story, please critique-the misanthrope

[atheistjew]

sup guys,
this was something I was working on during the term 3 holidays as kind of a hobby. if you feel compelled to read this then can you give me feedback on what I'm doing etc. punctuation, characters, vocabulary.

Most stories start out the cliché way, you know, the poor farmers boy discovers he has magical powers, the tyrant king finds out, attempts to capture him, the boy escapes, goes on this magical journey to hone his talent, joins the rebel forces, defeats the tyrant king and gets the girl. Yea, sorry to burst your bubble but this story possesses none of the elements mentioned above, so shut up.
Chapter 1
The water overlapped around me, a cool wind flowed over my body, Goosebumps popped up over hard, lean muscles, head bobbed in an ominous pattern known only to the ocean, which is kind of stupid if you think about it, or so I thought. I thought a lot in this place, possibly because it’s the only place I actually can think, I thought. The waking part of my life was full of things trying, and succeeding very so kindly, to stop me from thinking, it was a miracle I hadn’t killed anyone ‘yet’, stepmother included. Meditation seemed to be the only way to order my thoughts, and it always calmed me down no matter the situation. So I sat there, just enjoying the pleasant illusion around me. Then, thump. “James”, vibrations rippled the water. I ignored them. “James!” A voice rang through me, destroying my calm thought and meditative state. “James Conrad, getup now, you’re going to be late for school!” Great. It was my step mum nagging me like always. I opened my eyes a fraction and looked at my watch: 8:10. Fuck I overslept, “Ok Ok I’m going” I said, without enthusiasm. She left the room and I got out of bed, putting on some stylish jeans and a nice t-shirt as I did so. Well they were stylish to me and numerous other girls I met and ‘socialised’ with, in past experiences, I though. Not anymore, now I kept to myself and tried to be as antisocial as possible. I guess being a misanthrope does that to you, yet those idiots still hadn’t picked up on this despite obvious signs. Being incredibly intelligent didn’t help either, I smiled to myself, it was equally amusing as it was annoying to see them blunder around, all short-sighted and confused, like a group of five year olds playing with a new toy for the first time. I zipped up my jeans, grabbed my bag and walked into the living room. Jane (my step mother) was on the couch watching morning news whilst eating a bowl of weetbix. As I walked passed she looked at me and said “you do know you’re going to be late for school?” I looked my watch: 8:20 “oh shit”
“By the way, I’m going to be working late shift so I won’t be home till eleven-ish”.
“Whatever” I ran outside (shutting the door of course) towards the bus stop.
School was loud and noisy as usual, with typical social classes that somehow migrated to Australia roaming the whole area of the school. Jocks sat (or stood) on the steps. They had sleeveless shirts’ on to show off their ‘well tuned’ muscles as they like to put it. Cocky grins covered their faces and egos splayed out in all directions, hurting anyone that looked their way, me included (or so they thought). Next to them were the popular girls, well, I suppose every school has that one girl or girls that have one characteristic which shines them in a positive light, usually a pretty face and body, which every horny guy lusts after. These girls had those things, and nothing else. No intelligence, no fitness, absolutely no wit and no long term goals for which to strive for. And they considered their lifestyle meaningful. How pathetic, I thought. Although, I don’t have any long term goals, shut up, I said to myself, you make up your goals as you go along. But have I made any so far? Oh god dammit, why the fuck am I arguing with myself? A voice interrupted my train of thought,
“James”. I searched for the owner of the voice.
“James” the owner of the voice in question was Jones miller, captain of the year nine football team and the biggest douche to ever walk on Australian soil (that I know of). He spends most of his school and free time both talking (and feeling) his girlfriend Stacy (so fucking original), or fucking around with his retard sheep friends. His ‘fucking around’ in question, consisted of picking on weaker people. Also football.
“Hey James” he smiled. A shiver ran down my spine. I hated that smile; it always meant that he wanted something out of you; it was also weird because he usually never talked to me, always keeping to his own stuff, always afraid to fight me. This was Possibly due to the fact that I’m six foot tall and I have uber muscular strength, speed ,dexterity, endurance, increased intuition, logic, better thought processing and sharpened senses, all five of them. In short I perfected my own genetics, at least as far as our epistemological limit went. All of this I obtained with a serum that I created one particularly boring summer holiday period. It had being a particularly boring summer and video games hadn’t torqued me as they usually did. So, using my incredible intelligence, I dreamt up a way in which I could enhance myself in every possible way. Of course I applied the logic factor to it to try and rationalise it in my head; but even then, it had only being a theory.
“Come over here, I have something to show you” he called. This was new, so I decided to go over. What was there to worry about? If he tried to jump me I would demolish him and his little herd of sheep. And what could they possibly have to show me? I wondered.
“What is it Jones?” I asked curiously.
“Well” he said I found this thing and I think you might be interested to know what it is”
“Really now?” I stared at him.
“Yea, really now” I sighed “look, dude” I paused “I didn’t exactly wake up on the right side of the bed ok and mother gave me a kind greeting this morning, so if you can imagine, I’m not in the mood for being fucked right now”. He flinched, was that fear? Why would he be afraid? Unless he has something malicious planned for me. Please, I’m bigger than him and his friends. I thought to myself, I can handle this. For a moment he seemed afraid, then it was replace by amusement.
“Calm down man” he laughed “you need to just relax once in a while”. His expression was extremely unsettling. Was he amused? Did he not know what happened to the previous guy? Shit just got way more interesting.
“Oh just shut up!” my impatience cracking through the face of my expression, I regained my composure before speaking “you better not be screwing me around”
“Oh I’m not”. He laughed awkwardly, somehow, as if it was forced.
“So what is this ‘thing?” I asked warily.
“Oh something I’m sure you’ll enjoy”
“You sure about that” I glared.
“Ah....yea” he swallowed “yo. You’ll love it”
“Ok just show me where it is.
“It’s right over here”. He led me behind the hall and pointed at a blank space on the wall “Its right here” he said.
There was nothing there.
“The fuck is this? There’s nothing here”. I raised one eyebrow at him with an expression that said: are you serious? “Dude this isn’t funny at all, this is like, fucking grade four antics”. Two pairs of hands gripped both my arms and a reasonably large fist slammed into my stomach. It was like a sledgehammer, straight into my gut, or that’s what it would have felt like if I hadn’t augmented myself with a certain serum I concocted one summer. So Instead of feeling pain, I merely absorbed the blows.
“You are one stingy cunt you know that?” Jones walked around me in a circle eyes hungry, like that of an eagle, or was it a tiger. I couldn’t tell. But really why
“You have caused me a lot of trouble”. He punched me again, this time connecting with my jaw. “The fuck have I done? My eyes looked up at him with both curiosity and hate.
“What did you do? You embarrassed me in front of the fucking class yesterday!”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about”.
I looked at him for a moment, lost in thought before it all came back to me “Wait that what this is about? All this animosity over a fucking joke? Seriously man, just lighten the fuck up! That’s what jokes are for.”
“Just shut up!” he kicked me twice in the stomach and once in the face. The foot connected with my jaw. The strange yet familiar, metallic taste of blood, spilled into my mouth. I spat on the ground before speaking, “oh stop being such a bitch about it man”. He kicked me again in the throat. I gasped for air, pain swelling up in my sarcophagus.
“Stop being a bitch about it” he mimicked, punching me in the nose as he said so. “Ok numbnuts” I said, my croaky voice rising.” Time to tell your meatheads to let me go”
“Time, it’s time when I say so”
A wafery smile curled upon my lips. “It is time if you don’t want to go to hospital”.
“Your pathetic threats don’t scare me”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me; it is time if you don’t want to go to hospital”.
“Oh I’m so terrified” he laughed.
My leg snapped up, catching him in the balls. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he collapsed. The two goons smacked my head against the wall, blood streamed from the impact wound. I shook one of my arms out of their grip, turned around and punched one guy in the side of his nose. His face exploded in a disturbing contour of blood. I kicked him in the hip and in the stomach, and he collapsed in pain. The other guy, ‘hardly’ unfazed by my vicious assault, advanced upon me. In a spectacular display of untrained martial arts I spun around and magnificently kicked the other guy in the head. He collapsed unconscious, hitting the ground with a loud thud. Behind me I heard Jones getting up, ever. So. Slowly. I laughed; it seemed so twisted, so sick yet entertaining, like something from a psychopathic man, powerful yet unnatural. Strangely though, I felt possessed; as if there was some demonic force in the air, driving my very actions. I dismissed the thought; I wasn’t possessed, I was in control.
“Stop” he rasped. His face looked so pained, and stupid from this angle, it made me laugh. I planted my shoe on his head and pressed down, forcing his face unto the hard, concrete ground.
“Oh stop he says, well when, asshole, WHEN?” I felt so powerful, so alive. I was here arbitrating this man, No this boy’s life, my synapses were firing at a million pulses a second and oh, it felt great. My head throbbed with pain, surprisingly. The source of which I couldn’t discern. It didn’t matter though; it was all part of being alive. And I enjoyed being alive. “Please, just stop” he whispered, His voice faint. “Look at how the tables have turned Jones” I coughed before speaking “you started out in control and now your buddies are lying on the ground unconscious and you’re stuck, trapped under my foot with your manhood magnificently destroyed and your nose probably broken