Dean

Dean was already on the bus when he found out the long, shoulder length, brown haired boy sat only seats ahead of him. His anger boiled as he leered at the back of the boy’s sinister chocolate-colored locks. FLASH- Look you can’t tell anyone. He doesn’t know that I told anyone. It’s been about a week since he made that promise to never tell. She should have told some one sooner than she did. Rape is a serious matter and he needs to pay for all the pain he caused her. She was one of Dean’s few friends, and like him, suffered from many emotional and mental problems.
The bus pulled into the parking lot of the week long camp for teens that needed help relating and creating healthy relationships. Dean watched the other boy as he exited the bus doors in a jaunty manner, as the doors swung open. Dean exited the bus pausing as his feet met the ground. His striking sapphire eyes searching the cloud clustered sky. The air clung to his clothes with the heaviness of moisture. Despite what the weatherman had said earlier that morning, Dean knew with, out a doubt, that before long it was going to rain. He was brought out of his thoughts by the old, wrinkled hand of one of the camp counselors resting on his boney shoulder.
Despite the counselor’s good-natured appearance because of her age insults were shouted at her. According to the voices she was an old hag, even harpy, though she looked nothing of the sort, if not the complete opposite. Her vivid green eyes stared unwaveringly into Dean’s with a smile ever present. With a nod she spoke, her voice deep and soothing. ”What’s your age young man?” Dean hesitated slightly at her kindness. His voice was deep and raspy going up slightly at the end” S-seven teen.” Her smile widened as her long, thin, soft hand pointed to where he was to go. Following the 30 odd kids who were around his age, he came to a set of silver, metal bleachers, and at a leisurely pace made his way through the already seated kids to the back row. Dean sat with a sigh of boredom. Quickly, and more up beat, Dean’s sister sat at her place next to him. True, they were related, but you would never guess. Dean’s sister Erin got his mother and father’s beautiful, luscious brown hair that hung in loose curls around her shoulders and down her back as well as their deep sympathetic eyes. Dean looked nothing like his parents. No one really knows where he got his messy shaggy blonde hair and intense, sorrowful blue eyes that often went unnoticed from behind dark circles stained from deep insomnia. Dean, in a stern manner, turned to study his sister’s face, which was riddled with bruises and cuts. She hadn’t told him what happened and he never asked. What happened last night seemed like months ago. Dean awoke in the heart of night by a silent commotion echoing throughout the hallways of his nearly empty home. He knew it wasn’t his mother. He could hear the rhythmic beats of deep breathing. The air chilled his legs as he stepped out of his bed to investigate what had caused the change in the air. No sooner had he exited his doorway a specter appeared before his desolate eyes streaked with blood and tears. Once luscious chocolate hair stuck out in knots and twists. “ I’m home.” The girl who appeared to be his sister Erin stated plainly without any emotion what so ever. Her sudden appearance was particularly frightening due to the fact that Dean and his mom lived in Arlington, Washington while Erin lived in Venice Beach, California and she got ‘home’ in one night. Looking at her now he tried to see what could have happened to her, but she wasn’t revealing any of it. Reluctantly he turned his head to face forward towards the man who hobbled to the front of the bleachers, another counselor with something to say.” For our first assignment we want to get out all those unwanted negative feelings. So for this we’re going to have each one of you write a paper about a person that you hate.” The man went on to explain, but Dean heard none of it. The subject of his paper preoccupied him. Anger rose turning his unusually pallid face a coral red, the boy sat only rows ahead of him perfectly in Dean’s line of sight. “ Is that the boy?” Erin’s selfless voice nibbled at his ear. She waited to no avail for an answer from her brother. Though she no longer lived with her only brother she felt she could read and interpret what he was feeling. Probably the only one who could, she always thought sadly. He never had many friends, he never showed much emotion, only sorrow. Sadness filled her eyes as she wished there was some magic potion she could give to Dean to make his troubles disappear and bring joy and happiness into his life. No one’s mentioned it, but it was apparent by the dark circles under his eyes and his severe weight loss that Dean needed something, not just food or sleep, something more. Looking at Dean, she felt heartbroken seeing that his own heart must be parched, thirsting for love and blissfulness. These thoughts only brought her her own sorrows. Quickly changing her thoughts, she looked at the brown haired boy who received all of Dean’s glares. He must be the one.
Dean had long since finished his paper he had been assigned earlier that day, but no matter how hard he willed himself, Dean couldn’t shake the thoughts out of his head, the words out of his mouth. All he could think about was the boy; all he wanted to talk about was the boy. His hatred. No matter the topic of conversation he’d switch it to the boy without even realizing it. He knew how annoying and boring he must sound, but he couldn’t hold back, he couldn’t stop; it was as if he was obsessed. The thoughts followed him through the day and into evening as the sky darkened and the rains fell. And through the cabin windows he peered seeing smiling faces laughing as if mocking his gloomy disposition. Then there beyond the couch stood a boy with shoulder length coffee-colored hair and heavy hazel eyes. The rain seeped through Dean’s cotton thin shirt chilling his pale flesh as it rushed down his face and onto his empty lips causing them to taste brackish from the drowning rainfall. A grin played on the Carmel haired boy’s face and a laugh spilled from his lips pouring from the creaks in the window to ring in Dean’s drenched ear. Such a laugh seemed impossible for a boy like that; Dean had come to expect a noise along the lines of a cackle. Water streamed down the window front obscuring the image of the lighthearted bunch. The image warped and moved with each pass of water. It didn’t make sense to Dean, that this boy could do such unspeakable crimes and smile like that, so carefree and blissful. He was surrounded by teens with equally carefree, joyous smiles. Was there no justice in the world? Is life just one big hoax? Dean’s heart pained as he turned from the window, repulsed by the sight he had witnessed. His water soaked hair clung to his face as he walked through the squishy, soft grass. It didn’t matter how wet he was. Nothing mattered. Look what happened to his sister? She was kind, compassionate, and beautiful both inside an out, she had such ardor for life and yet tonight she sat in her cabin sulking with her wounds. His only friend lay broken from years of molestation and rape while the brute who did it walks about untroubled and loved. Nothing matters. Everything was tainted by the injustices that surrounded him. It took only minutes for him to reach the small two-stall bathroom, which was used, for both male and females. Dean wasn’t the only teen; through the dimly lit bathroom he saw that he stood beside a rich platinum blonde girl both their backs facing the mirror. Ultramarine eyes locked on the door handle as some one from the outside began to turn to open the large light blue metal door. He moved quickly.
Erin twisted the knob and pushed the door slowly. Sitting on her bed she had felt a tug at her heart, saw a wraith, a vision of her brother in trouble that led her to the camp bathroom. Something was wrong she knew as she entered the bathroom. A strange smell saturated the room sending eerie shivers up her spine. Erin stared at the only person in the bathroom, a girl with oversized sunglasses and an oversized white fur coat that lay limp and wet on her small frail body. The girl stared emotionless off into nothing. Erin cautiously moved around the girl towards the counter. Strange she thought. On the counter was her brother Dean’s mud covered dilapidated black boots. As she peered into the dusk covered mirror she caught movement in the handicapped stall behind her. Quickly she turned, she knew with out a doubt that it was Dean within those small metal panels. “ Dean?” She beckoned, her voice shaking as she spoke.
“Dean?” He heard his sister whisper timidly. It was uncanny how she always knew when there was trouble. Well, as far as he was concerned, she always knew. Every time he crashed his bike, scraped his knee. She was there with in a heartbeat, bequeathing so much kindness to him, and explanations of trepidations of trouble that she received. The thought brought a faint smile to his cracked and dried lips. He closed his eyes relishing the feeling of the pain slipping away settling on a strange melancholy. His hands loosely held his neck that held a long thin gash, from this gash blood spilled out and onto his cold porcelain fingers. He sat on the top lid of the toilet with his feet flat on the seat. Beside the toilet a small pool of thick, crimson blood warmed the chilled, once white, tile flooring. I’ll really miss her, Dean thought inconsolably. Slowly from the corners of his passionate deep blue eyes his vision blackened leaving him the sight of the door to the stall swinging open revealing Erin’s face streaked with tears. Slowly his muscles relaxed as his hands fell lifelessly from his bleeding neck. Erin’s stomach lurched at the sight of Dean’s thin lifeless body slumped against the wall as blood drained from the incision in his neck. What hurt the most was in that moment he looked the closest to happiness that he had ever been.