I whistled while I strolled down the road, my hands in my coat's pockets. I merrily skipped along to my little tune, my computer bag swinging around my hip. I noticed Joey hurrying down the road perpendicular to my own path.

He looked like he was in a hurry, and a grin was plastered across his face. "Where're you goin, Tommy?" His voice was absolutely grating on my nerves, since I had to share a homeroom with the prick. He spent his spare time picking on the underclassmen. If he was hurrying down the road and calling out someone's name it wasn't a good sign.

I narrowed my eyes and followed behind at a reasonable distance. "What are you up to?

\\\\||||////

"Where're you goin' Tommy?"

I ran. I ran as fast as I could. I didn't want another beating. Not today. Today was special. Today was my birthday.

It was a nice day, and the clouds looked like big cotton balls on a sheet of blue paper. I got a hundred on my math test from last week, too. It was a good day. I may even have a date! Mom and Dad will be so happy.

But I can't go on a date if I'm beat up. Nobody goes on a date with somebody whose been punched in the face. It's embarrassing.

Joey was gaining on me. I could hear his footsteps behind me. Why did the juniors always pick on me? I'm in eighth grade. They're so much bigger, so why do they do it?

Joey grabbed my collar. He yanked me back and threw me on the ground. "Oof!"

I looked up and I saw his smug face, dotted with acne and untrimmed hair. His brown, disheveled hair obscured his left eye, but his right eye was shooting me an evil glare.

A glare that promised another beating.

I cringed.

He lifted his fist.

And received a solid punch right to his neck.

Joey fell to the ground, tears in his eyes.

I looked at my hero, and saw that he wore a black winter coat and one of those gray hats with the floppy ears. He was skinny, but fit, and tall. His black hair poked out from under the hat, and his bushy eyebrows angled downwards in pure rage. He was a junior too, but I couldn't remember his name.

He reached down and grabbed Joey by the scruff of his bright yellow sweater, and with a yank the coated junior had him on his knees.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Miller?"

Joey spluttered some crazy stuff, some tears in his eyes. The other guy slapped him upside the head. "What. The. Fuck. Is. Your. God. Damn. Problem?!" He punctuated every word with a forceful slap from his right hand. Now Joey was openly leaking tears.

My savior dropped him and kicked him in the rear, sending Joey sprawling.

"Get the hell out of here, you putrid rotten cunt!"

Joey didn't argue, and ran down the street, stopping momentarily to grab his things.

The tall junior watched him the entire time until Joey fled around a street corner, out of sight. Then, with a sigh, he turned around and smiled sadly. "You alright," he said. Though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

I nodded and got up. The junior had my bag in his hands already. I looked down at the ground and frowned. "Yeah, I guess I owe you anyways…"

I heard a chuckle, and he had the most baffled look on his face. "Owe me? Hell no! I got an excuse to beat that worthless waste of fresh air! That's payment enough. C'mon, take it."

I thought it was a trick, so I reached out slowly. When I had it in my grasp, he let go, and I slipped the bag on my shoulders. I thanked him quietly, and he just smirked. He walked a few feet to my right and picked up his own bag: a simple shoulder bag with a velcro flap. He swung it around him and grinned at me.

"So. How was your day?"

\\\\||||////

We talked all about me. And nothing else. He didn't seem to care.

He actually walked me all the way home. Past the alleyways and other kids, and all the way across the bridge where the other kids usually threw my pencil case into the river.

It was weird, but at the same time comfortable. I ranted and raved, and he just wore this stoic, understanding expression. I talked about my date excitedly, and I know I messed up a bunch of words because I was talking to fast. I thought he would laugh at me, but instead he just wore that grin that my dad gets when he's proud of me. And those same understanding eyes.

We got home, and my mom was waiting at the door. She saw me and ran outside, giving me a big hug in her excitement. She handed me a big wrapped present, and kissed me on the forehead. "Happy Birthday, dear!" she piped brightly.

I hugged her back and turned to my present.

"And who might you be?" My mom must have been talking to the junior.

"Oh, my name is-"

"He saved me from getting beat up! It was awesome! Joey was gonna hit me, and then he popped up and went WHAM right to his neck! Then he called him a bunch of bad words and kicked him in the butt, and Joey ran off!"

The junior's face seemed to drain of color, and my mom was looking right at him now with narrowed eyes. Uh oh, I had forgotten that my mom doesn't like people saying bad words around me. And this junior had used some really bad words.

"Swearing, young man?"

The junior held his hands up as if to defend himself. Then he was trapped in my father's bear hug, which ironically was more like a bear trap. I saw the junior struggling for air, and his hands twirled about, his arms pinned to his chest.

"You defended my boy?" Dad had this big, booming voice. It's really intimidating.

I nodded furiously. "Yeah dad! He beat up Joey!"

Dad released the junior and laughed heartily. "Y'know, I would have done it myself, but I probably would have been arrested! Our little Tommy has been complaining of that nuisance for weeks now. I'm glad somebody put a stop to it!"

The junior balled his fists and glared at the pavement. "If I had known sooner I could have stomped Joey earlier. That rat…"

My dad's smile seemed to brighten more, his teeth showing from under his burly gray mustache. Yeah, he had a handlebar mustache. Don't ask.

Dad clapped the junior on the back, knocking the wind out of him and setting him off balance. "Better late than never, eh? Come on in, have some cake!"

The junior shook his head. "No thank you. I've got to head home and finish some work. Also got my little sister to worry about." He turned around and began to walk, before looking back at me with a confident smile. "And Happy Birthday, Jennings."

Then he walked back down the street. Past where the fight was and even further. It was as if he had gone out of his way just to help me.

"That guy is awesome."

Dad laughed again, this time with Mom. "I suppose so, what's his name?"

"His what?"

"His name, Timmy, what is it?"

I never asked his name…

"Ah nuts…"

Now Mom and Dad seem slightly disappointed. "Oh well, I'm sure we'll see him again… But enough lolligagging young man! THERE'S CAKE!"

I love my family.

\\\\||||////

Goddamn do I love my friggin' family.

Seriously, its the best family ever. Puerto Rican, Italian, Irish, German, and Russian. If you think that doesn't make you badass then you have to sit in the corner and think about life.

I was glad that I got to smack Joey around and help that kid out. I had seen him around school, mostly in the lunch room sitting by himself. Poor kid. I learned his name from a buddy of mine in Jazz club. Apparently that Jennings kid has some monster talent with the saxophone.

"Maybe one day he can play me some swing," I mused to myself. Approaching fast was my spacious living, eating, and entertainment environment. Complete with plumbing and electricity.

A nice matte white with blue and grey shingles, it was simple and unique to the neighborhood. I fished my keys out of my pocket, my fingers brushing against my ipod. "Damn, I could have been listening to Palov this entire friggin' time."

Sighing, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. Walking into the living room, I placed my bag quietly on the chair to my right. "I'm ho-"

"MOTHERFUCKING FAGGOT WITH THE SHOTGUN!"

I turned to my left, smiling. "Hey dad, how's that negative kill death ratio?"

He frowned again, glaring at the screen. Due to today's technology, he had been able to work from home, and he made a killing in graphic design.

"This motherfucker is lagging like a bitch, I know it!" he seethed. I shook my head with an amused smile. I set him up with the Playstation online.

"SONUVA BITCH HACKER!"

And I created a monster…

"Well, I'm going upstairs. Mom and Leah home?"

He didn't look away from the screen, but he tilted his head back to me. "Mom's not home yet, but Leah is upstairs in our room, watching TV." I thanked him and jogged up the stairs, turning left and smiling immediately.

Down the hall was my little sister, Leah. Leah had started kindergarten this year, and nobody messed with her. Not a damn soul. She saw me and gasped in excitement, before burying her face in the covers and squealing.

I threw off my shoes and sprinted to the bed, launching myself into the air and landing beside her, snatching her up and wrapping her in a hug. She laughed and giggled, my relentless onslaught of tickles too much for her to bear. Then I picked her up and dropped her onto the bed, letting her bounce.

I lied down next to her and kissed her on the forehead. "How's my little boo-boo?"

She laughed. "Gooooood!"

I hugged her again. Then we watched Tom and Jerry before we both fell asleep.

\\\\||||////

When I woke up, the time was eight and Leah was gone. I groaned and quite literally rolled my ass out of bed. I moped down the stairs and saw that dinner was ready. And there was Mom.

"Hi Ma."

"Hello~" she said, as if beginning a musical number. "How was your day today?"

I shrugged. "Eh, pretty boring. Did the lab, talked about Emma Watson with some buddies, and punched a kid in the neck."

The last one made my mom turn to me, looking concerned. Dad came out of the kitchen with two full plates. He looked genuinely surprised.

"Why?"

"He was being an absolute asshat to this eighth grade kid, so I stepped in and put him in his place," I responded like it was common knowledge. Both of my parents paused.

"That's my boy," they said in perfect unison.

I grinned back with a hunk of garlic bread in my hand. "You're damn right I am."

\\\\||||////

Dinner was delicious, as always. I sat down at my desk in my room and flipped my laptop open. Today was Friday, and there was nothing holding me back. I hovered over the browser.

"And~" I clicked. "AWAY!"

\\\\||||////

After around four hours of alternating between ponies, Youtube, and my trade status in Team Fortress Two, I sketched some characters in my art pad.

I got bored after twenty minutes, and deciding to log in to Steam. Opening my game, I cracked my knuckles and grinned at the screen sadistically. "I'm gonna bust you the fuck out, Tycho."

\\\\||||////

"Mother. Fucker!"

I quit Poker Night and opted instead for Team Fortress. "At least Andrew is playing…" And I won't lose seventy thousand dollars of virtual money. I sank in my chair when I thought of my last hand.

"The game is a psychic bastard that wants me to lose. It has to be," I remember thinking. I opened tf2 and joined Andrew's game. I heard his voice come over the mic. "Hey, Mono!"

"What's up, Drew?"

"Not much. Wanna show these noobs how it's done?"

I selected the Pyro and smiled thinly. "Eeyup."

\\\\||||////

The day was done and my strange Degreaser had another hundred kills logged into it, and at five in the morning I decided it was time to sleep. Closing my eyes, I fell into a dreamless slumber.

My alarm went off, startling me awake. Noticing the time, I panicked when I realized that I had promised to hang out with Spitzer at ten! Scooping up some stuff from a chair buried in clothes, I hurled it to the ground and sat atop it. I fit on my tan sweater and gray slacks. My coat went over next, and then my hat. I couldn't find my sneakers, so my dress shoes would have to do.

I threw my laptop, charger, a tangle of cables, and my hard drive in my shoulder bag. I snatched a bunch of clothes next, because luck favors the prepared. I grabbed my wallet and my ipod, and ran out the door. Sprinting downstairs, I hastily explained where I was going and nabbed my phone from between the couch cushions.

I was out and toward the train station, my legs pumping and my heart racing.

When I got there, I saw that the train had just pulled in, and I made a mad dash up the stairs to the platform. The doors began closing, and with a leap of faith and a bit of panic, I slipped through the closing doors.

Too bad my face hit the other sealed doors, but I was inside nonetheless!

I then realized how badly I had to go. As in number two. You know, a shit. Yeah, too much information, sorry…

Lucky for me, this train had a nifty little toilet, and I hopped inside to do my business. Instead of being on a rack of some sort, the toiletries were amassed in a plastic bag.

"Better than nothing…"

I sat down and began my business, casually opening a nearby Time Magazine and scanning through it. That's when I felt a lurch, a surge, and then stillness.

I looked up, and went pale soon afterwards.

This was not the train.

This was not New York.

This was dark.

This was a garden.

And I was on a stump.

"I didn't even wipe yet…"

Author's Notes:

CAN YOU SAY SELF-INSERT?

Don't run away, please? I'll be trying hard to make sure this story doesn't follow the HiE cookie-cutter code of carnage. No "humans are monsters" or "unlimited power" thing. I'll keep anything like that on the down low and reel any ideas in before they get too out of hand. Expect music in further chapters.

*Edited the beginning to define the main character, I believe that should balance out the thumbs.*

~Mono