FEUD( Preview)

.... it crumpled on the floor into a ball of white paper, no strings of letters or numbers to speak of and that was the only evidence out of the whole world that something inside of me felt broken......

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1. Prologue


                                                                                                                               

                                                                                                                                            

Ignore the red blob at the top of the page. Its jam not blood, though, I dont think I need to tell you the difference. Jam is tasty and comes in sterilized jars while blood doesn't.

The jam is strawberry flavor, my favorite, but I didn't eat it. It wasn't off or anything, I just wasn't hungry. In fact, the only reason why I had the sandwich was to start this off. Its hard to choose where to start my story and especially in the middle of the night, at 2 am where I am in the garden shed, hidden behind some trees. Dont ask me what type they are because I dont know but they are the ones with big leaves that rustle in the breeze. Shhwishh!!! Actually, that sounds nothing like them.

My mum would kill me if she found out that I was awake this late- I mean to me it is late but I suppose its not really much of a big deal to you. You probably could stay up all night and do what ever you want, but that is most likely because you dont have strict parents that have a routine for everything you do. Then again, you might be like me- having to do well at school, staying out of trouble, respecting your elders and eating all your greens. I hope not. No offence or anything but if you have a life like mine- I feel very sorry for you, but at least now you know that you are not the only thirteen-year old boy who wonders what little he can do in his life and what little choices he can make because for me, everything is chosen by my parents. I hope I dont sound ungrateful, because I know they are doing everything they can to give me ' a perfect life'. But then comes the twist. It really does depend on your definition of 'perfect' doesn't it?

I have jam on my fingers so the pen is sticky. I bet the cats' whiskers are too. Coco and Webber couldn't believe their luck when it was raining sandwiches over the fence because I had chucked the rest of it away and they meowed happily as I gave them a night-time snack instead of them hunting down dead mice and rats. Anyways, I might as well start with the story because you might be getting bored. I think the right place to start off is on a Friday evening, when me and Haris were walking home from another boring two-hours of mosque...

  

 

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