-.- i don't know what this is. i got the name from a Panic! At the disco song and i thought it up in the middle of church. So here we go. the main char's name is actually spelled Daemyn (Day-ee-me-in) but for easier pronunciation it was changed.
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Daymon's footsteps let out a muffled echo as he tried to silently sneak through the stuffy office building he currently called home. Mister Eddie, the resident janitor and security guard, was patrolling the second, third and fourth floors of the banking company's magnificent, dark turquois building, and, as usual, the short man took his time. Daymon had to, once again, force his five foot eight form through a small vent in the third floor bathroom, for Mister Eddie was coming, and if Daymon was caught again, he would be arrested and probably sent to that damn juvenile boot camp.
Before, when Daymon was only twelve, he had been arrested for grand theft auto, when he had tried to steal a red corvette in the parking lot of a busy Walmart. He had been sent to the juvenile boot camp, where he had grown tougher and stronger than he had ever been, regardless of how being an orphan affected the average child. Now, Daymon, fifteen years old, was back on the streets with no place to call home with the exception of the building he was now hiding in.
He jumped off the sink, but, only barely making the cold, metal vent, he accidently cut his arms. He bit back a growl as he heard footsteps and hastily pushed both his injured arms against the wall of the air vent, and pulled himself up just as Mister Eddie opened the door and made a sweep of the room with his flashlight.
Daymon barely dared to breathe until the man left. Presently though, the janitor had to depart from the darkened room to patrol the last floor before his shift was done. The fifteen year old in the vent sighed and layed his head back as he felt blood running down his arms and heard the light dripping as the crimson liquid fell from his elbows. He groaned.
"My last shirt... looks like we'll making a trip to Aki's house tomorrow....", he said. He crawled forward until he came to a split from the main vent, where he turned himself around and crawled back to where the bathroom vent opened and a small trail of blood ran down the wall and, convieniently, into the sink. Growling, he quickly took off his shirt and wiped away the blood from the wall and the vent, then he reluctantly put the shirt back on and climbed out. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he made his way to the nearest, most comfortable office available. The oppressing silence frayed Daymon's nerves, giving an extremely ominous feeling to the entire building in general, not just this dark hallway. Removing the hairpin from the front of his shirt, the boy knealt in front of a doorway. Muffled clicks were heard, then the door opened to reveal the CEO's office, adorned with a small television set on a redwood desk with a leather seat a few feet away, facing the window. The room was themed with the sport that had white men dressing like black pimps: Golf.
Golf clubs, golden sculptures of golf clubs and golf balls, golfing trophies and even a picture of golf's most famous celebrity, Tiger Woods, was autographed and hung on the wall. Daymon gagged at this, but had to simultaneously hold back a laugh.
"Well... the higher up in the social ladder you get, the smaller your balls are..."
He peered out of the room before closing and locking the door and propping his feet on the desk while he leaned back on the leather seat and turned on the tv.
"....went missing today at Greenbriar Mall, where she was less than twenty minutes from the home of a registered sex offender..."
Daymon rolled his eyes and quickly started flipping channels. Fragments of conversations filtered from the small speakers in the tv and Daymon had sat up to turn it off so he could go to sleep when he stopped flipping, for only a moment.
A picture of a smiling girl with deep blue green eyes and long auburn hair was on the screen, but only long enough to be glimpsed. The news reporter continued talking when the picture was gone. "Abducted from the Greenbriar area, if you have any information, call..." Then the number flashed on the screen, though Daymon took no heed. He was still stuck on the picture that had been imprinted in his mind. He then realized his mouth was still open and he quickly closed it, blushing from his ears. Rubbing where his arms were cut, he turned off the tv and tried to get comfortable in the leather chair. He had to be ready to walk all the way to Akira's house so it'd be best if he got to sleep now.
As he drifted off, Daymon thought he saw dark forms flitting across the glass that seperated the room he was in from the hallway outside. Small, yellow eyes penetrated the thick plexiglass, but only for a moment. Before he could fully understand what he had saw, they were gone, and accredited to Daymon's overactive imagination and paranoia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unknown to him, the lithe form of a girl ran ahead of the small shadows, leading them in their desperate search for the light that eminated from this lonely building. "Find him!", she hissed pointing down the hall past some CEO's office. She turned on her heel and ran in the opposite direction, her blue-green eyes glowing with an unholy light.
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if you're an idiot with a personal vendetta against me, then you might as well not post, cause i'd prefer no bullshist this early in the evening. (not that i'm calling anyone out. just saying.) otherwise, read and reply. if enough people tell me to stop, then i will. (no use living in denial.) thanxness. ^-^
_______________________________________
Daymon's footsteps let out a muffled echo as he tried to silently sneak through the stuffy office building he currently called home. Mister Eddie, the resident janitor and security guard, was patrolling the second, third and fourth floors of the banking company's magnificent, dark turquois building, and, as usual, the short man took his time. Daymon had to, once again, force his five foot eight form through a small vent in the third floor bathroom, for Mister Eddie was coming, and if Daymon was caught again, he would be arrested and probably sent to that damn juvenile boot camp.
Before, when Daymon was only twelve, he had been arrested for grand theft auto, when he had tried to steal a red corvette in the parking lot of a busy Walmart. He had been sent to the juvenile boot camp, where he had grown tougher and stronger than he had ever been, regardless of how being an orphan affected the average child. Now, Daymon, fifteen years old, was back on the streets with no place to call home with the exception of the building he was now hiding in.
He jumped off the sink, but, only barely making the cold, metal vent, he accidently cut his arms. He bit back a growl as he heard footsteps and hastily pushed both his injured arms against the wall of the air vent, and pulled himself up just as Mister Eddie opened the door and made a sweep of the room with his flashlight.
Daymon barely dared to breathe until the man left. Presently though, the janitor had to depart from the darkened room to patrol the last floor before his shift was done. The fifteen year old in the vent sighed and layed his head back as he felt blood running down his arms and heard the light dripping as the crimson liquid fell from his elbows. He groaned.
"My last shirt... looks like we'll making a trip to Aki's house tomorrow....", he said. He crawled forward until he came to a split from the main vent, where he turned himself around and crawled back to where the bathroom vent opened and a small trail of blood ran down the wall and, convieniently, into the sink. Growling, he quickly took off his shirt and wiped away the blood from the wall and the vent, then he reluctantly put the shirt back on and climbed out. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he made his way to the nearest, most comfortable office available. The oppressing silence frayed Daymon's nerves, giving an extremely ominous feeling to the entire building in general, not just this dark hallway. Removing the hairpin from the front of his shirt, the boy knealt in front of a doorway. Muffled clicks were heard, then the door opened to reveal the CEO's office, adorned with a small television set on a redwood desk with a leather seat a few feet away, facing the window. The room was themed with the sport that had white men dressing like black pimps: Golf.
Golf clubs, golden sculptures of golf clubs and golf balls, golfing trophies and even a picture of golf's most famous celebrity, Tiger Woods, was autographed and hung on the wall. Daymon gagged at this, but had to simultaneously hold back a laugh.
"Well... the higher up in the social ladder you get, the smaller your balls are..."
He peered out of the room before closing and locking the door and propping his feet on the desk while he leaned back on the leather seat and turned on the tv.
"....went missing today at Greenbriar Mall, where she was less than twenty minutes from the home of a registered sex offender..."
Daymon rolled his eyes and quickly started flipping channels. Fragments of conversations filtered from the small speakers in the tv and Daymon had sat up to turn it off so he could go to sleep when he stopped flipping, for only a moment.
A picture of a smiling girl with deep blue green eyes and long auburn hair was on the screen, but only long enough to be glimpsed. The news reporter continued talking when the picture was gone. "Abducted from the Greenbriar area, if you have any information, call..." Then the number flashed on the screen, though Daymon took no heed. He was still stuck on the picture that had been imprinted in his mind. He then realized his mouth was still open and he quickly closed it, blushing from his ears. Rubbing where his arms were cut, he turned off the tv and tried to get comfortable in the leather chair. He had to be ready to walk all the way to Akira's house so it'd be best if he got to sleep now.
As he drifted off, Daymon thought he saw dark forms flitting across the glass that seperated the room he was in from the hallway outside. Small, yellow eyes penetrated the thick plexiglass, but only for a moment. Before he could fully understand what he had saw, they were gone, and accredited to Daymon's overactive imagination and paranoia.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unknown to him, the lithe form of a girl ran ahead of the small shadows, leading them in their desperate search for the light that eminated from this lonely building. "Find him!", she hissed pointing down the hall past some CEO's office. She turned on her heel and ran in the opposite direction, her blue-green eyes glowing with an unholy light.
____________________________
if you're an idiot with a personal vendetta against me, then you might as well not post, cause i'd prefer no bullshist this early in the evening. (not that i'm calling anyone out. just saying.) otherwise, read and reply. if enough people tell me to stop, then i will. (no use living in denial.) thanxness. ^-^