Now how on God's green Earth did he find himself here? He was sat on the bridge, a mile and a half from his home, crystal blue water thundering beneath him with the odd rock sticking up. It was cold. A biting wind was whistling through the metalwork, and his cheap denim jacket didn't help much. His hair was long enough to blow around and whip his skin.
He'd been chased out of the house again. Normally it was his sister who did that with threats and violence and general bad treatment, but this time he'd had his dear old dad on his case. A report from the school had arrived, mentioning he'd only been in school 12 times that month. His grades were, naturally, through the floor, and when he did attend a class, he never stayed through the whole thing. He would kick off because the others would bully him relentlessly. He never got any relief. The same shit from every single angle. Plus, the last time he'd skipped school, he'd forged a signature and gotten his lip pierced. His father had been furious and it certainly hadn't helped the situation at hand.
Tremayne Morden-O'Callaghary went on to wander the streets for a bit, thinking over everything. Constantly dealing with unbearable, crushing misery...well, he wasn't dealing. He had no friends, no-one to talk to, nowhere he could feel safe. It was agonising. Painful. Who knew emotion could cause so much physical pain? He could feel it in his chest, and he wished he was dead. God, he had wished that for seven long years. Why was he still walking, talking, breathing, crying?
He was crying. Brilliant. Furious, he wiped at his eyes and ran, and saw the bridge and now he was sat there, seriously considering throwing himself to the rocks and water below. Tears made tracks down his cheeks. No friends, no family, no choice, no future, no life. Once when he was little, he'd had a rather unusual dream of reaping the souls of innocents and making them all pay. When was the last time he was in school? A few days ago. He'd hidden in the toilets from Peter Delgado, who had been one of his most violent terrorisers at school. He had cried and rocked himself and prayed to any god who might listen that Peter fucking Delgado would leave him the fuck alone. Nobody helped him. The next day, he'd refused to leave his bed. The day after, his father had dragged him out by his feet and told him to get to school. He bunked off, terrified of seeing anyone from school again and thought about how much he hated them. When he came back home, one of his brothers called him fat, another called him ugly, the third pushed him down the stairs and his sisters poured icy water on him. He hated them too. They pulled his hair, pointed out every physical fault he had, hammered home how useless and worthless and stupid he was and how it truly wasn't worth him being alive. That his life was nothing more than a burden to each and every one of them.
At least they would be happy if he ended it all, he thought as he edged himself towards the edge, not daring to look down. He may have been about to kill himself, but he still hated heights.
"Now excuse me!" Called a voice. One with a thick, southern accent. Alabama, he figured. Whatever it was, it made him freeze. "Now, just what the hell do you think you're doin'?"
Tremayne glanced over his shoulder. A blond boy with a sunburned face and bright eyes. He had a smile. Not a cheerful one, a 'I want to help and you can trust me' one. He didn't answer and Alabama boy approached.
"Because it looks to me like you're gonna jump. And I know you ought not to jump."
"You don't know anything about me." He croaked out without thinking.
"I know what it's like to be where you are." Alabama answered gently, climbing through the steel separating the locals from the water. "To be so depressed, feel so hopeless, you think you have no choice but to end it all." Edging across the edge with some clear nervousness, he rested a hand on Trey's shoulder, which he quickly shrugged off. "But there's always a choice."
He had a few questions in his head. Alabama looked about his age, maybe a little younger, and his eyes were blue, sparkling with happiness...full of a life worth living.
"Who even are you?" He asked first. Alabama's smile widened.
"Name's Chester. Chester McCain!" He offered his hand and Trey glared at it.
"Well, Chester McCain, you seem awfully cheerful."
Chester slowly closed up his hand. "Now, that's just who I am, I suppose. What's your name?"
"Tremayne."
"Tremayne?" He asked, seemingly shocked by the name.
"Yes. Tremayne."
"Nice to meet you, Tremayne." He looked down at the water below. He didn't seem as nervous now he'd settled, and he certainly didn't seem afraid of the height. "Y'know, when I was younger, I had a really nice family. Two parents, a little sister, we sometimes went to visit my grandfather. They were very...conservative. All the adults were. Now, I don't know why it happened, but one day, one day, my parents just snapped. Said they didn't want me any more. And they...dropped me off at my grandfather's house. They kept my little sister, and I had no idea what had happened. I was dirt poor from that point on, and people teased me a lot for that. Um...it wasn't pleasant, and it got worse and worse the older I got, because when I hit puberty, I realised I didn't fancy girls...I wasn't totally sure what I was for the longest time because I wasn't gay and I wasn't straight. I was attracted to this genderfluid non-binary kid in school who also got teased. And sometimes I felt attraction to other people and was I bi? Was I pan? What the heck is skoliosexual?" He heaved a sigh, the light in his eyes flickering a little as he spilled his soul. Part of Tremayne knew he was just saying it all to garner his trust and get him to speak back. "I started looking it up, and people found out I wasn't straight and they bullied me a lot worse. And eventually they started scrawling homophobic slurs all over. Even on my granddad's house and my bag and they stole my shoes and clothes and lunch, and sometimes that lunch was the only food I had. And of course, with all that going on, my granddad found out as well, and I didn't even get to tell him because I was still figuring out what the hell I was and what I was feeling. And he said I could either change or get the hell out of his life, so...I ended up on the streets. And naturally things got a lot worse for me. Next few months were a blur of illness and cold and fear, and then I tried to commit...and lo and behold, my sister came to visit, found out what had happened and found me trying to drown myself...and she stopped me..." He paused, wiping his eyes.
Tremayne watched him for a moment before heaving a sigh. "I haven't eaten or drunk anything all day. I don't have money with me and I'm afraid to go home. I have six older siblings, three sisters, three brothers, and they beat me and insult me and dare I say it I think I may have been sexually abused by them. I am terrified of each and every one of them. Terrified of what they'll do next. I'd rather be homeless or dead than go back to them...and my father says I should just suck it up. That I'm being pathetic. And maybe I am, but I'm in hell and I can't deal with it. My mother died six years ago. I'm...since then, the entire family's been much colder, but they already hated me to start with. I've been bullied since I started school, and first considered suicide seven years ago, when I was seven. One group of boys beats the shit out of me every day I turn up for lessons. The teachers piss me off so much. I can't sit through a whole lesson. I walk out every time. My father is threatening to kick me out because I'm failing every class. And because I got my lip pierced. I get beaten up and belittled everywhere I go. There's no-where I feel safe and no-one I could possibly talk to about things. If I tried to talk to anyone, they'd simply come up here and push me over the edge. Everyone hates me. Everyone wants me dead. I want me dead."
"And yet, you've managed to talk to someone without that someone pushing you over the edge."
Trey looked to Chester with a frown. Chester in turn watched curiously, chewing his lip slightly, hoping that would mean at least something. Tremayne stood, pressed himself to the metalwork, glanced down and began to panic.
"Oh fuck, oh shit, oh shitting fuck!"
"Tremayne?" He gripped the Gothic boy's wrist protectively, standing as well. He was a little taller. "Come on, let's get back to steady ground."
"I hate heights..."
"Come back. Listen, I know some people. There's this youth centre...it's for kids with depression, mostly. I was at a branch in Alabama, but I'm transferring here...they can help you."
"No they can't! Don't you get it? Nobody can help me!"
"Now, that's what I thought too. I was wrong. There are kids just like you there."
"Nobody's like me. If there was someone out there like me, I wouldn't have the whole world hating me." He wasn't having second thoughts when he panicked, the fear just set in. The only reason he hadn't jumped now was that Chester was clinging onto him. He did not want to murder this guy. This guy seemed nice.
"Tremayne, the whole world doesn't hate you." He moved his hand down, gripping his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. "I don't hate you, now, do I? I'm here, trying to get you to see that there may just be something out there for you. Something you can't see because the bastards have got you right where they want you. Come with me, give it a try. If it doesn't work, you can come right back here and take a flying leap because I was dead wrong, but right now I am sure of it. You have a life worth living." Tremayne shut his eyes tight and didn't answer. "You got a favourite style of music?"
"Rock...heavy metal..."
"No shit, me too! What's your favourite artist?"
"Musical?"
"Yeah, musical."
"...Avril Lavigne..."
"You got a favourite song by her?"
"Um..."
"Keep Holding On? Girlfriend? Smile?"
"...Wish You Were Here..."
"You know the lyrics to that little ditty?"
"Yuh-huh..."
"You sing at all?"
"No..."
"No...and you're probably thirsty too...I know the lyrics a little..."
"You do?"
He cleared his throat and began to sing, loud and clear, though a little shaky considering the dangerous place he was standing. "I can be tough, I can be strong, but when I'm with you, it's not like that at all...there's a girl...who gives a shit..."
Tremayne opened his eyes, looking at Chester through tears. Chester, to his credit, didn't take his eyes off the other boy, just kept singing. He mussed up a few lyrics, naturally, but his voice...it was good. This guy had talent. And he was wasting that talent trying to keep Tremayne from jumping off a bridge. He just wished the sunburned brat would let go of his hand. Towards the end of the song, Trey started to sing along. He had a good voice too. It would have been better had he not been in tears and dehydrated but still. When the song was finished, he shook his head.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because I don't want you to throw your life away. You can get away from all those people making things so bad for you without killing yourself, Trey. Can I call you Trey?"
"My name's Tremayne..."
"Okay, sorry. But hey, if I save you, maybe one day you might save someone else's life."
He shook his head. "I couldn't. I'm not strong or smart or brave."
"Trey, buddy, you said you first wanted to end it all when you were seven. You have been strong and brave beyond belief for seven long years, and damn it man, the only reason you think you're dumb is because idiots are chasing you out of your classes!" He reached over and flicked the smaller boy on the forehead. "Kid, you are strong, you are unbelievably strong and brave to have made it this far through all that. But you're depressed. You're ill. And I want to help you. If you're smart, you will let me help you. Are you smart?"
"I...I don't think so..."
"Are you smart enough to take the right way out when you see it?"
"You're saying you're the right way out?"
"Exactly. And if I'm not, you'll have plenty of other chances to find it." He began to edge back to the road, and Tremayne gave it some thought before shaking his head and going with him.
And so, fifteen minutes later, he found himself in a kiddy restaurant drinking Coca Cola through a silly straw. "So now I've come with you, what in the name of fuck am I supposed to do?"
"What do you mean?" Asked Chester, staring at his lemonade like it had been poisoned.
"I can't go to school or go home."
"What school to you go to?"
"Five Saints High."
"No shit, I'm starting there next week..."
"So?"
"So I'll hang with you, make sure you don't get too much stick."
"Um...we might be in different grades, classes, everything."
"I'll request the same class as you. You can't be higher than 9th grade, right?"
"Well...no...but-"
"So we'll see what happens, but you have a friend now, and once you've eaten, I can take you over to the youth centre. They can help set something up."
Tremayne was suitably skeptical, but Chester was offering him a lot of things he'd never been offered before in his life.
"This place is full of depressed kids."
"Yeah...it's got loads of activities and stuff and a real strict no fighting rule so you'll be safe and therapy and it's run by volunteers and some kids are offered bed and board."
"Sounds stupid."
"You're just worried you won't fit in."
"And there are kids from all over California at these things?"
"Well, in this city it's just the kids from this city, otherwise they have a bit far to travel."
He gave a slight nod. "Right...but if I just go and live there, I'll be, like, a runaway...they could be accused of all shit..."
"I think they have some stupid ...what's it called? Ah hell, they have a way they deal with it, man. It'll be fine."
The rest of the afternoon was kind of blurry. The two talked about things they liked. Animals they thought were cute, tattoos they wanted to get (Tremayne wanted lots but Chester didn't want any), books and films they liked (Tremayne was big on horror), games, surfing, music, cartoons (Chester was shocked to hear Tremayne had never watched TV, as his father had banned television in the household) and they found they had a little in common. Even if that something in common was just music, animals and a love for books.
And to Tremayne's surprise, Chester was happy to call him his friend. When they got to this youth centre thing, it was...cheerful. The entire place was outfitted in baby blue, spring green and saffron yellow. Ugly to him, but he saw what they were trying to do. Make a happy and safe environment or whatever. There were three women at the front desk, and a redheaded boy in a Five Saints jacket. The school didn't have a uniform, but it had a regulation jacket that you had to wear instead of a normal one. The boy's name was Craig, if Tremayne remembered correctly, and while he wasn't a huge bully like Peter, he was still in the same year and still someone to be afraid of. So Tremayne dug his heels in.
"I can't do this." He muttered, tightening his grip on Chester's hand, digging his nails in so tight he was surprised the other boy didn't shriek or at least bleed.
"Why not?"
"There are kids from my school here. Do you know what they'll do to me?"
"There's a no fighting rule, and no bullying, and what happens here, it stays here, I swear." Chester turned, placing his hands on Tremayne's shoulders. "You can avoid people you know if you want. You don't have to talk to them, it's fine."
"It's terrifying!" He snapped, clinging onto the other boy's red lumberjack shirt. "I can't be here, it's not safe."
"Tremayne, listen to me, this is just about the safest place you can be right now, short of a witness protection programme." Craig turned at the mention of a familiar name, swore and pulled his collar up to hide his face. "Here, nobody is going to hurt you. Here, you are going to be welcomed. And here, here you already have a friend. Now come on." He dragged him to the front desk and the lady there looked up with a smile. Chester quickly explained he was transferring from Alabama and he was a resident patient. His details were brought up, things were confirmed and the lady turned to Tremayne.
"And this is?"
"This is my friend. He's new here."
"And what's your name?"
And so he had to say his name, spell it, spell it again and explain he couldn't return home when they asked for contact details. There were all these stupid formalities, they spoke to a few people on the phone, and then he had to wait for a time before being allowed in, but Chester waited with him. Then they were finally allowed in and he was asked to speak to someone else, a big burly man with a strong East-Asian accent. A very kind man who helped him sort things out. It was late then, and the kids who would be staying overnight were given dinner and a room. None of the rooms had locks. It was just in case someone tried to hurt themselves. It was him, Chester, Craig, two other boys and a girl. Tremayne didn't sleep well. Chester slept like a rock. The next day was a school day, but Tremayne didn't want to go. He refused, and the workers didn't force him, but they asked Craig and Chester if they could pick up any work for him. Chester came back with the work and offered to help his new friend understand things. Tremayne found the Alabama boy was pretty smart when it came to this academic bullshit, and he could explain it in a way that made him understand. For the first time in a while, Tremayne learned something from schoolwork. He was then dragged downstairs to some musical activity and Chester insisted he would love to learn to play an instrument. He displayed his own skill with a guitar and suggested percussion would at least mean he could hit something. Tremayne started to learn the drums. He stuck close to Chester throughout and didn't speak to the other kids for a very long time. It was suggested by a visiting doctor that he was put on medication, and he reluctantly accepted, and eventually he went into school. When Peter tried to hurt him, Chester came and punched him in the face. For once, Tremayne began to feel things might turn out okay.
And then, he met the future Dark Pulse, and things...well, then things got interesting.
