Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A Fugitive and Me ❯ The Beginning and the End ( Chapter 1 )

 

The trial was, as expected, just a way to completely humiliate me in front of my family. There was no need for it; they all knew that I was guilty of every single thing they suspected me of. Of course, Martha, my lawyer, just had to insist on making me sit through it while she argued with the prosecutor about whether I deserved ten or seven years for the job we did at Lake Ontario. I don't know how there was even a discussion over it, I'd killed two people on that job, and in my opinion I deserved a lot more than ten.

 

“My client, this man,” She pointed at me. I smiled and waved to the jury like the good little boy she wanted me to be. “Has been proven guilty of many, many things over the past year. But this does not mean that he should be prosecuted for something he did not due because he is convenient to blame. There is only evidence that his partner, Tom Curtis…” I cringed and her voice faded out from my mind. Why the hell did she have to mention him, fucking lawyers and their fucking duties. “… Nothing says that Fox Murphy, my client, was even involved in this crime,” She explained. I rolled my eyes, except the fact that Tom and I never did anything without the other, and the other fact that I'd personally told her I was more than just involved.

 

“Mrs. Laera, if I may cut in, you've been told numerous times that this man is already being sentenced for life for the crime of man slaughter, why does it matter whether he gets seven years, or ten for a robbery?” The judge was obviously a no-nonsense type of guy.

 

“Because, Judge Pykal, this is something that will…” Except maybe his last name, it's pronounced Pie-cal, but I'd love to go up and call him Pickle. “…My client's family of three, not including my client, is in this courtroom as we speak…” I slouched in my seat, I knew they were there, but she didn't have to remind me. “…Would you want to be remembered for doing something you never actually did?” She finally shut up. After that she sat down and took a drink of water, smiling at me like a stupid bitch. I stared at her for a moment, she just kept giving me that stupid fat smile and it was getting on my very sensitive nerves. Just as the judge adjourned the court, I punched her in the face and then got up to leave. Not surprisingly I was grabbed by two of the cops before I made it to the door and dragged out the back, most likely so they could cut me off from all the other assholes I wanted to slap. I watched Martha bleed from her nose, staring at me in painful askance. I flipped her off and turned to the jury just as I was pulled out, oh yeah, they'd seen it, now I'd definitely get a verdict of guilty, and I didn't care.

 

I was thrown into a seat in a small temporary jail cell and then locked in. I threw my head back, banging it against the wall on purpose, just doing anything I could to keep the tears from leaving my eyes. For days in a police jail with a cellmate and no private place to go makes you damn good at hiding tears. I knew I'd have to go back soon, and I didn't want traces of crying left when I went in. It's hard to not care, hard to forget when the last person that doesn't want you in hell is gone forever. In front of people I try to be the average big emotionless asshole, but on my own it all goes away, I feel like a little kid who lost his parents and never had any friends.

 

“Fox,” My head snapped up, there were only five people left in world that called me by my first name, three of which being my family whom I'd never see again. Leaving just two, both of which I wanted to strangle, and this one was the worse of the two.

 

“Matt,” I glared at him. He had a sympathetic look on his face, the fucker, he always looked like that, something about his eyes made him look like he cared but I knew he didn't give a shit.

 

“Verdict's in, you gotta come back into the courtroom,” He turned his head to the exit, prodding me with his stupid fucking adorable eyes.

 

“Whatever,” I gave him a low growl and stood up, slowly making my way over, my eyes never leaving his, I wanted him to know how much I hated him, just in case he didn't already. He looked down, away from me and I felt victorious, I smiled to myself as he cuffed my wrist to his and then lead me back to the courtroom.

 

When I got back in I was released and directed to sit next to Martha, who had tissues up her nose. She seemed to be refusing to look at me, and I was glad, that bitch doesn't have any right to smile at me.

 

I was surprised when the verdict came out as seven years, I don't know how or why the stupid jury had decided that, but apparently I wasn't majorly involved with the Lake Ontario job. Oh well, it didn't matter, I was still going to spend the rest of my worthless life in jail. And by the way things were going in my mind, I was going to make sure it wasn't very long before my life, and sentence, was ended.

 

I was taken to North Carolina state prison, in the back of a large rusty truck with two other smelly guys and one girl. The girl looked so innocent, she sat in the corner of the truck, hugging her knees. I could tell she was attractive behind the dirt that she was covered in. The other two guys and I were clean other than the fact that the orange prison suit I was wearing had obviously not been washed in weeks, but her clothes, hair and face were stained with blood. I think she knew I was watching her, just by the expression on her face, but she just stared at the wall beside her, shifting uncomfortably every once in a while. I wanted to ask her where she came from and what happened to her, what she did. But we'd all four been silent for the past thirty minutes; I didn't know what to say.

 

We were separated almost as soon as we got there, they had us all four take five-minute showers and we were given new suits to wear. The new ones were grey, and I almost smiled when I received mine, grey was a much more practical color for a man in prison, better than fucking orange. After the four of us were put in line I was placed next to the girl I'd seen in the truck, seeing her from the corner of my eye as we were lectured about the rules, she looked very young. I was twenty-seven at the time, and this girl couldn't have been older than nineteen. A young beautiful girl, once she was cleaned up, what the hell was she doing here?

 

I didn't hear most of what the guard said, only that non-mutual sexual activity between prisoners or prison guards would not be tolerated, something about flushing toilets, and what cell numbers we received. I was cell number 34, that's how old Tom would be if he wee still alive…

 

We were watched by a single guard with a gun, who was smiling a friendly smile as we walked to our new rooms, our cells. I wasn't planning on running off, or trying anyway, but I would've loved to smack that ugly smile off his fat ugly face. I suppose the worst part of this whole thing was what I saw when I approached cell 34, there was another man inside. He looked like he was on steroids or something, or worked out way too much, and he was smiling a big doofus smile at me. To me it was a smile that said `I'm going to rape you' but I could've been wrong. My cell opened by itself and I didn't even get a chance to step in before the guy happily hopped forward and grabbed my hand.

 

“Hi! Welcome to the south wing, I'm Darryl Carter,” He jerked my arm up and down until I was able to yank it away from him. His blond hair looked like a wig, and his neck was huge, definitely a rapist.

 

“Fox,” I said shortly and then moved around him. I could just feel him grinning that rapist grin as he clapped his hands and jumped up and down.

 

“That is the coolest name I have ever heard,” He bounced over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “You and me, man, we're gonna be awesome friends you know,” I was afraid he was going to hug me, and in doing so probably squeeze the life out of me. I should tell him I'm a gay cross dresser, or transsexual, maybe it would scare him away. Or maybe it would give him his own idea of permission to rape me, I kept my mouth shut.

 

“There's these guys here, you know? They're always goin' after the girls and shit, and me and Bobby is always tryin' to protect `em when the guards aren't around, you should join the force,” He gave me a light punch across the face. I laughed slightly and raised my own fist…

 

“Fox,” That fucking voice, Matt must have been stalking me. I turned to him with a death glare, keeping my fist raised as Darryl was still just standing there with a goofy grin. “Don't even think about it, don't wanna get in trouble on your first day, do you?” He was smirking at me. Since when did Matt ever smirk? I don't know and I don't care, seeing him pisses me off to the point of throwing things, and now he was popping up everywhere.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” I let my fist fall to my side and crawled onto the bed that was still made.

 

“I requested to be stationed here, they took away my badge so I'm a guard now, at least until I earn my badge back,” He replied. From the corner of my eye I saw Darryl sit down and pull out a notebook and start writing.

 

“You lost your badge? `Mr. NeverevereverneverbreakthelawEVER' is on suspension? For what?” I laughed. Matt really was the most law abiding man I'd ever met, I could hardly believe he'd ever do anything that would get him suspended.

 

“Had a fight with the captain, nothing big, should be able to get back on his good side with in the month,” He shrugged. I nodded, examining the ring on my right hand; the only possession I had that I'd cared to keep.

“Why'd you request this place?” I asked. I already knew really, it was because he was a stalker, and he was stalking me, he'd been popping up everywhere since I was arrested and why, I didn't know.

 

“So I can keep an eye on you I guess, make sure you don't go and kill yourself or anything,” He said. It sounded like a joke but I knew he was probably serious, I'd told him to his face at the town prison that I was going to kill myself, and I hadn't been kidding. If there was a hell I'd see Tom there, even though I wouldn't recognize him, it doesn't matter, it's better than missing him. You don't miss people in hell, you don't love, don't have friends, you have nothing to lose, hell sounds great.

 

“You know Tom wouldn't want you to,” My neck snapped and I glared daggers at him, I wish looks could kill. He was right, and I hated him because he was right, and because he knew I knew that but he had to bring it up anyway like the bastard he was. Without thinking, I yanked the ring off my finger and threw it at him as hard as I could. Unfortunately I'd missed, and the ring bounced off one of the cell bars and off the balcony. I crossed my arms and looked away, pretending I didn't care about the thing; I wanted him to think I didn't care about Tom, even though I did.

 

“See-ya later, Fox,” He said shortly, and then he was gone. I looked away from Darryl, feeling something wet on my cheek, it was a tear, I knew, even though I really didn't feel like I was crying. At the moment I was just glad Darryl was minding his own business, not paying any attention to me. I was going to break down, I could feel it, so as quickly as I could I pulled down the covers, got under them, and threw them over my head. I had twenty minutes before they sent everyone out for recess, and then I had to work, right now I just wanted to sleep.

 

~0~

 

The first day of school is supposed to be a `new' day, everything's new, new teachers, new schedules, new classrooms, and Shannon has a new ugly haircut. Shannon was named the most popular girl in the school last year, she's fat, she's loud, and she's a bitch. Nothings new, that's what they want you to think; they're under the impression that all of us stupid kids won't realize that it's the same damn thing just a different year. Either that or they give you the `only if you make it that way' bullshit. I hate authorities, teachers, I hate every person who sits behind a desk and talks about how many different ways they own you.

 

As soon as I walked into my first period class I had my Health teacher's personality down. She's old, and she looks like she's never eaten anything but carrots her entire life. And to support my theory, I look down to see a bag of baby carrots on her desk. She doesn't wear glasses, and she has pants and a decent looking blouse on. I expect her to be the type of teacher that gives us loads of homework and doesn't realize it. She's also the type that talks loud, so if you're in the front of the room your eardrums burn out before you get to your next class. I can tell by her tennis shoes that she's also the type that walks around a lot, leaving you no way to doodle inappropriate pictures without suddenly realizing she's behind you.

 

I take a seat next to Miles, who is making a sling shot out of a bottle cap and a rubber band. Miles has always been a troublemaker, clown, and a bit of an asshole. But I don't give a shit because he's my best friend.

 

“Hey, Fox, you got anything small like a pencil eraser, Melvin's ears stick out I wanna see if I can hit `em,” He grinned at me. I rolled my eyes but didn't really care what he did to the anti-social weirdo that sat in the front of the room. I pulled an eraser out of the back of one of my pencils and handed it to him.

 

“So how're you and Terry going?” I started a conversation. Last time we'd spoken was over the phone two days before. Miles had just hooked himself up with one of our long time friends, I knew it wouldn't last, friend-to-friend relationships just don't.

 

“Fine,” He pulled back the slingshot, concentrating on what he was doing. He let go of the bottle cap and the rubber band slung forward, and sure enough, hit Melvin right in the ear. He didn't move, which I found odd, normally when we threw shit at people they'd turn around to find out who did it. I guess Melvin was just used to having things thrown at him.

 

He laughed in success and slouched in his seat as the self-absorbed nerd girl that sat behind Melvin turned to glare at him. He smiled and waved and she gave him the finger, I laughed aloud, I didn't know nerds gave people the finger.

 

“Anyway,” He turned to me. “Terry's parents said if I'm going to be with their daughter I have to quit smoking,” He rolled his eyes. “Why does every girl's parents think I smoke?” He said, completely and utterly flabbergasted by his own question.

 

“Maybe because you do?” I thought I'd just throw that out there, just in case it had any meaning. Oh the sarcasm.

 

“Yeah but they're not supposed to know that!” He pouted. I hate to say it about him because he was the coolest guy I knew, but Miles was kind of an idiot. “But she said she's gonna tell `em I quit and then I'm gonna just not smoke around them, so it's all good,” He shrugged and nodded. Just afterward the bell rang and everyone shut up.

 

“Good morning class,” The teacher gave us a big smile and straightened her shirt, turning and writing her name on the board with flawless handwriting. “I'm Mrs. Claymore, you know like the sword?” She gave us a sort of `duh' look, as if she thought we didn't know. I grinded my teeth as she continued to speak, I wanted Mile's slingshot, or maybe a grenade launcher. She was worse than I suspected, she didn't think she owned us, she thought we were her personal servants that had to tend to her every need and do everything she said, otherwise detention. She kept talking about how there would be homework every night and if it isn't completed you'll lose points, well “duh” to her, who doesn't know that? She started talking about bathroom passes and Miles tossed a note onto my desk. I threw it back at his head, without reading it, he knew I hated notes and I wasn't about to make an exception.

 

I left that class with a detention because after I gave the note back unanswered, Miles kept trying to talk to me. I finally said `what' and all of the sudden Mrs. Talkstoomuch could hear, and just like that I got a detention. I gave Miles a death glare as I went up to her desk, he just smiled at me like the dick he was.

 

Next was homeroom, my homeroom teacher was quiet, he didn't tell us his name or say anything. I suppose he didn't need to, all we did in that period was watch some dumb news show. I had him later on for History, his name was Mr. Curtis, he looked like pretty boy, the type of shy person that you later find out is a real pain in the ass. His hair was black and he wore glasses with a pink shirt and black slacks. His shoes were dress shoes, which meant either he, stood in one place all the time, or sat at his desk the whole period. He had a laptop as well as a school computer, it was facing away from us and he was biting is finger. I bet he was looking at Internet porn.

 

From homeroom to history class I heard a lot of things said about Claymore, and a few about Curtis. Claymore was a `bitch' and a `cunt' and according to the girls, Curtis was `hot', and to the guys, he was `gay'. I didn't really have an opinion on either of them, teachers are dicks, every single one shows his or her asshole side eventually.

 

Miles is in four of my classes so far, and since homeroom most of my teachers have been pretty normal, nothing much to say about them except that they're the average people that enjoying making our lives miserable. History is my seventh period class, right after lunch, and I have only three periods to go before the day is over. Miles isn't in this class by the looks of it, but Terry is, and so is her twin brother Dwayne. Unfortunately, I'd chosen the wrong seat; Melvin Orchard sat beside me, Shannon Graves behind me, and next to her was Ricky Ramon. Terry and Dwayne were all the way across the rooms, and Curtis was already making a seating chart, so I was screwed.

 

“Hey,” I raised my hand. He looked at me in askance from behind his glasses. “Can I like, move?” I said in my most cooperative voice.

 

“No, you cannot like, move,” He smiled at me one of those `I own you' smiles and then continued the seating chart, asking people their names as he went around. Just as I thought, a dick, just like all the others.

 

I was officially bored out of my mind, listening to all the people around me talk to their buddies, except Melvin of course… Hey, maybe I could talk to him!

 

“Hey,” I smiled my most friendly smile. He didn't hear me, or he wasn't paying attention, the prick, it's not easy for me to look friendly when I'm trying to use someone.

 

“Hey!” I said louder, he looked at me slowly, I expected something like a huge zit on his lip or snot hanging from his nose, but he was a fairly normal looking kid once I actually paid attention. “Hi, Melvin, right?” I waved to him and tried my friendly smile again. He didn't smile back; he just stared at me with his mouth part way open.

 

“Why are you talking to me?” He sounded confused. Damn, he really was a little prick, that's why he doesn't have any friends.

 

“Uhm, because I heard you were gay, and I just wanna let you know that it's cool, okay?” I gave him a pat on the shoulder. Haha, I don't know where that came from, I just wanted to piss him off, maybe he'd throw a temper tantrum and punch me. Then I'd sue him and file a restraining order that said he wasn't aloud within fifty feet of me, and then I could move seats. It's genius. Unfortunately he didn't throw a tantrum, he just turned back to what he was doing, and his hand was shaking. I rolled my eyes, wanting to kick him but I refrained as Curtis began to speak.

 

“All right,” He said. “I'd tell you all good afternoon but I doubt my day been any better than yours, so let's get on with it,” He let out a sigh. “My name is Mr. Curtis, this is my first time teaching here, or anywhere actually but don't get any ideas because I'm not a moron.”

 

Oh, I was wrong, he must be the pessimistic asshole that thinks all children are spawns of Satan and has to monitor our every move.

 

“I don't have any rules at the moment but I will add them as things become problems, so far classes before this one have been good, let's hope this class isn't different,” He was looking at me, I don't know why the hell, I hadn't done anything yet but ask to move my seat. Why do teachers label me troublemaker all the time? I already had a detention, and now this guy was giving me the whole `I know what you're up to glare' while I wasn't up to anything! Damn them all, why the hell do they label me like that? Maybe because I do the same thing to them, but that's beside the point, they don't know I do that.

 

Like in most other classes, we were asked to fill out a sort of personality profile thing, the fun kind that makes you feel like you're back in second grade and get to color outside the lines. After they were turned in we were given our research partners, the people we'd be doing projects with for the first half of the school year. I almost gagged when we were told our partner would be the person sitting next to us. I glanced at Mel; he was already looking at me but quickly looked away when our eyes met. Well good, apparently he didn't want to be with me either.

 

History had to have been my worst class yet, but next was Math, my worst subject, so I couldn't expect much from it either. On my way there I was caught by the shoulder and pulled back into a corner.

“What the fuck!” I yelled before I was thrown against the wall. I expected a former rival or some asshole like Ricky Ramon, but it wasn't any of them, it was Melvin.

 

“Who told you?” He said in a whisper. I scowled at him and jerked away, but he pulled me back, damn he was a lot stronger than he looked.

 

“What, told me what? I'm gonna be late!” I complained, flailing as he gripped my collar.

 

“That I… you know… in History,” He was speaking quietly, as if anyone was listening. I didn't know what he was talking about and I didn't care, I had to get a good seat in Math or I'd kill him.

 

“I don't know, get off!” I shoved him finally hard enough to throw him off. He backed down after that, staring at the ground as he stepped away from me in either confusion or fright, I really couldn't tell. I really didn't care either; I shot him a glare that failed to catch his attention and then hurried down the hallway to seek out my Math class.

 

I ran into someone on my way around a corner, literally ran into him, perhaps I'd been running a little too fast. Both of us crashed to the floor before I could tell who it was, probably some stupid kid that hugs the wall as he walks around. I looked up after letting out a groan due to the sharp pain in my ass. I'd fallen right on my tailbone and my books went flying, no way I'd get a good seat in Math now. It was ten times worse, however, when I realized that it had been Mr. Curtis I'd not only knocked over, but spilled his coffee, scattered his papers, and shit… I broke his glasses.

 

“Fox,” He glared at me. “Why are you in such a hurry? They cut you slack for being late on the first day you know?” He didn't sound mad. But teachers were just trained to be like that; he'd take it out of me later when he gave me an F.

 

“Sorry, Mr. Curtis,” I mumbled, picking up my own books as well as some of his papers. As if apologizing was going to do any good, he was probably going to call my parents and force me to pay for his glasses.

 

“It's all right,” He sighed, examining the large brown spot his coffee had left on his thin t-shirt. “First rule of spending half your day with a bunch of crazy kids, bring a second shirt,” I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or what, all I really wanted to do was get going again, maybe not so fast this time.

 

“What about your glasses?” I pointed to the way the left lens was cracked. He took them off and shrugged at it.

 

“I have spares, now get to class, if you show up at the last second like you did in mine you'll end up in a bad seat again,” He then went around me. I stood a moment, wondering how he could've been so accepting of the fact that I soiled his shirt, wasted his time, and broken his expensive glasses. I wasn't about to question what was generally good though, and just let it slide, besides, I'd knew I'd soon be surprised to find some kind of punishment for at least `running in the halls.'

 

“Foxy!” Miles caught me just as I came into class. “I saved you a seat, because you're my bestest friend EVER,” He hopped over to his own desk and pat the seat behind him. I rolled my eyes and trudged over to sit behind him. I glanced at the other empty seat behind some really hot football player. Then again, beside it sat Ricky and behind it some freshmen, so I sat behind Miles.

 

I guess it hasn't been very obvious as I've been acting more than anything asexual until this moment, but I'm gay. Or bisexual… I don't know, I haven't had any real attraction to either sex in so long. Miles knew I was gay, or so I'd told him, but I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd forgotten, seeing as I have never dated, kissed, or crushed on anyone in my life. Sex is of course out of the question. The only reason I told Miles I was gay was because I'd never once looked at a girl, and in eighth grade I found myself looking at a pop-up for a gay porn page on the Internet, and then actually clicking it… and watching it. Kind of a strange way to find out you're gay, but whatever, I guess by now I really am asexual.

 

“I have been shooting shit at people all day!” He giggled proudly. I simply nodded. “This slingshot deserves some kind of award or something… something,” He held it out to me and I took it. It was a stupid bottle cap with holes in it… and a rubber band with knots in it. Of course, Mile's hobby had been making slingshots out of random things ever since fifth grade, since his parents wouldn't let him have a gun.

 

“I hit my English teacher with a Cheeto last period, he blamed it on the kid in the back who just happened to have a rubber band too,” He grinned. I nodded again, normally I would've been a little more enthusiastic about this, but I was annoyed, tired, and overall not too happy. Maybe it was because I had to wake up early, maybe because I already had a detention, maybe because I was partnered with the biggest loser that ever existed, or maybe just because Miles was being an idiot. More than usual. In the morning he was a little less energetic, a little less crazy, but in the afternoon he was not someone you want to be around if you're not in the mood to watch the village fool do what he's best at.

 

“Dwayne said you got Melvin as your project partner,” He changed the subject. “Just watch when he turns his head that his ears don't knock you over,” That got mea little and I couldn't help but laugh despite the fact that I'd never really noticed the size of Melvin's ears. That is, until Miles brought it up, it wasn't until he said anything that I really noticed they stuck out a little. It was very rare that I actually saw the front of that kid's face though; he was always staring down at the table, or looking different way.

 

Our math teacher was definitely not someone I would describe as thin, as well as my second Male teacher of the day. He literally reminded me of a giant kick ball. He was the kind of fat that looks more like someone blew you up with an air pump than that he ate too much. He wore a plaid t-shirt and beige pants that didn't go low enough to cover his socks. When he walked to the front of room he looked as though he were limping, I really don't have an opinion on obesity, but I'm just telling it like it was. He was huge.

 

“Okay, little humans,” He clapped his hands together; I thought he was going to start bouncing or hopping. “Math is the most boring class of the day, I know that's what you all think,” A girl in the back raised her hand and he pointed straight at her. “Unless you're a nerd,” She put her hand down and gawked at him. “I'm just kiddin'” He chuckled and his stomach bounced.

 

“What about science!” Miles chimed out. The teacher looked at him for a moment in thought and then shrugged.

 

“Yeah, Science is pretty boring too, but I'm going to promise you that this year is going to be different!” He was full of a strange enthusiasm that I'd never seen in a teacher before. “You want to know why? Because I'm Mr. Mann, and I just got out of a mental institution,” I threw his arm in the air with one hand in a fist. A short laughter broke out among the students.

 

“Not really,” He shrugged and picked up a stack of papers. “I've been working here for 31 years now and next year I retire, so I'm just your old…” He let his eyelids droop. “Boring…” his mouth fell open, “…Math teacher,” After that he just started passing out papers. For someone his size he sure did move around a lot, he passed out each paper individually a licked his fingers ever other student.

 

“But I'm at least going to try and make this bearable, because when I was in school, I hated math, there's no creativity in math. I wanted to be a music teacher but I thought there were already a lot of creative music teachers out there, so why not have a creative math teacher for once?” After that he started talking about what we were to do with the paper we received. We were supposed to go around and ask people questions from the sheet and write down their answer. They were all simply yes and no questions and you had to write down the person's name and their answer.

 

I was asked things like: Do you listen to the radio? No. Have you ever been on a plane? No. Have you ever eaten and swallowed something that is generally not considered food or drink? Yes. Would you die for your best friend? I answered no, just because Miles was asking the question. He just laughed at me and answered the same when I asked him the same thing.

 

After that our papers were collected and we were given free time, I think I'm going to like math class a little more this year.