Dedicated to @_frauadulent for the beautiful cover, thank you, I love it, it's amazing <3
@im-a-stilinski 's one of her lovely covers made is on the side >
Dedicated to @Harmless for being an awesome person and reader, on every. single. story. (yesh, shes that awesome) and commenting to make me write more (often threatening shoe throwing)
“Are you scared?” He stood precariously on the edge of the rock. His hairy toes clung to the edge so tightly that his blood had abandoned ship leaving the toes a yellowy white. His heels were flaking slightly and were a mix of white and yellow where the blood had run off and red at the points that the blood could still get to.
He had weird dimples on the side of the sole where the pressure of his body weight pressed down upon them. His legs were gorilla-like in their hairiness, but his legs were tanned and muscular, those creepy-looking triangle shaped cycling muscles stuck out like separate beings entirely because of the tension of his body trying to keep him balanced. He wore beige thigh long shorts that cut off a bit above the knee but were loose enough for him to bend.
Looped round them was a woven multicoloured belt with little silver studs that he had gotten from a ridiculous stool at the local market. He wore a grey shirt with a low neck and rolled up sleeves, so was the fashion these days. They're suppose to outline biceps or something, that's what Derek said anyway. Sunglasses with smiley faces on, a tribal necklace thrust upon him by a local beauty and a pretty smegging awesome hena tattoo all down his left arm.
He was frikkin' gorgeous. Plus, an important part here ladies and gentlemen, he was holding my hand because I was god damn petrified of heights.
But, he was my frikkin' gorilla-like hobbit-feeted gorgeous.
Now notice the 'was'.
And then it's pretty obvious what happened next.
He tried to jump, but I didn't move.
Let me explain the situation here, when you go cliff jumping 99% of the time, if it's high up, you have to jump a certain distance otherwise you hit the rock and not the water. Since I was holding him back, he lost the distance he needed and fell straight onto the rock. But you wonder, how did she not fall onto the rocks as well? That’s because the instructor saw what was happening and saved me, since I was the closest.
I had to watch in horror as his spine cracked, then a second bump where his left arm broke in several places and the third, where his scull sort of exploded. He kind of rolled down the rest of the way and got jammed half on the rock, half in the water. Not a pretty sight to see I tell you. Now the Death Doctors say that he had blacked out as soon as his spine was hit, his brain had gone into overload and shut down, something to do with the main nervous cord down your spin, to be honest, I wasn't really listening.
Three seconds later the instructor had dived in after him, swam back to where his body laid, and checked his pulse. Like, what? His scull had half exploded, and he was bent over backwards, I doubt that he would be alive. Yet, when she dived down after him, though the whole situation hadn't blown out my brains, though don't worry, it would in about ten more seconds don't you fret, I still believed that somehow he was still alive.
Okay, people die on TV and the News from this but not to you right? That all happens in America and Russia and stuff. That’s what I had subconsciously believed until 10 seconds later, when the instructor closed her eyes and put her head in her hand. You guessed it, the situation blew out my brains and I fainted like a good little white girl I was.
Someone rushed to my rescue of course, jolted out of their shock and grabbed me, pulled me far away from the edge, and laid me down on their lap. For a long, long time, I wished that they hadn't got there in time, and that I had fallen to my death, the same way he had. But after that long, long time had passed, and it was nearing three years in the youth mental heath centre, someone finally made me believe that it wasn't my fault, that I wasn't a murderer, and that it was time for me to move forwards.
A/N: New story. ~listens to the chorus of 10 'YAYS'~ 10, I know, I'm flippin' famous on here ~wink ;) wink ;) nudge nudge~ Don't be too jelly of my smelly wellies because this is just the prologue and the next chapter will be up next Sunday! ~childish chorus of 9 'YAYS'~ Eh, I'm losing people here. OI. CHILD. YEAH YOU. HOW DID YOU EXCAPE FROM THOSE CHAINS? GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW AND YELL YOURSELF HORSE OVER MY AMAZING STORIES ALRIGHT? Alright.
Thank you. Gentlemares and ladybugs. ~child whines in background~ SHUT UP DIRT.
- end of recording 26 / 08 / 14 ~
YOU ARE READING
Moving ForwardsTeen Fiction
America. She heard it was the land of freedom, remembered from History how thousands went there to start a-new, 'New England' it was called. She clings onto that hope as she makes the brash decision to just up and leave with little thought and organ...