1
�I kissed Sarah today.�
�Oh.� Seconds passed. Pages rustled as the two boys read of the day�s events. �Why?�
�Bored I suppose.�
�Oh. What did she do?�
�She just sort of�stood there. Did Mr York say anything about my not being in form?�
�No, we went straight into assembly. Did you know that they used to think that left-handed kids were the children of the devil?�
�No�.There might be something in that you know.� He looked disinterestedly at his left hand.
�Delusions of grandeur. I know you�re a bit of a bastard but you�re not exactly Damien, are you?�
�What would you know?� snapped Henry. He threw his newspaper against the wall and got out of his chair. He walked the room restlessly, seeming less than human. The walls were boundaries he obviously did not like, he frowned at them. He glared at them, as though his anger could move them, and for an instant they did move. The walls wavered, for a second it was uncertain whether they existed or not. But it turned out they did.
�Come on! How long do you�how long can you take to read that damn thing?� Bounding across the room he tore the paper from Paul�s hands and tipped him from his chair. �Let�s go.�
With a forceful kick he opened the door and Paul winced at the sound it made as it hit the wall. Shrugging, Paul put on his coat and hurried after the receding figure of Henry.
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2
People sat all around him. They talked endlessly, saying nothing. The braying of cattle. It formed a wall of sound around him. It trapped him in and kept him out. Henry was stuck, alone, in a stygian existence. He wandered purposelessly each day in a maze of mass-produced minds, a labyrinth of made-to-order intelligence. He wandered the labyrinth which had at its core the veiled minotaur of uniformity, half man and half yoked bull, which daily combated his own dark beast of individuality. Dropping the remains of a ham sandwich in the bin he picked up a worn copy of Steppenwolf and strode imperiously, unnoticed, out of the Common Room. He headed for the library, the quietest place in the school. Usually empty, it was his chapel. A place of solace and comfort reigned over by the deity of imagination. A temple hailing Somnus. A sanctuary.
He hurried behind one of the large pillars and slumped into a chair, the librarian was a busybody obsessed with his little bit of power. Instead of opening his book or any of those around him, he just sat there leaning on the table, his head in his hands. Time slowed, his breathing became rhythmic and his consciousness wavered. Flickered. With an effort he turned to his book.
�Most men will not swim before they are able.� Isn�t it witty? Naturally, they won�t swim! They are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won�t think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what�s more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he has bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown.
Henry was tired. He hadn�t slept for a long time. Too long. He couldn�t sleep though. Not when the day was so wasted. He couldn�t bear to waste the night as well. Yet it beckoned to him. He blinked slowly; his mind sputtered, guttered and died.
Rich, heavy black hangings. Thick, dense black curtains. Elegant black couch. Ravens flutter around, their feathers litter the floor. Obsidian floor. Black, stone walls. Two men. Hypnos, on the couch. Behind him, half-hidden by the hangings, Thanatos. Hypnos smiles, he is welcoming. Thanatos smiles, he is not welcoming. He is predatory. Beside them the murky water flows swiftly, it is the river Oblivion.
Shivering, he pulled himself back and his coat tighter. Staring unseeingly at the shelves around him he blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the image that had followed him from his dream. He was aware of another�s presence. He tried to look as unapproachable as possible; his whole posture screamed a wish not to engage in conversation. Despite this, a voice behind him said:
�So�this is where you�ve been hiding.� It was an attempt to draw him into flirtation, it was a bad one. Returning his head to his hands he allowed a reply to drop from his lips. He knew it would not satisfy her, he knew what she wanted to talk about, he just wanted her to leave. Had he really been that bored? He barely found her attractive. If only this bloody school could stimulate him more, perhaps he would not be driven to such ends to find entertainment.
��on Friday? Are you even listening to me?�
�Pardon?�
�For fuck�s sake Henry! Don�t�� He was kissing her again. He hated normal conversations but he detested it even more when people got emotional. The first time he kissed her out of sheer boredom, this time it was an act of self-preservation. She probably thought he had fallen in love. He knew it was only a stop-gap measure. He had escaped the frying pan but he would probably end up in the fire later on. When her lips signalled that her anger had melted away he stopped. He looked at her. He supposed she was presentable at least.
�See you on Friday then.� Her hand lingered on his chest and then she walked away. Henry knew he was trapped for the foreseeable future. Another claim upon his time, which was so precious. He sat back down. His mind began to float. His body existed only in an abstract way. The world had become softer, more yielding. Better. More controllable. No walls, not this time. And by his side the two brothers. Ever present. The water was warm. Stay in the shallows. Not too deep, Thanatos. The water came up to his knees, his waist, his chest. He slipped and gasped for air as the current took him. Strong arms, then solid ground.
He found himself blinking as the librarian came into focus. He looked unnaturally sharp to eyes used to another world. He struggled to understand what had happened; he strove tortuously to balance the demands of both worlds.
�Let me think!� leapt from his lips and seemed to slap the librarian in the face. Colour rushed into the librarian�s face, his eyebrows reached his hairline. His body quivered. Words fluttered and danced in staccato, crashing into each other and failing to find a way out of his mouth. Fragments of words sputtered unpredictably but the librarian failed to express himself.
�What!? What the fuck are you trying to say?! You�ve driven him away you pathetic, meaningless little man.�
�How�how dare you!� Henry began to recollect himself. Damn, he thought. �Come with me, we�ll see what Mr York has to say about this.� Henry got up resignedly.
�Thankyou Hypnos.� Henry murmured to himself. With a sigh he began to tread the familiar path to the Head of Sixth Form�s office, the librarian dancing around him self-importantly.
3
Dear Mr *****,
I humbly beg your absolution for my reprehensible language, as directed towards your good self a week ago. Unfinished
That was the letter that Henry had forced from his pen in fits and jerks over his five day exclusion.