[Suicide] PART 2

When I was pulling myself up, I felt this different pull. Like I couldn't go back. It was so tempting to hurry and throw myself onto the bus floor like a mad man. These thoughts were crazy and deranged. Almost as if my mind was losing control through the pass of a door. As I hurried up the stairs, they stopped. I looked at the man again, and he gave an evil smile. One of those smiles that break your skin and make you scream on the inside. I could already feel my blood boil and began to thicken. "Go...to the back." I could hear the hiss in my ear, even though his lips didn't move.

It wasn't empty after all. A small, teenage boy about my age loomed in the back. I barely noticed him at first. He looked like he was blending in with the black lether seat. His head turned to the window, and his eyes lost in thought. Whenever I got to truley examine him, he turned to me. The deep, blue-ice eyes were able to be seen from so far away. Like white on black. His onix hair was in a punk-rock style, flipped to one side, and covering an eye. But the blue eye peeked at me, peeling away at my skin. He was trying to see the true me, instead of my dark brown hair and skull-and-crossbones pjs.

"Hey." I could hear him say. The bus jerked foward, and I lurched to the seat. He looked up at me, and raised his eye brows. His emotionless face was pale, and it pale skin was seen through his unbuttoned night shirt. He had a nice chest. His black boxers made him look even paler. As the bus was all deep shades of black and purple, his skin and eyes really stood out.

I reliezed that I hadn't said anything back. I placed my hands on my thighs and nodded. I was a quiet one, I admitt. "Don't talk eaither huh?" He tried to engage conversation. I watched my feet silently as the chipping black finger-nail-polish fell to the floor. I shook my head, and turned to the outside of the seat. Nothing much to say to a stranger. I was 99% sure I was dreaming anyway. What was the point?

"Ya know, I thought it was a dream too." This caught my attention. He had this sharp low voice that could kill and heal. "Huh...?" I muttered.

"It isn't a dream. That's what I said." I could tell already this was the boy that didn't enjoy to repeat himself.

"But...what...is this place?" I tried to get the words out. But a high croaking voice came instead. He didn't smile, but his eyes lite up a bit more. Placing his ankle on his oppiste knee, and crossing his arms, I could also tell that he was very self-concious. He was the kind to keep tons of secrets, and he wasn't about to tell me one.

"I heard from big man up there it's supposed to be 'Riteousness' or somethin' like that." Paranoia would come to mind if you saw his head jerk to the window again. I tried to find his face again, but he conceled it with his hair. "I just wanna know what the Hell is goin' on." He muttered. The lether seat was cold, but nothing could be more cold than his icy skin. When I brushed my hand against his elbow, he conracted like he had just been tazered. I pulled my hand to my lap again, and turned myself to the side.

The bus was completely empty except for the boy, the bus driver, and me. I wouldn't be surprised if it was haunted. The lether seats looked as if they hadn't been sat in since they had been made. I hadn't noticed, but the ceiling was very high. The dark roof was almost tiled it seemed like. The windows were tented, and the sky was dark anyway.

"What's...your name?" I brought myself to asking. When he turned, a look of innocence, and sadness appeared. Why the sudden nose-dive in emotions?