All my life i had wanted to play in a band, one of my earliest memories was grabbing the TV remote and singing along with whatever band was currently on the radio, playing an imaginary guitar in the air. It didnt matter where i was; at school, home, or in the playground, you would be sure to find me dancing my little (and by little i mean very little) legs off. Thinking about it i must have been one of the most active kids in the area, i just couldn't sit still especially when i was supposed to be sleeping. Sleep was useless in my eyes, i had so much energy all the time and as much as i tried to, i could never sleep. I used to lay in my bed staring at the ceiling for hours trying to stop myself from singing or making any noise incase i woke my parents. My eyes would dart between each and every crack, not missing a single one. I used to think that the cracks in my walls would one day consume me, they seemed to grow bigger and bigger every day, amd im pretty sure the constant banging of doors and the piercing shrieks coming from my mother's mouth didn't help the growing cracks in my wall.

At night my imagination often ran wild with stories of superheroes and good versus bad. I replayed scenes from my favourite movies and chapters from my favourite childhood books, making sure not to miss a single word. Using my imagination was the only way I felt I could escape the problems creeping up from beneath my floorboards from the rooms below, blocking out the sounds and emotions that were rarely kept under control in my house. I knew it wouldn't be long until my parents would finally go their seperate ways, i had always dreaded the day my dad would sit me down and tell me that he was moving away, that i could come and visit him as much as much as i wanted and that he wouldn't be far away.

Sure enough that day came.

I knew something wasn't right when i woke up that morning, there wasn't the usual sound of the kettle boiling downstairs or the warming sound of the radio echoing through the house. Instead there was silence. I hated silence, it was always so serious, so full of nothingness, so silent.

In my eyes there are two types of silence; the first is when you know something bad has happened or is about to happen. One of my first experiences of this type of silece was when i had been called to the hed master's office at elementary school for kicking Harry Thompson during assembly one day. He had been flicking bits of paper of me, each tiny parcel of paper hitting me on my forehead, after the tenth scrunched up delivery i kicked him, i kicked him harder than i had ever kicked anyone, his face suddenly scrunched up and he let out an almighty scream, probably for the attention. After being marched to the Head Masters office i was told to sit and wait outside and to be silent. The thick blanket of silence deafened me, after the ordeal of 20 minutes of nothingness i was called into the office, given a quick telling off and told to go back to class.

The second type of silence was beautiful, the moment of nothing before a rush of excitement. An experience of this type of silence was my first rollercoaster ride, at first i was scared, and nervous about what i was about to put my body through, and i'm very the screams of all the other people on the ride didn't really help my nerves, but as i reached the top of the climb all the screams stopped, everyone fell silent, waiting for what was about to happen, The silence was overwhelming but with it came the feeling of excitement. knowing you were going to experience a magical feeling, being thrown through the air at 60mph, something that you would remember for a long time. As the ride decsended down the steep drop I felt all my previous anxiety drain away, replaced with amusement and passion.

I prefared the second type of silence, for obvious reasons.

As i pulled myself out of my bed, stretching my arms like i was going to reach out and steal the moon from the now early morning sky, i noticed the cracks in my wall, the ones i once thought would swallow me whole. The seemed deeper than i could ever remember, the years of abuse from the messed up family living within them showed. I ran my fingers along one of the cracks, feeling each dip and wondering how it had got there. I threw on my clothes; a black T shirt and scruffy jeans, slipped on my worn trainers and creeped downstairs trying not to make a single sound even though i hated the silence so much.

The first thing i saw was my mum, sat at the kitchen table staring into her mug of tea like it was a black hole sucking in her every thought. 'Hey mom' i said as i walked to the fridge. There was no reply. 'Mom?' I said trying to grab her attention. 'Óh' she said, ' sorry love, i didn't hear you' she sounded tired and far away. As i was about to ask her if she was okay she got up and left the room, i put down the orange carton i was drinking from and went to find my dad. I found him in the garden, it was the middle of spring so it wasn't too cold outside, my dad often sat int he garden in a morning, i could see why, it was relaxing and calm. 'I'm taking you out today' he said 'theres a lot of things we need to talk about....' he trailed off. I was confused even though i knew what was coming.

Notes

Urmm, this is my first time writing a fic so i don't really know if this is any good, or...
Please comment and tell me what you think, i will try to upload the next chapter as soon as i can, thankyou for taking the time to read!
oh, and i'm sorry for all the mistakes - my keyboard's kind of messed up at the moment:s