All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places, worn out faces

Bright and early for the daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere

The sudden onset of panic scalded trough his senses like a white hot branding stick. He felt ablaze..

Searing pain shot though the hand that usually shook more than the other and he drew a short desperate breath..

Loud bang caused more shrill tinkling surround his mind..

And darkness seemed deepen as he realized he couldn't breathe..

Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

He didn't know where he was but the shrill sounds and piercing noises filled his every molecule with pure dread and paralyzing panic.

Deep down it wasn't anything unusual however naturally this would happen a bit differently. But he was unlike anyone else he knew..

Suddenly a loud screaming type of laugh shook the whole existence of the thought and his eyes popped open with a startling dread.

All he could see were the darkness and damn broom closet. He was all alone and silence echoed through the empty hallways and reverberated around his skull with deafening boom that evaporated into tiny tinkles of even tinier bells…

It went on and on…

He couldn't move. The fear of what's gonna happen kept his body stiff..

But it wasn't really a fear anymore..

He wanted blood..

And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world

The stupid boy, oh so stupid boy.. Oh how he wished he stayed here and kept that tirade through the bars of the door, his only window to reality…

Oh how he wished the damn kid was there..

He'd make him pay for all the shit…

The loud laughter was back and it pierced through his brain and his emotions started to brittle and the old familiar tremor settled in..

It took a little before he felt the shaking turn him into aa jelly and slowly seep to the floor..

IT WASN'T HIS FAULT!

He started begging and screaming again..

Until he couldn't scream anymore…

Children waiting for the day they feel good

Happy birthday, happy birthday

And I feel the way that every child should

Sit and listen, sit and listen

Choking came next and his ears were full of the boy's calls echoes. He just wanted to die.

His life was already a shithole..

WHY!?

WHY FATHER? WHY?

White hot seething pain burst through his chest and he could see the stupid boy again. He so badly wanted to just reach through the bars and grab him by the damn necktie. That stupid blasted thing.

He wanted to reach and pull so hard and so fast the boy's face would smash against the door and that would end it once and for all..

Went to school and I was very nervous

No one knew me, no one knew me

Hello, teacher! Tell me, what's my lesson?

Look right through me, look right through me

His own screams suddenly shook the small space and he was face to face with his father smirking back to him with that morbid twisted grin on his face. Oh that damn bastard was so satisfied..

Oh how he only wished…

But no, he couldn't…

That wasn't him.. He wasn't his father..

His fists shook and he cried and screamed until air was too tight and he was too afraid to make a sound because the stupid boy would return to torture him and he could do absolutely nothing about it other than to clasp the other hand over the shaking one…

He couldn't do a thing…

And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world

The awakening feeling left Malcolm with a sheer panic and fear flooding his system so strongly he didn't even feel the restraints pulling harder than usually. He didn't feel the blood appearing on his right wrist. He only saw his younger self looking down at that stupid boy dying in front of his eyes and for the second feeling that gratifying sensation he longed to feel for so long…

And he'd longed for that satisfaction deep down. He was locked in that tiny closet of cleaning supplies and there was nobody out there that could come and save him from that misery and he was angry and so afraid. He hated himself, his father, his whole family, the school, the kids…

He hated every single soul on this planet and couldn't help that desperate feeling of absolute and utter helplessness and panic that saturated his every cell and fiber of his body to the point it turned into painful pleading for death…

And I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it's a very, very

Mad world, mad world

Malcolm's eyes flew open as his realization settled in and the memory swept aside.. Suddenly he felt so ashamed for ever even letting himself feel like that and that led to deep embarrassment for being still so much like his serial killer father that despite it all he still loved somewhere next to hatred.

His gaze slid lower and he came to see he'd once again tried to throw himself out of the window and this time restraints held him as far of that huge glass window as possible..

But his palm was still shining with red glaze from the pieces of glass shard peeking through the skin and with a sigh Malcolm got up from the bed shaking the remnants of that stupid memory way.

He was not his father. He was his own persona. Yes, he held a part of the man that raised him but also he held a part of his mother. And same did Ainsley. While his sister seemed to be most safe from their father Malcolm knew deep down they all carried some dark things and he knew that once push comes to shove…

But he refused to admit that part of him deep down thrilled seeing some of that coming out. He felt that as he hit that stupid boy. For those few minutes he'd felt something.

And his hand didn't tremble until he caught himself thinking…

But what if..

What if… ?

Would his hand tremor be present if he didn't…?

Hide my head, I wanna drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

If he'd just turned around and left as if he never planned this and just pretend to not be there? What if his hand hadn't shook and he'd not notice that? What if he just let it consume him?

Could he live with himself had let the boy die in front of his eyes? Or would that awaken some deep dark creature and he'd become his father?

His body trembled at that thought…

But then he realized…

He might not…

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had