Gracie Writes Stuff

Nina

Genre: General fiction (because I don't know where else to put it)

Blurb:

Did you ever think about what your life would be like if maybe you were a best selling author but no one knew?

Well, you probably haven't. And if you have then you might be the antisocial Roxy Summers, the girl who actually is that person.

With lots of creative writing and some help from her best, and only friend Deb, Roxy has made her way to the top of the book world.

But she never wanted to be that person that was recognized everywhere she went, and that's how Nina was born.

But Nina isn't the only secret Roxy has, she has something more life threatening hiding under the surface.

----

"No one knows who she is, walking among us like any normal human being. We don't know what she looks like, where she lives, who her family is. All we know is that she writes the best books read in this generation..." The article began. I couldn't stop the light laugh that escaped my mouth as I read over the words a second time. It came out as more of a breathy croak though, causing a nurse nearby to snap her head in my direction. I waved her off, assuring her I was well. 

But I know something the rest of the world does not, I thought. I'm that writer.

I couldn't help but have these thoughts enter my head from time to time, as I look through different things people would write about me, their favorite author, just months before now.

I had definitely lived a very difficult life, not letting those around me know that i'm that person, living my life kinda like a Hannah Montana writer -according to Deb that is.

Of course, I went by Nina when hiding who I was.

The article continued, "Nina was an inspiration, a hero really. Telling her story through her characters was the best gift she could ever give to us. Thanks, Nina. Can't wait for the next book." The rest was followed by smiley faces and some hearts. And the comments and responses were cheerful, unlike my body currently. But then I hit the one, that one comment that sent me spiraling back to my past, and reliving the choices i've made, those i've hurt. 

"Does no one realize she was lying to us, all of us?" The comment read. I stifled a whimper and exited the page. 

I did lie to them, every last one of them.

I was now staring at my desktop photo, a smile threatening to break out on my face but quickly falling when I became queasy, weakly bringing a hand to my mouth and covering it, just in case.

Once I was sure nothing gross might happen, I again was looking to my laptop, the picture showing me, Deb, Emma, and Will.

We were all smiling, surrounded by happy times, before everything went to crap.

But that was a year ago. Things have changed. I have changed.

I found my weak fingers moving my mouse across my laptop screen again. An idea came to my head, something that doesn't happen often anymore.

Opening a wordpad, I typed, probably the last thing I would ever write. I had wrote a little already, my hands cramping from how fast I went. It felt good to type a fresh story again, something i'm sure Deb will strangle me for later.

I looked at my work, proud of what was written so far.

It read:

This will probably never be published, but this story needs to be written, it needs to be told.