Freak

Chapter 2

when i do this

.

I am just indicating a pause, as if you were listening to someone reading it. It basically means I am indicating that you should think about what was just said, because it will be important to the story

~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the end of summer vacation, Freak was finally going back to school for his first day of 5th grade. He was ten years old, not that he bothered to remember, and hadn't spoken for almost 8 years.

Instead of speaking, he played. Music flowed from his fingers and lips through instruments. Clarinet, Oboe, Flute, Violin, Cello, Piano... he could play them all.

Instead of feeling, he painted. Showing his thoughts through scarily realistic and creative pictures... all the morbid images were overlooked though, as people only focussed on the craftsmanship..

His relatives sold the paintings for money.

.

I'm class he was a prodigy, but he made sure not to bring anything home, or to do too well so that he wouldn't be punished for trying to 'be better than our little Dudley'

As if that was hard...

All the teachers adored him, and thought him mute.

All the students despised him for being 'a teacher's pet' and for 'cheating'.

And he was known as 'Harry' there, what an odd name indeed, but he answers to it none the less, establishing eye contact when spoken to.

He still remained silent.

.

He was also fluent in at least five languages... not that he kept track of them.

He never spoke them, he wrote them, read them.

Before he knew it, the bliss known as school was over for the summer, and he quickly became cut off from his sacred source of knowledge.

Back to the Dursleys.

Back to the whipping

And beating

And biting and scratching and ripping and tearing and-

Living.

Freak was not exactly sad to go back to number four, Privet Drive.. in fact he slightly reveled in the idea. Pain made him feel - feel something - and that was worth it. It didn't really hurt much after all these years, anyway.

And blood was quite beautiful, really.