no more common dress or elliptical caress

Kids in school, algebra test. Thomas is closest to the window, and he isn't sure of the answer. It's 3x. He hands up his paper and walks to the playground. The other kids want him to play. But he wasn't in the mood. He slept for hardly 2 hours so he could get full marks for the test. In exasperation he threw the scone on the floor, walked up to his best friend Harold (from the other class) and kicked him. "The answer was 3x you blooming idiot!"

"Get up. The next time you get anything less than full marks for you exams. You'd be praying for a split lip instead! Get back to them books! If only you were dead. I'd be a happier man. No more a Father!"

The walk home was a long one for Thomas. Every step he took, his anger grew. Strangely, he chose not to turn into Qisangham Cottage. He walked on. Somehow, he knew where he was going. Somehow, Thomas knew what he was going to do. Something seemed strange. Thomas was usually calm. Calm because he was afraid of his Father. Quiet because of fear. Motivated, by lashings.

Expectations? But why?

The railway station was quiet. Trains had not passed this place in a long time. The rest of us knew that it was the perfect place to come to. We always came here. There was something different about this place. It was dark, yet it seemed so lively.
Thomas sat down. His face, red.
The expectation weight me down. After years of waiting. Your expectations flash before my eyes. I'm a reasonable boy. Get off my case. Get off my case. Get off my case! I want the toys of other boys. The have skateboards and stuff from the City. I've had these toys since i was born. I'll show you. I'll show you. You never loved me anyway. I'll show you.
Thomas looked as if he was hiding something so badly. But how could a boy of 16, have such an aura about him. It was as if, he wanted to kill someone. Maybe he was, because he had a blade in his hand.

This is fucked up. Fucked up. I don't care what the future holds. I don't care where I end up. I can't take this. No one cares for me. No one loves me. I hate being alone. What is wrong with everyone. Can't they see the pain I am in? Can't they help? Yes I want attention. I want love.

I sat that watching helplessly as Thomas cut himself. But he seemed to be carving something. It was scary. He seemed to be oblivious to the pain. Almost as if, he was used to doing it. His left arm was covered with '3x'. So was his left leg. His face was not spared. But he cut his cheeks. Everyone knew his cheeks turned rosy everytime something funny took place. His cheeks turned rosy when he was angry as well. This time, he was covered in a crimson mask.

So you like my cheeks. Now there's nothing left to look at. Take that swines! I'm not your lap dog. I am not your lap dog.

Thomas started to walk towards the River. Just the other side of the hill. But he took an old bicycle he found by the shed in the Station. He pedalled to the place where all the young children were told not to go. The myth of a dragon living in these waters were not true, but solidified by the 3 sheep that went missing. But Thomas was at the shallowest part. It was only knee deep.

Finally. This pain means nothing. Cry me for. Cry for me.

He undressed, and stepped into the cold water in the nude. In the distance, the sound of whistles and men running could be heard. He had already been missing for more that 8 hours. He put his head under and took a deep breath.
Thomas was as complicating as algebra. No one knew what was in his mind. No one knew how he worked. All he wanted was

this is your chance for happiness.
i dream of being famous.
going to drama school.
my face will be on television.
you will cry at my songs.
resist me now, you're a mess.
you're like an animal in distress.
i'm invisible. like a cigarette in rebuttal.
you're like a pulse on a dead man.