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Under the soft glow of the twilight sky, a boy, no older than fifteen, sits cross legged in the plain, cold, alone. He is praying, praying to the powers that be, God, Buddha, Mother Earth, Odin, and anything else he can think of. He started praying to fix, and, maybe, just maybe discover himself, but it slowly devolves into sobs, and a hope he could be anywhere else. He composes himself, thanking all of the beings that he had prayed to.

“I gotta get home.”

Slowly walking back to his home, he looks up and wishes, wishes to not have to deal with his family, his teachers, his classmates, anything that has brought him hardship. He doesn’t say it out loud but was heard, by whom he does not know, but he knows it was.

“But give me a day to think it over, really think it over, without,” he sighs, “without, no, while I am in the right state of mind. That is all I ask at this moment. Please. Thank you, thank you.”

By the time he arrives at his house, the sun has risen, not caring about the open window he came out from. In front of the door he looks around at the patio, the frog, and gnome, and dog statues, he steels himself. No excuses, I’m too tired of them.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Opening the door, he sees the overhang-balcony mash-up, it's close, too close for comfort, then he hears his mother scream his name, like a banshee.

“JACOB! Where were you, young man?”

“In the plains outside of town,” he murmurs under his breath, "away from you.”

“I heard that. Now clean the house, by yourself, yes, or I’ll write you out of the will.”

Jacob sighs once again, thinking to himself. You already have, for the same reason, no need to do it again.

That was one aspect about his mother that he could respect, but didn’t, she always goes through with things, she never makes threats, only promises.

Taking off his shoes, his elder sister yells out from her room, saying what Jacob was thinking, but twisting it in a way to make it sound funny, or intentionally mean, he could never tell.

“Didn’t you already do that? What could you do to do it twice?”

Jacob tunes the conversation out. Walking down the stairs, to both his, and his little sisters room, the only person other than father, who only appears on Saturdays, who both gives him a feeling of being loved. He doesn’t go to her room though. Checking both the calendar, and his phone he realizes it’s Saturday. Brightening up, he waits in his room until 7:00 am.