ooc: I don't really give a fuck ? =/ But cheers for the fantastic feedback.

ooc:sure it has to do with music.i imagine the radio was on in the car.but i wonder where there is an even remotely attractive phy ed teacher.the female phy ed teacher i had looked like jack klugman in drag.....if jack wasnt putting forth much effort at it.at all.

ooc Aha don't worry so was I ;) And well it has something to do with music because he becomes involved in a band, but I thought that would of been a bit more obvious than I managed to put across :P

2

Don’t look back into the sun
Now you know that the time is come
And they said it would never come for you oh oh oh oh

Chris lay down on his bed, listening to the immortal words of The Libertines, absorbed by the great bundle of duvets pillows and old mattresses that it composed of. It wasn't much of a bed, you just found some way of squirming inside of it and so long as it was warm it would do. It was how Chris liked it. A little bit of chaos.

His bedroom wasn't large, in fact it was quite small, cramped even. An ageing TV was propped up against the peeling plaster wall, which only recieved a few channels, and the red bricks showed through behind the plaster as it curled down from the top. Stained with all kinds of colours, it was as if the years of mistreatment and lack of maintenance had simply left the plaster peeling away in depression with no will to stay stuck. By the side of his bed was a small square wooden table, with circular tea mug stains imprinted upon it. Resting upon it now was his laptop, relatively new, but that was only because his father had bought it for him after the accident. Chris's father lived in Newcastle, or at least up north, he could never quite keep track. Whereas Chris, a humble lad from South West England lived with his mother and the waster that was his stepfather. A clichéd sob story in a way, though the sick twist that Chris couldn't remember what it was like to have his blood father living with him made it slightly more intriguing.

Chris's hair was slowly beginning to grow back around the scar that was left at the crown of his head. He felt it, feeling the outline of the stitches and felt a slight twinge of pain. He couldn't work out if it was mental or real. He'd recently been having violent flashbacks to that night, he couldn't work out if they were provoked by people telling him what happened or if this was simply a part of the recovery. All he knew is that they made him cry.

(ooc: This part of the story is just setting the scene, the musical bit will come quite a lot later.)