This horrific, yet emotional story, tells us about a tortured soul. Everywhere is a reminder and there's no escape for, Billy Jones.
It's been nearly three years since the school killings, and Billy Jones is still haunted by what happened.
Wherever he went, whatever he did, he was constantly surrounded by the reminder of death. No matter what drug he took or how much alcohol he consumed, Billy Jones couldn't escape the mental prison that had been passed onto him nearly three years ago. His tortured mind had beaten him and had forced him to lose his job, become a slave to anti-depressants and dependent on the state to keep him secure.
He awoke at nine o'clock almost, and crawled his way out of bed of his one bedroom apartment. Wearing nothing but a pair of socks, he yawned loudly as he approached his living room and plonked himself on the second hand couch he had bought him by a kind relative.
He flicked the remote and began watching meaningless daytime television, and his appearance of being naked, apart from the socks on his feet, never bothered him as his curtains were drawn and the spring was marching on and it was apparent that there had been a steady surge in temperature outside. He had no heating in his flat and after enduring the coldest winter in twenty years (this was according to news reports), Billy was quite happy to let it all hang out after spending the last couple of months of going to bed fully clothed.
He lived at the top of a six block apartment and never went out his way to get to know any of the other five sets of residents. It was a extraordinary situation, nobody went out their way to speak to anyone. It was like an apartment block for the socially retarded. If there was too much noise coming from one of the apartments, nobody would complain. As far as Billy was aware, they all pretty much avoided one another.
It was a Friday now, and Billy hadn't left his apartment for three days. He had spent most of his days sitting in the apartment half dressed, snacking on anything he could get his hand on, but he was slowly losing the will to live and he also needed food. Decent food!
He got up and strolled to the bathroom to drain his aching bladder. He took a quick look in the bathroom mirror and checked his appearance. His dark hair had got longer, his face was sporting five days of growth. He didn't look dishevelled, he just looked different to how he looked last week. He kind of liked the way he looked, for now. Then after he got to a certain stage of neglect, he would get his hair cut off followed by a clean shave.
After his shower, Billy slumped onto the couch and saw, not for the first time, an image of the young girl again. Here eyes were wide, doll like, her face remained emotionless and still. The sad individual took a hard gulp and shook his head almost trying to temporarily remove the image from his mind like an etch-a-sketch.
He cursed under his breath and grabbed his keys as he left his apartment with vamoose and walked down the staircase and saw one of his neighbours passing him on the stairs. Neither one of them muttered a word to one another, as Billy left for the supermarket.