24 youths stand at a bus stop, each with a number.
Number 15 looks at you briefly.
Number 9 pretends not to see you staring.
Number 21 flashes you the middle finger.
Before you move on, you get a chance to do the impossible. To see into their minds for a second. To learn who each of these numbers really are.
Do you take it?
Of course.

This is a little writing experiment for me at the moment. November is a bad time for writing for me, so instead of focusing on one massive story, I will focus into the little ones. Maybe one day these will evolve into something bigger.
To do this, I'm going to be inspired by music. Each person has a different song. The songs I'm using are the hourly songs from the new Animal Crossing. Seems like an odd choice, but I recommend you listen to the music yourself.

24 youths stand at a bus stop.
Do you know who they are inside?


5. Number 4

If Jason Fox was from a different time period, it would be the Wild West. He was intimidating, secretive, and wasn’t afraid to speak out against the laws that bound him in society. Everyone at his school was afraid of him. I don’t blame them. He would have made a perfect outlaw in the Wild West.

Number 4 had been in isolation 8 times since he’d gone back to school as a Year 10 student. Once he fought with a pupil. Once he fought with the school bus driver. Twice he argued with teachers and it got out of hand. Twice he was found with a knife. And the last time, he threw a chair out of the window when he was kicked out of his GCSE Resistant Materials class, and forced to do BTEC Business Studies in its place. The chair almost hit a timid Year 7 girl acting as student runner. Luckily, it missed.


“Shit Number 4, I can’t believe you did that mate! I can’t believe ya threw that chair out the window!”

“Well ya better. I was fucking pissed off mate, I swear down yeah this shit hole deserved it.”

“You lad. You fuckin’ lad. You fuckin’ bad ass Number 4. I’d never do that shit.”

“They fucking moved me to BTEC Business Studies. They can’t fucking do that blud. They can’t fucking move me just cos I’m ‘a danger to society’. They can shove that bull shit up their arse. I ain’t fucking moving. Ya hearin’ me?”

“I hearing ya. You can’t be fucking moved classes like that against ya will. Them dicks. They must think you some spaz that’ll do anythin’ they tell ya.”

“Why the fuck would they think that? I won’t fucking go along with it like some pussy. I’m doin’ GCSE Resistant Materials, and they can fucking go and shut the fuck up about it.”


Number 4 was treated like a brave king amongst his friends, a child abuser by his enemies, an evil dictator by his peers, and a misbehaving dog by his teachers. Somehow, he was content with this. He was happy about the way he was treated. He wanted all the negative attention.

Since at home, he didn’t get any attention.

His mum had left when he was very small. He didn’t know anything about her. All he knew was that she was no longer around, in his life. His father, on the other hand, was an alcoholic. In his father’s family were cases of anger management issues, and this seemed to come out whenever he was drunk. Every night, the same pattern would occur. Number 4’s dad would bring home a new girl at 11:30pm. They would both be semi-drunk. They would often do something sexual. Then they’d drink more. His dad would start to shout. The girl would leave with a bruise or five. The dad would collapse on the sofa, only to be gone when Number 4 woke up the next morning.

Number 4 had become very self sufficient. He would make his breakfast, lunch and dinner. He would wash up and wash his clothes. He would walk the angry Rottweiler that spent it’s time outside, fighting the other canines, only straying indoors when it felt like some different exercise. At home, Number 4 was different. He hardly said a word. He kept himself quiet. There was nobody he could talk to, or be with. He was alone.


At school, things were getting worse for him. He actually had ODD, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, which was currently undiagnosed. The school didn’t really know what to do with him anymore. With each crime and each punishment, he was getting more dangerous. They were considering sending him to a different school. The school was one for people who are too dangerous and defiant for public schools. They thought there would be the best place for him. If he stays at the same state with his dad, then it is the perfect place.

He just didn’t realise that.

In fact, he went ballistic at the news.

This is how he got in isolation for the eighth time.

He ended up punching a teacher.


Tonight, Number 4 stands by the bus stop, looking at his feet. He has a bulky grey hoodie on, with his hood up so he doesn’t have to look at anyone else. He has muddy trainers on too, with loose jogging bottoms. He looks like a stereotypical chav. That is half the reason why he stands alone.

He has a large Nike backpack slung across one shoulder. It’s full of clothes, food, money, and all the survival essentials.

Tonight, Number 4 stands by the bus stop.

He’s running away from his dad.

He doesn’t know quite where he’s going. He doesn’t have a plan. It all just got too much for him. He knows – at least he thinks he knows – that his schoolmates won’t miss him. He knows – at least he thinks he knows – that his school teachers won’t miss him. He knows – at least he thinks he knows – that his dad won’t miss him. He believes that things will be better when he’s not around in his town. He thinks there is a better life for him in another city.


Unfortunately, Number 4 is not correct on this occasion.


Number 4 won’t get by very long. He’ll end up in London, the thieving capital. It won’t be long before his stuff is gone. He’ll end up on the streets near Camden. Instead of believing that things would be better at home and that leaving was a mistake, he’ll believe that it is his fault. That he was destined to receive this amount of pain. He’ll believe that it was right for everyone to hate him. He’ll believe that he is a plague on this earth. And he’ll be glad when death eventually does come to him.

And let’s just say that he won’t have to wait very long.

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