Chapter 1.

872 13 1

 Written by: Jilli (trustmeforever)

Chapter One


There wasn’t much to the morning; it was like all the others. I got up, walked into the bathroom, took a shower, brushed my teeth, did my hair, walked back into my room, and got dressed. I expected the same thing as always, and the same thing is what I got. There was one minor exception, though. One that I prepared myself all year then rested all summer for, that dreaded first day back after a long three month slumber from the prison they referred to as, school. September 8th, the day when the freedom I was granted with was ripped away from me in a matter of seconds; the morning of this fateful day was crucial – not that I needed to make the best out of it, that was already a lost cause, but because it was another chance at a new first impression. I didn’t give a fuck what people had to say about me, but I gave fuck what they felt of me. I had to get it right, every, single, new, year I had to walk into that hell hole like I had the years passed. It was eat or be eaten, and I had no intention of being the sorry one. I’ve watched the very act pass before my eyes, people being picked apart because they just weren’t prepared, for lack of a better word. It was a shame to see it, but apart of life in which we all have to live.

           I stood in front of my closet; it was more or less a pile of shit and fabric than a neat and tidy space to store clothes. I leaned into the massive pit, trying to find just what I needed for the first day. It was nearly impossible to make out anything, it all began to look the same as I ventured deeper and deeper into the depths. I place my foot on top of the heap, and brought the other foot too. It was much easier to see but still impossible to make out what was what. “Jesus Christ,” I sighed, growing impatient by the second. Although this mess was my fault, I wasn’t about to go blaming myself. That’s just something you don’t do. I sighed again, thinking of a better way to go out doing this.

           The summer air still lingered outside my window. The sun was just about to rise; it would cover the land in warmth and light instead of darkness and cold. Which I preferred? I wasn’t sure. Both night and day had their ups and downs, wrongs and rights.

           I took another step deeper into the closet. Hoping it was advance my search but I only ended up falling face first onto the carpeted floor creating a loud banging noise which shook my room. “What the fuck!?” I shouted into the floor. I pushed myself up, my arms wobbling from the pain that had struck me. “Ya know what?” I said out loud, getting to my knees, and looking at the pile of dirty (or clean) clothing. “Fuck it!” I reached my hand down into it, feeling around for anything that seemed familiar to my touch. Eventually I started ripping the pile apart, throwing blacks and blues everywhere else around my room. Finally, at the bottom of the pile I found the shirt I was looking for. I held it up in awe and amazement that I had finally found it. It was my black tee-shirt with Smashing Pumpkins written across it in big white and red letters. It was by far my favorite shirt, lucky if you will. I threw it on my bed, the plaid sheets clashing with the colors of the shirt. Finding pants was an easier business; those were actually hung up in the back of the closet away from the bigger mess I had managed to make. It was an easy decision. All my pants were practically identical, black skinny jeans, with a few boot-cut blues here and there. I laid the pants under the shirt as if an invisible body was wearing them. I took a step back and examined the outfit, I felt girlish doing this, I won’t lie, but I felt it was necessary and important. I took a deep breath and picked up both articles of clothing. “Okay,” I sighed, feeling the nervous tension boil up inside me. “This should be fun.”

           This was my second year at the same school, an all time record for my parents and I. We constantly moved for house to house, city to city in month’s time. I was never in one place for too long, not long enough to make stable friends or even meet someone. A two year plan was a good streak and I was hoping it would go on for much longer, I could never be sure, though – not with my parents. It was always up in the air, “Don’t get your hopes up, Frank.” was all I ever heard when they would see a twinkle of hope in me that indicated I thought we’d be staying. In a way I could see how they were trying to help me, but in actuality they were saying it for their own benefit, so they didn’t have to deal with a pissed of son. I respected that strategy, but I didn’t respect them.

           I walked down the stairs and passed my parents, my dad sitting at the kitchen table murmuring to himself while gulping down coffee, while my mother sat across the way, in the living room rushing around cleaning and propping up pillows. Not a word was said as I opened the front door and slammed it shut just for good measure. I shoved my key chain into the pocket of my pants and went on my way. Like I said, the same thing that has always been my morning, over and over again, silence. No sounds but that of my own voice if I even felt the strength to speak.

           The whole walk I thought about what the day would be like, what I would have to deal with, my morning already consisted of the normal everyday passing of my so called parents, now what could be in store for me, what could possibly make this day any better? My mind wandered to new places, feeling my mind weaken from just the thought of another conflict. School was my enemy, as was everything else which got in my way. Everything in my life confined me from what I could be doing, from the things that actually mattered to me. Life was holding me back, and I wasn’t sure how to break away.

           I kept my head high as I walked up the sidewalk toward my school. Kids were swarming from all directions. Some I noticed, some I didn’t. I found the cliques rather easily. Those poor lost fucking souls were more held back that I ever would be, they just didn’t know it. I sighed and kept looking at them. Cathy Everwood stood next to her boyfriend Brad what’s-his-face. They were just together so they had someone to fuck, it was rather sad to watch. A year-and-a-half relationship, I could tell she was starting to really fall in love when her “prince-charming” was still banging her and only banging. I couldn’t decide whether I should feel bad for her or not, much like my mother did to herself, Cathy made the decision to date that poor old bastard. When she gets knocked up with that baby of his, he’ll run, and she’s be trapped in a world full of gross and ill people and problems. I hated to think about it, but there wasn’t much I could do, so I simply walked passed them, glaring at all four – Cathy, Brad with his arm around her waist, Allison, Allison, and Beth. If only they knew what they were turning into.

 I kept my head high, feeling eyes on me. I adjusted my bag around my shoulder then felt a slight pressure on my back. I spun around and smirked. “Sup, loser?” I titled my head up. I was short compared to everyone. I slapped him up, my “friend” Brian. He was like me, but trouble. He was the first person I had met the first day of school last year. He adopted me into his group of him and one other boy. I was thankful until I realized what kind of person he really was. “How the fuck was your summer? Didn’t call, didn’t chill, get afraid of me?” I shrugged, “Busy.” I mumbled under my breath but somehow he could make out was I was saying. “Frank, stop bullshitting me.” He stepped in front of me, pushing his palm against my chest, stopping me in my tracks. I looked into his eyes, not afraid of what was coming next. This was only the first day of a new school year and things were already fucking up. “I was busy.” I knocked his hand out of the way and kept on walking. I heard his footsteps behind me; they came closer and closer until he was beside me again. “Don’t be a pussy, Frank. What were you doing on summer?”

“Chilling, nothing huge.”

 “I called you –,”

 “I wasn’t home a lot, okay!? I was never home….” I glared at him as I sped up in front of him, he didn’t say another word.

           I got mixed into a crowd of other people who I didn’t recognized, probably freshman but I couldn’t be sure. I pushed and shoved my way through the slew of bodies. It was like being at a concert minus the excitement and thrill, and the music.... Once I finally got out and to the other side I stood in front of the very gates I had been avoiding for months, I was now back and prepared to take on whatever I needed to take on that year. I was going to make something out of it, I wasn’t going to be miserable everyday, and I wasn’t going to let life get me down anymore. And then I laughed out loud, because that was the same thing I told myself, in this exact spot, at this exact same time every single fucking year.

How We DisappearRead this story for FREE!