Attempt (Currently being edited)

Boy Who She Let Borrow A Book

The boy she let borrow her book; 14 years old; Hobbies include; reading, drawing and studying.

He was dressed in a black suit, a small batch of fresh roses in one hand, WutheringHeights in the other. At closer inspection, (me squinting my eyes at the projection because I am too lazy to get up) I realized that it was my copy of WutheringHeights. I stared at him trying to recognize who he was, he looked familiar I just couldn’t place his face.

His mother, I assumed, walked in wearing a navy blue dress with a matching cardigan and gave him a sad smile. “You look as handsome as ever,” she told him, fixing his tie. His hair was neatly slicked back, but not like a greaser you know? He was adorable to say the least. “Andrew?” she asked. Andrew… It’s starting to ring a bell.

“Yes Auntie?” ah okay so she is his aunt. Alright.

“Why are you taking a book? Don’t you think it rude to read at a wake?” she spoke like she was from another era, and I loved it. She wasn’t angry with him, her voice was calm and even, it made me wish I had known her in some way.

“Oh, no! You see this is her book, I need to give it back to her. I wish I had gotten to it sooner, I think it was her favorite book. She had a lot underlined and such, just like mother,” he smiled sadly.

THAT’S IT! That’s how I knew him! I lent him my book! Now that I think of it, I remember that day very clearly. It was my first day back after the party, after the police investigations. It was one of the worst days in my life. Overall it was awful, everyone hated me for getting the party busted, the only reason people would look at me was if they were whispering and snickering. I was lucky Sadie had stayed by my side, along with Taylor who I had only met that night. Sadie told me I did the right thing and she would have done the same. It made me feel a little bit better. To be honest it wasn’t as bad as the days to follow, but I didn’t know that so it felt like hell. Going from having a lot of people to talk to and hang out with, to two people was rough. Anyways back to Andrew, it was the bus ride home and I sat towards the middle so I didn’t have to listen to the upperclassmen who still took the bus. The only reason I was on the bus was because Boston had to leave early and he had the car. Andrew had sat beside me, which I was in a bad mood to begin with so that had pissed me off. He stared at me. And stared, and it was annoying.

“What do you want?” I had asked.

“Is that a good book?” he pondered. I nodded. “Cool, I heard about it once, you know it takes place a long time ago and I think that’s really cool, yeah they people talked kind of different then too so that must be fun to read and-“

“Take the damn book and read it. Just make sure I get it back at some point,” I told him not bothering if I had hurt his feelings. If I had he didn’t show it, instead he smiled widely and began to read it right away. Peculiar. I had figured he was just some nerdy freshman, and he was, but it turns out that book had actual meaning to him.

I instantly regretted being so harsh to the poor boy. He just wanted to feel closer to his mother and I was an ass-hole to him.

“Ah, I see. That is very kind of you, I’m sure she will be happy to have it back,” she smiled at Andrew. He nodded and waited for her to leave the room before sitting down on an old chair. I wasn’t sure what time the service was but no one seemed to be in any rush so I figured there was at least an hour before they had to leave. He opened the book and read a passage out loud.

“She was a wild, wicked slip of a girl. She burned too bright for this world,” he sighed then continued, “Ma, I know this quote means that the girl tends to do stuff that isn’t proper, and some of its naughty, but that was for Emily Brontë’s time period. But I feel like it applies to Adelaide, not the technical meaning, like what I interpret it. I think it means she was different, and not a lot of people accepted that. No one understood her, nor did they try. And what made her so different made her so unique that she thought she was bad. She was simply too magnificent for people to comprehend. That must have made her feel like she was a weirdo because no one else was that grand. You know? That’s how she burned too bright for this world. Like you Ma, you did too.”

I felt my heart begin to slowly crumble for this poor boy. I know too well the pain that comes with loosing a mom. I remember crying, nonstop, when it felt like there weren’t possibly enough tears left in me. The want of telling her about my day, something I had once been annoyed with, I constantly wished she would ask me it when I got home. She didn’t, she couldn’t, she was gone.

“I just don’t get it mom, how could anyone feel that bad about themselves? Why did you feel that bad about yourself mom? I don’t get it!” his hands formed fist, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “Mom I loved you, why’d you have to leave me? Did you not love me? Was I a bad son? Why did you have to go mom? Please!” his voice was shaking and getting louder as each word passed through his lips, “I need to know mom! I need to know.” He sounded angry, like he was angry that his mother killed herself. Maybe he was, but this wasn’t the type of angry like you’re thinking. It sounded almost hateful.

“I wasn’t good enough?” he hit the book against his head, “Never. Good. Enough,” he kept hitting himself. When the book wasn’t satisfying he began to scan the room for something harder. Where is his aunt? How doesn’t she hear him? “I hate my life because of you! I want you back!” he screamed. He was frantic. His pupils were dilated, I swear I could hear his heart beating rapidly. Did this happen frequently? Was he going to be okay? He reached under his bed, retrieving a black box of sorts. He took a deep breath and opened each locket on each side of the box.

My heart stopped.

Everything was in slow motion.

 A scream rang out I wasn’t sure if it was my own or someone else’s.

“Hold your breath and count to three,”

There was a bang, and a scream, and blood, and sobbing, and “call the police Edward,” More blood. So much blood, everywhere. There was, “Get a wet cloth hold it over the wound,” and shrieking sobs, sirens, strangers voices, and, “Where’d a boy get that gun?”

And then everything went black