taiwan! And ain't nothin' you can do 'bout it neither!" Before Teilan could say anything, he held up his hand to him to show he wasn't finished. "Ya know, a pretty gal like her deserves someone more... Well... Manlier! Not someone who just sits by himself all day n' doodles n' s--t. I dunno what the hell she sees in ya either!"

The sketch book fell from Teilan's lap as he immediately rose to his feet. The hairs on his body bristled, and his face shifted to a light red. His opponent only chuckled lightly by this sudden aggression.

"Listen, Jerry... If you think you can just waltz up on Kara like that without having to get through me first, you have another thing coming!"

"Wooaahh, I'm so scared!" He held his hands up in fake surrender before laughing heartily. "But hear me out! I have good reason for all of this! It ain't because I hate you, which I do, but it's because she deserves better. A guy like me plays a lotta sports, works out a lot, and even likes to party! Now, a guy like you..." He took the moment to look the brunet up and down. "Well, you're pretty scrawny, you barely have any friends, you spend all your time drawing, and you seem emotionally unstable. Now no girl wants a guy who can't be strong for her!"

"And don't forget," piped in his companion, "blond guys are a lot more attractive than boring ol' brown-heads!"

"That's... Not exactly true," countered Jerry.

"It shouldn't matter a person's status!" Teilan spoke up, balling his hands into fists. "A girl should love a guy whether he's tall or short, bulky or flimsy. The same goes for a guy. I bet you only like her because she's red-headed. Shame on you for that! Do you even know her favorite hobby??"

Jerry made a 'psh!' sound and rolled his chocolate eyes. "So what if I don't know her favorite hobby? I'll learn it and a lot more once I get her to see that I'm a much better choice!"

Before Teilan could say anything else, the bell rang again to mark the end of first lunch. Because his next class was across the campus from the courtyard, he had to quickly pack up his unfinished lunch. Swinging his book bag over his shoulder, he gave Jerry a glare that could have turned him into stone.

"You'll regret this, Jerry."

He pushed past him towards the main building of the school and disappeared within the sea of students.

~~~

The bell rang to mark the end of the day, which sent students flying out of classrooms. They all piled in the main hall before dispersing like a tidal wave out the main exit.

Teilan found a path towards the place he usually spends his time at to find his peace.

The bench.

He sat down and allowed the rage that was pulsing through his veins to subside. He couldn't believe that that jerk would even try and interfere with his relationship with Kara. As if! Kara should know better, right?

He sighed and pulled out his sketch book. There was no way he could appease himself unless he drew out his anger.

Taking his special pencil within his grasp, he grazed its tip over a blank page in his book and began to create. All of his feelings poured out onto the paper in the form of lead smudges.

Before he knew it, a picture seemed to have fabricated onto the sheet. He finally lifted his pencil after what felt like twenty minutes and looked over his hard work. He could feel himself calming down, the anger no longer coursing through him. Pleasure etched along his face once he saw what he had done, for not only was he proud, but he could almost see scenes unfolding before his imaginative eyes.

Drawn on the paper was an image of a dark-cloaked figure. It's face was hidden, but it's arms and hands were visible. There was no skin on him, just bones. His bony fingers were sunken into the face of his enemy, Jerry. Wherever the cloaked skeleton touched, the skin would melt off, revealing the white bones underneath. His mouth gaped in a scream of terror, and his eyes as wide as saucers.

Teilan was not ashamed. After all, he wasn't hurting Jerry anyway or threatening his life. He only drew what he felt deep inside.

Before anyone could see the gruesome depiction of his emotions, he shut his sketch book and began his journey home.

The walk seemed longer than ever - well, every walk did at this point. He hoped his father was not home, that it would be just him and his mother. Last night, his father kept her in the bedroom for the entirety of the night, not allowing her to see her son once. Teilan didn't exactly know what was going on in that bedroom, but he had an idea. He didn't hear his father shouting at her, so maybe he was spending the night trying to woe forgiveness out of her.

Like he'll get any.

He soon reached the cottage, and, as a routine at this point, took a deep breath before entering.

The atmosphere of this place had most definitely shifted.

The TV was off, his father was not in his stained throne, and the dishes were actually clean like someone had already done them. Though, the refrigerator was wide open, and most of its contents were spread all across the floor in front of it. He approached the open appliance almost immediately getting the chills, but not because the refrigerator was blowing cold air. His father's beer was nowhere to be seen.

It was unlike his father to not keep a stock of beer once he was down to the last bit. This was the first time in what seemed like years that the fridge was clean of alcohol, which struck Teilan as extremely odd.

Something was definitely wrong here.

"Mom?" he called out, wishing more than anything that she would reply. Though, he didn't hear anything in response. He didn't dare call out for his dad, either. Something told him his father was in a bad mood today.

Peering across the living room to the bedroom door, he noticed that it was ajar. Usually, it was always closed.

Warily, Teilan inched his way towards the open door, preparing himself the way he usually did whenever opening a door anywhere within this house.

Though, as he made his way into the room, he quickly realized that no amount of preperation could prepare him for what he just walked into.

On the floor sitting side by side were his parents, both seeming to not be of this earth. His mother was leaning against the wall with her eyes shut and head tilted as if she had fallen asleep. His father just sat beside her, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. All around him, empty beer cans were scattered, and his shirt collar was stained with spilled beer and a little vomit. Somewhere by their feet was a bright orange pill container that was open and empty.

He looked from one to the other, his breathing becoming slightly labored. When his father didn't look up to acknowledge him, he said through gritted teeth, "What happened??"

The man he always hated and feared during his childhood just sat there with glazed eyes. He made no move to show his dominance over his son, which alerted Teilan more than anything.

"I said, what happened?!" There was more force in the question that he didn't mean to give, but he made no corrections for the sake of his hide.

That's when the eyes of his superior finally focused on him. There were bags under his optics that seemed to be dyed red with lack of sleep and sanity. His normally tan skin had faded into a paler color, giving him a ghostly appearance. He barely opened his lips as he mumbled, "She left me..." Then he turned his focus to the pill bottle that was missing its contents.

Teilan glanced over at the object as well before shifting his attention to the woman leaning against the wall. He had assumed her to be asleep, but now he realized that she was much deeper out of consciousness. In fact, there was no consciousness at all.

Teilan's mother was dead.

For any normal person, this scene would cause them to grieve, to cry uncontrollably. For Teilan, he didn't exactly feel sorrow; he felt anger, unimaginable anger. It didn't come to him as 'My mother committed suicide and left me with the most horrible man on earth,' but as 'This son of a bitch killed my mother!'

It may have been the wrong thing to do to take advantage of his father's weak state, but he didn't care. For almost his entire life, his father had taken advantage of his weak state, so it was only fair.

With this mindset, he clenched his fists, trying his hardest not to shed tears. "If I were in her shoes, I would have left you, too."

This earned him a glare from the drunken man, but there was too much sorrow within his eyes for him to look threatening at all. He shifted slightly, looking away from his son. "I ain't done nothin' to either of ya..."

"Oh, really?!" Teilan's voice rose a good deal, which frightened both him and the alcoholic. There was more than just anger at this point; he felt like he was the dominant one now, like all the power belonged to him. He felt bigger, on top, and that he would come out victorious. This fueled him to continue. "You used to beat the both of us so much that we would cower in fear whenever you were around. You drink so much that you'd sometimes come home at night yelling at everything and nothing. You really think you've done nothing to us??"

The man just sat there, not moving a muscle, not daring to respond.

Teilan couldn't take it.

He turned away from the scene and ran out the room, scuttling to the comfort of his own room. He slammed the door as hard as he could, the physical harshness being a sort of relief for him. Hot tears spilled from his eyes and glided down his cheeks, dripping from his chin in a rush.

How he hated his father! Why did he have to turn out the way that he did? An alcoholic, a woman beater, an abusive father? He blames it on the alcohol, even when he's sober!

And then his mother went and left her son to deal with the monster on his own.

At that thought, he heard a tearing sound.

It surprised him, and he grew aware of what was around him. Looking down, he noticed that his hands were clawing into his sketchbook, knuckles turning white and the pages slightly ripping from the pressure.

He had completely forgotten that it was in his hand the whole time!

He sat down on the floor and leaned against his bed as he carefully tore out the pages that he ruined, setting them aside. There were only two more pages left in his book, which made him sad. This was his first sketchbook he ever got, and he's had it since the moment he found that he could draw.

He picked up the nearest pencil, which was sitting on the nightstand by his bed, and began his ritual. He never thought he would be drawing death so much, but it felt so right within the moment. Seeing his enemies in pain and suffering brought him relief, but they were never in any real trouble, which made it alright to him.

Some of his tears made their way onto the page, creating dark spots here and there, smudging some of the lead.

He clicked the pencil against the ground, taking a breath after his hard work. His right thumb was shaded a light gray from using it to smudge the lead for shading purposes. He sniffled and wiped the moisture from underneath his nose as he gazed over his work.

On the white page, his father was sitting in a chair in front of a bar. His head was turned away and his face crinkled up in the way it did when he laughed. He was blindly reaching for the glass of cold beer on the counter, but Death was on the other side, his bony fingers clutching a capsule, pouring poison into the drink.

He then heard a door slam hard, making him flinch. He quickly shut his sketch book and got up, making his way over to the window. From the stained glass, he could see his father, stained shirt, mussed hair and all walking towards his brown, dingy truck. Teilan was impressed that that ugly vehicle hadn't broken down already.

The truck pulled out the driveway and swerved away with screeching tires.

Wasn't his father drunk??

Even though he hated that man with almost everything that he had, he became worried. If his father drove reckless enough under the influence, he might lose both his parents that day. Then what would happen to him?

What was his father going to do anyways? Why did he just leave like that? Teilan theorized that he went to get more beer since the cans that he drank weren't helping with his current situation.

He returned to the floor and reopened his sketchbook. He didn't want to use the last page just yet.

Staring at the image he recently sketched, he could feel his swollen eyelids begin to close on his burning eyes. The pulsing headache he had was killing him, but it soon subsided as he felt himself slipping away.

~~~

His eyes opened groggily to his darkened room. Lifting his hands, he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, stretching out the stiffness from sleeping upright on the floor. There was a soft light coming from the hallway that struck his curiosity. He shuffled slowly out of his room, his feet grazing the floor in a sleepy gait.

Outside of his room, he could see the light glowing bright behind an open doorway. It took him a moment to recognize the opening as the door to his parent's bedroom.

What if the whole thing was a dream? What if he was just having a nightmare and didn't even know it? His mother could still be alive!

He hurried to the doorway, but was reluctant to go in. Instead he peeked around the door just in case his parents were in the middle of something.

The first thing he saw were two motionless feet rolled away from each other on the floor.

His heart sank, but he had cried all the tears he had left inside of him. All he felt was an emptiness inside of him that seemed to expand by the minute.

His father was still nowhere in sight. Though, the TV was turned on as if he had been watching it. The weird thing is, the volume was turned so low that he could barely hear what it was saying. The many colors it displayed flashed across the room, illuminating the stained, leather throne of the alcoholic.

What was he going to do? Call the police and tell them that his father killed his mother? Tell them his father was so abusive that the woman left him to his own devices? But then where would that put him? He would go to a foster family most likely, maybe be forced to go to therapy for what has happened to him during his childhood. He would not have that.

So he decided to stay silent and just sit in his father's favorite spot. Wherever that man was, it felt like he wouldn't be coming home any time soon. The seat was plush and comfy, which made it easy for him to sit back and just... sit.

His eyes became glassy, and the hyperactive television in front of him radiated his face, exposing the overwhelming sorrow behind his unemotional mask. He stared into its pictures, watching, but not watching; awake, yet feeling as though he were living a dream; alive, yet feeling as though he might as well be dead.

Then a picture flashed across the screen that made him sit erect - there was an image of a tall, bulky teenage boy with blonde hair and chocolate brown eyes. In the picture, the boy was smiling smugly as if he were just challenging all of America through that screen. Teilan knew that smug look anywhere.

Grabbing the remote that rested on the chair arm, he turned up the volume to hear what they had to say about this boy.

"...walking home, some rabid animal came out of the woods and attacked him, officials say. They think it was some type of bear or wolf, but they are not sure. The animal attacked so viciously, that no one knows if it was claws or jaws. They say that his face was a soupy mess, and the only way they could identify him was the papers that he carried in his school bag that was still attached to his back during the onslaught. Poor seventeen-year-old Jerry Fischer suffered a tragic death yesterday evening."

Teilan clawed the arms of the seat as he took in what he had just heard. Jerry... The kid who threatened to take his girlfriend yesterday. The first thing he heard was that he was attacked by a vicious animal, an attack aimed towards his face.

Just like the image he drew in his sketch book...

His heart thumped against his chest as he thought about this coincidence. Did Teilan just predict the future through his sketches? Was it just a mere coincidence and nothing more?

He flicked off the picture. He couldn't bare to hear anymore, it scared him too much.

Then his mind took him to his father. The last thing he drew was his father preparing to gulp down a poisoned glass of beer.

Paranoia took over his body, making him fly out of the chair and towards the telephone, which was hanging off of the wall just near the kitchen. He dialed his father's number, hoping to reach him, that he could get him to come back home. What made him think it would work, he didn't know. He and his father have never been on good terms, so the chances of that man listening to his child were almost nonexistent. But he had to try, for the sake of his father's life.

The phone rang and rang, but it never got through to the other end. Eventually, his voice came through the speaker, but it was a prerecorded voice message.

Teilan didn't know any other way to contact his father other than calling from the house phone. If he used his cell phone, his dad definitely wouldn't have answered. They never called each other, let alone even texted. Their contact was just there... well, to be there. To attempt would be to have his efforts be in vain.

Then a thought crossed his mind. Immediately, he sprinted back into his room, flicking on the fan lights to splash bright colors over the darkness. He picked up his sketchbook, which was lying on the floor near his bed, and flipped to his latest masterpiece. He found the pencil that had rolled its way to the other side of the room somehow, and turned it to its opposite pole. Instead of grazing the lead to create, he rubbed the eraser to destroy. Pink shavings scraped off the page as the eraser did its job - in vain.

To Teilan's astonishment, the picture was untouched. The lead would not be rubbed off, not even smudged.

Swallowing hard, he flipped to the page before, where he drew the picture of Jerry being mauled by Death. Before the eraser touched the paper, he gasped at what he was witnessing - the picture he had drawn in black and white was now in full color.

He dropped both the sketchbook and eraser in horror, realizing what he had just created. The sketch and Jerry's death wasn't just a freakish coincidence; they were linked. Teilan drew, and it happened. He remembered two days ago when he was drawing the white lab and it just appeared out of nowhere while he was in the middle of doodling it. That should have been a red flag, but he didn't understand at the time like he did now.

He couldn't give up now - there had to be some way he could get rid of this sketch before it was too late. Gathering himself back up, he bent over to pick up his book and pencil. He had to ruin the sketch... He flipped the pencil back around to it's tip, and began scratching along the image as hard and violently as he could.

The tip broke the minute it touched the page.

Throwing the pencil to the floor, he then resulted to the worst thing he could ever do to his sketchbook. Grabbing the edge of the image, he pulled as hard as he could. Even though he pulled with all his might, the page wouldn't move from the rings that binded the whole book together. It was stuck.

What was going on??

Confused and terrified, he resulted to the last option: Calling his father on his cell phone. He grabbed the device, which was situated in the front pocket of his jeans, and found his father's contact. He didn't bother to label him in his phone as 'Dad' before - it was literally just a number with no profile picture. But he knew who it was, and he tapped on the green emoji of a phone, placing his cell to his ear. The phone rang once, then went straight to voicemail. Anger grew within him, for he knew what that meant - his father saw he was calling, but decided to decline the call.

"Come on and answer, you son of a bitch..!" Teilan muttered to himself as he tried again and again with the same results as before.

Giving up, he threw his phone onto his bed and plopped down onto the floor, feeling defeated as ever. Because of his anger, he would lose not one, but both of his parents. It was awful dying to the things that controlled them most - her spouse and his alcohol.

It could have all been avoided...

His phone buzzed, which made him jump to his feet, hoping that his father had changed his mind and decided to call back. Once he reached his phone, disappointment overshadowed his mood, but not completely. He picked up the line and spoke, "Hello?"

"Hey," came a soft voice from the other end. "I'm really sorry for calling so late into the night. I know we have to wake up for school in a few hours, so-..."

"I'm not coming today," Teilan interrupted suddenly. He took the phone from his ear to look at the time in the corner of the screen. It read 2:27 AM.

"Oh. Why, though? Are you sick?" At this question, Teilan could only imagine his girlfriend's large eyes gazing at him in concern, her soft hands caressing him like a newborn child to comfort him.

"Not exactly..." He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. He couldn't tell Kara what had just happened.

"What happened?"

"Just some 'at home' issues." He pursed his lips and didn't say any more.

"Oh, okay. I hope everything is alright over there. But, uhm... I thought to call you because I've been losing sleep for the past week thinking about something serious. It's a good thing I called you now because I really can't wait to talk about it."

"At two in the morning, though?"

"Something told me you would be up."

There was a short pause, neither of them speaking a word. The only thing either line could hear was soft breathing. Teilan sat on the edge his bed, allowing his feet to dangle off the floor. Then he spoke, "I don't have much time, Kara. Can you make it quick?"

"That's it, right there!" she chirped on the other side of the line, making him furrow his brows.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, I've been thinking about a lot of things, Teilan. You know, we're Juniors in high school, nearing the end of our years. Soon, we'll be off to college. You know that I wanna go somewhere in Florida, right?"

"Yeah? You've been telling me about Florida colleges for a while now."

"And you wanna stay here in Texas!"

Teilan fixed his lips to the side - he could feel where this was going, and he didn't like one bit of it. "...Yeah? I mean, we never know! Maybe our minds will change, or different opportunities will come up that will relocate us."

"Not for me. There's a specific college I'm looking at and I really want to go there. If not, I don't want a college here. They're expensive, and I just want to have an out-of-state experience..." She paused again, allowing a sigh to static the speaker. "We're gonna be having a long distance relationship. Since you're always too super busy for me now, what makes you think we'll have time for each other once we go to college?"

The young brunet rubbed his hand down his face and allowed his own sigh to pass into the speaker. "Kara, it's two in the morning in the middle of March. When we are more certain about where we're going and how things will play out, we'll figure things out, okay?"

"There's nothing more certain than I'm going out of state and you're staying in state."

"Kara, please." At this point, he was becoming slightly desperate. He didn't want to have this talk now at such an awful time, but he felt as if the end was inevitable. He knew what she wanted. "Don't do this now, okay?"

"Teilan, I love you, but..." Another deadly pause that lasted long enough to give him goosebumps of anticipation. "I feel like when the time does come, we'll be too far in the relationship to want to leave each other."

"What?!" He sat erect in his bed, but deep down, he already knew that this was what the call was about before she mentioned anything. "Kara, don't be like that! We just gotta wait it out, you never know!"

"Okay, so what if we are close, then? We don't want to have similar careers, so we're definitely not going to the same college. So what if I go to... New Mexico or Louisiana or whatever... A place near Texas. Would we still have time for each other? We barely have any time now! From college to jobs, and then the distance... We'll be in a long distance relationship that is slowly dying."

"I don't care how long I'd have to wait for you, Kara!" The desperation was now in his voice as he tried to reason with her. "I'll wait!"

"I don't, though." That response crushed Teilan's world and heart all at the same time. "Four years of just little calls and short visits won't do. Not just four years, but longer since I want to go to medical school."

"There's summer vacation to hang out, there's Spring Break, Christmas break!"

"Again, short visits won't do..."

At this point, Teilan was just all too ready to give up. He lowered his head into his free hand for a bit before resurfacing and whispering, "Then what do you want?"

"I just think we should do it now before it's too late."

"Do what now??"

"Separate."

Nothing could compare to the dejection that plucked his heartstrings the moment that word left her mouth. He just couldn't believe that Kara would do anything like this, especially over the phone. She was usually always passionate about their relationship. If she was passionate, she should have been able to wait for him and be greatful that if they did go off to college, they would at least get breaks off to see each other.

"Hello?" her voice chimed in when he didn't say anything.

"I'm here." His voice was barely audible in the receiver.

"So?"

The tears came back, fully recharged and ready to go. He swallowed hard and croaked, "Goodbye, Kara," before hanging up the call. Out of anger and frustration, he threw the phone as hard as he could on the ground, the screen popping off as soon as it made contact.

He got up from the bed and began pacing back and forth, frantically rubbing his head to try and calm himself, but to no avail.

Then he tripped over something, but caught himself before he could fall. Looking down, he saw the dreaded sketchbook. He almost forgot about his father's situation!

Picking it up, he flipped back to the last drawing of his father. He would not give up! If the feminine figures in his life decided it was a good idea to give up on him, he would turn to the male figure who he never thought he would have to turn to.

But then he stopped and just stared. His eyes were as wide as saucers, melting with tears.

The image of his father's death was in full color.

He took the sketch book to his bed and just stared at it, not taking his eyes off of it for a second. He couldn't believe how these past few days turned out. He was a murderer, both his parents were dead, and the best thing that ever happened to him left him for good. How could all of this happen in such a short time??

He really couldn't take it - he would not go to a foster home, he would not go to therapy. Besides, what if they found his sketchbook and saw that he drew out two people's deaths? They'd think he did them himself, which he technically did. He'd be arrested, and his life would be ruined - he wouldn't be able to get a good job because of that record.

On the nightstand beside his bed was a case of pencils, opened and spread out. Nearly all the pencils were gone, but one. He took it up and flipped to the very last page of his sketchbook. He didn't want to start up again, but he didn't know what else to do. His life was pretty much ruined.

So he drew how he felt, as he had been doing for most of his life. This drawing would be his last, so he might as well make it worth it. He made sure the shading was perfect, everything was proportionate, and it was as real as it could get.

Then he finally clicked his pencil onto the nightstand, its lead tip gone from the use.

Gazing at his work, he allowed one tear to slip and fall where he put his signature - the first time he ever put his signature on his drawings.

On the page was an image of the small being that he usually drew with the demonic depictions of his father. But his father was not in the image. Instead, Death was there, his bony arms taking in the being in a gentle embrace.

A soft creaking noise tickled his ears. Looking up, he saw that his closet door was slowly opening, four bony, fleshless fingers grasping the edge.

He dropped his eyes back to the page, and saw that the image was beginning to take color.

》Gosh, why do I keep writing depressing things?? Like, this one was supposed to be kind of sad in the first place, but not THIS sad. I gotta stop! Okay, so I promise that the next one will actually be humurous and really funny.《