A small piece I wrote for an Astronomy independent project, "Trinity" turned out to be quite a source of entertainment for me. :) It is choppy, and has a rather abrupt ending, but I was restricted to a certain amount of words and had to restrain myself. I apologize once again for the corrupted formatting. It's starting to get on my nerves. Haha.
Well then, here it is!
Trinity
The slender woman burst out of the doors, clutching a folder dripping with papers, post-it notes, and a spiral notebook to her chest. With a groan, she yanked the notebook out of the folder, and shoved a hand into the fluff of curly red hair covering her ear. Grimacing, she carefully untangled a pen from the mass of curls and, walking crookedly to her car, scribbled a note to herself to remind her to do next week’s assignment.
“Three years in college and I’m still just as disorganized as I was when I started,” She muttered to herself as she unlocked the trunk. She paused and frowned when she saw that the trunk was crammed full with a random assortment of items. “If not even more so.”
She scoffed and slammed it closed. “I seriously need a secretary…”
With a sigh, she climbed into the small Lancer and tossed her folder and its contents into the floor behind her seat. I’m a sorry excuse for a woman. Aren’t we supposed to be clean and tidy and always have everything together? She shook her head at herself. I wonder if I was like this before.
She pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the interstate. She ran her hand through her hair. “Has it only been four years?” She sifted through her memories; her rude awakening to life that one day when she opened her eyes to find a world she didn’t recognize, people she didn’t know. That next gut-wrenching moment when she realized that she didn’t even know what her name was or even what she looked like. It felt like yesterday.
The woman was found lying in the middle of the street three years ago, having sustained a massive head wound. She was rushed to the hospital, treated, and predicted to come out just fine, but she wasn’t able to tell the doctors what her name was or where she was born and raised. She couldn’t even remember her age or what year it was. It was like she had just been born, except for the fact that she spoke perfect English and was a full grown woman. They waited for several months, but she never regained her memory. The state gave her an identity so she could live life like a normal person.
Beth Henderson, age 35. Enrolled in Huntington University as a Physics/Astronomy major. Employed by Pollard’s National Bank working as a teller/clerk. A resident of Pelican Cove apartments on the edge of town. The woman remembered having to constantly repeat all of her “personal” information over and over to herself when she first was released from the hospital. It was like trying to live someone else’s life and wear their oversized clothes; it just didn’t fit.
As she pulled into a parking spot at Pollard’s National Bank, Beth glanced at the noon sky and spotted the Moon just above the horizon. She adored the Astronomy courses she was currently taking. She had fairly little trouble with the classwork, and enjoyed studying the subject extensively. If there were any part of her life that she was comfortable in, it was in her love and knowledge of Astronomy and Physics. She could study the planets and stars for weeks on end and never get bored. It was almost as if she’d done it before. With a sigh, she pushed open the doors and clambered into the bank. Her boss, Angela, stood by the front, drumming her fingertips on the countertop.
Beth nodded and flashed a brief smile at her, then went to her station in the extended line of counter. She had too much to get done for her to chat right now…
“Beth.”
Beth blinked for a split second, expecting there to be someone else in the room, but then realized that Angela was speaking to her. She shook her head at herself. Four years, and you still haven’t gotten used to it. What’s wrong with you?
She nonchalantly looked up from her desk space. “Yes, Angela?”
Angela crossed her arms and turned on her piercing stare. “You’re early again.”
“Mmm…yeah,” Beth mumbled as she flipped through some files that had been thrown in her area. “Got out of class early today, so I figured I’d just head on over here.”
“Your shift doesn’t even start until 3:00. It’s noon.”
Beth glanced at Angela over her reading glasses. “Yeah, so? I just thought I’d put in a few hours overtime.”
Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, Angela seemed to withhold a groan. “Every day, you’ve been doing this. Every day for the past two weeks. It’s like you’re trying to get away from something. I mean, really Beth. Get a boyfriend or something...a dog, yes, get a dog! You’re about to drive me insane!”
“Well, now that you bring it up…”
Angela threw her hands in the air dramatically. “Oh my word, did she really consider doing something I suggested?”
Beth chuckled. “I have a date after my shift. But, don’t get excited, it’s not going to go any further than that.”
“Oh, why not? You need a guy in your life, honey.”
“It’s just,” Beth shook her head. “I don’t know. I just can’t commit to anything serious right now. But, that’s okay.” She smacked her palms on the stack of paperwork. “I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.”
The corner of Beth’s mouth twitched as she read the comical text message from Josh Powell, the adorable guy she’d met in her Astronomy 111 class her first year at HU. She locked her car and straightened her shirt as she stepped on to the sidewalk. Gently cradling her phone, the brand new Samsung Solstice, in one hand, she fiddled with the parking meter fare with the other.
“Of course I’m coming, don’t worry. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. And yes, I would love a table next to the fire. That sounds nice.” She hit send and slipped her phone into her purse. Josh was a unique guy; he texted her frequently, and thought of highly of her opinion. She smiled and shyly looked down the concrete walkway that led to the restaurant. He was nice to be around.
“Trinity!”
Beth glanced around in surprise at the loud exclamation. A man clambered through the bustling crowd, clawing his way forward; he must have spotted someone they knew. The man looked and sounded desperate, almost crazed.
“Trinity! Wait!”
She grimaced as the man’s voice grew closer and higher-pitched. Why couldn’t he respect the simple eloquence of the area they were in and keep his tone down? Some people were just so inconsiderate of the people around them…
“Trinity!”
The frantic guy was suddenly right behind her, his hand gripping her shoulder firmly. Just as Beth considered screaming at the top of her lungs, the young man clamped his hand over her mouth and shook his head furiously. His green eyes were wide and crazed as he gasped for breath.
“No, don’t – don’t scream. Please. I can explain. I – I,” He gulped in air and tilted his head slightly as he looked at her face. “Wow. I can’t bel – I mean, you’re…” He sighed. “You’re alive.”
Fear and confusion boiled over in Beth’s mind. She slapped his hand off of her mouth. “Of course I’m alive, you idiot! Do I look dead to you?” She stammered at the hurt expression in his eyes. “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but you better get away from me right this minute or I swear I’ll scream so loud that you’ll be under a dog pile of courteous pedestrians in less than ten seconds.”
The man, he couldn’t have been older than twenty-five years, held his hands up in defense and spoke with an unsteady voice. “I need to explain things to you; maybe then you’ll understand how desperate the situation is.”
Beth gritted her teeth. “Look here, kid…-”
He held up a hand. “Your name, as you know it, is Beth Henderson. You’re thirty-five years old according to the physicians who treated you at Saint Peter’s. You’re in your third year at Huntington University in your studies as an Astronomy/Physics major. You’ve excelled in every class you’ve taken. You’re disorganized beyond all reason, can’t seem to find last night’s homework that’s sitting under the stack of dirty dishes in your room, yet you can almost quote word for word in an organized format the Astronomy textbook that you’ve never really flipped through.”
He took a deep breath. “Your life has only been four years long, to your current knowledge. You were found in the middle of the street with an enormous gash on your head, and no ID. There weren’t even any records of your fingerprints in any database. You are a woman without an identity.”
Beth was rooted to the spot. She couldn’t comprehend how this…boy had found out her information. She was a part of a program that ensured that your past, how ever little it consisted of, was erased.
The young man nodded slowly. “I can help you. I knew you before you lost your memory. I can tell you everything.” He hesitated. “But I also need your help.”
She frowned. “Okay then. Explain.”
“We should really move to a safer spot…”
“Whatever you need to say can be said right here, out in the open.” She crossed her arms defiantly.
He frowned for a moment, then nodded in resignation. “Alright. My name is Cade Lamson. I was your assistant. Your name is Dr. Trinity Alden, a scientist worthy of world renown. You discovered and invented the impossible. You proved that many of the scientific bases that our society stands firmly on today are false, and are totally beyond our current grasp of understanding.”
Beth shook her head. “Okay, you’re talking, but you’re not really saying anything. Get to the point.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, but you’re not just going to accept what I say to be gospel, okay? It’s going to conflict with everything you know about science now.”
“Then why are we doing this again?”
Cade’s face grew hard. “Because of the countless lives that only you have the knowledge to save. There are people being hunted down as we speak, Trinity, and half of them don’t even know why.”
She felt her heart drop. Partially from the news that there were people being hurt, and partially from being called Trinity. It actually fit pretty well, she felt. She took a breath and looked him in the eye. “Okay. Tell me more. Maybe I can help.”
Without warning, an explosion racked the square, sending fire and debris flying in all directions. The crowd of previously browsing people were now screaming and crying out in fear. Cade grabbed Beth’s arm and yanked her away from the chaos. They tore off down the street, pushing and slamming into people who were mesmerized by the fires that were spreading fast.
Beth (or Trinity, she didn’t know how to refer to herself now) clung to Cade’s arm as he maneuvered them through the mass of people. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized the seriousness of the situation. People’s lives were in grave danger. If Cade was telling the truth, and she was the only one with the knowledge to help, then she was responsible for every moment that passed that she didn’t do anything to help. She furiously fought the urge to cry.
Cade suddenly halted. In front of them were three men holding small guns close to their bodies. He grunted as he whirled around to find more men with guns heading toward them. Beth whimpered slightly.
Cade released his grip on her arm and turned to face her. “Do you trust me?”
Beth nodded vigorously, almost cringing in fear at the danger surrounding them.
“Okay. Hold on.” He threw his arm around her shoulders and turned around in place sharply.
She had no idea what was happening; all she could feel was the lack of air, the vibrations pulsing throughout her being, and the terrifying sensation of falling. Where she had been standing on solid ground, there was nothing but endless black. Then, she was suddenly dropped back onto the cool, soft earth.
Her head spinning, she clambered to her feet. “What…” She sputtered, gasping for air. “What was that?” She glanced around, noticing that the city had disappeared and wild plant life surrounded them. “And where on Earth are we?”
Cade peered up at her from where he lay sprawled on the ground. He sat up and kneaded his forehead wit h his fingers. “That’s what I need to tell you. See that building over there?” He pointed to his left.
Beth blinked and nodded, unimpressed at the sight of the primitive structure.
“That’s our station. Where you would do research and give treatments.”
“Treatments?” Beth turned slowly. “What do you mean by that?”
Cade hoisted himself up off of the ground and sighed. “Trinity, I don’t know where to start. Just give me a chance to get my thoughts together, okay?” He looked over at her and shook his head. “You really don’t remember anything, do you? It’s all gone.”
She shrugged and ran a hand through her hair in embarrassment. “I don’t recall anything.”
Cade tensed. “Okay. Well, like I said, you were an amazing scientist. When you were in the Air Force, I think you were about twenty-two at the time, you discovered a strain of, well, I don’t really remember what you called them, but you discovered something that made you consider something like instantaneous transportation possible. I remember you telling me that you first believed instantaneous transportation to be getting from point A to point B anywhere on the Earth in less than a second by means of inter-dimensional travel. Are you following?”
Beth blinked. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
“Good. Well, the strain of whatever it was that you discovered made you realize that it just might be possible to achieve inter-dimensional travel by changing a certain factor in the makeup of the human DNA. That strain, or gene, as you called it, was the key. So you set out to perfect it.”
“I thought I was an astronomer, not a geneticist.” Beth frowned.
Cade smiled for the first time. “You had help from a good friend of yours that was a geneticist. You two worked well together. Anyways, once you were sure that you had perfected the formula, you tested the first injection on yourself. You attempted a jump, planning your destination to be in Cairo, Egypt. You already had another scientist on the other end at a specified place, ready to assist you if needed. But you never made it to Cairo.”
He scratched his head for a second and looked around. “Instead you discovered something much greater. You wound up on a planet orbiting a star outside of our solar system.” He yanked a crumpled paper out of his pocket. “Look at this. I found this on some Astronomy website. ‘The HARPS (High Accuracy Radial Velocity Planet Searcher) team has reported that 32 new planets have been discovered outside the Solar System…this new discovery places it as the world's first in exoplanet findings. HARPS has spotted over 75 of the 400 or so known exoplanets so far.’ You see this? I found this article online on October 20th of this year. You were on one of these planets before HARPS, the spectrograph these people used, even found traces of it. You returned to Earth shortly after, and started telling everyone who would listen. But no one would hear. It’s not factual, just science fiction, they said. They weren’t ready to hear that you’d actually cracked something that was way beyond their realm of understanding.”
“Wow.” Was all she could manage.
“After you disappeared, we named the planet Trinity, in honor of you. The name also fit quite well because it was a super-Earth with three Earth-sized moons. We haven’t really named those yet.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” Beth inquired.
“Those of us with the gene. I was the first one you injected, then after you were gone, I used the remaining amount of the strain and injected people with desires to help our cause. There aren’t many, but the ones we’ve found have contributed a lot. We’ve set up observatories here, and have seen the universe from a totally new standpoint. We have new constellations, some objects we can see better, and other objects, like the Orion Nebula, is just a tad bit smaller from our view than from Earth’s. But with spectrographs and other light – measuring tools, we are able to calculate just how far away Earth is. But, just think of it. If we can one day configure your formula with coordinates for other planets, we can make the galaxy our observatory!”
Beth’s eyes blurred. “That’s wonderful. But why are people trying to stop this?”
Cade shrugged. “They want control. And as of now, they have no control over what we do.”
Trinity smiled. “Maybe that’s the best way to have it.”
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
New Blogs!
Aloha everyone, and welcome to the new blogs of Sarah Halbrook! :0
If you are formerly familiar to the blog "A Writer's Tale", then you are in for some good news! Everything is in working order now, and is not as crushed and disorganized and smooshed together as it used to be. I have created two other blogs and moved my poetry and random documentations of my life to them, respectively. On each of my blogs, you will find a section on the left hand side that supplies two links to the other blogs. Please become a follower of them! I would love to have readers. :) Here is a small breakdown of the new set-up.
A Writer's Tale - Writings: stories or random blurbs
A Writer's Journey - Random documentation of my life
A Writer's Song - Poetry (because I just CAN'T stop writing it!)
If you are formerly familiar to the blog "A Writer's Tale", then you are in for some good news! Everything is in working order now, and is not as crushed and disorganized and smooshed together as it used to be. I have created two other blogs and moved my poetry and random documentations of my life to them, respectively. On each of my blogs, you will find a section on the left hand side that supplies two links to the other blogs. Please become a follower of them! I would love to have readers. :) Here is a small breakdown of the new set-up.
A Writer's Tale - Writings: stories or random blurbs
A Writer's Journey - Random documentation of my life
A Writer's Song - Poetry (because I just CAN'T stop writing it!)
Friday, June 24, 2011
The Last Generation - Chapter 1
Here you go! There may be some formatting errors, Blogger doesn't like being correct in those areas. :p It is also a very rough draft, so...comments welcome!
Chapter One
“Ow!” A sharp pain racked through Dakota O’Neill’s left arm as someone whacked it with their book bag in an endeavor to get past her. “Watch it!” She instinctively hissed as she whipped her head around. Scanning the frenzied crowd, she looked for the person who had been in such a hurry. Whoever it was had long since disappeared into the seemingly numberless mass of high school students. Dakota gently massaged her wrist and scowled. This is crazy. Who would’ve ever thought that a high school would seem like a concert for the hottest band in the country?
She looked around at the crowd for a moment; there were kids crammed shoulder to shoulder in a tiny cafeteria that was unworthy of the task it served. The small space was regularly shared by all of the students in both the high school and the middle school and was usually packed with no free room to breathe.
Dakota blinked and winced at the throbbing in her arm that reminded her of the old injury. She looked down at the skin covering her knuckles and the upper joints of her fingers; the area was peppered with whitish spots and lines that had a different texture than the surrounding skin. It was the place where she had ground her knuckles into the abrasive road.
She clamped her right hand around her left wrist and rolled the stiff joint around until it cracked. Grimacing at the sudden pain, she relaxed when the pressure almost automatically lifted. Dakota held her left hand up to eye level and flexed her fingers and wrist. Content with the ache and stiffness that usually befitted the joints; she gritted her teeth and examined it thoughtfully. It had never fully healed.
Sudden deep resonant hums and high-pitched squeals from the microphone made everyone in the cafeteria instantaneously cringe. All sound except for the chorus of groans that came from the annoyed teenagers was immediately cut off. Every head turned toward the temporary stage that was set up at the head of the room. A tall, slender woman stood in front of the microphone; her face looked fairly young, but the barely noticeable gray that streaked through her hair discreetly announced her age. The noises of unfazed kids chattering and laughing started to rise again.
Dakota watched the woman’s forehead draw down into an irritated crease; the lady reached down to adjust the microphone to her own height. With a poised flip of her dark hair, the woman jerked her jacket straight and glared at the entire crowd disapprovingly.
“Will everyone please quiet down?” Her strong and commanding voice seemed to escalate in reverberation as the sound reached each student’s ears. Every head turned back toward the voice attentively. The prattle and clamor were silenced in an instant; every person’s rapt attention was on the woman.
The woman’s stern appearance softened to a bright smile. All of the lines and grooves in her face flipped upward in delight. She suddenly started laughing cheerfully, upholding her graceful composure while cracking up. She held her hand to her chest and stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath. “You guys wouldn’t believe the outrageous looks that you gave me.” She resumed her bout of mirth. “That was classic!”
Everyone was motionless and silent as they tried to absorb shock. Nobody, especially Dakota, knew what to make of this woman’s peculiar outburst. Dakota watched suspiciously as the lady, clad in a black pantsuit, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that was given to her by a nearby teacher. The woman chuckled a bit and clapped her hands together in front of her. “Well, now that I have your attention, let me introduce myself.” Her green eyes grew vivid as she illustrated her sentences with her hands. “I am Jocelyn McCauley, Mrs. McCauley to all of you. I’m the principal here at Alliance High, and am the co-principal with Mr. Greeley of Alliance Middle School. So, for all of you who are new students here this year,” She lowered her gaze for a moment and swept it across the room. Her emerald tinted eyes almost seemed to study every student in the room, and for some reason, settled upon Dakota for a much longer period of time than the rest.
Dakota felt her face grow bright red. Suddenly feeling guilt like she’d just committed a murder, she ducked her head timidly and didn’t make eye contact with Mrs. McCauley. But, for some reason, she was more curious than afraid and coolly flicked her eyes back to the stage. Mrs. McCauley’s bright and cheery face had moved on, looking through the crowd. Dakota jadedly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. What is it that makes people look at me like that? It’s as if they can all see straight through me.
Mrs. McCauley hastily broke out into a nauseatingly fake smile, opened her arms wide and continued her speech. “For all of the new students here with us, we warmly welcome you to Alliance High!” A scattered bit of applause echoed awkwardly through the gymnasium.
Dakota stared down at her shoes; they were scuffed, worn, and deserved a proper burial after all they had been through. She scoffed as she stubbed the toe into the tile floor. What a joke. She crossed her arms tightly, and stared hard at her shoes. She didn’t feel very tolerant right now. She lifted her eyes to gaze out of a nearby window, fading the noise around her as muted sounds whispering from a mile away. With a sigh, she thought back to that morning.
She hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start with the people in charge; her attitude had gone down the drain ever since she arrived at the Twin Eagles Group Home three weeks ago. This morning was concrete evidence that most of the volunteers had already given up on her. She couldn’t blame them; she felt like she barely knew who she was anymore. Most of the time, she couldn’t find a motive to wake up in the morning and face life. Pure obstinacy on her part was the only reason she gritted her teeth and kept on.
Dakota rubbed her eyes and adjusted her vision to the busy city street outside. She was sure that she would be greeted with disgusted looks and accusing stares when she got back to the home after school. Right now, she wasn’t really sure if she cared or not. Too many things had turned her life inside out in the past three years. She just didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
The last family that had taken her into their home, the O’Malley’s, welcomed her with smiles and open arms, even after they’d read file after file that the system had on her. For one moment, Dakota truly thought she had found a place where she would belong. The young couple promised that they would stick with her through thick and thin; they swore to nurture her and love her, unlike the foster family before them. Still uneasy and hesitant to get close to anybody else because of the abuse she endured from the previous family, Dakota kept the couple at arm’s length.
Feeling that they had failed and couldn’t get through to her, the O’Malley’s took her back to the system under false statements that Dakota “had trashed their property numerous times”. They did all this because they wanted a kid who wasn’t a “withdrawn psychotic”, as Mr. O’Malley told her in exasperation one day. The system hadn’t even bothered to investigate, and worked on sending her somewhere else. That was four weeks ago.
Dakota was tired of trying to live up to people’s standards when nobody ever appreciated her, ever. She was fed up with being used, then tossed aside like garbage. Why try to get someone to love you when they’ve already made up their mind that you’re nothing but a worthless girl? It hurt her every time; though each time it hurt a little less, like her heart was silently growing numb.
Dakota shifted in her chair. This morning had been one of her quieter days, though it wasn’t one of Kat Myers’, one of the counselors working at the Twin Eagles Home.
“You are nothing but bad news, Dakota O’Neill!” Mrs. Myers had said, shoving her fists onto her hips. “I’ve heard not one good thing about you since you’ve gotten here, only countless bad things! The latest in is how you’ve beaten up some first graders while you were Iowa because you didn’t want to be transferred here to Nebraska.”
Dakota stiffened defensively. “I didn’t beat up a first grader!” She shook her head in disbelief. “I couldn’t do that.” She looked at her feet. Not after what the Warners did to me.
Mrs. Myers looked up with an eyebrow cocked. “No, you didn’t beat up a first grader; you harassed a group of them. You’re a regular tyrant.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.” Dakota’s voice raised in pitch, she was about to scream in frustration. She looked back to the floor. If she only had a penny for every time someone accused her of something she wasn’t guilty of…
With an irritated flip of her brown hair, she grabbed Dakota’s chin and yanked it up. She zeroed in on Dakota’s eyes and locked onto them. “Oh yeah? I guess you didn’t shoplift from a convenience store before you left, either. Oh, and I also heard that you were passing out drugs to some of the kids a week after you got here. I’ve got three kids who swear that they got their joints straight from you.”
Stunned, Dakota blinked and stared at Mrs. Myers. “I-I’ve never done drugs before.” Anxiety coursed through her. Why was everyone so dead-set against her? All she’d done was get settled in, and people were bearing down on her like vultures. She’d truly never done any of that; well, none except for shoplifting, but that was a long time ago. Was there a neon sign that read “guilty as charged” flashing over her head or something?
“Just because you’ve never done drugs doesn’t mean you’re not selling them.” Mrs. Myers clamped her hand harder on Dakota’s chin, then let go. With a deep scowl on her face, she shook her head. “The way you are, Dakota O’Neill, you’re never going to get anywhere in life. As of now, you’re already going to be doing a few years’ time for that whole drug thing; we just need to get the police in this now.”
Dakota couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I haven’t done anything wrong! You’re blaming me for things that I didn’t do!” Her voice was loud, shrill, and carried throughout the home. “I’m sorry that I’m ruining your happy lives; it’s not like it was my choice to come here in the first place.” She straightened her posture and glared into Mrs. Myers eyes.
Mrs. Myers frowned. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t my decision for you to come here, either. This is a home for kids who are willing to listen, willing to change. It’s not for kids who are impossible to get through to. If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota scoffed. “Why try to amount to anything when nobody cares? Why try if I’m always going to be beat down like I’m the bad guy?” She grabbed her bag off of her bed and turned on her heels, storming out of the room. Mrs. Myers’ words echoed in her mind like an unwelcome thought. “If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota shook the memory off and tore her stare away from the window. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Despite her attempts, dread settled down on her conscious.
“You will amount to nobody…” She huffed slightly and crossed her arms. What does she care, anyway?
A loud clap abruptly rebounded through the room. Dakota jolted upright and cast her wide eyes to the front of the room. Mrs. McCauley stood with her palms together, an expression of satisfaction etched on her face.
“That’s better.” Mrs. McCauley said with a grim smirk. “I was afraid that I would have to come down there and wake up the distracted students myself.” She folded her arms delicately. “Trust me; none of you would want that to happen to you.”
Dakota swallowed hard at the ominous smile that spread onto the principal’s face. Guilt once again flooded her and rose to her face as a deep blush.
Mrs. McCauley adjusted the microphone. “Okay, where were we? Ah, yes…locker combinations, a map of the campus, class schedules, and homeroom assignments will be in the packet that you’ll be given when you walk out to explore.” She paused. “Any questions?”
A short, red-haired girl stood and boldly tossed her hand into the air.
Mrs. McCauley nodded. “Yes? What’s your name?”
The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Marci Phillips, a freshman.” She said proudly. “Where is your son? Did he transfer to another school?” Excited murmurs and giggles suddenly exploded from the girls. Marci glanced around and laughed.
Mrs. McCauley placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled. “You mean Reece? He still goes here, he’s a sophomore now, he actually moved up a grade last year.” She shook her head with an amused expression. “His homeroom is room number 23, second floor.” The girls immediately broke out into squeals and shrieks that could shatter glass.
Dakota grimaced and rolled her eyes. Those girls need to get a life. She looked back to the principal.
Mrs. McCauley clasped her hands. “Alright, with that, you are dismissed. Don’t forget to collect your packets on the way out. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Dakota braced herself for the flow of students. She was swept out of her chair and corralled to the door in the current of teens. Struggling to at least get her bag on her shoulder, she stumbled and tripped toward the tables by the exit. Several boxes were lined up in a row and had bold capitalized letters on the front for easy identification. She drifted into the line that had the box with the “O” painted on the side.
A young, dark-haired man with tanned skin was standing by the doorway handing out packets. “Name, please?” He said, a showman’s smile painfully stretched from ear to ear.
Dakota shifted her bag to a more comfortable position. She looked down at the table and spoke softly. “Dakota O’Neill.”
“Dakota O’Neill,” He repeated, rummaging through the overstuffed envelopes. “Ah! Here you are!” He handed her a huge white envelope. “Thank you; stand over there, please. NEXT!”
Dakota moved to the spot where the man pointed and stood there, slightly unbalanced because of kids constantly bumping into her. She gingerly opened her envelope and looked inside. She pulled out the papers and studied them for a moment. Her class schedule was on one, along with her locker number, and personal information.
A feeling of dread washed over her as she thought about having to come here each and every day, all day long. Part of her felt sorry for the teens she would be having classes with. Why would they want to be around a “criminal”? Dakota knew that if she were normal, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a ragged, forlorn girl who was rumored to have dealt drugs, robbed a convenience store, and beat up little kids to the point of hospitalization. Nobody with any brains would do a crazy thing like hang around with her.
Her stomach starting to churn with anxiety, she clutched the papers to her chest and hurried out the door. She couldn’t stand to be in there anymore. There were too many people, too many judgmental stares. She trotted down the hallway and burst out of the doors. She gasped in a breath of deliciously fresh air; her stomach gradually calmed down. She found a bench nearby and collapsed on it, cradling her head in her hands. I hate my life.
She looked up and surveyed the school grounds. I can keep all of this from happening; nobody will notice that I’m gone, and by the time that they do, I’ll be out of the state. I’ve done it before.
She hung her head and sighed deeply. But what about after that? Get caught and be shipped off to some foreign foster home again?
Slumping down further, she sighed and rubbed her eyes. Going through three sets of foster parents, all of which didn’t want her, started to get hard after a while. The first set, the Williams, took Dakota in a month after she was caught stealing from a store. They loved her, or, at least they seemed to, and took care of her. She started to slip down on her grades because of others pushing her around at school. The Williams didn’t want to get too close to Dakota, so a year afterwards, when she turned thirteen, they gave her up.
Dakota ran her fingers through her hair shakily. The second family, the Warner’s, Dakota almost couldn’t bear to think about. They hated her, she knew it. Every time she said or did something wrong, either Mr. or Mrs. Warner would hit her. They had a son, Myles, who at the time was eleven, only two years younger than Dakota. They didn’t spare him either. They beat him just as hard as they beat Dakota, sometimes even harder. And she ran away without him, and never looked back.
She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat and looked back down at her papers; she didn’t want anybody to see her revealing tears. Nobody knew that she had betrayed a friend, possibly to his death. Nobody could know. She never even knew what became of Myles. When she told the foster system people the whole story, and showed them her bruises and cuts, they went to check it out, only to find the house vacant. They hadn’t believed her. She shook her head at herself. “What I wouldn’t do to go back and change everything.”
“Go back where and change what?”
Dakota jumped at the voice and whipped around, a deep scowl on her face. “Nothing. What’s it to you?” She instinctively retorted. A girl about her own age strolled around the bench to face her, her jet-black hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail. She looked down at Dakota; her brown eyes seemed to dance with laughter.
“Sorry if I scared you,” The girl said, pulling her purse up higher on her shoulder. “My friends say I have a tendency to do that.”
“Whatever.” Dakota murmured, casting her eyes downward, a little ashamed of the way she had reacted to the unfazed girl.
The girl sat down beside her. “You’re new to this school, aren’t you?”
Dakota nodded, still staring at the ground. There was no way that this girl would get her to talk; she was determined.
“Cool, you’ll like it here.” The girl sounded encouraged to keep talking. “What’s your name?”
Dakota looked up at her. “Dakota O’Neill.”
A comical look passed over the girl’s face and her eyes sparkled with accomplished satisfaction. “My Momma talks about you sometimes! You’re new to the Eagles Home, too.” She grinned, her white teeth shining against her ebony skin.
Dakota’s stomach did a flip. “How’d you know that?”
Charity’s grin grew broader. “My Momma runs the place. She pours her life into the home. You’ve met her, haven’t you? Serena Jenkins?”
The blood drained from Dakota’s face. Great. Just great. She thought of the tall woman who was just another glaring face at the home. She gave Charity a jerky nod of affirmation. “Yeah…I’ve met her, alright.
Charity turned toward the door. Dakota watched in silence. Charity turned expectantly and motioned for Dakota. “You’ll like my Momma, she’s great. She isn’t smothering or anything. Come on; let me give you a tour of the place so you don’t get lost tomorrow.” She bubbled.
Dakota blinked. This is going to be such a nightmare.
Chapter One
“Ow!” A sharp pain racked through Dakota O’Neill’s left arm as someone whacked it with their book bag in an endeavor to get past her. “Watch it!” She instinctively hissed as she whipped her head around. Scanning the frenzied crowd, she looked for the person who had been in such a hurry. Whoever it was had long since disappeared into the seemingly numberless mass of high school students. Dakota gently massaged her wrist and scowled. This is crazy. Who would’ve ever thought that a high school would seem like a concert for the hottest band in the country?
She looked around at the crowd for a moment; there were kids crammed shoulder to shoulder in a tiny cafeteria that was unworthy of the task it served. The small space was regularly shared by all of the students in both the high school and the middle school and was usually packed with no free room to breathe.
Dakota blinked and winced at the throbbing in her arm that reminded her of the old injury. She looked down at the skin covering her knuckles and the upper joints of her fingers; the area was peppered with whitish spots and lines that had a different texture than the surrounding skin. It was the place where she had ground her knuckles into the abrasive road.
She clamped her right hand around her left wrist and rolled the stiff joint around until it cracked. Grimacing at the sudden pain, she relaxed when the pressure almost automatically lifted. Dakota held her left hand up to eye level and flexed her fingers and wrist. Content with the ache and stiffness that usually befitted the joints; she gritted her teeth and examined it thoughtfully. It had never fully healed.
Sudden deep resonant hums and high-pitched squeals from the microphone made everyone in the cafeteria instantaneously cringe. All sound except for the chorus of groans that came from the annoyed teenagers was immediately cut off. Every head turned toward the temporary stage that was set up at the head of the room. A tall, slender woman stood in front of the microphone; her face looked fairly young, but the barely noticeable gray that streaked through her hair discreetly announced her age. The noises of unfazed kids chattering and laughing started to rise again.
Dakota watched the woman’s forehead draw down into an irritated crease; the lady reached down to adjust the microphone to her own height. With a poised flip of her dark hair, the woman jerked her jacket straight and glared at the entire crowd disapprovingly.
“Will everyone please quiet down?” Her strong and commanding voice seemed to escalate in reverberation as the sound reached each student’s ears. Every head turned back toward the voice attentively. The prattle and clamor were silenced in an instant; every person’s rapt attention was on the woman.
The woman’s stern appearance softened to a bright smile. All of the lines and grooves in her face flipped upward in delight. She suddenly started laughing cheerfully, upholding her graceful composure while cracking up. She held her hand to her chest and stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath. “You guys wouldn’t believe the outrageous looks that you gave me.” She resumed her bout of mirth. “That was classic!”
Everyone was motionless and silent as they tried to absorb shock. Nobody, especially Dakota, knew what to make of this woman’s peculiar outburst. Dakota watched suspiciously as the lady, clad in a black pantsuit, dabbed at her eyes with a tissue that was given to her by a nearby teacher. The woman chuckled a bit and clapped her hands together in front of her. “Well, now that I have your attention, let me introduce myself.” Her green eyes grew vivid as she illustrated her sentences with her hands. “I am Jocelyn McCauley, Mrs. McCauley to all of you. I’m the principal here at Alliance High, and am the co-principal with Mr. Greeley of Alliance Middle School. So, for all of you who are new students here this year,” She lowered her gaze for a moment and swept it across the room. Her emerald tinted eyes almost seemed to study every student in the room, and for some reason, settled upon Dakota for a much longer period of time than the rest.
Dakota felt her face grow bright red. Suddenly feeling guilt like she’d just committed a murder, she ducked her head timidly and didn’t make eye contact with Mrs. McCauley. But, for some reason, she was more curious than afraid and coolly flicked her eyes back to the stage. Mrs. McCauley’s bright and cheery face had moved on, looking through the crowd. Dakota jadedly tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. What is it that makes people look at me like that? It’s as if they can all see straight through me.
Mrs. McCauley hastily broke out into a nauseatingly fake smile, opened her arms wide and continued her speech. “For all of the new students here with us, we warmly welcome you to Alliance High!” A scattered bit of applause echoed awkwardly through the gymnasium.
Dakota stared down at her shoes; they were scuffed, worn, and deserved a proper burial after all they had been through. She scoffed as she stubbed the toe into the tile floor. What a joke. She crossed her arms tightly, and stared hard at her shoes. She didn’t feel very tolerant right now. She lifted her eyes to gaze out of a nearby window, fading the noise around her as muted sounds whispering from a mile away. With a sigh, she thought back to that morning.
She hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start with the people in charge; her attitude had gone down the drain ever since she arrived at the Twin Eagles Group Home three weeks ago. This morning was concrete evidence that most of the volunteers had already given up on her. She couldn’t blame them; she felt like she barely knew who she was anymore. Most of the time, she couldn’t find a motive to wake up in the morning and face life. Pure obstinacy on her part was the only reason she gritted her teeth and kept on.
Dakota rubbed her eyes and adjusted her vision to the busy city street outside. She was sure that she would be greeted with disgusted looks and accusing stares when she got back to the home after school. Right now, she wasn’t really sure if she cared or not. Too many things had turned her life inside out in the past three years. She just didn’t know what to think about anything anymore.
The last family that had taken her into their home, the O’Malley’s, welcomed her with smiles and open arms, even after they’d read file after file that the system had on her. For one moment, Dakota truly thought she had found a place where she would belong. The young couple promised that they would stick with her through thick and thin; they swore to nurture her and love her, unlike the foster family before them. Still uneasy and hesitant to get close to anybody else because of the abuse she endured from the previous family, Dakota kept the couple at arm’s length.
Feeling that they had failed and couldn’t get through to her, the O’Malley’s took her back to the system under false statements that Dakota “had trashed their property numerous times”. They did all this because they wanted a kid who wasn’t a “withdrawn psychotic”, as Mr. O’Malley told her in exasperation one day. The system hadn’t even bothered to investigate, and worked on sending her somewhere else. That was four weeks ago.
Dakota was tired of trying to live up to people’s standards when nobody ever appreciated her, ever. She was fed up with being used, then tossed aside like garbage. Why try to get someone to love you when they’ve already made up their mind that you’re nothing but a worthless girl? It hurt her every time; though each time it hurt a little less, like her heart was silently growing numb.
Dakota shifted in her chair. This morning had been one of her quieter days, though it wasn’t one of Kat Myers’, one of the counselors working at the Twin Eagles Home.
“You are nothing but bad news, Dakota O’Neill!” Mrs. Myers had said, shoving her fists onto her hips. “I’ve heard not one good thing about you since you’ve gotten here, only countless bad things! The latest in is how you’ve beaten up some first graders while you were Iowa because you didn’t want to be transferred here to Nebraska.”
Dakota stiffened defensively. “I didn’t beat up a first grader!” She shook her head in disbelief. “I couldn’t do that.” She looked at her feet. Not after what the Warners did to me.
Mrs. Myers looked up with an eyebrow cocked. “No, you didn’t beat up a first grader; you harassed a group of them. You’re a regular tyrant.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it.” Dakota’s voice raised in pitch, she was about to scream in frustration. She looked back to the floor. If she only had a penny for every time someone accused her of something she wasn’t guilty of…
With an irritated flip of her brown hair, she grabbed Dakota’s chin and yanked it up. She zeroed in on Dakota’s eyes and locked onto them. “Oh yeah? I guess you didn’t shoplift from a convenience store before you left, either. Oh, and I also heard that you were passing out drugs to some of the kids a week after you got here. I’ve got three kids who swear that they got their joints straight from you.”
Stunned, Dakota blinked and stared at Mrs. Myers. “I-I’ve never done drugs before.” Anxiety coursed through her. Why was everyone so dead-set against her? All she’d done was get settled in, and people were bearing down on her like vultures. She’d truly never done any of that; well, none except for shoplifting, but that was a long time ago. Was there a neon sign that read “guilty as charged” flashing over her head or something?
“Just because you’ve never done drugs doesn’t mean you’re not selling them.” Mrs. Myers clamped her hand harder on Dakota’s chin, then let go. With a deep scowl on her face, she shook her head. “The way you are, Dakota O’Neill, you’re never going to get anywhere in life. As of now, you’re already going to be doing a few years’ time for that whole drug thing; we just need to get the police in this now.”
Dakota couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I haven’t done anything wrong! You’re blaming me for things that I didn’t do!” Her voice was loud, shrill, and carried throughout the home. “I’m sorry that I’m ruining your happy lives; it’s not like it was my choice to come here in the first place.” She straightened her posture and glared into Mrs. Myers eyes.
Mrs. Myers frowned. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t my decision for you to come here, either. This is a home for kids who are willing to listen, willing to change. It’s not for kids who are impossible to get through to. If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota scoffed. “Why try to amount to anything when nobody cares? Why try if I’m always going to be beat down like I’m the bad guy?” She grabbed her bag off of her bed and turned on her heels, storming out of the room. Mrs. Myers’ words echoed in her mind like an unwelcome thought. “If you continue on this path, Dakota, you will amount to nobody.”
Dakota shook the memory off and tore her stare away from the window. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. Despite her attempts, dread settled down on her conscious.
“You will amount to nobody…” She huffed slightly and crossed her arms. What does she care, anyway?
A loud clap abruptly rebounded through the room. Dakota jolted upright and cast her wide eyes to the front of the room. Mrs. McCauley stood with her palms together, an expression of satisfaction etched on her face.
“That’s better.” Mrs. McCauley said with a grim smirk. “I was afraid that I would have to come down there and wake up the distracted students myself.” She folded her arms delicately. “Trust me; none of you would want that to happen to you.”
Dakota swallowed hard at the ominous smile that spread onto the principal’s face. Guilt once again flooded her and rose to her face as a deep blush.
Mrs. McCauley adjusted the microphone. “Okay, where were we? Ah, yes…locker combinations, a map of the campus, class schedules, and homeroom assignments will be in the packet that you’ll be given when you walk out to explore.” She paused. “Any questions?”
A short, red-haired girl stood and boldly tossed her hand into the air.
Mrs. McCauley nodded. “Yes? What’s your name?”
The girl tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Marci Phillips, a freshman.” She said proudly. “Where is your son? Did he transfer to another school?” Excited murmurs and giggles suddenly exploded from the girls. Marci glanced around and laughed.
Mrs. McCauley placed her hand over her mouth and chuckled. “You mean Reece? He still goes here, he’s a sophomore now, he actually moved up a grade last year.” She shook her head with an amused expression. “His homeroom is room number 23, second floor.” The girls immediately broke out into squeals and shrieks that could shatter glass.
Dakota grimaced and rolled her eyes. Those girls need to get a life. She looked back to the principal.
Mrs. McCauley clasped her hands. “Alright, with that, you are dismissed. Don’t forget to collect your packets on the way out. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”
Dakota braced herself for the flow of students. She was swept out of her chair and corralled to the door in the current of teens. Struggling to at least get her bag on her shoulder, she stumbled and tripped toward the tables by the exit. Several boxes were lined up in a row and had bold capitalized letters on the front for easy identification. She drifted into the line that had the box with the “O” painted on the side.
A young, dark-haired man with tanned skin was standing by the doorway handing out packets. “Name, please?” He said, a showman’s smile painfully stretched from ear to ear.
Dakota shifted her bag to a more comfortable position. She looked down at the table and spoke softly. “Dakota O’Neill.”
“Dakota O’Neill,” He repeated, rummaging through the overstuffed envelopes. “Ah! Here you are!” He handed her a huge white envelope. “Thank you; stand over there, please. NEXT!”
Dakota moved to the spot where the man pointed and stood there, slightly unbalanced because of kids constantly bumping into her. She gingerly opened her envelope and looked inside. She pulled out the papers and studied them for a moment. Her class schedule was on one, along with her locker number, and personal information.
A feeling of dread washed over her as she thought about having to come here each and every day, all day long. Part of her felt sorry for the teens she would be having classes with. Why would they want to be around a “criminal”? Dakota knew that if she were normal, she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a ragged, forlorn girl who was rumored to have dealt drugs, robbed a convenience store, and beat up little kids to the point of hospitalization. Nobody with any brains would do a crazy thing like hang around with her.
Her stomach starting to churn with anxiety, she clutched the papers to her chest and hurried out the door. She couldn’t stand to be in there anymore. There were too many people, too many judgmental stares. She trotted down the hallway and burst out of the doors. She gasped in a breath of deliciously fresh air; her stomach gradually calmed down. She found a bench nearby and collapsed on it, cradling her head in her hands. I hate my life.
She looked up and surveyed the school grounds. I can keep all of this from happening; nobody will notice that I’m gone, and by the time that they do, I’ll be out of the state. I’ve done it before.
She hung her head and sighed deeply. But what about after that? Get caught and be shipped off to some foreign foster home again?
Slumping down further, she sighed and rubbed her eyes. Going through three sets of foster parents, all of which didn’t want her, started to get hard after a while. The first set, the Williams, took Dakota in a month after she was caught stealing from a store. They loved her, or, at least they seemed to, and took care of her. She started to slip down on her grades because of others pushing her around at school. The Williams didn’t want to get too close to Dakota, so a year afterwards, when she turned thirteen, they gave her up.
Dakota ran her fingers through her hair shakily. The second family, the Warner’s, Dakota almost couldn’t bear to think about. They hated her, she knew it. Every time she said or did something wrong, either Mr. or Mrs. Warner would hit her. They had a son, Myles, who at the time was eleven, only two years younger than Dakota. They didn’t spare him either. They beat him just as hard as they beat Dakota, sometimes even harder. And she ran away without him, and never looked back.
She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat and looked back down at her papers; she didn’t want anybody to see her revealing tears. Nobody knew that she had betrayed a friend, possibly to his death. Nobody could know. She never even knew what became of Myles. When she told the foster system people the whole story, and showed them her bruises and cuts, they went to check it out, only to find the house vacant. They hadn’t believed her. She shook her head at herself. “What I wouldn’t do to go back and change everything.”
“Go back where and change what?”
Dakota jumped at the voice and whipped around, a deep scowl on her face. “Nothing. What’s it to you?” She instinctively retorted. A girl about her own age strolled around the bench to face her, her jet-black hair was tightly pulled back into a ponytail. She looked down at Dakota; her brown eyes seemed to dance with laughter.
“Sorry if I scared you,” The girl said, pulling her purse up higher on her shoulder. “My friends say I have a tendency to do that.”
“Whatever.” Dakota murmured, casting her eyes downward, a little ashamed of the way she had reacted to the unfazed girl.
The girl sat down beside her. “You’re new to this school, aren’t you?”
Dakota nodded, still staring at the ground. There was no way that this girl would get her to talk; she was determined.
“Cool, you’ll like it here.” The girl sounded encouraged to keep talking. “What’s your name?”
Dakota looked up at her. “Dakota O’Neill.”
A comical look passed over the girl’s face and her eyes sparkled with accomplished satisfaction. “My Momma talks about you sometimes! You’re new to the Eagles Home, too.” She grinned, her white teeth shining against her ebony skin.
Dakota’s stomach did a flip. “How’d you know that?”
Charity’s grin grew broader. “My Momma runs the place. She pours her life into the home. You’ve met her, haven’t you? Serena Jenkins?”
The blood drained from Dakota’s face. Great. Just great. She thought of the tall woman who was just another glaring face at the home. She gave Charity a jerky nod of affirmation. “Yeah…I’ve met her, alright.
Charity turned toward the door. Dakota watched in silence. Charity turned expectantly and motioned for Dakota. “You’ll like my Momma, she’s great. She isn’t smothering or anything. Come on; let me give you a tour of the place so you don’t get lost tomorrow.” She bubbled.
Dakota blinked. This is going to be such a nightmare.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Creative Writing Randomness
Random writing that I had to do for a class. Enjoy!
“Aria.”
I could feel heat, the telltale fury, rushing through my cheeks and up my neck at the masculine voice that dared to utter my name. With a slight pause I forced myself to resume walking; it was only a few more steps to my car, where I could surely lose him before he provoked me to anger. The click of my heels increased in volume as I lengthened my strides.
“Hey, Aria?” The voice was timid, and sounded either hurt or slightly offended at my obvious choice to ignore him. “Aria, please wait up!”
That was it. I came to a halt, my last step causing my heel to clop loudly against the pavement. I inhaled the musty scent of the parking garage to keep from losing myself as I pivoted towards him.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone calm and low, and put on an emotionless mask as my gaze settled on his copper-tinted hair. Even as I attempted to disconnect my sense of awareness from the upcoming conversation, I could feel his hesitation rippling in torrents of apprehension.
“Uh…I just-…”
“Spit it out, Ackerly, come on.” I tapped my foot, desperately playing the part of a bored teacher or an exasperated parent, anyone who was not me, and who was not emotionally compromised in this situation.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, Aria.” The honesty dripped from his voice. Why did he have to make it so hard?
“Oh, I’m doing alright, just got out of a job interview,” I switched to my happy everything-is-going-fabulous voice, hoping it would satisfy his question.
His forehead crinkled slightly, directly below the hairline I’d forced myself to stare at. A sympathetic/hurt expression had just found itself on his face. I knew him too well; it was an unfortunate side effect of trusting him as my best friend for seven years of my life.
I shifted my purse back onto my right shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get to the university, there’s a test I’ve got to study for and-…”
He suddenly put his hands on my shoulders, and put his face directly in front of mine, where my vision crossed paths with his eyes. The amiable green eyes that used to brighten my day. The same green eyes that I’d refused to look into for the past five months. The fury I had barely managed to keep down worked its way back up.
“I told you never to come near me again!” I knocked his hands away. “What are you really doing here? Waiting for the opportune moment?”
“Aria…” His voice cracked.
I compelled myself to look unfalteringly into his eyes. “Jason might not have been able to fight back, he might have believed that you would have eventually come for him,” My fists clenched at my sides. “But I know the truth.”
Hurt. It filled his horribly beautiful green eyes. But his voice grew stronger. “You never gave me a chance.”
“A chance?” A rather harsh laugh escaped from within me. “Funny I should offer you a chance when you refused Jason one by betraying him.”
“You know the truth, you just refuse to believe it.”
“You’re right, I do know the truth.”
He sighed and cast his gaze downward. “I wish you only believed it. Believed me.”
I shoved him backward. “How can I believe you? You killed my brother, Liam!” I shook with rage. “You let him die when he needed you the most!”
Liam looked back up, but was suddenly fixated on a point over my shoulder. His eyes grew wide and he shoved me behind a car, yelling instructions over the abrupt deafening sound of gunfire. I heard nothing of what he said. I only saw his deep, caring eyes as he drew his own gun, and ran out into the pandemonium.
“Aria.”
I could feel heat, the telltale fury, rushing through my cheeks and up my neck at the masculine voice that dared to utter my name. With a slight pause I forced myself to resume walking; it was only a few more steps to my car, where I could surely lose him before he provoked me to anger. The click of my heels increased in volume as I lengthened my strides.
“Hey, Aria?” The voice was timid, and sounded either hurt or slightly offended at my obvious choice to ignore him. “Aria, please wait up!”
That was it. I came to a halt, my last step causing my heel to clop loudly against the pavement. I inhaled the musty scent of the parking garage to keep from losing myself as I pivoted towards him.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone calm and low, and put on an emotionless mask as my gaze settled on his copper-tinted hair. Even as I attempted to disconnect my sense of awareness from the upcoming conversation, I could feel his hesitation rippling in torrents of apprehension.
“Uh…I just-…”
“Spit it out, Ackerly, come on.” I tapped my foot, desperately playing the part of a bored teacher or an exasperated parent, anyone who was not me, and who was not emotionally compromised in this situation.
“I just wanted to see how you were doing, Aria.” The honesty dripped from his voice. Why did he have to make it so hard?
“Oh, I’m doing alright, just got out of a job interview,” I switched to my happy everything-is-going-fabulous voice, hoping it would satisfy his question.
His forehead crinkled slightly, directly below the hairline I’d forced myself to stare at. A sympathetic/hurt expression had just found itself on his face. I knew him too well; it was an unfortunate side effect of trusting him as my best friend for seven years of my life.
I shifted my purse back onto my right shoulder. “Well, I’ve got to get to the university, there’s a test I’ve got to study for and-…”
He suddenly put his hands on my shoulders, and put his face directly in front of mine, where my vision crossed paths with his eyes. The amiable green eyes that used to brighten my day. The same green eyes that I’d refused to look into for the past five months. The fury I had barely managed to keep down worked its way back up.
“I told you never to come near me again!” I knocked his hands away. “What are you really doing here? Waiting for the opportune moment?”
“Aria…” His voice cracked.
I compelled myself to look unfalteringly into his eyes. “Jason might not have been able to fight back, he might have believed that you would have eventually come for him,” My fists clenched at my sides. “But I know the truth.”
Hurt. It filled his horribly beautiful green eyes. But his voice grew stronger. “You never gave me a chance.”
“A chance?” A rather harsh laugh escaped from within me. “Funny I should offer you a chance when you refused Jason one by betraying him.”
“You know the truth, you just refuse to believe it.”
“You’re right, I do know the truth.”
He sighed and cast his gaze downward. “I wish you only believed it. Believed me.”
I shoved him backward. “How can I believe you? You killed my brother, Liam!” I shook with rage. “You let him die when he needed you the most!”
Liam looked back up, but was suddenly fixated on a point over my shoulder. His eyes grew wide and he shoved me behind a car, yelling instructions over the abrupt deafening sound of gunfire. I heard nothing of what he said. I only saw his deep, caring eyes as he drew his own gun, and ran out into the pandemonium.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
The Last Generation - Prologue
Okay peeps. Working title is "The Last Generation". Please note that I wrote this when I was younger, and have only tweaked it once or twice, so do consider it to be an extremely rough draft. Unfortunately, blogger does not allow me to indent the paragraphs, *pulls out hair in frustration* so...it is not very easy on the eyes to read. I do warn, as well, that the prologue is a tad bit depressing and not engaging or exciting in any manner at all. Haha. Just a warning. But I'll make you a deal, you post a comment, and I'll post another part of the story. *evil grin*
Prologue
A small girl trudged through the cold November evening; her chin was tucked to her chest and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets in an attempt to keep warm. She kneaded her stiff fingers against her thighs, trying to regain the feeling that was lost an hour ago. Every shiver that overcame her seemed not to hurt as much as before. Her breath, which a few hours ago came in big steamy puffs, now barely showed in the frosty air at all. She wearily kept her eyes glued to the white line on the edge of the road so she wouldn’t wind up lost in a forest somewhere…Until now, that was all she cared about; getting to a safe place where she wouldn’t be cold. But none of that seemed to matter anymore.
The girl was tired, cold, hungry. Images of the past few days vividly replayed themselves in her mind. Hallucinations riddled her sight as she stumbled over the asphalt. It felt like no more than a dream for her; a dream in which she wanted to leave immediately. She drifted in and out of consciousness, tripping and hitting the ground more than a few times. As much as she tried, she couldn’t even remember her name, or even where she lived. All she knew was the images were her worst nightmares reflected; and that those nightmares were real.
She blinked a few times and tried to clear her jumbled thoughts. She felt senseless; like she was in a different dimension than this. The ground beneath her feet felt like it was made entirely of cotton balls. She strained to get a breath and felt nothing pass through. Her legs were still moving, but she wasn’t intentionally putting one foot in front of the other. All she wanted to do now was fall asleep.
Her legs suddenly buckled under her, and she fell to her knees. She grunted out of habit, but didn’t feel any pain. So many thoughts flew though her mind, but none really made any sense to her. So many emotions had risen up in the past three days; that she remembered. But all she felt now was the compelling desire to close her frost-covered eyelids and shut the cold and the horrible images out.
The girl suddenly lifted her head, almost oblivious to the snow swirling around her. She tenderly pulled her hands free from the pockets of her jeans. A silver ring with an unnaturally green stone inlaid glinted as she transferred her hands to her jacket pocket. She gazed at the gray jacket that was two sizes too big for her, and didn’t really keep the wind out. Wrapping the insufficient garment tighter around herself she suppressed a shiver. The jacket had belonged to her 12 year-old brother, Chris.
She stared into the dark night, a small smile creeping onto her face. He was a good two inches taller than she, and even though he was only a year older, he looked like he was a grown man at times. His bleach blonde hair, just like hers, would’ve matched the color of the little bit of snow layering the ground. His gray eyes, also identical to hers, would be scanning the night for any dangers. She had looked up to him when things were hard, when she couldn’t do it on her own. She half-expected to feel his warm hand on her arm prompting her to stand up and keep going.
But he wasn’t there.
“Chris....” The name left her lips with sadness; she didn’t want to accept it, but she knew what the reality was. She rocked back and forth, that numbing feeling of shock that she had suppressed for three days finally coming to the surface. She forced herself to look up. She willed her heart to forget the past and to push back the oncoming flow of tears. He wasn’t coming back. None of them were. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she hardened herself with the fact of reality. Her thoughts were much clearer now. They’re not coming back.
Grief flooded her thoughts, which slowly gave way to confused anger. Anger directed at herself. She had to move on. Nothing would ever change what happened. She would literally break down if she had to think about them every single day for the rest of her life. The fury rose in her heart, she bit her lip so hard it hurt. Did I do it? Are they gone because of me? Rage pulsed through her body; she could feel the blood rise to her face. She didn’t understand. Balling her fist, she drew her arm back and with a deeply pained yell, drove her hand forward and struck the road. It really was me, wasn’t it? I really did it.
Pain shot up her arm and tingled throughout her body. Blood appeared on her skinned knuckles. She panted heavily and forced herself to calm down. Hitting something had worked; it got her mind off of everything and the pain seemed to absorb her grief and anger. She didn’t know what hurt the most; her hand or her heart. She just didn’t understand.
I’m alone…And it’s my own fault, isn’t it? Her breathing came in a slow, deep pattern. Am I a criminal then? She hugged herself hard. I killed them.
Once again she steeled herself against the emotions that fought to show themselves; once again she tried on the expressionless mask for size. She decided it was better not to think about it. Shaking everything off, she narrowed her eyes, trying to get a glimpse through the white nothingness that lay before her. A small convenience store stood no more than one hundred yards in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat, one part of her was excited over the fact that she found shelter; the other part was reluctant to show her face anywhere.
The girl glanced behind her; a tsunami of swirling snow and sleet rose above her head. Shivering violently, she turned around and hurried for the small building. It bore the likeness of an old log cabin, the sign above the door welcomed customers to the Bear’s Lair gift shop. The girl reached the entry and desperately pushed the door open. A rush of warmth flowed over her limbs and torso; the heat emanating from the blaze in the fireplace seemed to instantly thaw her frozen face.
She relaxed at the sensation of the heat on her frozen skin. She moved closer to the flames and sat in a hardwood chair to bask in the fire’s warming light. After a few lazy moments of drifting in and out of sleep, she peeled off her brother’s wet gray jacket and tossed it to the bare tile floor below her. Her left hand and arm started to dully throb. The girl groaned softly at the pain and lifted her arm to examine the abrasions and bruises that she was too upset to care about earlier.
Her knuckles on her left hand were skinless and oozing from where she had literally grinded the top of her fist into the loose gravel; what was left of the skin around it was turning a shade of purplish-blue. She grimaced as she attempted to flex her hand and her wrist. Her wrist was beginning to swell and ache. She gritted her teeth and favored her arm. I must have broken something.
Making sure she didn’t jar her wrist or fingers, she carefully pulled the wet jacket back over her head and tucked her injured arm into the pocket in front. Looking up around the small shop, she scanned for any people that may have been attending the front counter. She hadn’t even bothered to check to see if the store was occupied when she first stumbled in. Nobody could be seen behind the counter or even in the aisles. The young girl shrugged the oversized jacket back onto her shoulders and started toward the front of the store.
A lukewarm hotdog with onions and mustard piled on it sat by the cash register; a chili-smeared napkin had been tossed next to it. The girl’s gaze fell to a partially melted slushie. She shivered at the thought of ingesting anything below room temperature on a night like this. She peeked around the corner and saw no one. Convinced that whoever was attending the store was elsewhere, she sighed and turned to observe the small shop that was built to accommodate passing travelers.
Her stomach growled provocatively as her eyes settled on an aisle that was stocked with chips and canned food. She shook her head as if the gesture would silence her tummy. She didn’t have any money with her, nothing at all. She quickly looked away from the food and inspected the rest of the store. Her arm was hurting more than ever and she found it hard to concentrate on anything but. By moving it around, the abrasions had begun to bleed again. She needed to get it wrapped up and find something to brace her wrist.
She pivoted and looked at the aisle across from her. Medical supplies like gauze, bandages, antibacterial cream, and temporary splints lined the shelves. She stared at them for a moment, looked toward the counter, than looked back. There was no question about it; she needed the med supplies and food. She swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder at the food. I can’t just take it; I don’t have the money to buy it. That wouldn’t be right…
She closed her eyes and waited for a fierce wave of nausea to pass. The lack of food mixed with the pain was starting to make her sick. She needed to take care of her arm, but she couldn’t do that without the proper supplies. She opened her eyes and looked down at her jacket. Blood was now starting to seep through the thick fabric. She looked back up at the ceiling as the urge to vomit suddenly hit her full force.
She sighed, resigning to her instinct to survive. Nobody would notice anything had been taken; even if they did, they could just buy two brand-new things for every one thing missing. She glimpsed at the counter again. Content that no one was near; she snatched a small backpack off of a display rack and unzipped it. Spurred on by the pain in her arm and the emptiness in her stomach, she started tossing various snacks and drinks into the sack. After she left the food aisle and headed to the med supplies, she fought back the onslaught of accusations her conscience threw at her.
I’m starving, this is okay. I really need this food and stuff for my hand and arm. She struggled to reassure herself that it wasn’t wrong. She knew for sure that if she waited around for the store owner that he would toss her out and refuse to give her any medical treatment or nourishment. She pictured an employee getting mad that she was in the store in the first place and kicking her back out into the harsh weather. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t deserve to be turned away. Anger rose in her as she shoved the guilt away.
Just as she stuffed the pack to the brim and pulled the zipper shut, a door shutting in the back alerted her to the presence of another person. The girl’s stomach did a flip. That would be the owner. She heaved the bag over her shoulder with her good arm. She hurried as quietly as she could out the front door, bolting when she saw the cashier return to his seat behind the counter. She ran until the building was nothing but a small glowing dot in the distance. She stopped and looked back. Heat rose to her face as she realized what she had just gotten away with. She again pushed the guilt away with anger toward the owner on what he might’ve done if he had seen her. She watched the distant store vanish in a flurry of snow. Her anger was replaced with temporary relief. She’d done it.
…And it hadn’t felt so bad.
The girl leaned comfortably against the edge of the doorway, casually observing the interior of the building. She was twelve now, almost a teenager. She had celebrated her birthday alone; to her it was more of a day of sorrow that was hard to endure. The girl sighed softly and stared at her feet. Only months had passed, yet it felt like years. The awful memories of the disaster had crashed back stronger than a tidal wave a few days after she had taken the food from the store. After three months, they still never stopped plaguing her sleep and penetrating her dreams. She had no control over the intense nightmares, often finding her clothes soaked with sweat or waking up screaming in terror; the dreams constantly reminding her that it was her fault.
The girl lifted her gaze, surveying the family who had just walked in. They had no idea who she was, or what she was about to do. She focused her eyes on a little boy trailing behind his mother. His attention was directed toward a beetle attempting to traverse safely across the tile floor. Her heart was momentarily lifted at the sight of the toddler; but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The kid’s mother hastily took his hand and shot a suspicious look at the girl. Her spirit felt like it had been shot down by that glare of silent accusation. But she knew she deserved it. In spite, she frowned and glowered boldly. She straightened and watched the family file out the door after they purchased their goods. They don’t know what I endure, she thought harshly. And they have no business knowing, either.
She scowled and looked down at her watch that she had recently acquired. She had traveled a long way since that one night. She was somewhere in southwest Iowa in a town called Sidney, from what she gathered from the chatter between customers. Every day she walked, not sure of where she would go, only sure that she wanted to be as far away from her home as possible. She somehow managed to avoid the watchful eye of policemen wondering why she was so dirty and worn and to run from those who were curious as to why she wasn’t in school.
Many times during the long days she thought about her home in Minnesota. She had always been intrigued with fire, with its numerous colors and hues dancing together, never missing a beat. She appreciated its beauty even from an early age. Her fascination, however, had abruptly ceased when the day came that the flames she had admired for so long turned on her. Recollections of running from the blazes that snatched at her body mercilessly pounded on her recent dreams. Her beloved flames had consumed her home and her family that horrible day three months ago.
The girl came back to the present as a group of teens pushed their way through the doorway with their sacks full of pop and snacks. She watched them as they piled into a broken-down car and drove away. Turning, she scanned the empty room in front of her. Footsteps indicated that the clerk was in the back room, attending to things other than the checkout counter. An uneasy smile crept onto her face. It was the first time she’d attempted to lift some money.
She glanced at the security camera constantly sweeping its ever-watchful stare across the area. She paused at a rack that held breath mints and candy, watching the camera out of the corner of her eye. Right when it had her out of its sights, she jumped over the counter and waited patiently for it to pass over again. Counting to eight seconds under her breath, she reached up to the cash register precisely when she calculated that the camera would be turned away. She continued counting as she fumbled for the button to release the drawer and yanked her hand back as the camera rotated back toward her. Mentally kicking herself for taking up so much time, she finally hit the release button, a pang of excitement rushing over her as she grasped the bills in her right hand.
Without warning, an icy cold hand grasped the girl’s shoulder, causing her to gasp and jerk back. A tiny yelp escaped from her lips as she saw a narrow-eyed young man standing directly above her, scowling at the fistful of money she had snatched out of the register. She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next. A rush of guilt overcame the boldness in her as she switched her gaze to the money in her hand, than back to the man. The girl tensed all of her muscles in order to fight the growing bulge in her throat that threatened to free a flood of tears. She could feel blood pounding through her head with every shaky breath she took. She’d been caught.
She hastily dropped the money from her hand, involuntary trembles coursing through her entire body. She watched the man as his gaze softened when he saw how afraid she was. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. What do I do now? The man cleared his throat. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
The girl opened her eyes in surprise at the softness in the man’s voice. She quickly shrugged and looked at a chewed up piece of gum on the floor. “D-Dakota,” Her voice quivered. “Dakota O’Neill.” Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized that she probably shouldn’t have given her name.
“Why are you here, Dakota?” The young man put a finger under her chin and lifted it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t you have any money?”
Dakota blinked and shook her head slowly. She wasn’t planning on telling him her whole story. She didn’t want any sympathy, or help. She narrowed her eyes. She was determined to survive…alone.
The man, whose name tag said Sam, thoughtfully watched Dakota for a moment. Sam sighed and kneaded his forehead with his free hand. Brown hair fell out of his hat in a mess of curls. “Do you have any family around? Do you know your phone number, your address…anything?”
She said nothing and stared at the wall behind him. Why do you care?
The wailing of sirens sounded outside of the building and grew louder. Dakota started at the noise and shot a frantic look at Sam. She craned her neck to try to see above the counter, but sunk back to the floor with a sick feeling in her stomach.
Sam got to his feet and pulled her up by the arm, giving her no choice but to face the policemen. With a firm hold on her arm, Sam guided her to the door. “I pressed the silent alarm when I heard the register pop open. I had no idea it would be a girl as tiny as you. I don’t know what they’ll do with you; chances are they’ll see that you make it safely home and give you a court date. I doubt you’re getting off the hook, though; whether you’re grounded by your parents or jailed by the law.”
Dakota’s stomach churned at the words, and she fought back tears. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me? She watched the policeman and his huge German Shepherd exit the car. I was fine by myself, I didn’t hurt anyone… She gulped at the size of the German Shepherd. What are they gonna do to me?
Sam pushed the door open and presented Dakota to the policeman. “Good afternoon, officer.”
The officer nodded in greeting. “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Sam released Dakota’s arm and motioned for the officer to come. He looked at Dakota. “Stay here where I can see you.” Dakota nodded and crossed her arms tightly against her abdomen.
The two walked a few feet away and spoke in hushed tones. Several times, Sam pointed and Dakota and nodded or shook his head. Dakota quietly watched them, her gaze falling to the dog standing faithfully beside the policeman more than once. The massive dog stared at her with dark eyes. His muscles flexed in his powerful legs, as if he were about to pounce on her. Dakota was almost afraid to move.
But she didn’t let that stop her.
She inched along the wall and peered around the corner of the building, seeing a forest only twenty yards away. Adrenaline burst into her system. She turned her head back to the men, who were partially turned away from her.. She took a deep breath. I can do this. She looked back at the dog, who still had her in his gaze. Taking silent steps, she casually crept around the corner and made her way along the building.
So far, so good… She was almost to the end of the store now. She quickened her pace and lengthened her strides, being as noiseless as possible. The dog must’ve thought she was just another person, and not a criminal. Relief flooded over her and glee threw a smile on her face as she raised her pace to a jog, then to a full-out run. The wind whipped her long, almost-white hair from her face, her wavy tresses flying like a banner behind her. Freedom was only a few steps ahead.
Dakota’s stomach squeezed tight when she heard surprised shouts and a bark from behind her. Suddenly terrified, she pounded her legs harder, trying to urge her muscles to carry her faster. She was so close to the trees; she couldn’t get caught now! Dakota dared once to look back, and immediately regretted it. The huge German Shepherd had just turned the corner of the building and was followed by the policeman. Dakota kicked the speed up a notch, imagining herself as a blur zipping across the field to her safety.
With a loud grunt, Dakota leapt into the brush and rolled to a stop on the other side. She blinked to give her eyes some adjustment to the darkness and pushed herself to her feet; she couldn’t stop. She gasped for air as she sprinted through the trees. Flinching at every shout and bark made behind her, she didn’t bother to be quiet. Fear spurred her to go faster. A groan escaped from her lips as a searing pain shot through her side. She couldn’t breathe without the pain reeling through her lungs, and with every wheezing breath she took, her speed decreased. She closed her eyes for a second, wondering if she would’ve been better off staying where she was, safe from the wrath of the policeman. Now she was being pursued by a dog that may kill her if he ever caught up. She wished she’d thought of that before she had taken off.
She suddenly caught her foot on a rock, causing her to pitch forward to the ground. Her head reeled with confusion as she tumbled down a rock-strewn slope. Pain registered in her left lower ribs as she hit something dense with a degree of momentum, causing her to cry out pitifully. After what felt like too long, she rolled to a stop on flat ground.
Unable to move, she lay there silently for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to fight the tears back anymore. It hurt, and right then she didn’t care about what anyone thought of her crying. With a short, desperate gasp, she struggled to keep herself calm. She actually wanted the policeman to find her now. She was tired, in pain. She thought back to that night when it was snowing…when there seemed to be no hope. All she wanted then was relief, rest.
Why can’t my life go back to normal? I was safe. She closed her eyes slowly and rested her cheek on the ground. One last tear rolled off of the tip of her nose and into the dirt below. She felt her conscious mind drifting away from her body. I want my family back…
Prologue
A small girl trudged through the cold November evening; her chin was tucked to her chest and her hands were shoved deep into her pockets in an attempt to keep warm. She kneaded her stiff fingers against her thighs, trying to regain the feeling that was lost an hour ago. Every shiver that overcame her seemed not to hurt as much as before. Her breath, which a few hours ago came in big steamy puffs, now barely showed in the frosty air at all. She wearily kept her eyes glued to the white line on the edge of the road so she wouldn’t wind up lost in a forest somewhere…Until now, that was all she cared about; getting to a safe place where she wouldn’t be cold. But none of that seemed to matter anymore.
The girl was tired, cold, hungry. Images of the past few days vividly replayed themselves in her mind. Hallucinations riddled her sight as she stumbled over the asphalt. It felt like no more than a dream for her; a dream in which she wanted to leave immediately. She drifted in and out of consciousness, tripping and hitting the ground more than a few times. As much as she tried, she couldn’t even remember her name, or even where she lived. All she knew was the images were her worst nightmares reflected; and that those nightmares were real.
She blinked a few times and tried to clear her jumbled thoughts. She felt senseless; like she was in a different dimension than this. The ground beneath her feet felt like it was made entirely of cotton balls. She strained to get a breath and felt nothing pass through. Her legs were still moving, but she wasn’t intentionally putting one foot in front of the other. All she wanted to do now was fall asleep.
Her legs suddenly buckled under her, and she fell to her knees. She grunted out of habit, but didn’t feel any pain. So many thoughts flew though her mind, but none really made any sense to her. So many emotions had risen up in the past three days; that she remembered. But all she felt now was the compelling desire to close her frost-covered eyelids and shut the cold and the horrible images out.
The girl suddenly lifted her head, almost oblivious to the snow swirling around her. She tenderly pulled her hands free from the pockets of her jeans. A silver ring with an unnaturally green stone inlaid glinted as she transferred her hands to her jacket pocket. She gazed at the gray jacket that was two sizes too big for her, and didn’t really keep the wind out. Wrapping the insufficient garment tighter around herself she suppressed a shiver. The jacket had belonged to her 12 year-old brother, Chris.
She stared into the dark night, a small smile creeping onto her face. He was a good two inches taller than she, and even though he was only a year older, he looked like he was a grown man at times. His bleach blonde hair, just like hers, would’ve matched the color of the little bit of snow layering the ground. His gray eyes, also identical to hers, would be scanning the night for any dangers. She had looked up to him when things were hard, when she couldn’t do it on her own. She half-expected to feel his warm hand on her arm prompting her to stand up and keep going.
But he wasn’t there.
“Chris....” The name left her lips with sadness; she didn’t want to accept it, but she knew what the reality was. She rocked back and forth, that numbing feeling of shock that she had suppressed for three days finally coming to the surface. She forced herself to look up. She willed her heart to forget the past and to push back the oncoming flow of tears. He wasn’t coming back. None of them were. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists as she hardened herself with the fact of reality. Her thoughts were much clearer now. They’re not coming back.
Grief flooded her thoughts, which slowly gave way to confused anger. Anger directed at herself. She had to move on. Nothing would ever change what happened. She would literally break down if she had to think about them every single day for the rest of her life. The fury rose in her heart, she bit her lip so hard it hurt. Did I do it? Are they gone because of me? Rage pulsed through her body; she could feel the blood rise to her face. She didn’t understand. Balling her fist, she drew her arm back and with a deeply pained yell, drove her hand forward and struck the road. It really was me, wasn’t it? I really did it.
Pain shot up her arm and tingled throughout her body. Blood appeared on her skinned knuckles. She panted heavily and forced herself to calm down. Hitting something had worked; it got her mind off of everything and the pain seemed to absorb her grief and anger. She didn’t know what hurt the most; her hand or her heart. She just didn’t understand.
I’m alone…And it’s my own fault, isn’t it? Her breathing came in a slow, deep pattern. Am I a criminal then? She hugged herself hard. I killed them.
Once again she steeled herself against the emotions that fought to show themselves; once again she tried on the expressionless mask for size. She decided it was better not to think about it. Shaking everything off, she narrowed her eyes, trying to get a glimpse through the white nothingness that lay before her. A small convenience store stood no more than one hundred yards in front of her. Her heart skipped a beat, one part of her was excited over the fact that she found shelter; the other part was reluctant to show her face anywhere.
The girl glanced behind her; a tsunami of swirling snow and sleet rose above her head. Shivering violently, she turned around and hurried for the small building. It bore the likeness of an old log cabin, the sign above the door welcomed customers to the Bear’s Lair gift shop. The girl reached the entry and desperately pushed the door open. A rush of warmth flowed over her limbs and torso; the heat emanating from the blaze in the fireplace seemed to instantly thaw her frozen face.
She relaxed at the sensation of the heat on her frozen skin. She moved closer to the flames and sat in a hardwood chair to bask in the fire’s warming light. After a few lazy moments of drifting in and out of sleep, she peeled off her brother’s wet gray jacket and tossed it to the bare tile floor below her. Her left hand and arm started to dully throb. The girl groaned softly at the pain and lifted her arm to examine the abrasions and bruises that she was too upset to care about earlier.
Her knuckles on her left hand were skinless and oozing from where she had literally grinded the top of her fist into the loose gravel; what was left of the skin around it was turning a shade of purplish-blue. She grimaced as she attempted to flex her hand and her wrist. Her wrist was beginning to swell and ache. She gritted her teeth and favored her arm. I must have broken something.
Making sure she didn’t jar her wrist or fingers, she carefully pulled the wet jacket back over her head and tucked her injured arm into the pocket in front. Looking up around the small shop, she scanned for any people that may have been attending the front counter. She hadn’t even bothered to check to see if the store was occupied when she first stumbled in. Nobody could be seen behind the counter or even in the aisles. The young girl shrugged the oversized jacket back onto her shoulders and started toward the front of the store.
A lukewarm hotdog with onions and mustard piled on it sat by the cash register; a chili-smeared napkin had been tossed next to it. The girl’s gaze fell to a partially melted slushie. She shivered at the thought of ingesting anything below room temperature on a night like this. She peeked around the corner and saw no one. Convinced that whoever was attending the store was elsewhere, she sighed and turned to observe the small shop that was built to accommodate passing travelers.
Her stomach growled provocatively as her eyes settled on an aisle that was stocked with chips and canned food. She shook her head as if the gesture would silence her tummy. She didn’t have any money with her, nothing at all. She quickly looked away from the food and inspected the rest of the store. Her arm was hurting more than ever and she found it hard to concentrate on anything but. By moving it around, the abrasions had begun to bleed again. She needed to get it wrapped up and find something to brace her wrist.
She pivoted and looked at the aisle across from her. Medical supplies like gauze, bandages, antibacterial cream, and temporary splints lined the shelves. She stared at them for a moment, looked toward the counter, than looked back. There was no question about it; she needed the med supplies and food. She swallowed hard and glanced over her shoulder at the food. I can’t just take it; I don’t have the money to buy it. That wouldn’t be right…
She closed her eyes and waited for a fierce wave of nausea to pass. The lack of food mixed with the pain was starting to make her sick. She needed to take care of her arm, but she couldn’t do that without the proper supplies. She opened her eyes and looked down at her jacket. Blood was now starting to seep through the thick fabric. She looked back up at the ceiling as the urge to vomit suddenly hit her full force.
She sighed, resigning to her instinct to survive. Nobody would notice anything had been taken; even if they did, they could just buy two brand-new things for every one thing missing. She glimpsed at the counter again. Content that no one was near; she snatched a small backpack off of a display rack and unzipped it. Spurred on by the pain in her arm and the emptiness in her stomach, she started tossing various snacks and drinks into the sack. After she left the food aisle and headed to the med supplies, she fought back the onslaught of accusations her conscience threw at her.
I’m starving, this is okay. I really need this food and stuff for my hand and arm. She struggled to reassure herself that it wasn’t wrong. She knew for sure that if she waited around for the store owner that he would toss her out and refuse to give her any medical treatment or nourishment. She pictured an employee getting mad that she was in the store in the first place and kicking her back out into the harsh weather. Her eyebrows furrowed at the thought. I didn’t do anything wrong, I don’t deserve to be turned away. Anger rose in her as she shoved the guilt away.
Just as she stuffed the pack to the brim and pulled the zipper shut, a door shutting in the back alerted her to the presence of another person. The girl’s stomach did a flip. That would be the owner. She heaved the bag over her shoulder with her good arm. She hurried as quietly as she could out the front door, bolting when she saw the cashier return to his seat behind the counter. She ran until the building was nothing but a small glowing dot in the distance. She stopped and looked back. Heat rose to her face as she realized what she had just gotten away with. She again pushed the guilt away with anger toward the owner on what he might’ve done if he had seen her. She watched the distant store vanish in a flurry of snow. Her anger was replaced with temporary relief. She’d done it.
…And it hadn’t felt so bad.
The girl leaned comfortably against the edge of the doorway, casually observing the interior of the building. She was twelve now, almost a teenager. She had celebrated her birthday alone; to her it was more of a day of sorrow that was hard to endure. The girl sighed softly and stared at her feet. Only months had passed, yet it felt like years. The awful memories of the disaster had crashed back stronger than a tidal wave a few days after she had taken the food from the store. After three months, they still never stopped plaguing her sleep and penetrating her dreams. She had no control over the intense nightmares, often finding her clothes soaked with sweat or waking up screaming in terror; the dreams constantly reminding her that it was her fault.
The girl lifted her gaze, surveying the family who had just walked in. They had no idea who she was, or what she was about to do. She focused her eyes on a little boy trailing behind his mother. His attention was directed toward a beetle attempting to traverse safely across the tile floor. Her heart was momentarily lifted at the sight of the toddler; but for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to smile. The kid’s mother hastily took his hand and shot a suspicious look at the girl. Her spirit felt like it had been shot down by that glare of silent accusation. But she knew she deserved it. In spite, she frowned and glowered boldly. She straightened and watched the family file out the door after they purchased their goods. They don’t know what I endure, she thought harshly. And they have no business knowing, either.
She scowled and looked down at her watch that she had recently acquired. She had traveled a long way since that one night. She was somewhere in southwest Iowa in a town called Sidney, from what she gathered from the chatter between customers. Every day she walked, not sure of where she would go, only sure that she wanted to be as far away from her home as possible. She somehow managed to avoid the watchful eye of policemen wondering why she was so dirty and worn and to run from those who were curious as to why she wasn’t in school.
Many times during the long days she thought about her home in Minnesota. She had always been intrigued with fire, with its numerous colors and hues dancing together, never missing a beat. She appreciated its beauty even from an early age. Her fascination, however, had abruptly ceased when the day came that the flames she had admired for so long turned on her. Recollections of running from the blazes that snatched at her body mercilessly pounded on her recent dreams. Her beloved flames had consumed her home and her family that horrible day three months ago.
The girl came back to the present as a group of teens pushed their way through the doorway with their sacks full of pop and snacks. She watched them as they piled into a broken-down car and drove away. Turning, she scanned the empty room in front of her. Footsteps indicated that the clerk was in the back room, attending to things other than the checkout counter. An uneasy smile crept onto her face. It was the first time she’d attempted to lift some money.
She glanced at the security camera constantly sweeping its ever-watchful stare across the area. She paused at a rack that held breath mints and candy, watching the camera out of the corner of her eye. Right when it had her out of its sights, she jumped over the counter and waited patiently for it to pass over again. Counting to eight seconds under her breath, she reached up to the cash register precisely when she calculated that the camera would be turned away. She continued counting as she fumbled for the button to release the drawer and yanked her hand back as the camera rotated back toward her. Mentally kicking herself for taking up so much time, she finally hit the release button, a pang of excitement rushing over her as she grasped the bills in her right hand.
Without warning, an icy cold hand grasped the girl’s shoulder, causing her to gasp and jerk back. A tiny yelp escaped from her lips as she saw a narrow-eyed young man standing directly above her, scowling at the fistful of money she had snatched out of the register. She stared at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to do next. A rush of guilt overcame the boldness in her as she switched her gaze to the money in her hand, than back to the man. The girl tensed all of her muscles in order to fight the growing bulge in her throat that threatened to free a flood of tears. She could feel blood pounding through her head with every shaky breath she took. She’d been caught.
She hastily dropped the money from her hand, involuntary trembles coursing through her entire body. She watched the man as his gaze softened when he saw how afraid she was. She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut. What do I do now? The man cleared his throat. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
The girl opened her eyes in surprise at the softness in the man’s voice. She quickly shrugged and looked at a chewed up piece of gum on the floor. “D-Dakota,” Her voice quivered. “Dakota O’Neill.” Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized that she probably shouldn’t have given her name.
“Why are you here, Dakota?” The young man put a finger under her chin and lifted it up to meet his gaze. “Don’t you have any money?”
Dakota blinked and shook her head slowly. She wasn’t planning on telling him her whole story. She didn’t want any sympathy, or help. She narrowed her eyes. She was determined to survive…alone.
The man, whose name tag said Sam, thoughtfully watched Dakota for a moment. Sam sighed and kneaded his forehead with his free hand. Brown hair fell out of his hat in a mess of curls. “Do you have any family around? Do you know your phone number, your address…anything?”
She said nothing and stared at the wall behind him. Why do you care?
The wailing of sirens sounded outside of the building and grew louder. Dakota started at the noise and shot a frantic look at Sam. She craned her neck to try to see above the counter, but sunk back to the floor with a sick feeling in her stomach.
Sam got to his feet and pulled her up by the arm, giving her no choice but to face the policemen. With a firm hold on her arm, Sam guided her to the door. “I pressed the silent alarm when I heard the register pop open. I had no idea it would be a girl as tiny as you. I don’t know what they’ll do with you; chances are they’ll see that you make it safely home and give you a court date. I doubt you’re getting off the hook, though; whether you’re grounded by your parents or jailed by the law.”
Dakota’s stomach churned at the words, and she fought back tears. What am I going to do? What’s going to happen to me? She watched the policeman and his huge German Shepherd exit the car. I was fine by myself, I didn’t hurt anyone… She gulped at the size of the German Shepherd. What are they gonna do to me?
Sam pushed the door open and presented Dakota to the policeman. “Good afternoon, officer.”
The officer nodded in greeting. “What can I do for you today, sir?”
Sam released Dakota’s arm and motioned for the officer to come. He looked at Dakota. “Stay here where I can see you.” Dakota nodded and crossed her arms tightly against her abdomen.
The two walked a few feet away and spoke in hushed tones. Several times, Sam pointed and Dakota and nodded or shook his head. Dakota quietly watched them, her gaze falling to the dog standing faithfully beside the policeman more than once. The massive dog stared at her with dark eyes. His muscles flexed in his powerful legs, as if he were about to pounce on her. Dakota was almost afraid to move.
But she didn’t let that stop her.
She inched along the wall and peered around the corner of the building, seeing a forest only twenty yards away. Adrenaline burst into her system. She turned her head back to the men, who were partially turned away from her.. She took a deep breath. I can do this. She looked back at the dog, who still had her in his gaze. Taking silent steps, she casually crept around the corner and made her way along the building.
So far, so good… She was almost to the end of the store now. She quickened her pace and lengthened her strides, being as noiseless as possible. The dog must’ve thought she was just another person, and not a criminal. Relief flooded over her and glee threw a smile on her face as she raised her pace to a jog, then to a full-out run. The wind whipped her long, almost-white hair from her face, her wavy tresses flying like a banner behind her. Freedom was only a few steps ahead.
Dakota’s stomach squeezed tight when she heard surprised shouts and a bark from behind her. Suddenly terrified, she pounded her legs harder, trying to urge her muscles to carry her faster. She was so close to the trees; she couldn’t get caught now! Dakota dared once to look back, and immediately regretted it. The huge German Shepherd had just turned the corner of the building and was followed by the policeman. Dakota kicked the speed up a notch, imagining herself as a blur zipping across the field to her safety.
With a loud grunt, Dakota leapt into the brush and rolled to a stop on the other side. She blinked to give her eyes some adjustment to the darkness and pushed herself to her feet; she couldn’t stop. She gasped for air as she sprinted through the trees. Flinching at every shout and bark made behind her, she didn’t bother to be quiet. Fear spurred her to go faster. A groan escaped from her lips as a searing pain shot through her side. She couldn’t breathe without the pain reeling through her lungs, and with every wheezing breath she took, her speed decreased. She closed her eyes for a second, wondering if she would’ve been better off staying where she was, safe from the wrath of the policeman. Now she was being pursued by a dog that may kill her if he ever caught up. She wished she’d thought of that before she had taken off.
She suddenly caught her foot on a rock, causing her to pitch forward to the ground. Her head reeled with confusion as she tumbled down a rock-strewn slope. Pain registered in her left lower ribs as she hit something dense with a degree of momentum, causing her to cry out pitifully. After what felt like too long, she rolled to a stop on flat ground.
Unable to move, she lay there silently for what seemed like an eternity, not bothering to fight the tears back anymore. It hurt, and right then she didn’t care about what anyone thought of her crying. With a short, desperate gasp, she struggled to keep herself calm. She actually wanted the policeman to find her now. She was tired, in pain. She thought back to that night when it was snowing…when there seemed to be no hope. All she wanted then was relief, rest.
Why can’t my life go back to normal? I was safe. She closed her eyes slowly and rested her cheek on the ground. One last tear rolled off of the tip of her nose and into the dirt below. She felt her conscious mind drifting away from her body. I want my family back…
Monday, June 6, 2011
Stories...
Because of my innate laziness, I do not particulary feel like going all the way through my previous posts, so, if anyone would please respond, I do have a question regarding my stories.
(My mind is speaking in a British accent tonight, so bear with the formal speech, if you please.)
I know for sure that I have posted one of my stories (at least, all that I have written of it) on this blog. It is entitled "Guardian". There is a story I am currently working on (have been for the past few years, heh) that I believe some of you have read, and some of you have not. It involves a main character by the name of Dakota O'Neill. It is, as of now, untitled.
Remember?
Good.
So, then, shall I post that story on this blog? It will be as "Guardian" is, the older posts will contain the beginning of the story, and the newer the posts, the chapters start to ascend in numbers, ect. So, if you're reading the blog from the newest posts to the older, then the story will seem to be backwards (this drives me up a tree, because I simply cannot find a solution for it!).
Alright, then. Shall I? Cast your votes on the comment bar, please. :-)
(My mind is speaking in a British accent tonight, so bear with the formal speech, if you please.)
I know for sure that I have posted one of my stories (at least, all that I have written of it) on this blog. It is entitled "Guardian". There is a story I am currently working on (have been for the past few years, heh) that I believe some of you have read, and some of you have not. It involves a main character by the name of Dakota O'Neill. It is, as of now, untitled.
Remember?
Good.
So, then, shall I post that story on this blog? It will be as "Guardian" is, the older posts will contain the beginning of the story, and the newer the posts, the chapters start to ascend in numbers, ect. So, if you're reading the blog from the newest posts to the older, then the story will seem to be backwards (this drives me up a tree, because I simply cannot find a solution for it!).
Alright, then. Shall I? Cast your votes on the comment bar, please. :-)
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