"...nineteen...twenty...twenty-one"

Twenty one cars. Today was going to be a good day. Ben's alarm clock went off. He turned away from the window and hit the top of the clock. He'd managed to count before 'wake up time'; another good sign. He'd been late for school before because twenty-one cars hadn't passed in time.

He got dressed. On the way out he fingered the outside edge of his mirror, and then tapped once in the centre.

He ran down the stairs humming Pet Cemetery by The Ramones under his breath.

"Morning Ben," said his Mum.

"Morning."

Ben poured some cereal into his bowl, up to the chip, like every day.

Once breakfast was finished, they talked about what they had seen on TV last night whilst he packed his books for school.

Out of the door he went, humming his tune. Down the snicket, across the road, past the lamppost, and onto school grounds. Walking into hell.

After form, Ben went to English. Ben liked English. He was good at it, or at least his teacher said so. It could be that she genuinely liked his work but Ben was plagued by nagging doubts about his own abilities.

Second period Ben had history, which he hated. Something was tickling at the back of his mind, but every time he tried to scratch that itch it slipped through his fingers. Something about the way he'd been touching and counting lately; it was bothering him - well, more than it usually did. His OCD was the shackles on his wrists, the mill stone around his neck, the -

"... and whose army was it that killed Harold, Ben?" the teacher asked. Ben hesitated.

"Well?"

"I don't know Sir; I wasn't listening," Ben mumbled. Someone laughed. Then someone else. Ben's heart sank as the evil sniggering spread round the room. It was a horribly familiar feeling.

The bell rang, and people began packing their books away. Ben, as always, was the last person to leave the room.

A knowing dread washed over Ben as he stepped into the playground.

"Hey retard! Over here!"

Isaac was a bully, and had made Ben's school-days a misery. He hadn't noticed Ben at first, which was just Ben dodging the search lights, avoiding the radar. But then Isaac had discovered his OCD.

Ben quickened his pace, gritting his teeth.

"I'm talking to you, are you deaf as well as being a 'tard?"

Ben knew what was coming, and he broke in to a run.

"You little -!"

Ben came to a dead end. As if I did that, I'm such an idiot! Idiot! Stuck. Demolished.

Isaac had his gang with him.

"Hey guys, you wanna know why Ben's dad left?" Isaac sneered. "You know why? 'Cos he found out Ben was a tard, ain't that right, Ben?"

"No, dad left because he had an argument with mum,"

"Yeah, about whether they should keep you or not!" Jack chipped in. The gang laughed as if this remark was the funniest joke they had ever heard. Ben looked at the floor. It was impossible to overcome the odds. They were nine, he was one. It was just maths, that was all.

Then Ben was on the floor, swallowing back raw hate and hot tears.

With frustration and pain welling up inside him, his body wracked with involuntary sobs, something snapped. Ben lashed out. It was such a blind and wild blow that it could have hit anyone. It was merely chance that it hit Isaac.

A teacher rounded the corner and saw them. Isaac smirked slyly, and dropped to the floor. Ben knew he was faking it, but didn't say anything.

"Are you O.K, love?"

"He hit me, he hit me!"

"Who hit you love?"

Isaac was in 'Teacher's Pet' mode again. He was a good student in class, so all the teachers believed everything he said.

"Ben hit me! We were just playing a game and he randomly lashed out at me"

The teacher's attention turned to Ben. "Well, did you hit him?"

"Well Isaac was - "

Ben could tell he was losing ground. In the teacher's eyes Ben could see disbelief. He couldn't use words that well in tough situations. He just wanted to touch things and count things. It was all going wrong. Why couldn't anyone see that Isaac was blatantly lying? His friends were shouting alibis at random which improved the teacher's confidence that she was right.

Ben ended up in seclusion.

When Ben got home he told his Mum what had happened, smoothing out some parts; missing out the bit about getting seclusion. He told his Mum a lot of things she half wanted to hear. Otherwise she would rant and rave on about how rubbish the school was for not doing anything, but then would be too scared to do anything herself. His mum had not told him, but Ben had seen her taking anti-depressant tablets. It was probably because of his dad.

Ben's urge to do things was getting stronger; the next day in first period maths, he typed in numbers at random until he got the sum of 21. After he did it, he felt a strange fulfilment, along with the feeling of something....beyond.

Every night he got home that week his mum looked even more stressed than the previous night. Distress and bullying piled on top of each other. It was all just making Ben's O.C.D deteriorate.

Things got worse as his OCD got worse, everything got worse, and the bullies picked on him even more. He touched things, he moved things, he said things. People looked at him strangely as they walked past.

But Ben could feel...could...hear. It was like in a graphic novel where they paste a picture over another picture to make it look like a ghost, or something fading into view. Like we are on the top layer, and there is something...in between.

That night when he was reading his book in bed his finger tips started tingling. He wanted to get up but everything else in his body screamed out "Stay in bed, it's warm". It was like really needing the toilet in the night, but being in the perfect position, and knowing that when you came back the covers wouldn't fit right, neither would the pillow. To alleviate this irksome itch at the back of his head he went down stairs and began fiddling with things.

Ben knew something, but didn't know what he knew. If he could reach back and scratch that itch, then he would know! To take his mind off this self debate, he began moving things around again. Soon after he was....closer. Reaching desperately towards that itch, he continued, this time scribbling in marker pen on his mug: 7, 14...21. Nearly finished, edging towards the goal. But what was the goal? Why did he need it so urgently? He didn't know, but he was getting things in the right order now, putting things in the right places. He grabbed the TV remote, dialling in the numbers: 3, 6, 9, 12, 15, 18...21. Then he inserted it into the mug.

A vast abyss yawned open in Ben's head. Perpetual, unending.

The hole in the wall of the front room was lined with mossy twisted tree roots. The itch was gone. Oh, but what was this thing? He stared in bewilderment and awe. It was indescribable. Madness, insanity. He saw shapes that had never been seen. He saw colours that were beyond imagination, that had no name. Some were so dull they were barely noticeable, others so vibrant they seemed to be moving. But in this incomprehensible universe, he supposed that was possible. He stepped through the hole, disbelieving. All manner of twisted things pranced and swayed around him. He turned around to see a majestic woman perched on a jagged shape. The light must have been bouncing off her wrong because she looked...or was...two dimensional. She...or it, was the most normal thing in this abnormal place. She was beautiful. Until she smiled at him. The grin revealed piranha like teeth that seemed twice the size of her mouth. When she stood she faded in and out of view, as though she were moving frame by frame. There was a strange sucking noise as a third dimension was added to her. He stared as she bounded up to him, wearing a sharkish grin, and gave him thumbs up. The hideous claws there were velveted.

The world was different now, puny, a tiny fish unaware of the endless ocean. On the way to school past Isaac's house, near the lamp post, Isaac walked up to Ben.

"Hey retard, what you doing today?"

"Walking to school, what do you think?" Ben hardly even noticed Isaac. The other boy was taken aback.

"Don't get mouthy with me you idiot" he said eventually. "Anyway, why are you so confident all of a sudden? I never thought you could recover from being a retard" Isaac started sniggering. His repulsive cackle echoed around the street. "Hey, remember yesterday when I made that funny joke about why your dad left, that was really funny right?"

Yesterday, his old life.

"No, it wasn't" Ben replied calmly, "...once born"

"What? What do you mean?" Isaac tried to say this boldly but Ben could see the fear rising in his eyes. He took a moment to enjoy the scene before saying:

"If you don't stop bullying me, I'll make sure you can't."

"Ooh, getting all toughy toughy are we now retard, what are you gonna do?"

So Ben showed him.

By the time Ben arrived at school Isaac had been picked up by an ambulance. Unlike the times at school Isaac had actually been in too much pain to say anything about what happened. Just raving madness and pain in his eyes.

"Stupid waste of skin," someone mumbled as Ben walked past. Ben stifled a giggle. Oh, that's what she thinks. How insignificant, how small, how brief these little creatures were. Isaac's gang were hanging out in the usual corner waiting for their alpha to arrive, which, of course, wasn't going to happen today. Jack, Isaac's right hand man, began jeering at Ben, "surprised you made it this far - not seen Isaac today?" he gloated.

"I've seen him."

Jack's composure seemed to disappear for a few seconds. Something was wrong. Where had this confidence come from? There was something ominous behind the words, I've seen him...

Unable to think of anything else to do, he simply reverted to what he did best; he lashed out. The blow landed squarely on Ben's nose, and he stumbled back. Instead of buckling and crying, to Jack's amazement, Ben straightened himself, and in a strange low voice- no, voices: "I've got something to show you."

Jack's eyes grew wider and wider. Ben's mouth had begun to open. And open. And open. Do universes have an end? How do you measure infinity? How can you comprehend eternity? Ask these questions to Jack in between his tube feeds. He knows.

THE END