The Works of Julius St. Clair (Novel Samplers) by Julius St.Clair

Author:Julius St.Clair
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: novels, romance, vampire, thriller, love, angels, crime, suspense, adventure, action, artificial intelligence, dating, hell, fantasy, paranormal, magic, apocalypse, short stories, kingdom, young adult, supernatural, science fiction, zombie, demons, princess, teen, high school, queen, robots, androids, superhero, technology, super powers, king, political thriller, sage, hard science fiction, wishes, heaven, adam and eve, fighting, christian fiction, dystopian, royalty, sampler, sorcerer, genie, siren, champion, fall of man, upgrade, julius st clair, last of the sages, my immortal playlist, the deadly ones
Publisher: Julius St.Clair

CHAPTER 2: STILLBIRTH

They told me I had beaten him to a pulp. I wasn’t sure what the phrase meant exactly, but ironically I had a craving for orange juice. I received none, but the school administration took the liberty of calling my parents. The infamous ride to the police station was both surreal and anticlimactic. The officers sat in front of the wire frame that intentionally separated good from evil, whispering about how dangerous I was, to inflict such damage to another human being – their assumptions, convicting me before I had said a word. No one had asked for my side of the story when I was found behind the weeping willow. I guess my predator had spoken quite adequately in his silence, for I was promptly snatched away from my reading and held until the police arrived. The minimum wage politician I knew as my history teacher kept a steady hand on my shoulder the entire time, staring at me with righteous indignation, his “A” student now a hoodlum – one of them.

And so, I was taken to the station, where class skippers, gang members, and borderline rapists were interrogated and sent on their merry way – given a fifth, sixth – infinite number of chances to clean up their lives while I would not be afforded the same. I was expected to understand the rules of society and follow them accordingly. Supposedly, I knew better, while my classmates were sick in the head, confused, or had had a difficult childhood; therefore, a chance to strike again was allowed. I didn’t know they changed the rules of baseball…

I wasn’t obese, but the chair kissed my thighs all the same. The curved metal back support braced against me so hard, I thought I had scoliosis. The room was as lonely and frigid as a mountaintop – the grainy gray walls enhancing the stale, thin air; the numbing cold clinging like wet jeans to my bones. The only reprieves were a one-way mirror, which may as well have been a wall, and a table to rest my arms on.

One of the officers who took me in broke protocol and started questioning me without my parents’ consent. He was a stereotypical cop – one of the overweight, righteous kinds that spoke to me like I was a drug lord. I let him get out his frustrations, for I had already resolved not to speak. I had to tread carefully. It wasn’t every day you saw a teenager engrossed in a novel next to a crimson mound of unidentifiable flesh.

“You know you almost beat that kid half to death?” he spat in my face, which was the worst interrogation tactic as of yet. I stifled a laugh, but he caught it before it dissipated.

“You’re sick, son,” he said through grit teeth. “But don’t worry, we have a specialist coming in just for you.”

I shifted my listless eyes to the right, staring through the concrete walls. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was sick.

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