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THE DARK SHADE OF SECRETS

To be fair, there was never any happiness, even before he came along. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t have ever been happy with his life, even if he had not been so cruelly forced into his current world.  To be fair, it was not entirely his fault.  Even so, the rate at which he was going was soon going to gobble him up, wholly and completely.  He couldn’t make it if he kept on going.
He was becoming too unstable…

Tuesday, September 7th | 6:32 PM

There was something about that room that made him feel like he had done something wrong.  Something about how the ceiling reached out to the walls, with an odd, slanted embrace, that made him feel stifled and therefore scrutinized.  Perhaps they had not the life within them to do so, but he swore those six sides were always, always judging him.  He was sure.
And so he felt that he was a terrible person.  He might even have been—but it was so hard to gauge such a thing with such close quarters.  Perhaps he was a monster; perhaps he was lost.  It was hard to tell.
Even so, he spent the majority of his free time in there.  There was a time in his life when his office and his bedroom were two separate entities, but, over the course of a few years, he had merged them together for the sake of convenience and security.  That office, which judged him so heartily, became his home, and he would emerge only to prepare his meals, to relieve himself and to work.  All three things that he heartily detested for the sole reason that they happened outside of his room.
There was peace within those walls, too, despite the inquiry most constant.  He found that everything took a backseat, and it all became white noise, a distant hum, compared to the frantic, creative thoughts that flowed about his mind like frenzied bees.  Here and there, sporadic.  Magnificent.
The phone rang for the first time in days.  It didn’t scare him physically, it did not make him jump, but it scared him emotionally.  Imagine, he thought as he reached out for the plastic device, that there is someone on the other side of that line waiting to tell me what I’ve done wrong in life.  Imagine, he continued in a rather paranoid fashion, that they would say such horrific things that I would not be able to hang up for the fascination, the rather grim fascination, that it would hold for me.  Hours would pass as they continued to pick apart my humanity, and I would not be able to turn away.  The battery of this phone would run dry before I could bear to hang up, and then…
Yet he picked it up.  Despite his fear, he couldn’t help but pick up.  He was terribly unstable.
“Hello?”  His voice was high, strained, nearly feminine.  He was surprised when he heard the response.
“Hello, yes.  Sir, would you happen to be the parent or guardian of a Mr. Curtis Walden?”  Most people would have mistaken him for a woman, yet the man on the other side of the line seemed to know.  It was welcoming.  He hated to be called ma’am over the phone.  It wasn’t like he sounded like a woman in real life.
“Curt?  Yes, I’m only his legal guardian, I’m afraid—his older brother.  May I ask who’s speaking?”  He was apologizing simply because he knew the person would judge him.  Everyone did, and so he would apologize before the offense could be pointed out.  It was easier that way.
“I’m Mr. Thomas White, his history teacher.”  The teacher had a nice sort of voice, which he thought was probably an odd observation to make, but, seeing as it was the only thing that he could judge through a telephone conversation, it was the only defining characteristic he had encountered.  It was a deep voice, with a bit of a husky nature to it, but it was kind.  The kind of voice one would expect from a teacher that actually enjoyed their occupation.
“History?”  He felt terrible, because he knew that Curt hated history, and things that Curt hated usually suffered mightily.  “He hasn’t been a bother to you, has he?”
“…Well…”  The man sounded strained, like he didn’t want to admit that Curt had indeed been difficult, but he managed to force it from his lips.  It was obvious that he was not a fan of being blunt—an overt judge.  “You see, your brother has been causing disruptions in the class since the start of the year.  Normally, I’d write him off as another class clown—every class needs one, you know—but he’s been such a disturbance that I can’t ignore him anymore.  I’ve sent him to detention, and he goes to those detentions—that’s not the problem, but he doesn’t do any work in the class.”
“Any at all?”
“None.  Mr. Walden—”
“Please, call me Riley.”  Walden always reminded him of the book, and he had never been much of a fan.
“—Riley, I have a deep concern.  I’ve asked other teachers, and they’ve told me that, while he’s far from their best student, he is not as disruptive as he is my class.  This might sound rather pathetic of me, but I’d like to see if there were something I could do to keep him from behaving this way.”  Riley liked that he said “if there were” as opposed to “if there was,” and he knew that if he ever met this teacher personally he would like him right away.  Such strange things would please him from time to time.
“It’s taking away from the class.”  He was clearly distressed, and it made Riley feel bad. Sure, he had not been the one to sit in the class and be rude, but he was the brother of the one who had.  Guilty by association and all that grim jazz.
“I think…I think I can talk to him, though I admit it shall be rather difficult.  See, if I out-and-out tell him, Curt would get wise.  He’ll know you asked me, and then he’ll tease you viciously for coming to me to begin with.”
“I can see that.”
“Yes, I admit that he’s not very pleasant in that case.”
“Mhm.”  There was something in this Mr. White’s tone that seemed to say, “That’s not the only unpleasant thing about him.”
“I’ll try to talk to him.  I’m very sorry that he’s like this.  I-I always tried to be so polite toward my teachers, and I’m not sure where he got it.”  He stopped short before he went into an involved litany of his good behavior.  It was just that he was being judged, and he didn’t want to be seen in the same, harsh light as his brother.  It was as disquieting as the observant walls.
“Younger brothers tend to end up differently than the older,” Mr. White said dismissively.  Or perhaps Thomas.  It was hard to tell which he would prefer.  Some teachers were so accustomed to the title that they nearly expected it, and so Riley was afraid to directly address him, even in his thoughts.
“I’ll talk to him.  I really will.”
He sighed, slowly.  It was relief.  “Thank you.  Really, truly, thank you. It’s gotten to the point where I dread that period, and I know what dread can lead to in the educational workplace.”
Riley didn’t, but he laughed casually anyway.
“Anyway, thank you again.  I’ll…call you if things improve.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“All right.  Bye.”
“Mmm, bye.”
They both hung up in unison, and then Riley sat there for a moment, the phone lazily dangling in his loose grip, as he thought about how he would approach his very hostile younger brother.  There were safety zones, and anything that had to do with school was far outside of them.

Description
THE DARK SHADE OF SECRETS

To be fair, there was never any happiness, even before he came along. To be fair, he probably wouldn’t have ever been happy with his life, even if he had not been so cruelly forced into his current world.  To be fair, it was not entirely his fault.  Even so, the rate at which he was going was soon going to gobble him up, wholly and completely.  He couldn’t make it if he kept on going.
He was becoming too unstable…

Tuesday, September 7th | 6:32 PM

There was something about that room that made him feel like he had done something wrong.  Something about how the ceiling reached out to the walls, with an odd, slanted embrace, that made him feel stifled and therefore scrutinized.  Perhaps they had not the life within them to do so, but he swore those six sides were always, always judging him.  He was sure.
And so he felt that he was a terrible person.  He might even have been—but it was so hard to gauge such a thing with such close quarters.  Perhaps he was a monster; perhaps he was lost.  It was hard to tell.
Even so, he spent the majority of his free time in there.  There was a time in his life when his office and his bedroom were two separate entities, but, over the course of a few years, he had merged them together for the sake of convenience and security.  That office, which judged him so heartily, became his home, and he would emerge only to prepare his meals, to relieve himself and to work.  All three things that he heartily detested for the sole reason that they happened outside of his room.
There was peace within those walls, too, despite the inquiry most constant.  He found that everything took a backseat, and it all became white noise, a distant hum, compared to the frantic, creative thoughts that flowed about his mind like frenzied bees.  Here and there, sporadic.  Magnificent.
The phone rang for the first time in days.  It didn’t scare him physically, it did not make him jump, but it scared him emotionally.  Imagine, he thought as he reached out for the plastic device, that there is someone on the other side of that line waiting to tell me what I’ve done wrong in life.  Imagine, he continued in a rather paranoid fashion, that they would say such horrific things that I would not be able to hang up for the fascination, the rather grim fascination, that it would hold for me.  Hours would pass as they continued to pick apart my humanity, and I would not be able to turn away.  The battery of this phone would run dry before I could bear to hang up, and then…
Yet he picked it up.  Despite his fear, he couldn’t help but pick up.  He was terribly unstable.
“Hello?”  His voice was high, strained, nearly feminine.  He was surprised when he heard the response.
“Hello, yes.  Sir, would you happen to be the parent or guardian of a Mr. Curtis Walden?”  Most people would have mistaken him for a woman, yet the man on the other side of the line seemed to know.  It was welcoming.  He hated to be called ma’am over the phone.  It wasn’t like he sounded like a woman in real life.
“Curt?  Yes, I’m only his legal guardian, I’m afraid—his older brother.  May I ask who’s speaking?”  He was apologizing simply because he knew the person would judge him.  Everyone did, and so he would apologize before the offense could be pointed out.  It was easier that way.
“I’m Mr. Thomas White, his history teacher.”  The teacher had a nice sort of voice, which he thought was probably an odd observation to make, but, seeing as it was the only thing that he could judge through a telephone conversation, it was the only defining characteristic he had encountered.  It was a deep voice, with a bit of a husky nature to it, but it was kind.  The kind of voice one would expect from a teacher that actually enjoyed their occupation.
“History?”  He felt terrible, because he knew that Curt hated history, and things that Curt hated usually suffered mightily.  “He hasn’t been a bother to you, has he?”
“…Well…”  The man sounded strained, like he didn’t want to admit that Curt had indeed been difficult, but he managed to force it from his lips.  It was obvious that he was not a fan of being blunt—an overt judge.  “You see, your brother has been causing disruptions in the class since the start of the year.  Normally, I’d write him off as another class clown—every class needs one, you know—but he’s been such a disturbance that I can’t ignore him anymore.  I’ve sent him to detention, and he goes to those detentions—that’s not the problem, but he doesn’t do any work in the class.”
“Any at all?”
“None.  Mr. Walden—”
“Please, call me Riley.”  Walden always reminded him of the book, and he had never been much of a fan.
“—Riley, I have a deep concern.  I’ve asked other teachers, and they’ve told me that, while he’s far from their best student, he is not as disruptive as he is my class.  This might sound rather pathetic of me, but I’d like to see if there were something I could do to keep him from behaving this way.”  Riley liked that he said “if there were” as opposed to “if there was,” and he knew that if he ever met this teacher personally he would like him right away.  Such strange things would please him from time to time.
“It’s taking away from the class.”  He was clearly distressed, and it made Riley feel bad. Sure, he had not been the one to sit in the class and be rude, but he was the brother of the one who had.  Guilty by association and all that grim jazz.
“I think…I think I can talk to him, though I admit it shall be rather difficult.  See, if I out-and-out tell him, Curt would get wise.  He’ll know you asked me, and then he’ll tease you viciously for coming to me to begin with.”
“I can see that.”
“Yes, I admit that he’s not very pleasant in that case.”
“Mhm.”  There was something in this Mr. White’s tone that seemed to say, “That’s not the only unpleasant thing about him.”
“I’ll try to talk to him.  I’m very sorry that he’s like this.  I-I always tried to be so polite toward my teachers, and I’m not sure where he got it.”  He stopped short before he went into an involved litany of his good behavior.  It was just that he was being judged, and he didn’t want to be seen in the same, harsh light as his brother.  It was as disquieting as the observant walls.
“Younger brothers tend to end up differently than the older,” Mr. White said dismissively.  Or perhaps Thomas.  It was hard to tell which he would prefer.  Some teachers were so accustomed to the title that they nearly expected it, and so Riley was afraid to directly address him, even in his thoughts.
“I’ll talk to him.  I really will.”
He sighed, slowly.  It was relief.  “Thank you.  Really, truly, thank you. It’s gotten to the point where I dread that period, and I know what dread can lead to in the educational workplace.”
Riley didn’t, but he laughed casually anyway.
“Anyway, thank you again.  I’ll…call you if things improve.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“All right.  Bye.”
“Mmm, bye.”
They both hung up in unison, and then Riley sat there for a moment, the phone lazily dangling in his loose grip, as he thought about how he would approach his very hostile younger brother.  There were safety zones, and anything that had to do with school was far outside of them.