Silence is Suicide.

Chapter Nine.

My eyes flew open. I was drenched in my sweat. I looked around realizing I was still in the library.

It was only a flashback... it was only a flashback. Flashback or not, I wanted to cry. So many more terrible memories flooded my mind. I was drowning in the bitterness. I swore to myself that I would never drift into sleep again.

I stood up and brushed my jeans off. I cracked my knuckles, picked up my backpack and walked toward the bathroom.

An older woman stopped me. She had her bony hands on her hips. "Excuse me young man, the library's been closed for an hour now."

I gave her a confused look and checked my iPod. The big white letters read "1:28am."

She tapped her foot in annoyance.

I exhaled annoyed as well and pivoted around. I walked outside into the crisp winter air.

I walked around town for awhile. Not much was open this late, or early. Just a bar or two here and there still had blinking "open" signs up.

I calmly walked into a bar called "The Drunken Donkey" and made my way toward the restrooms. A bald, long black bearded, tattooed man put his giant, meaty hand on my chest; stopping me.

He laughed a deep laugh, "Where are you goin' lil' dude?" I pointed to the men's room. "How old are you?" he questioned me with a suspicious look.

I held up my pointer finger, "One" then I held up five fingers. Together, fifteen.

"Six?" the man laughed at his own joke. After realizing I wasn't laughing along he added, "Messin' with you bro... I know you're not six..."

He sipped, and spilt a little of his beer. He smiled a warm, friendly smile. "I'm Jeremy, by the way."