The Villain Inside

By Sidravel

How do you start over when the reason you need to is something you can't change? How do you move towards a new life when the old one is always showing its ugly head around every corner? For Owen Pace, a 17 year old gay male, this dilemma is what he is currently facing. Booted from one life to another, can he find himself in a small town where he sticks out so severely?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sidravel
• Release date: Apr 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301074532

Sidravel

I am 25 years old and a student studying Accounting. I write primarily erotica, but am slowly branching out to other genres. I write from my own experiences and dreams, all my writing has a fraction of truth to it.

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The Villain Inside

Chapter 01: The Beginning Or Is It The Ending?

Part One:

Deception. It's such a simple yet complicated word. How else can it be used but in the deceiving of others? No one is without deception. They use it every day to hide who they truly are deep inside. No one knew this better than Owen Pace as he sat there staring out the window of the SUV in front of his new school. Sighing, he glanced over at his mother and said, You can't be serious.

Don't forget the reason we're here to begin with. She snapped. If you hadn't been so stupid to get involved with that boy, then your father never would have lost his job.

Owen looked away in shame. How can I forget? You remind me every day. He shoved open the car door and stepped out, slamming it behind him.

The tires gave a small squeal as his mother sped off to get away from her disgrace of a son. He hitched up his back pack and trudged towards the school. He could feel the other students’ eyes on him and knew what they saw. His clothing consisted of a pair of baggy black jeans with a chain swinging behind him, a black t-shirt with Disturbed plastered across the front, and he had three piercings in each ear, and a small hoop through his nose. His normally shockingly blond hair was dyed black and spiked. His deep green eyes had dark smudges under them from lack of sleep. There was also a barb wire tattoo around his wrist and another on the side of his neck that was his name in Chinese letters, there were also a couple that couldn't be seen with the clothes he was wearing. He couldn't be more out of place in this sea of teenagers. They were all dressed in either blue jeans with t-shirts, or plaid shirts, or they were dressed in preppy style clothing such as tweed pants and blazers. Their eyes were burning holes through his skin and he wondered if maybe he should have just stayed in Chicago with his best friend, Mark. Though only 17 years old, he could have stayed there and there was nothing they could have done about it. But his shame was bad enough without adding insult to injury.

Walking up the steps, Owen reached forward with the hand not in a cast to open the door, when it suddenly swung outward and crashed into him, causing him to jerk back and teeter at the edge of the steps. Horror filled his expression and the next thing he knew, a hand grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back to steady ground. His breathing was hard at the near miss and he glared at the person who'd almost killed him. The guy was gorgeous, admittedly, but he was in no mood to be nice. He was about a head taller than him, with shaggy auburn hair that was kind of wavy, and striking blue eyes. Hey, man, I'm sorry. Really. The voice was soft and melodious as it drifted over Owen.

Without even saying a word, he brushed past the boy and yanked open the door before entering the school. The typical smells of a high school assaulted his nose and he grimaced. The pine cleaner they used on the floors, the smell of books, sweaty gym socks, and the disgusting smell of cafeteria food that seemed to permeate every inch of a school's hallways, no matter how far from the source. He made his way through the sea of bodies and found the principal's office. Yo. I'm Owen Pace.

The secretary looked up and her eyes widened at the boy before her. She'd never seen so many piercings on a boy before, and the grungy clothes were enough to make her skin crawl at the thought of wearing them. She cleared her throat and grabbed some papers from her desk. You'll need to fill these out. Your mother brought in your transcripts from your other school already so we already have your class schedule lined up for you. Just have a seat at that table over there and fill them out. Once you're done, bring them back to me.

Owen slouched down in one of the chairs at the table indicated and filled out as much of the form as he could. Once completed, he handed the forms back to her, and she handed him a school map, a handbook, and his class schedule. You missed home room, so you'll have to make it to your first class. It's on the second floor, room 225. Mr. Reilly. Algebra II.

Great, math first thing in the morning, he thought bitterly and roughly shoved the main office door open. There was a loud OOMPH from behind the door and Owen sighed. Something else to make his day even better, and when he stepped out, he found the same guy from earlier. Jesus! Are you going to be in my way all damn day? He asked sarcastically and stalked off towards the stairs, not even glancing back. If he had, he would have found those blue eyes watching him walk away.

His sneakers squeaked with each step, and he could hear teacher's voices coming from the closed class room doors. 215......220......225. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside. All activity ceased and he could feel his face getting hot as all eyes landed on him. The teacher cleared his throat, and held out his hand for his papers. Mr. Owen Pace. Well, welcome to Westerly High School and to my class, Algebra II. Class, this is Owen Pace. He's new here, so let's all try to make him feel welcome. Hmm… Where to seat you? The man adjusted his glasses higher on his nose, and then pointed at a seat on the last row nearest the windows and about three seats back. That should be ok. Have a seat so that we can continue with class.

Adopting an I-don't-give-a-shit attitude, Owen made his way to the seat indicated and slouched down into it, dropping his bag next to the chair. The boy next to him gave him a tentative smile, and he glared back, causing the boy to swallow nervously and face back towards the front. He didn't want any friends. It always got him in trouble, or worse, his family. He had six months of school left and then he was out of here and out of his house. College was looking better and better all the time. He was determined to get into one half way across the country from his family. Anything would be better than living at home for the rest of his life. Concentrating on the teacher, he drowned out the glances that kept coming his way, and the whispering some of them were doing with each other. When the bell rang, he waited until most of the kid's filed out to get up and leave. Mr. Reilly stopped him at the door. Mr. Pace. Can I see you for a minute?

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he walked back to the teacher's desk and stared at him. Mr. Pace, you do realize that your...dress code is not entirely what the students are used to? Maybe you should think about trying to blend in a little more.

Look, I'm only here for six months. I don't care what anyone thinks of my looks, my clothes, or my attitude. The only thing you should care about is my grades, right? So just leave me alone and you'll find yourself getting papers that are A quality. Owen didn't even look at the person he bumped into as he rushed out the door to his next class.

His schedule wasn't as bad as he had expected. There was Algebra II, AP English, Chemistry, AP Biology, P.E., and they'd put him in Creative Writing II. He didn't know how they had chosen that one for him but he was secretly thrilled. That was one thing he loved to do was write. By lunch time he was exhausted and instead of sitting in the lunch room having to deal with being the center of attention that day, he went outside and wandered around looking for somewhere to sit by himself. He saw a few spots that were ok but then he saw a bench underneath a tree that was a good distance from the school. Peace, he thought with elation.

Slumping down onto the bench, he pulled out his lunch, his IPod, and his battered notebook. Popping the earbud headphones into his ears, he hit play and breathed a sigh of contentment when Disturbed started blaring in his ears. Unrolling the bag, he took out the single sandwich that he'd packed for lunch that morning and propped his legs up on the bench to settle the book against. He finished his sandwich quickly, and just lost himself in the music and his writing. Lunch was half over by the time he looked up again and he almost jumped out of his skin. The red head from earlier was standing almost on top of him, and indicated for him to take out his ear phones. What do you want? Owen snapped at him, once he had removed them.

I just wanted to come over and apologize again for this morning. And to introduce myself. Again with the soft voice.

Staring at the teenager standing in front of him, he sighed and moved his legs, letting the guy sit down. I'm Laden. Laden Barnes. Unable to keep it in, he gave a small snort of laughter, and Laden looked at him with affront. "What's so funny?

Nothing. It's just the type of name that I'd expect you to have. Owen shut his notebook when he noticed those blue eyes looking at it curiously. I guess I should tell you my name.

Owen Pace, right? Small school, small town. Pretty much knew who you were before I bumped into you. Laden laughed, and Owen was captivated by the sound, shaking his head to clear the suddenly fuzzy thoughts running through him.

Great. The kind of place where you fuck a slut and by tomorrow everyone knows whether you were good in bed or not.

Laden laughed, and said, Yeah. Basically.

Owen laughed for the first time in months, and his eyes widened at the sound. So, about this morning....uh...sorry I was such a dick. I'm not exactly happy to be here.

No problem. What happened to your wrist? Laden asked curiously, his eyes on the dark blue cast.

Silence followed that question, and Laden looked up to find Owen turning his head away, shame flashing in his eyes before he stood up abruptly, shoving his things in his back pack. I gotta go. Laden watched him go, confusion playing across his face at the teen's abrupt actions.

Owen's last class of the day was P.E. and he entered the gym to find the coach yelling at a bunch of guys running around the court, chasing after a basketball. Owen approached him and handed him the last paper he had for his teachers that day. Coach McGee looked him over, and said, Well, you're obviously not dressed for this today, but you'll need to have some black shorts, and a white t-shirt for gym. How long till the cast comes off?

Two weeks.

Good. Then we can see what you're good at. Hey! Barnes, get your ass in gear and move! Coach McGee shouted.

Owen's eyes flared with astonishment but he quickly stomped it down and turned to look at the court to see Laden racing towards the other end of the court. His eyes were drawn to his bottom and the muscular legs beneath it. Biting his lip, he looked away and tried to still his racing pulse. There was no way he could do that here, and he would just have to suffer through that. The coach sent him to sit on the bleachers for the rest of the class, and when the final bell rang, Owen was out the door before everyone else. Pushing his way blindly through all the writhing bodies of the students, desperate to get out of the school, his breathing was heavy by the time he exited the front doors of the school but his mother wasn't there. Dammit, he screamed mentally. It felt like everything was crashing in on him, and for the first time since that day he felt like crying.

He started running, no destination in mind, just running to get away from his demons. It isn't fair, his mind raged, why do I have to pay for something that wasn't my fault? His feet pounded over the ground, his chest burning from lack of oxygen, his backpack slapping against the base of his spine. He ran for what felt like hours, before stopping and bending at the waist to catch his breath. There were little black spots dancing in front of his eyes, and Owen closed them to try and calm himself down. He heard a car pull up next to him and he looked up to see Laden sitting in a black Jeep, and leaning out the window. You all right, man?

I'm fine. Owen snapped, and started to walk away.

Wait! Laden called out, getting out of his car.

What? Are you like stalking me or something?

No. I only followed you because you dropped this when you took off running. Laden held out his notebook and his eyes grew wide with disbelief, before he snatched it away, hugging it to his chest.

Thank you. He said grudgingly.

Do you want a lift home? Laden asked.

I...uh....yeah. Sure. He climbed into the passenger's side, wondering what the hell he was doing. He was playing with fire, that's what he was doing.

Part Two:

Laden kept glancing sideways at Owen and it was starting to make him feel uncomfortable. He shifted, and glared at the other boy. Are you in some kind of freak outreach program or something?

What? Laden had a confused expression on his face.

You've like....attached yourself to me or something. And you've done almost nothing but look at me the last five minutes. Owen challenged.

Laden was silent for a moment before replying in that same soft voice that was driving Owen mad with the chills it sent down his spine. I just wanted to get to know you is all. I think you're interesting.

An incredulous look came over Owen's face, and he snarled, So I'm something to amuse yourself with until you get bored? Is that it? He started mumbling to himself, "I need to move to friggin' Alaska where people won't be able to use me