The Born, the Infected, and the Taught

This wasn’t John’s best mood, but that could be changed.
After all, it was hard to be cheery in a place like this.  The floor was only concrete, cold against the touch, and the little furniture John had in his room didn’t go together in any fashion. All the furniture was made of wood, and seemed to have mold growing from it, if not termites. The one light socket held a weak bulb, and exposed wires as it hung from the ceiling. The roof directly above the light fixture sagged and had enormous stains from water damage spotting it almost like a cow pattern. There was no computer, and no television in his room, actually John didn’t have much of anything. The little amount of clothes he had was kept in a trash bag in the corner, which John was too lazy to put away in dressers. The bag had already been ripped open and spilled clothes onto parts of his floor. The bed, along with it’s sheets was too small, especially for any fifteen year old boy, even if they were a little short. The pink and white striped sheets were almost nauseating to look at, as the white was no longer white, and the pink, had faded and stained into some sickly indescribable color.
John neither matched nor contrasted his room. Everything about him was neutral. His hair was black, long and straight, usually a bit greasy and his skin was a creamy dark color, reflecting his Hispanic mother, and Asian father. His eyes were almond shaped,  and had a gray color to them that was unusual. His face was spotless, smooth, but not oily. John believed his look was his life saver.
He rummaged through the top drawer on his rotting wooden dresser, before pulling out a small Ziploc bag of marijuana, and a makeshift pipe made out of an old medicine bottle. He found a lighter, one of many in his room and, loaded up the pipe to take his first hit all day
A whole day sober seemed like an accomplishment at this point,  He took a few more deep hits before his mother started beating on the door.
John was coughing heavily as he frantically put the pipe and lighter in the drawer, then covered the smell with a baptizing of deodorant spray, before casually opening the door.
His mother’s frail aged frame was standing there, in simple t-shirt and underwear. Her beady eyes stared directly into his, and then she sniffed once, as a warning.
“Um, yeah?” was all John could manage.
His mother’s stare never moved. “You’re smoking. Don’t go to school tomorrow morning, were going to have a talk.”
John sighed heavily, and then tried to shut the door. It was stopped abruptly by his mother’s foot. “Go to bed Johnathan.” John just closed he door and sat down on his bed. His throat grew tight and his eyes welled up. He absolutely hated having a conscience. Something telling him that every move he made was a step backwards. A little voice like someone was living up there, shouting at him, scolding him for every wrong turn.
“No crying. None,” He told himself. “How fucked up am I?”
He wiped his face, and shook his head, remembering how shameless he used to be. Oh how he wanted be like that again.
He looked around his room, wanting to think of something else. The half torn rock posters reading “Metallica” and “My Chemical Romance,” cheap curtains and the ragged bed spread seemed like the closest to "home" John could scrounge together. The white walls appeared ominous at times like this, but usually they seemed like nothing out of the ordinary.
The cell phone that had originally belonged to his mothers ex-boyfriend buzzed gently. To John’s relief, the idiot was still paying for it. John smiled with a lopsided grin and looked at the display mouthing “Kelsey.” He flipped it open and answered.
“Hey beautiful.”
The voice at the other end was bitter sweet, even provocative.
“Hey bitch, get your ass down to 3rd and Demeter street. Bring my ‘X’ and if you love me you’ll bring me a pack of smokes.”
He laughed slightly, letting a lock of straight black hair fall into his face. “And what might the occasion be?”
“Free party sound system. I expected you to be on top of this John, I’m ashamed.”
“Tonight? There’s school tomorrow.”
A laugh like knives came from the phone. The voice was taunting. “Oh so little Johnny is pretending to care about school now? Whatever, I’m still expecting you here. It’s not like your actually going to school tomorrow. You’ve already missed twenty some odd days this semester, there’s no point.”
Reluctance: It seemed to be the word of the week.
“Alright, alright. I’ll be there.” John sighed and hung up.
Getting up to walk to the bed stand felt like a workout. John shook his head in disbelief that he was going through with this.
His bed stand had seen better days. Obviously neglected over the course of time, green paint flaked as John wrenched open the second drawer that always stuck. In the back underneath a tin box was a quarter size bag containing tiny colorful tablets, twisted shut. John grabbed the bag, and stuffed it into his coat pocket.
By now the hazy feeling from smoking was starting to set in. John stood in the center of his room, blankly looking around. “What was I going to do?” He muttered to himself. He simply shrugged, turned off the lights and climbed out of the small window facing the alleyway.
Dogs barked as John walked down the filthy alley way. Rundown houses that somehow still held people, watched him with their window eyes. The houses were speaking but John had his own delirious mind to listen to. The fence on his right was slightly taller than him, but that was not saying much considering John’s height. He could see his breath crystallize in front of him and couldn’t help but giggle slightly amused. John was not sure if he was moving at all, as the end of the alley way did not appear to be coming any closer. Staring up he could only see the smoke from nearby factories and power plants. No stars tonight, or any night now that he thought on it.
John suddenly tripped unaware of his feet because of his captivation in the smog.
Pain flashed through his body as he realized he was far too late to catch himself. Shaking off the pain, John looked up and noticed a dark silhouette near the other end of the alley way, which he was just a bit too dazed to estimate the distance.
John jumped up as fast as he could, dusted himself off, and hid his fear as he began walking towards the silhouette. His heart was racing, trying to get out of his chest, and his head pulsed with a murderous pain. The moon dug a hole through the smog and shone straight into his face, but seemed to neglect the silhouette as though it was cloaked.
John’s skin buzzed, and his haired raised, detecting eyes on him. He kept his head down, his hands in his pockets, and walked straight passed the intimidating black figure.
“Where the fuck do you think your going?”
John could’ve recognized that voice anywhere.
He turned around and grinned straight at Kelsey‘s silhouette. “You scary bitch,” he said letting out a long breath, and turning to face Kelsey. John couldn’t help but smile at her. Kelsey wrapped her arms around John’s scrawny body and kissed him on the lips in an almost innocent fashion. John pulled a small bag of ecstasy tablets from his brown suede jacket, and gave them to Kelsey, whom gladly took them and put them between her breasts.
“I’m supposing the kiss was for those?” John said.
“Of course, it’s not because I love you.” Kelsey smiled wickedly and swept some of her awfully dyed hair out of her face.
John looked at her green hair, disgusted but not making it known as he examined the rest of her flawless body. Kelsey’s bright red, overly baggy ‘UFO’ pants, were accompanied only by her strapped combat boots, and white tank top. John couldn’t help but snicker at her choice of attire.
“Don’t your boobs freeze in this weather?”
Kelsey shrugged off the thought. “Nah I’m used to it. You should be too, shrimp boy.” Kelsey smirked and playfully grabbed one of John’s nipples.
He flinched, slapped Kelsey’s hand away from his tight black t-shirt, and giggled. “What warehouse are we headed to?” John asked trying to divert attention away from his nipples.
“Same as last time, just around this corner.” Kelsey grabbed his hand and walked him all the way into the industrial district where an empty warehouse had approximately fifty people, some helping to set up speakers and DJ equipment.
The people here all wore UV reactive clothes, oddly colored hair, goggles and make up that screamed a statement. John was used to the sight of  this culture, as he was part of it on a regular basis. Though he preferred to keep his appearance subtle, the other people here greeted him and treated him as an equal.
John jumped at the feeling of something touching his ass. He turned and saw Kelsey light up a cigarette. “Dirty thief,” he scoffed.
“Look you owed me this anyway.” Kelsey grinned and slapped John’s ass. John considered slapping her back, but remembering she was slightly stronger than he was discouraged him.
He only scowled and walked into the warehouse to talk to some of the usuals.
The party started late. The chatter was dull, and John was as disappointed with tonight as he thought he would be. The music of DJ Neurotic pulsed through him, as he danced with Kelsey, letting his body loose. Kelsey handed him one of the ecstasy tablets and he gladly took it and dry swallowed it realizing he was fading from his high. John focused on the flashing of strobe lights, the visual effects of glowsticks, the straight forward music pulsing through his body, and the touch of Kelsey. Lost in a euphoria, all the colors and sounds swirled together. John let it all cradle him in a feeling of warmth, and security. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good. The dancing was tiring for but for once that was all he had to care about.

The alarm clock screamed obscenities at John. He had forgotten to turn it off before he left. Aching all over, and not at all wanting to get up, he ripped the alarm clock from the wall, and it quickly stopped it’s horrid shouting. John shuddered and covered his skinny naked frame with freezing blankets, trying to hide from the light pouring in through the window he left open. “My everything hurts,” he groaned.
The television in the living room was too loud, and judging from the amount of daylight, John assumed it must be time for his mother’s favorite soap opera.  He moaned some more and covered his head with the one pillow on his bed, trying to block out the sound. Oddly enough, John tasted a bit of blood in his mouth, and couldn’t remember most of what had happened  the previous night. He cursed as his cell phone buzzed again interrupting his thought and sleep.
“Hello,” John answered groggily.
“Get your ass in here while commercials are still on so we can have our talk.” John’s mother’s voice was just as scratchy and hateful as he anticipated.
“Yeah, one sec.” That wasn’t exactly what John wanted to say to his mother, but he reflected on the trouble he was already in and bit his tongue.  He put on the jeans he was wearing last night, and left the room, leaving the shirt and socks abandoned in a small heap in the center of his room. The floorboards of the hallway creaked with each step he took down the hall way to the living room.
John’s mother had not taken the initiative to get dressed today, and was still wearing the same clothes she had on the night before. She was reclined in her large plush chair, staring at the small television; the only one they owned. She breathed a little heavier than usual, but despite how much trouble she seemed to be having with breathing, she continued to puff on her cigarette.
The living room itself was cluttered with all sorts of left over furniture that had been donated and handed down from other family. None of it exactly matched, but it seemed to fit together in the room like a game of tetris, with little or no spaces in between. The rug on which John stood, was dirty, stained and quickly coming apart in more places that he could count.
John’s mother flicked her ashes on the floor and exhaled smoke before trying to speak.
“John, I know your old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.” At this she turned at looked him straight in the eye. “I can’t force you to choose one or the other, but as your mother, I have to do something when I can see you straying from a mile away.”
John looked away from his mother’s face, obviously uncomfortable standing there. She continued. “John, what your doing is illegal. As much as I don’t want you to do it, you have a little sister remember? Do you think she should be exposed to that? I’m doing my best to be a good mother to you two but when you,” she stopped suddenly and turned her attention to the television where a new program was beginning.
“Come back in fifteen,” she spoke absentmindedly.
John could only sigh and mutter about her sub-par parenting skills. He had learned not to expect much from his mother.
He returned to his room, still aching, and remembering just how cold it was to be half-naked. John picked up some less-dirty clothes and changed into them. He looked into the slight reflection on his window. The black polo and blue jeans were both too big, but John only shrugged. Finally finding some socks that were not absolutely repulsive, he slipped them on along with his tennis shoes, a size too small, and climbed out through the window.
When the cold air hit John, he suddenly felt everything at once. He was angry at his mom, for not giving a damn, but also for being such a bitch. He was regretting last night, not to mention many things he’d done in the past. He was disappointed in himself for screwing things up. More than anything he was frustrated for going no where fast.  John didn’t want to be a nobody, a fuck up. He wanted to be something that mattered.
He walked down the too familiar alley way, and touched the brick wall of one of the houses. Looking to the fence on the other side, John watched in horror as it came closer, and closer, and the alley way shrank, trying to suffocate him. His heart raced, and his breathing grew fast. He was alone, he was scared and no one gave a damn. He blinked back tears until they spilled from his eyes and over his cheeks. He sat down next the red brick house and hugged both his knees, letting his head rest against the house. John’s breathing became faster and faster, his sobbing became harder and everything began to spin. The alley twirled faster than any merry go round, and rocking back and forth wasn’t helping, though it wasn’t controllable. John’s stomach suddenly lurched and emptied it’s contents, all over the alley way street.
Although John was sick, dizzy, hyperventilating, and beyond emotionally distressed,  when he looked up, he knew exactly what he saw. A man a little over 6 feet tall, with a buzzed head, and menacing stare, and the only clothes John could make out, were his black turtle neck zipped up sweater, and billowing trench coat. The one feature that stood out over all the others however, were the man’s peculiar pointed ears.