Prologue

Prologue:
I woke up due to a streak of warmth cast along my face, and opened my eyes to a small stream of drool. I could see the sun reflecting onto my face in the miniature pond I created. Through the window I saw the glow of my strangely blue eyes. My friends used to tell me they glowed, but I could never catch it when I looked. The times that I did I didn’t truly believe it was anything more than my imagination.
It was cold on the other side of the third floor window. The sun was still shining, probably oblivious to this measure of hypocrisy. The weather where I lived back then was always changing, always unexpected, but most frequently it rained. From what I remember, as a kid I liked the rain, but sometimes I feel like I hated it. It never really snowed in the winter, so I never got a chance to bond with that like I did with rain. I enjoyed the rain the most because when I was standing outside in it, no one else wanted to.
Back to where I am, second period (a.k.a. science class), is quite unpleasant to wake up in for two reasons. First of all, I’m wondering why I’m not in my bed and why I'm so uncomfortable. Secondly I’m wondering why the teacher is yelling at me.
“Lee! Wake up. If I catch you sleeping again you’ll be sent to the office.” He shouted as if something was terribly wrong. You gotta admire people like him, always managing to find the energy to shout. Hate the weeds, admire their tenacity.
I hadn't really listened to Mr. Acapella and had no intention of starting this late in the class. I stared out the window yet again, and thought I saw a glimmering outline of something in the distance. I squinted to try and get a better look, but it was gone.
Oh well. I wish something interesting would happen to me.
I remember thinking that, but if I had known what would come to be, I would never have wished for it.
The monotone voice of Mr. Acapella droned through my skull for about twenty more minutes before class finally ended. The entire time I spent scribbling endlessly. He announced a few things at the end of class, something about assignments, and apparently there is a test this Friday. Who cares?
The only redeeming part of my daily imprisonment was that I managed to have the same seat in every class; the furthest to the back, closest to the window. Perfect. In the next class I quietly secluded myself to the optimal back seat like usual, preparing for another session of hypnotherapy. This one was labeled social studies. I always wondered what social studies would be like if we studied more than one source of information, instead of a "trusted" publisher. I don't know what it is about me, but I always manage to be the annoying person who always doubted society.
It turns out that social studies would be one of those classes where I couldn't sleep because I was deep in thought. I never understood what my daydreaming meant back then. A lot of it included violence, fire and death. Just flashes of things that seemed dramatic. I used to want to write a book about it, but I don’t really have the time or drive to do it. I daydreamed about a lot of random stuff.
After a bit I noticed a hole being burned into my face from John who was staring lasers at me, but I chose to ignore him for a few more minutes. Soon I became unable to continue daydreaming, so I took a hint.
“Yeah?” I asked him blandly.
“How the hell can you be passing with a four point seven five average with all honors if you’re sleeping in class?” He almost shouted. Or maybe I was just tired and it felt like a shout.
I seem to get a lot of that kind of attention. A lot of the people asking that kind of thing don’t like me so much. They think I should be failing, but I’m not because I’m too smart. I never really had to put effort into school, and I never applied myself to the higher academics.
“Does it matter?” I replied in a bored tone.
“No not really. It’s just not fair that the rest of us have to work our asses off just to pass these AP courses while you ace them by sleeping. It’s frustrating.” He definitely sounded frustrated.
“I sleep because it’s so God damned boring, and I pass because it’s so God damned easy, and you should stop asking questions because you’re getting God damned annoying.” I said each word very clearly and louder than a whisper.
At this point the teacher stopped teaching. Appalled at my language, he started lecturing me but I ignored the old fruit. John also ignored him, and ignored my animosity.
“Life doesn’t always have to be boring you know.” John stated bluntly.
Yeah, you’d know.
I just didn’t say that out loud. After I didn’t reply he tried questioning me again.
“Hey.” He dropped the word from his mouth.
I sighed. “What?”
“Do you ever do anything fun outside of school?” He asked innocently.
“John and Lee! If I have to talk to either of you another time I’ll—”
I waved my hand at the social studies teacher for him to shut up before I continued.
“No. It’s not any of your business anyways.” I told John, but the teacher must have thought I was talking to him.
At this point the wrinkly old bastard took on a shade of angry mauve and threatened us with suspension if we didn’t shut our “traps.”
This was school life. Every class was a reoccurrence of the previous class and once in a blue moon someone like John would talk to me about something pointless. Recess wasn’t any fun since all my friends, the few that I had, were in class group A while I was in C, so we had different recess times.
Apparently sometime after my overactive imagination went away during my childhood, I got really dull. It didn’t really go away though, it just changed shape. Now I daydreamed and didn’t do anything about it.
While I spent a lot of time waiting for something important to happen, something was brewing. Deep in my subconscious I felt imminence, a dark anger foul and sick and endless heading towards me. It was on the fourth day of my sophomore year of high school that life changed completely. It all started during a dreary Tuesday on my walk home.