[ YOUR PAST NEVER FADES. ] &open

[dear ♥ desolate]

{casper rennington

[All I ever wanted was someone to love me]


The grounds of Lakeland High were eerily silent and deserted on this Wednesday of holidays. The contrast to it's usual bustling, hyper activity of hundreds of eager students milling about was astonishing, and you would never be able to tell that this was the same school. The halls were empty, the desks and chairs in classrooms were stacked up, bathroom walls were freshly scrubbed and sterilized, free of graffiti and scribbles. A few stray wrappers danced across the lawns of the campus, blown by the wind from the greyish sky. It wasn't the prettiest day of summer, but there was no definite signal of rain.

The silence was deafening, and the lone boy traipsing across the lawns dropped his head onto his chest in an effort to rid his mind. The silence of LHS, however, wasn't the culprit that was plaguing his mind. Oh, no. This boy had far worse problems of his own to worry about. It depressed him, that so many people lived here, went to the same school as him, breathed the same air as him, yet none knew of his past. And they never would. For Casper would never tell.

It was a cool evening, and I had just gotten back from a friends' place. You know what teenage boys do. Pizza, dirty jokes. The norm. I turned onto my street. There was a bounce in my step. It had been a good day. Then I heard it... that scream. It startled me, of course, but I didn't worry. I knew it came from my house, but it was probably my little sister Allyson's TV. She loved those gruesome crime shows. Walking up my driveway, I heard another scream, heavy footsteps, and a thump. My heart started to pound. That wasn't Ally's TV... that was real. I quickened my step, then started running. I heard Ally scream again, high-pitched and piercing. It cut off halfway. I yelled and sprinted up the steps, completely in wild mode. I wrenched open the door, grabbing the first thing I could. A heavy statue of an elephant from Indonesia. High-tailing it into the living room, I swear my heart stopped for a few seconds. Everything was destroyed, ripped, broken. Blood smeared and splattered the walls. And Allyson, my beautiful little Allyson, was dead on the Persian carpet, her graceful ballerina's body twisted horrifically. I vomited. Then I heard another scream. Mom. My feet moved on their own to the staircase. There was Mom, cowering in the corner, and Dad, drunk as all hell, holding a kitchen knife. I screamed, heaving back my arm and ditching the statue at his head with all I had. He fell instantly. Not dead, just unconscious. I ran to Mom but she was already dying.

After that, everything's a blur. I remember sirens, and more screams, sobbing neighbours and the click of handcuffs as they took my dad away. Ally's body was zipped into a black bag, Mom's dying frame strapped onto a stretcher. They said she died on the way to hospital. I sat in the corner. Rocking. Just rocking, back and forth, back and forth. A few months passed. Just rocking. I lost the ability to speak, to communicate. I was sent to my auntie's. I hated my cousins, and they thought I was weird. The kids at school never tired of calling me 'emo'. And the whispers. I could hear their whispers. Neighbours, middle-aged women getting their daily gossip from my family's demise. I'll never forget those whispers. And the way my life crumbled in a single hour.

Pleasant, isn't it? Exactly. That scene of such carnage was what had turned little Casper Rennington into the sullen, silent recluse he was today. Before the... incident, he was such a happy boy. Full if life, always a joke on hand. But that Casper was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

Dressed in black jeans, black Converse, a dark green shirt and a black hoodie with Atreyu's logo splashed onto the middle pocket in green print, his clothes unintentionally matched his appearance of black hair and dark brown eyes with the faintest tinge of green, rimmed with a lick of eyeliner. The skinny boy cared naught about labels, and pretty much let anyone call him whatever he wanted, knowing he couldn't stop the torrent of insulting names. He didn't care about much, actually. Sinking onto a bench, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the blades of grass growing steadily in the soil, waiting for the next accident to happen.

[I tried to cry out from the inside, but I guess my soul did not pour itself out enough]
[Blood on the walls, flaming black, blood on the walls]
[Kids finding laughter at my expense]
[My heart was bleeding from so much grieving]

[Mr.Blik]

Kelsey jogged onto campus grounds, iPod in ear. Riot was playing as she jogged while the lyrics danced in her head. Let's start a riot! A riot! Let's start a riot! She wore a black tanktop with a picture of a little zombie emo on it with black underarmor and short black shorts. Yeah, she knew it was hot and she didn't need to wear underarmor, but no one needed to know what she used to do. After her dad died.

Kelsey stopped in the middle of the sidewalk at the thought of her dad. It had been...months since she thought of his smiling face and warm embraces. A bright, little country girl she was until he'd had his accident...

Kelsey had her father had been riding their horses out onto the cow pasture when his, a full mustang had spooked over a strange shadow and thrown him. Kelsey's father had broken his neck with the fall, leaving fifteen-year-old Kelsey to ride home alone and tell her mother. This had sent mom into a blind rage. She'd pushed Kelsey off the horse and rode it out to where her dead husband lay. After that, Kelsey's mom had only lived on the ranch for two years...

She stopped the memory there, not wishing to relive the years of pain and being closed up inside herself. Now, all she had to deal with was her mother contantly blaiming her. Kelsey could easily deal with this. Just stay outta the house. That's what she was doing now. Jogging was one thing that took her mind off things. That's when she noticed the emo kid[Casper].

Kelsey turned off the iPod and stowed it in her pocket. She walked over to this emo dude and sat down beside him.

"So what're you doin' here? School just got out."

She gave a soft smile to him, as she could tell he was having....issues.

[dear ♥ desolate]

[Take a picture]

Lost in his own rotten thoughts, Casper stared blankly at the ground, hands shoved deep into pockets, oblivious of any happenings around him. He didn't really expect anything to happen; after all, it was the holidays, and no-one tended to hang around school when they could easily be out with friends. Well, except Casper. Because he didn't really have any friends. And he didn't intend on making any.

He was constantly afraid of getting close to someone, so he preferred to stay out of the way. He shuttered down, and barely spoke. You were lucky if he mumbled a listless hello. He was sarcastic like hell, the hurt inside building up to pressure point and spilling out in toxic, caustic comments. He was sullen, and his terribly beautiful face was always moodily blank. You know how people tell you to deal with something, then move on? Well, he couldn't move on from this. He didn't expect ever to. Unless, someone really spectacular came along and managed to get him to relieve his history, talk about it and let the pain flow. Then, maybe, could he think about moving on.

But God doesn't hand out miracles like candy, people. Life didn't always have movie-like endings. People died and left people behind. Then those people died. It was the way of life. We were born to die. And little Casper was just waiting his turn.

This sounds awfully gruesome for such a naive eighteen-year-old boy to be thinking about, but Cass wasn't a normal eighteen-year-old boy. And he wasn't naive. He knew life was shit. And he expected it to be shit. Because it was. And he had to deal with that.

But, as always, his wish to be left alone was ignored. Trouble nipped at Casper's heels, followed him everywhere he went. He had noticed the redhead jogging across the campus, and had shrunk into his hoodie, hoping she wouldn't notice him and come over. But, of course, she did. Shit. Stupid friendly people. Why couldn't they just piss off? She sat next to him and smiled tentatively. Casper met her eyes - a rarity, treasure it, little girl - and stared back with a blank expression.

Did she think he was stupid? Of course he knew school was out. That's why he had come here, dumbass. TO GET AWAY FROM EVERYONE ELSE. And why should he tell her what he was doing here? It wasn't any of her business, the nosy shit, and he had no intention of telling some completely random stranger why he had chosen to sit on this particular bench on this particular day, thinking about particular thoughts. So, instead, he opted for his safety net; stare at them coldy and hope they get the message to PISS OFF.

[It will last longer]

[OOC__ Don't take it personally. Casper's a sarcastic little shit. xD]