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Personal Entry 1

Unexpected Confrontation
(Happens before With nowhere else to go)


Zacharie could count the times he had talked to his parents directly on both of his hands.

He had been told from a very young age that his parents were 'Very busy people, dear. Try not to let it bother you, they love you very much.' Naturally he'd listened to the nannies with their kind, but distant expressions and warm, but impersonal embraces...he believed every word. So he brought home every high marking report card, every scribbled picture, every successful science project. Anything he could think of to gain their attention, their love. It wasn't often that they came home. The times that they were he was ushered up to his room despite his protests. 'They're very tired, Zacharie. Let them rest.' It took until he was eleven years old, when the nannies were no longer deemed necessary, for him to finally have what could be considered a conversation with his parents.

"...Father?" He'd called out softly, tentatively, peeking around the corner to the sitting room. "Zacharie, you know that I'm busy." It didn't look like they busy to him, they were just sitting and reading the newspaper. "Yes, I know but..." He paused and chewed on his bottom lip as he chose his words. "I need help with my science project." It was a lie, he already knew what he wanted to do. What he wanted was their praise for his great idea. For a moment it was silent and he was certain that his parents were ignoring him. "...Come in." His mother eventually called, glancing up from her book to quietly regard him. He did so eagerly, practically tripping over his own feet in his haste to get closer. "You haven't thought of anything?" His father asked, still not looking up from his paper. It was said flatly but he could hear the vague disapproval. "Jean." His mother stepped in seamlessly, her tone warning as she motioned her son closer still. When Zacharie came to her side he knelt so he could settle his papers onto the arm of her chair. "Actually...I thought maybe I'd do something to do with medicine." He admitted, nervously picking at the hem of his sleeves. Another moment of silence came over the room before, "Well, what about medicine?" She asked slowly, setting her book in her lap. "Valerie-" The sharp look she sent her husband silenced him. "We learned about the scientific theory in class so I was thinking that I could test different medicines on a selected group to see how each person reacts." He said it with a smile, proud of his idea. It was unlikely that anyone else in his class would do something so advanced. The silence this time was deafening and yet charged with something he didn't understand. The smile slowly slid off of his face. "Mother...?" The look that she gave him, that both of them were giving him, made his heart stop. "Go to your room, Zacharie." His father said sharply, his grip on the newspaper so tight his knuckles were white. The young boy hadn't needed any more incentive to grab his papers and flee to the safety of his bedroom.

In the end he did his project on the differences in flowers given varying degrees of care.


The experience had been like a slap to the face. It was becoming distressingly apparent that no matter what he did his parents simply would not care. Whether he behaved perfectly, was sent home because of his bad attitude, received phone calls from worried teachers when bullies sought him out frequently, he received nothing but the occasional note left behind on the counter.

'Behave yourself.'

He stopped trying.

He accepted the seemingly endless bullying, he accepted the cruel names from people he had thought were friends, he accepted the pitying looks from teachers who ultimately did nothing to help, and he accepted that his parents just simply did not care about him one way or another. Because what else was he supposed to do?

Life is cruel, why should the people be any different?

So he locked himself away, hid in the safety of his own mind.
He was happy.
He grew...and he flourished.
He found companionship in Jabari.
He didn't need anyone else.
...Or so he told himself.

"N'don't go thinkin' ya don' need other people either, sm'times the only thing ya got is yer bro's s'the only family ya need too."

He had never thought that the sound of his life crashing down around him would be the sound of a manila folder slapping down onto a marble counter.

"What is this?" His father asked, voice tight with anger. Zacharie stared at the folder, black and white photos peeking out from their unassuming holder. His heart stuttered in its beating when he realized just what the pictures were. "...It looks pretty obvious." He muttered, hands automatically coming up to clutch at the strap of his messenger bag. "You're right, it's incredibly obvious." He hadn't even noticed his mother, standing back by the glass doors that led to the small, fenced patio and fire escape. "You've been sneaking into the morgue, which is illegal, to experiment on people?" It always sounded bad when you said it like that. "They're dead already, it's not like it hurts them." He said tersely, standing his ground. "It's not like I'm going out and testing things on living people." He felt he would drown in the silence it was so thick. His mother looked horrified while his father paled. "How do we know you're not?" It felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "What do you....obviously I'm not!" He exclaimed, surprised at the accusation. "Why would I need dead bodies if I were?" Zacharie had never seen his father move so quickly. "You're experimenting on people, aren't you?" The front of his shirt was grabbed up in a tight fist and he was pulled to his toes, his face a scant few centimeters from the enraged face of his father. "I...I told you, I'm not!" He stuttered, eyes wide and fearful behind the cover of his bangs. He had never been so afraid in his life. "Don't lie to me!" In his shock, it took him a moment for the pain to set in, for him to feel and smell the warm, sticky blood ooze down his cheeks.

"Naw s'all the reason t'be sorry. s**t like that hits a kid, an it hits em hard, s'don't ya go thinkin' that s'okay cause it ain't."

He saw red.

"What would you know!?" He swung out blindly, missing for the most part but managing to land a blow to the older man's stomach. He was released but he didn't stop. "You've never been here!" He screeched, years of hurt and anger finally coming out. His wrist was pulled into a tight grip and he jerked back just in time to narrowly miss a full on punch to the face. Pain exploded behind his closed eyes but still, he didn't stop. "You never cared!" He cried, tears mixing with the blood spilling freely down his face. "Get out!" He was shoved towards the front door. "Don't come back, you freak!" He stumbled, both from the push and the shock the words sent through him. He looked at his parents once more, his father red faced with rage and his mother standing mutely, that horrified look still on her face.

He ran.
He ran and he didn't look back.