The Outcast - Chapter Three

Sandra's dead. Her funeral was yesterday, but I didn't go. I couldn't. I can't stand to see her like that, after she was so lively in life. Death would have changed her so much, I can't...I can't look at her. Besides, Dad wouldn't have let me go, anyway. He's been keeping a sharp eye on me since the fire. Why? I'm not sure. Maybe he suspects me of arson. Which is insane; why would I set fire to Sandra's house? I love her. I would never do such a horrid thing. Of course, he can't know that. He doesn't understand me, but then, he never has. He's never even tried.

I hate this, I truly do.

Since Sandra's death in the fire four days ago, I haven't left the house much. I haven't even ventured to my beloved place in the park. I can't. I can't go out into the daylight and therefore let what I saw become real. She's not dead. She can't be. But then, I'm fooling myself. I know she's dead; of course she is. But that doesn't mean I can't pray that she's not.

Why do I care so much, anyway?

I mean, sure, she never really picked on me, but she wasn't really all that nice to me, either. Why do I care that she's dead? Why did I fall in love with her? Gah, this is making me crazy, but then, I've been walking on the edge for some time now, living in a place like this. Perhaps this time I've stumbled over the edge without a rope.

School's been different, to say the least. With all the talk of Sandra's death, I've become invisible. But I'd like to discuss her with them too. Not like they'll let me join in their conversations, but a guy can hope. I was there, though. I was there when they were trying to revive her. Why shouldn't I be able to join in on the conversations? But then, I'm the Outcast. I don't get to do that, among many other things.

Seems the only thing I'm allowed to do is be lonely. It comes with the job discription, I guess.

I'm curious, did I swear to some kind of oath? Some kind of oath that says I have to be rejected by everyone? In this oath, was there any mention about not feeling?

But then, no one cares about the Outcast. No one ever does.

I never chose the be the Outcast; I never wanted this. I never asked for it. I was just chosen randomly. Someone must have said, "There, he's the new Outcast" and spread the word around the entire town. I hate this. Not like I can change it, though. I don't even have anyone to talk to about it.

Because everyone hates me.

Because I'm the Outcast.

Outcasts can't talk to people about being the Outcast. It's just not done. Hell, it would be a lot easier to play this role if someone would give me a damn manual about how to live this life! But no, nothing like that for me. It's like being given a book without being taught how to read. It just doesn't make any sense.

I exit my room and make my way down the stairs. Dad's passed out on the couch, which is pretty normal around seven at night. I walk past him and enter the kitchen, grabbing a small bite to eat. It's a wonder I don't starve, living here. He doesn't cook; hell, most the time he can barely stand, let alone think about food. I have to find my own food to live here. Most times there's food in the house, but then there's those other times when I have to steal a little money from him and go buy something. I get beaten badly for it, but damn it, I just get so hungry it's worth it.

I glance out the window over the sink that's filled with dishes (heh, that's Dad's job, not mine), and watch in silence, munching on my snack, as the sun sinks into the earth. Once it's comepletely down, I head out the back door and walk through the streets. For an Outcast, I've found that it's better to be out at night, for no one can see me and shout crude things at me. It's just better this way.

I walk down to the park. I see a figure standing at the water's edge, and I get shivers up my spine, along with a tingle of dread. Who's here? Damn it, has my place been found out? No, no, no...please...this is my only relief, please don't take it from me...

The figure, a male, turns to look at me. "Oh," he says. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing there." he looks back up at the moon, and then looks at the water as the reflection of the moon dances with the waves.

I don't say anything, stopping a few yards behind him. He looks back at me and in the faint glow of the moon I see him smile, briefly.

"Well, you can come closer, I don't bite."

I betray myself and smile, walking a little closer. "Hi..." I murmur.

"Hello," he says. He blinks. "I'm sorry, is this your place?"

I blink. "Huh?"

"It's just, you seem sort of hostile toward me. Am I intruding somehow?" he's confused.

I frown. "No, not really," I say, for Outcasts aren't allowed to own things and have places of their own. "And how do I seem hostile?" Now I'm confused.

"Well," he starts, "you just had this edge to your voice."

"I did?"

He nods and looks back into the water. "If you wish for me to leave, I will. I was just watching the sky." he turns to leave.

But suddenly I don't want him to leave.

He's been nice to me, he didn't yell at me and tell me to get away, he didn't throw anything at me.

I don't want him to go.

"Wait," I hear myself say. "Don't go."