From Elizabeth's Diary,
11 November, 2010
Dear diary,
The day was as normal and gloomy as it is always for me. Like a mandatory ritual, Jesse's gang didn't fail to taunt and tease me in the morning. They squirted ketchup all over my clothes but since I was used to this kind of torturing, I had come prepared with cleaning supplements. To their utter shock, I had come out shinier than before. I had no urge to fight them back as I knew I was overpowered and I did not shy away and bare my weakness as I knew it would incite them to hurt me even more. As always, I ignored them. My passive behaviour irked them tremendously but kept them at bay. In fact my mind was preoccupied by thoughts of the upcoming horse race. There were going to be tough competitors and I couldn't help feel anxious though I was extremely certain that Wonder, my wonderful horse was going to come first.
I prefer spending time with Wonder than coming to this hellhole they called 'school'. No, it's not like you think. I don't hate school because I get bullied because I am a transgender. It's just that I liked to procrastinate a lot. I loved laying around on top of Wonder, drowning myself in Kpop and stuff innumerable amounts of Jolly Ranchers into my system. Yes, that was pretty much life to me. Then why do I go to school? It's because my old man's insistent that an excellent education is certainly significant as it spawns creativity, sophistication and refinement in one's thoughts. And I go to school so that I could understand those big words he had said.
The only subjects that I tolerate are Biology and English. I always come off as a topper in class when it comes to Biology. And English is great because I thought that the new teacher was rather pretty and kind. I appreciated beauty. Beauty was never constant for me. It kept on changing. Right now, I was sporting blue hair, uneven bangs, neon hoodies and a lip ring. I looked like I had stepped out of a freaking anime. There's this something about my English teacher that drew me to her like a moth to a flame. I like to think that it's her mesmerising eyes.
Those beautiful violet eyes.
Even if she is incessantly trying to stuff John Keats and P.B Shelly into my brain, I can't seem to take my eyes off her most unique eye colour. In fact no one complained when it was her period. I remember Morgan, a curious cat who always occupied one of the seats in the front rows, asking her if it's her original eye colour. She just smiled sheepishly and ran her slender fingers through her variegated strands of browns, blacks and russets.
My admiration towards her had initiated when she saw me chewing on my lip ring. She rolled her tongue out at me. And behold! There sat a shiny metallic dot on the middle of her tongue. My jaw literally dropped to the floor. This lady who looked like a model from the Victorian era had a piercing on her tongue! In fact, until then I had thought teachers who were dwellers of this hellhole were incapable of even looking neutrally at a piercing on a student's body would dare to have a piercing of their own. It impressed me more than the graffiti art behind the school walls did.
Lunch breaks are extremely short. In the forty five minutes of the lapse period we had, I spend a good fifteen to twenty minutes in front of the mirror, trying to apply mascara on my eyelashes with perfection. With the patience I had obtained from tending to horses for several years, I would apply them until my eyelashes acquired the perfect curl to their ends, until the blackness was evenly spread and had the right volume. I always received personal satisfaction to know that my eyes are strikingly beautiful.
Then I would climb the long flight of stairs and lounge on the sloping roofs of the school building with a sandwich on one hand. No, I never stepped into the school cafeteria. Going in there was like a mouse entering a lion's den. There were just too many predators. I am not kidding when I say I have only gone there once in junior high. I am way too lazy to write down what had happened to me there. I will get to that later.
This was my daily routine and today was no exception. And as usual, just as I bit into my sandwich and let the gooey cheese melt in my mouth, the bell rang. It sounded different in my ears, more shriller and piercing. On hearing it, I laid back on the roof. I often missed the period right after breaks and continued to munch on my sandwich. Ten minutes had easily passed and I was slowly drifting off to a light sleep when a terrified squeal woke me up as if I had received a shock. I looked around in astonishment.
The air was foggy and white hued. I was driven into a coughing fit when an influx of this irritating whiteness entered my nose. Smoke! I began to wonder if there was a break out of fire somewhere. A sort of fluttering sensation reigned my lower abdomen. Not wasting time to think, I descended the stairs with my legs working robotically until I reached the second floor. The rest of the stairs had been engulfed by a raging cackling fire. I turned towards my right since a large puff of smoke was emerging from the left direction. My mind was blank and my legs carried me to places which wasn't yet invaded by the orange flames. The whole building was empty.
I ran until a barrier of a wall, stood in my path. A strong hot wind blew in my direction, spreading the flames all over the floor. My heart dropped to the pits of my entrails. I was trapped. The way ahead of me was covered up in fire and it's stealthy flames were slowly approaching me. I dropped to the floor and pushed my body up against the wall, desperately wishing that a hole would appear on the wall and let me escape. Heat rose up my arms and legs.
The flames danced before my eyes, twisting itself into fantastic shapes of crimson and orange. My skin burnt and melted in the intensive heat of the fire. I was seized by a panic attack. I was sure I wasn't going to get out of there alive. My lungs tightened and pained with the amount of toxic smoke I had inhaled. I panted heavily due to the lack of oxygen supply. Oh! Dear diary, I thought I was going to die. I closed my eyes feeling my tears evaporating in the heat just as they emerged.
Suddenly I felt a cooler breeze hit my face which was slick with sweat. I opened my eyes briefly. White smoke enveloped the flames and I watched it battle furiously with the fire causing the flames to die out slowly. I looked up and standing amongst the white choking smoke was my saviour carrying a long red container of fire extinguisher. Her violet eyes smiled at me.
She didn't give me a chance to thank her properly for she dragged me out. She told me that it was the only can of fire extinguisher left and it wasn't enough to extinguish the fire as it was advancing speedily and had almost enveloped the whole building. She said that this was our only chance to escape since the fire force was running late. Hastily she sprayed the fire extinguisher over the flames on the staircase, leading us to an extremely blackened path downwards. The stairs were almost crumbling apart but we managed to climb down.
A mass of charred black bodies almost merged together laid at the base of the stairs. I gagged on witnessing the morbidly distorted bodies and knew they would keep on haunting my dreams from then on. I recognised the blue cap on one burnt corpse as I had seen it in the morning. It was Jesse's gang and I felt very nauseous. If not for my English teacher, I would have been reduced to ashes too. She shook her head sadly and said that many had lost their lives in this accident.
She pulled me by my arm into the staff room saying that it was untouched by the fire and there was a fire exit. But she had been wrong, fire bred more stronger kind of it's own in the room and it trapped us once we entered it. I watched the look of absolute worry cross her features. Pushing the heavy can into my arms, she ran to the desk despite it being dangerously surrounded by fire. She fumbled in her drawers until she retrieved a box and a spanner. I stared helplessly in horror as fire engulfed her right side. A bloodcurdling scream resounded in the room and it had come from me.
She dropped to the floor and clutched her knees to her chest. She closed her eyes in silent pain. Fire spread through her body. I took off my favourite neon jacket and wrapped it around her body and hastily sprayed the remnants of the extinguisher over her. The fire died but her body was severely burnt. I gagged at the smell of burnt flesh. I avoided my eyes from the sight of the peeling pink skin on her right side. She breathed out a 'thank you' and shoved the box and spanner in my hands. She pushed me to a clearing where fire had yet to invade while she sacrificed herself.
She told me to break the glass of the fire exit with the spanner and that there were two dolls in the box. She told me to take one of the dolls and give the other one to her son. Tears streaked my cheeks and I asked her if she wasn't coming with me. She smiled sadly and told me to hurry up. Fire had encircled her already. I cried and called out her name. She kept on insisting that I break the glass. With a few forceful hits from the spanner, the glass door broke and fresh air welcomed me. I looked back at my English teacher who had been partially engulfed by the fire again. Her eyes were pressed closed and she didn't seem to hear me cry and scream out for her.
And then suddenly, her immaculate violet eyes opened and she told me hoarsely and painfully- "Please tell my Ezra that I love him so much and tell him that mom wishes him a very happy birthday. Tell him that I will be back soon...Thank you, Elizabeth."
Those were her last words. Fire wrapped her entire being and cackled loudly as if it was digesting her. It twisted and rolled her bones in it's blue tinged core. Her death was punctuated by her scream of pain and terror. With a final glance at her burning diminishing figure, I stepped out of the glass door. My mind was terrified to unreachable extents and my heart was swollen with gratefulness to my English teacher.
I am alive and breathing because of her kindness towards me. She was one of those few who had whole heartedly accepted me for the person I am. I will always treasure the red haired doll she had presented me, with my whole life. I had even named her Jill. The name just randomly occurred to me and I think it is perfect for the little doll for some reason. But I can never forget the limp pale pain stricken face of her twelve year old son when I had informed him of her death. She had risked her life for me. I can never be more grateful to anyone as much as I am to her. Truly diary, I don't think I will meet anyone as perfect and great as Ms Jane Martin.
Love,
Liz
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Elizabeth is dead at present but this diary had been written before that right after she had been saved by Jane. So that's how she had received the doll that resembled Jill and that's how Jane had died.
Since all the mysteries haven't been cleared. I am writing one more bonus chapter. If you have any other questions on this book, don't forget to ask me. Either pm me or comment.