Around the boy, shadows turned and twisted. Darkness enveloped his very soul, choking him as if it were a chain around his neck. It felt like the oxygen would squeeze out of him if he didn't do as the darkness willed him to do. Yet, with every chain, there is always one kink. This chain had the kink and because of that one little flaw, darkness had not completely over-taken him. He was different, strange, not like anyone else. He was lonely, misunderstood, and had been taken-advantage of. Darkness took each of these pains and grew stronger. Though hope still shimmered in his heart, this too was dying.
He had been there before everyone else, yet remained unseen. He liked to keep it that way. He was a loner, not someone to mess around with or ever want to get near. He was mysterious, never moving from his rooted spot. His lips stayed sealed at all times, as if he could release the shadows by opening his lips. His black wisps of clouds danced around him. They whined into his ears like misquitoes, hungry for his blood and never satisfied until they drank him dry. Why was he cursed like this?
He turned on his ipod, getting lost in the music. Taking Back Sunday's Liar blared in the earphones. He closed his eyes, letting the shadows wrap around him to keep him protected. They seemed to dance with the music, some even making loops and others going through those loops. Shadows had personalities. They were not just blackened spots of the earth. They lived and they died. They came back and they disappeared. They feared the light, but thrived in the darkness. They had a voice, they had emotions, they had likes and dislikes, and they each had a scream. A scream is different from a voice. A voice is the way you speak. A scream comes from your inner self. It may not be heard, but it is still there.
The shadows' screams echoed throughout his ears, not even the music could hold them out. He scuffed his checkered Vans along the floor. His wristband wrapped around his wrist, warming it with the rainbow color. His Rory shirt donned his smooth chest, his tight jeans - left unbuttoned at the top - gripped his legs. Necklaces, bracelets, and piercings all finished the rebellion look. Glancing out with his beautiful blue eyes, he spotted the others. Strands of red hung in his vision, along with the pitch blackness of his natural color. He shut his eyes once more, staying hidden in the corner and having no intention of going over to introducing himself.