TRIGGER WARNING!!! MENTION OF DEATH AND GRUESOME DESCRIPTION!
If you are uncomfortable with such topics, please don't read this.
________________________
"Hey."
Julian's eyes flew open, and she scrambled away from the sound in shock.
What the fuck?
She stood up on shaking legs, looking everywhere for what could be the source of the voice. She even looked under the bed.
What was that?
What the actual fuck was that?
Ever since that night, that dark and stormy ni-
It wasn't dark and stormy. In fact it was quite bright and cheerful. No matter. That night, Julian, a seventeen year old girl, died.
Internally, of course. This book wouldn't be PG if she had actually died. Oh, right. This book isn't PG either way. Anyways, where was I? Julian, right. Well, more specifically, that dark and stormy n- Damn it! It wasn't dark and stormy! I apologize, dear reader. I'm trying my hardest to make this story cool and mysterious, but I also promised to myself I would stick to the facts. So, let's make this clear. It was not a dark and stormy night. And no one died. Uh, that's not true. No one died that night. There. Now I'm not lying. Let's continue. I'm sure you have lots of questions. Who was the voice that spoke to Julian? Who is Julian? What's going on? Why don't you get on with the story already? Who are you? Well, I assure you, we'll get there. I think. I hope? Now, let's actually continue the story.
Just kidding.
We're going to start somewhere else.
Way before that night, with the dark voices, and the bright moon, and a seventeen year old Julian, there was a girl who wasn't seventeen.
Her name was Rose.
Rose had lots of friends. In fact, everyone in town knew her. She was the light in town, the brightness that illuminated people's dull lives. But, with light, inevitably comes shadow. The dark spots that the warm glow can't quite reach, growing colder and darker with every laugh, every smile that didn't really reach the eyes.
Everyone loved Rose. But there was one issue with this. With this love everyone had for her. Rose didn't love anyone. Not herself, not her friends, not her parents. Especially not her parents. Ah, such a cliche trope. A family that seems perfect is actually completely dysfunctional, and the young child obtains emotional whiplash from the horrors they have to witness amongst their so-called loved ones.
Changing the topic a bit, a girl called Emily called herself Rose's best friend. They always spent time together, since they were youngsters. But something changed in Rose, as it often happens when one is hurting to the point of suicide. Instead of wanting to go out everyday to buy clothes and watch movies with boys who thought she was pretty, she opted to stay at home, in her room, staring at her wall, and letting the calm quiet take over her eyelids. But Emily was too loud, too self absorbed, too busy looking at guys to notice how Rose's eyes became sunken. How her already small body became frail and weak. How she got paler and paler.
Pale as a ghost.
Somehow though, Rose kept shining. She kept being polite and kind. Even if she didn't feel it. She tried to help others, hoping, somewhere deep in her beating heart that she would feel something. Anything. Kept hoping that, just once, she would get to experience the warmth that humans call affection. Love.
But jealousy is savage. It wraps its ugly claws around your lungs. So that everytime you see that one person who has it better than you, who shines brighter than you, it burns.
Mix that with feelings of resentment, pride, and a little bit of psychopathy, it can be deadly. Literally.
What a sad coincidence that Emily met all the requirements.
And so, on a night that was dark and stormy, Rose went out to take a breath of fresh air. Her parents had been fighting again, and she couldn't stand the idea of having to take sides in one of their dumb arguments again.
Her body was found three days later.
Emily was never considered a suspect. In fact, she spoke at Rose's funeral.
"Despite Rose's strangeness, and her need to be the center of attention, I still loved her. We were best friends since elementary, I even told her my deepest secrets. I miss her so much..."
She was comforted by the whole town, and Emily took over the role of 'light'.
A lightbulb may be bright, but a flame brings warmth and comfort.
Sometimes I wonder what Rose would have done if she had realized what Emily was planning.
Would she have finally snapped?
How would she take revenge?
What a tragic end to a tragic story.
Except Rose didn't leave.
In her final moments, before being assaulted and killed, she had felt something.
While watching the clouds shift and strangle the moonlight, her chest throbbed.
For the first time in her life, Rose felt something.
Protectiveness.
This was her town, she brought it to life, even if the town sucked it out of her.
Pride.
Only she could do that.
Anger.
How dare anyone call her useless?
Belonging.
This was her town.
And it was all ripped away from her. She watched her only chance at being truly alive slip through her fingers, along with the blood seeping from her chest. She felt the knife cut through her muscles, felt it shred her flesh. But it didn't hurt more than the knowledge that, just as she had discovered herself, it had been ripped away from her. Her throat burned as she felt her heartbeat in her ears. Her head. Pounding like a sledgehammer against her skull.
This feeling, this anger, this sense of betrayal, kept her alive. But not physically. Rose's poor weak body died. The heartbeat in her brain ceased to exist. Her eyes dried out. Her lungs never took another breath. But she was alive.
A spectre appeared, the embodiment of her pain. And Rose was born again.
It was her, pale blue eyes, rosy cheeks, long dirty blonde hair. But it wasn't her. It wasn't the Rose that did everything everyone told her without a word. It wasn't the Rose that kindly asked older kids to get off the swings so that the kindergarteners would play. This Rose knew what she wanted. She wanted to protect others, to protect her town, and Emily dead.
But she couldn't do that as a ghost.
And so, the journey to find someone to help her, someone that could hear her, began.
"Hey."
______________________
AN:
Word count: 1250.
Sorry it's so short! I felt overwhelmed with homework for school, and so to take my mind off it, I decided to write this. It's really cringy and shit, but oh well. At this point, I'm just doing what i can to relax. If you have any thoughts, ideas, or suggestions, please comment them! I honestly don't care at all about anything you guys decide to say. If you see any spelling errors, or its worded in a not grammatically correct way, comment it.
Since this is the prologue, it's shorter than what the rest of the chapters are gonna be. And I promise to make my ANs more interesting.
Oh, and you know who you are, if your reading this, please don't murder me for not editing, but still having time to write this dumb story. I promise I'll get to it as fast as possible.
