"Shadows"


Chapter Three

Moving down the hallway, he turned down to the left, towards the back of the house. The lights dimmed slightly, a cloud passing over the sun. It suited his mood and so he welcomed it. Passing by his bedroom, he headed, instead, into his study.

Two large, wooden doors opened up on a spacious room. He went inside and pushed both doors closed behind him, which signalled to anyone passing by that he did not wish to be disturbed, if on the off-chance anyone wanted to be in his company.

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on one of the five pegs that were nailed to the right hand side of the door. Next, he kicked off his muddy shoes and left them sitting beneath the jacket. As he moved further into the room, he pulled his school jumper up over his head and tossed it aside. Sixth Formers didn’t have to wear school uniform but Justin’s parents forced him to wear respectable schoolwear. Black V-neck jumpers with white shirts or T-shirts and black trousers. Justin wished he could wear jeans and jumpers like his classmates – like Rhydian.

On the large desk towards the right of the room was Justin’s laptop. It was always left switched on but hidden behind a password. He typed in the six-letter password – a combination of numbers and letters that he changed every week – and flicked on the coffee-maker. Once the water was warm, he poured himself a mug and added two spoons of sugar.

He blew on the hot liquid and sipped at it. It burned his lips and tongue. He liked that. He looked around the room, checking to see if anyone had been inside it while he’d been out of the house.

Everything appeared to be in its place. The sofa at the opposite side of the room, which was wide enough to sleep on if he couldn’t be bothered to walk down the hallway to his own bed, was still cluttered with pillows and an old duvet. The television was still facing the wall, something he did at the beginning of every day because he believed it sucked the energy out of him. He’d turn it back to face the front when he next needed it.

The curtains were still standing open. They could be closed but never had been before. Justin loved to watch the dark night trying to penetrate his light, warm room. It never got in. And there were plenty of places for it to try and gain access. Seven large, church-like windows took up the facing and left wall. Swaying treetops and the village below made up Justin’s view. It made him feel like a king surveying his country. And if his mother was a princess in Europe then surely that made him a prince. He snorted into the quiet room. His mother was no more a princess than he was a king. She never had been. She was just the daughter of a well-respected government figure in Germany. But everyone believed her lie because it sounded so romantic.

Justin threw himself down onto the leather chair in front of the desk and checked his email. Nothing there that he wanted to read. Just some fan mail from the kids who read his blog. They came from all over the world just to read what he had to say. It was empowering. The funny thing was that the blog was quite famous amongst the internet-minded people in school. Not one of them had a clue that he was the mysterious John F Kennedy. Chosen because Justin shared the same initials as the famous American President. It led people to believe he was in fact American.

He opened up Blogger, his blogging tool. Most people had turned to Live Journal the previous year but Justin didn’t like the cold, impersonal templates. His blog layout changed frequently, depending on his mood. At the moment it was dark – navy-blues, blacks and whites with a large black-grey cloud blazoned across the top. He’d been keeping the blog for over four years. It had grown in popularity during the last two years when his entries had become more honest – and angry.

Typing quickly, he made his new entry. One that criticised the cool, popular kids, the retelling of a true event from the day, slightly embellished to cover his true identity. The internet junkies lapped him up. Thanks to punk-rock becoming famous amongst the little pop girls, all people aged ten years and over thought themselves to be outcasts and tortured souls. They loved Justin’s blog because they wished they lived in his world.

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