Post by airlock on Jun 26, 2006 7:54:13 GMT -5
All kids experiment with something at some stage, whether it be with something simple, like changing their hair colour, or something a bit more daring, like stealing a forbidden cigarette, or bottle of beer.
Some kids go one stage further as they get older and experimentation goes out of control. They discover drugs, hard drink, gambling.
Lars Anderssen, fifteen years old, was experimenting.
His parents suspected it, his siblings suspected it and, according to the letter that had come home from school that day, they suspected it as well.
Right now, he was up in his bedroom listening to music and doing his homework, like normal. Like the well behaved boy that his parents knew and loved. But first his sister, then his brother had come downstairs saying that they couldn't concentrate because of the inate giggling that was coming from Lars' room.
He had locked the door.
That WASN'T like the well behaved boy that his parents knew and loved and that was their first suspicion that all was not well.
"Lars?" His mother knocked cautiously on the door. "Lars, honey, are you OK in there?"
There was a faint giggle. "I'm fine, mom, just fine. Never better."
Her brow furrowed. "Unlock the door, would you? I'm worried about you."
"Nothing to worry about here. Nothing to see here. Move along." Another fresh peal of giggles and Mrs Anderssen's face contorted in a worried frown.
"What is it, honey? You can talk to me. Is it school? Are you being bullied? What?"
"Everything's just fine, mom, honestly!" There was a pause of a few minutes and then she heard the sound of him crossing the room, followed by the unlocking of the door. He pulled it open and leaned up against the doorframe.
At fifteen, Lars was just shy of six feet tall, skinny but with the promise of good muscle tone when he fully matured. His mother often looked at him and felt proud of the fact she had produced such a flawless human being, who from his immaculately groomed blond hair to his always-polished shoes was a delight in every way.
She looked at him now, half expecting to smell alcohol on his breath, but she did not. "See, mom? I'm fine! I was...just reading a comic book and it made me laugh." To emphasise the point, he laughed brightly.
"Look at me, son." She caught his head in her hands and cupped it gently, pulling his head round so that he looked up at her. She looked into his blue eyes, so much like his fathers, and studied him intently.
"I'm FINE!"
She didn't quite understand why, but suddenly the situation seemed utterly ludicrous. What was there to worry about? He was just happy, that was all! She almost immediately felt all her worries drift away and began to laugh with him.
She let go of him and giggled a little. "Your dinner will be ready soon," she said, between chuckles. "But if you could keep the laughter down a little? You're disturbing your brother and sister."
Indeed, Astrid and Lorenz were peering around the top of the stairs. Lars swung his glance to them and grinned infectiously for a few seconds. After a while, they grinned right back at him.
"I'll be down soon," he promised and shut his bedroom door again, shutting out the sounds of his giggling family. He was no longer giggling himself.
It was something that he did.
He was some sort of weirdo. Like the ones he read about in the news, the mutants. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and concentrated, trying to stop himself feeling so ridiculously lightheaded and cheerful.
He concentrated too hard, and in a few short seconds was literally gasping for breath. As he felt unconsciousness close in on him, his last thought was 'maybe the cigarettes would have been a better idea'.
Some kids go one stage further as they get older and experimentation goes out of control. They discover drugs, hard drink, gambling.
Lars Anderssen, fifteen years old, was experimenting.
His parents suspected it, his siblings suspected it and, according to the letter that had come home from school that day, they suspected it as well.
Right now, he was up in his bedroom listening to music and doing his homework, like normal. Like the well behaved boy that his parents knew and loved. But first his sister, then his brother had come downstairs saying that they couldn't concentrate because of the inate giggling that was coming from Lars' room.
He had locked the door.
That WASN'T like the well behaved boy that his parents knew and loved and that was their first suspicion that all was not well.
"Lars?" His mother knocked cautiously on the door. "Lars, honey, are you OK in there?"
There was a faint giggle. "I'm fine, mom, just fine. Never better."
Her brow furrowed. "Unlock the door, would you? I'm worried about you."
"Nothing to worry about here. Nothing to see here. Move along." Another fresh peal of giggles and Mrs Anderssen's face contorted in a worried frown.
"What is it, honey? You can talk to me. Is it school? Are you being bullied? What?"
"Everything's just fine, mom, honestly!" There was a pause of a few minutes and then she heard the sound of him crossing the room, followed by the unlocking of the door. He pulled it open and leaned up against the doorframe.
At fifteen, Lars was just shy of six feet tall, skinny but with the promise of good muscle tone when he fully matured. His mother often looked at him and felt proud of the fact she had produced such a flawless human being, who from his immaculately groomed blond hair to his always-polished shoes was a delight in every way.
She looked at him now, half expecting to smell alcohol on his breath, but she did not. "See, mom? I'm fine! I was...just reading a comic book and it made me laugh." To emphasise the point, he laughed brightly.
"Look at me, son." She caught his head in her hands and cupped it gently, pulling his head round so that he looked up at her. She looked into his blue eyes, so much like his fathers, and studied him intently.
"I'm FINE!"
She didn't quite understand why, but suddenly the situation seemed utterly ludicrous. What was there to worry about? He was just happy, that was all! She almost immediately felt all her worries drift away and began to laugh with him.
She let go of him and giggled a little. "Your dinner will be ready soon," she said, between chuckles. "But if you could keep the laughter down a little? You're disturbing your brother and sister."
Indeed, Astrid and Lorenz were peering around the top of the stairs. Lars swung his glance to them and grinned infectiously for a few seconds. After a while, they grinned right back at him.
"I'll be down soon," he promised and shut his bedroom door again, shutting out the sounds of his giggling family. He was no longer giggling himself.
It was something that he did.
He was some sort of weirdo. Like the ones he read about in the news, the mutants. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and concentrated, trying to stop himself feeling so ridiculously lightheaded and cheerful.
He concentrated too hard, and in a few short seconds was literally gasping for breath. As he felt unconsciousness close in on him, his last thought was 'maybe the cigarettes would have been a better idea'.