Howling to the Moon

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Sagittarius Pig
Posts : 1081
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Join date : 2010-02-19
Age : 23

PostSubject: My Story Thingy    Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:50 am

The Yin-Yang Series:
Surving Highschool

Broken upon Stone shall arrive Two
Change of Heart, Change of Mind
With all Hardships they Pass through
Desperate for Past they will find

Full of Vengeance, Full of Pride
Sore and sour with great Hate
Water shall Find the River, full and wide
And air destined to Open the heavenly Gate
Leading away from the betrayal and Lies
Which Run so Rampid in the state
Of the foolish and the Blind
And into Life that proves so Great

Introduction: What's This Book About?

So you found this, eh? Lucky you. You must've found my secret hiding spot, 'cause I hid it real well. You're reading my journal. Right now. See this word? Here? It's in my journal. The thing you're reading. Right, so now that we're on the same page, (Only after I wrote that did I realize I made a joke. So laugh.) I guess I'll tell you what happened.

I Died.

What? That's not simple enough for you? Alright, fine. I'll elaborate a bit for you. Shine some light on your fuzzy questions. I died nobly, don't worry. It wasn't in vain or suicidal or anything. I'm not emo. I couldn't stand myself if I was. I put my light out for a purpose. See, there's usually always a reason I do the things I do. Death was just.... something I had to do. So, in a way, I guess you could say it was suicidal. Or, maybe an even better word, a sacrifice. Yeah, that was probably it. I was like one of them heroes from a Disney movie, except I didn't magically avoid my fate. I actually died. Don't let the movies confuse you kids, in the real world, death is always a factor you've gotta take notice of. Only the last second did that factor actually come into my mind. And it kinda hurtd, like a migrain. A bad one.
After a while, (Really about three seconds) I got used to it. I mean, death is a real thing. It happens everyday. Right in front of us. It's a common thing, action of nature. It was meant to happen. I feel bad because it effected River, and of course it upset Colt. But they'll get over it. They always do. I mean, you should really see the things I do to those guys. How bad I tick them off. I don't really think I treat them right. But they always brush it off, nothing sticks to them for long. They do the thing I can't. Move on.

I guess I could start from the beginning, to show you what happened. You know, to the reader of this book. Because I guess it can be kind of important. I mean, it did decide the fate of an entire lost civilization, possibly the world, though I doubt it. (No, not Atlantis. Idiot.) But don't worry, you'll find out about them as soon as you read this.
Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself. Well, reader, my name is Avira Levin Trinity. Now it is, anyway. Wierd bunch of names you say? Good. I've never been to fond of common names like Joe and Laura. Maybe not Laura, but you get the point. I didn't want to be just another Bob. I'm hear to be known. (By the way, I don't mean to offend any of those Joe's, Laura's, or Bob's. You guys have great names, be happy. Just be sure people know you last names too. Things might get a bit confusing otherwise.)
I love my name though. And Colt likes it too, I guess. He says it matches my personality, whatever that means. I'm telling you, warning you even, sometimes that kid can be a complete idiot. Don't let him fool you. He might look like one smart cookie, and he is, but he's full of it. All the fricken time. And of course, first its funny. Because you usually think idiots screwing up all the time is funny to see, but after a while, it really tends to get annoying.
But what am I doing? You don't even know Colt. You don't know River, or Jodian, or Jasmine, or even old Thelma. So I'll stop right here. It's time for you to see my world. What's happened in the last three or four years of my life. (I think its three, I could be wrong though.)

And one more thing I forgot to mention. This is the last of my neat writing, it's taking me way to long to write in it. I'm going to type the rest of this really, really long journey.(I didn't even know they had computers!!!!)

Chapter 1: I Scare My ISS Teacher

January 3, Wednesday Age 16
This is so relaxing. Seriously, you have no idea. I've got not a care in the world. I'm barely even thinkg. It's like my mind took a vacation and I'm left with just a clean, empty slate. Nothing to write, nothing to look at. There's just nothing. Just the way I like it.
ISS does that you, I guess. But its nice and I never get sick of it. And, if you're the kind of kid that never gets in to trouble and has no clue what ISS stands for, get a life you teacher's pet freak. Anyway, it stands for In-School Suspension. I'll even explain what it is, just so you can understand me a bit better. How's that? Don't like it? Too bad.
So this is what it is. They lock you up in this little tidy room, with all snowy white walls. For hours. Usually eight, or the whole day that school goes on. Nothing to stare at but big blank walls and a huge clock that looks like its mocking you if you stare it for too long. I tend to sneak a piece of paper in, for boredom purposes. When I finally feel like I'm about to loose it, I crumple the sheet up and drop it around on my little cubicle for a while. For a few hours, you've got something to do. Of course, that is until Ms. Syanders takes it away.
But don't let her fool you. She couldn't even catch a cold to save her life. The desks(three in total) all have writing scribbled all over them, with profane words and insults against teachers. Mind you, over half of every word on these desks were left by my talented hands and creative mind. I text practically all day when I do find the so called "Punishment" boring. Usually to my mom, to discuss home matters or tasks to be completed when I reach my homebase. Or to Colt.
Good ol' Colt. Poor guy, sap like him stuck with a friend like me. I don't get him, he's so much different than everyone else. For starts, why would he be best friends with a complete loser like me? I mean sure, I've got a great personality. Or at least that's what he tells me. But its not like I'm the prettiest face ever. Or the brightest bulb in the chandelier. I always thought that when dudes hang out with a girl, it meant they liked each other. But I sure as hell don't like Colt like that, so get it outta your head. And I'm pretty sure his thoughts are likewise.
I slumped back further in my uncomfortable wooden chair, secretly sucking on a piece of a Snickers bar. Yummy.
It was so quiet I could hear the vibration of power running through my cellphone as I texted mom. Pull out hamburger and make meatloaf? she'd texted me. Well, what else would I expect from my mom? Ugh. My mom was obsessed with meatloaf way too much. I'm to consider sending her to some shrink for some help. Or intervention. Would rehab really let her in? See, her meatloaf is good. Really, it is. But she makes it every other day. And after about three years of the meatloaf therapy, I'm really getting sick of it.
I let my fingers go to work along my keyboard. Hb sum pizza? I crossed my fingers so much I thought they might snap off. Pizza was such a rarity in my house, and I was practically dying to smell melted cheese again. The phone buzzed as a new text message window popped up. New Message: Will you open? Yes. No.
I rolled my eyes. "Nah, I'll just leave it there. What the hell do you think, asshole?" I muttered to myself.
Oh yeah, forgot to mention. I'm pretty big on cursing. So if you don't like it, get out of this book. I ain't forcin' ya to keep going.
Clicking Yes, I opened the message. Scanning the words, I sighed, feeling down and depressed. No money. the message read, the two letters popping out at me like white on black. (Actually, it was black on white, but same difference. Right?) Money. Great. When weren't we broke anyway?
Once again, I sighed, closing the keyboard on my phone. It clicked shut, signalling its departure. I wouldn't answer, better to let mom just make her meatloaf. As I placed the black machine on my desk, an iron grip grabbed onto my wrist. I gasped, jolting slightly and looked to see who was holding my wrist.
Now, before I go on, I must stress the seriosness of the situation of Ms. Syander's gaze. Seeing her brown eyes when they were angry was just plain scary. End of story. I don't care how brave you are, how many horror movies you've seen. You haven't felt fear until you've seen this chick's death stare. It was like that of a viper, or a python. About to make their last strike, the one that brings you to your grave. Those two eyes cut through you like steel knives, sharpened over and over and over again. It turned your insides icy cold and you could actually feel yourself shiver.
Of course, by now, I'm used to it. So, the part about shivering, and the part about feeling real fear, for me, those go right out the window. I was so used to Ms. Syander's stare by now I could smile at her without a problem. I almost did one time, almost laughed right in her face. Anyway, this is what she said. "To the office, Avira." she said, almost ominously, as if she were sending me to my death. And I kinda wondered if she really was.
I ripped my hand out of her hard grip and stood up, shoulders tensed and squared, eyes as icy as iron, and twice as hard(I'm assuming). With the strength of my hand coming out of hers and the time she had to brace herself, (None) she practically fell. I tried my best not to crack up laughing right then and there and replied, "Fine." Now, when I did this, I put as much anger, as much hate as I could possibly manage, forcing my grin back. I really tried to make it seem like I was pissed.
Right then, as I turned to the door, I felt the jolt of electricity run through my cellphone (The stolen one), as I carried it in my hand. Quickly, I decided right now was definatly not the time for text messages and slipped into my pocket, where it'd be safe and sound.
Opening the pale, pine wood door, I stomped two steps out of the room, slamming the door behind me as hard as I could. I swear on my life that I heard a crack, but that could have just been me. Plus, I was just a bit too worked up to turn around and look.

Five Minutes Later

Jaws gritted so tight my teeth hurt, I slumped down in the soft, plush chair in the office (What a great chair) and looked down at my ratty sneakers. (These black things were pretty worn, but they worked great. I've had them for five years and they're still holding up. I'll never, ever get rid of them. Not these skater sneaks.) Now, I had plenty of time to think about how I screwed up. Again.
My phone. I closed it too quick, too hard. I shouldn't have let it make noise. It would have never alerted Ms. Syanders if I did. Well, it's too late for this now, but it'll come in handy next time. Because there won't be a next time. I'll make sure my phone's as quiet as a mouse, even quieter. If it's possible. Ms. Syanders will never know.
As I thought of the woman, I grinned to remember her face. When I tugged her off of me, the expression she pulled was just as good as a Hallmark moment for me. If not better. No, definately better. I don't do Hallmark moments. Sorry. But now, the more I think about it, the more I remember of it. She stumbled, (Well, she definatly stumbled, to say the least) waved her arms about, flailing to try and find some balance, and swore. Oh yeah, she swore alright. I heard it. Clear as crystal. Well, you could imagine any and every word you want to, but I heard her say "Shit." Not the best word ever, no, but I guess in her case, it fit well. Well enough.
"Ms. O'Reily? Mr. Roy will see you now."
Wow. Hey, thanks again Mrs. Johnson! I glared at her. She knows I hate my last name, yet she still insists on using it. And, I've noticed, I'm the only kid she calls by their last name. But hey, I guess it doesn't matter. She knew my anger weakness. (One of my many) Just as Ms. Syander knew I hated my first name.
I knew she hated me, (I could tell by the dark vibe I got, like the all of the world's evil shoved and pushed themselves into the aura, just when I was there) and I think I gave her the impression that I hated her. Or at least I hoped I did.. I wanted to, anyway.
Whatever. I got up out of my comfy seat and stalked over to Mr. Roy's office, my head held high and chin raised, arms neatly held at my sides, without even a glance at the secretarian I hated so much. I'm glad I didn't look over, I swear to God I would have punched her dead in her face if I did. And that wasn't exactly the best option for me right now. (But I could still feel her glaring at me.)
Stepping inside the small office, I stood in front of yet another soft chair, tempted to take a seat. These things look really comfortable. Instead, I only stared at the short, stalky man in front of me. He typed at his desk, not even taking notice of me. I glimpsed the monitor slightly, wanting to see just what was more important then me. Big mistake. I almost puked.
On the monitor I only caught a few words, but it was enough to put someone in a coma, from shock and disgust. I don't even want to put them down, but if I don't, you'll miss some signfigance that happens to me later, so I have to. Here's what they said:

StudMan465: Hey Babe.
UserA: What's up my big man?
StudMan465: Just missing you. What are you wearing?
UserA: Lolz, Nothing. :P
StudMan465: I was hoping you'd say that. Lolz.

I couldn't go on. It was too gross. Too utterly disgusting. Really, I almost gasped, almost screamed at him. Didn't the school block stuff like this from happening? He shouldn't be allowed to get on that site. I shook it off pretty quick, the fat man turned to look at me, simotaneously turning off his monitor.
The door of the office shut, signalling the fact that I was now alone in a room with this perv.
"You may take a seat."
I stood there. How smart of me. I guess I had an attitude., (I probably did.) because I just glared at the sick, twisted man.
Studman465 didn't even notice he was too busy looking into some big notebook. Hopefully full of schoolwork. Important, dumb, and boring stuff that was to be done in this crappy building they call a school.
He was writing something down when he finally sighed.. I could practically smell the frustration and utter defeat coming off of him. (I tried to block out the feeling that I could smell his lust.)
He didn't look up. "Cellphones, property vandalation, insulting teachers, fighting daily..." his voice drained, drifting off to some distant land far, far away. Wish I was there now. I almost felt sorry for the guy, really. I guess he was running out of options and ISS was getting old.
Mr. Roy looked up at me, despair and seriousness swimming in his hazel gaze. "I don't know why you do what you do, but I can't help you if you don't tell me your reasons. You need to talk to me."
I stared back at him blankly. Like I was going to tell him what I was going through, why I fought. He wouldn't understand. I just got so sick of being pushed around, being messed with, I took things into my own hands. I decided to go with violence. I'm a natural, really.
Once again, he let out a raspy sigh, the balding man did. "Alright O'Reily, one more false move, one more slip up, and you're going to have to find a new school. I'll have you expelled from Wilson High." His tawny eyes turned hard, like steel. Just as Ms. Syander's had.
Well, at least now I knew I screwed up.

Chapter 2: I Get To Eat Some Meatloaf
January 3, Wednesday
Age: 16
Once again, there I was. Seating on a seat. A really, really crappy, cheap, fake leather seat. God I hate being on the bus. I tried getting burried into my Artemis Fowl book again, but quickly gave up on it. I know those books are pretty childish, especially for a 16-year-old. But I think they're funny. However much lil' Arty tries, his feelings always irrationalize his desicions. And if he does follow logic, he feels guilty about it.
It was almost as Eoin Colfoer was tring to teach me not to let the soft feelings show. And I knew this lesson even before starting this silly series. Fear, grief, worry, disgust, mercy, not even happiness. I didn't let any of these little feelings show.(Well, maybe not disgust, 'cause I really do find some people gross in their own little way). For a young, cheery person to pull this off would prove an impossible feat. Until I came along. Dark clothes and a badass attitude, with guts to back it up of course, was all I needed.
I remember when I was a kid, still a little 6-year-old. I used to feel like nothing could stop me. Not even the fact that my stepmom was a drunk that loved to get high on meth. I didn't realize it then, but now I can put two and two together.
I was fast and stealthy, my skinny form and long legs making me move faster than any kid on the block. It was an awesome feeling. Or being curious about everything: What made glass? How'd they make TV's work? Why use money when you could just trade stuff? That's only some of the questions, but I don't want to go and recite my whole head.
Avira O'Reily used to be one bright kid, energetic and spritely. She got honor roll in every grade, and would practically cry when she didn't get something right, then go back and figure it out herself instead of asking for guidance. Her parents loved her dearly, and her pet Molly seemed to be the best teddy bear she had when she felt lonely or sad or had some bad dream.
Now she was close to being a dumbass dropout, expelled from school, forbidden to get a chance for a real life. A good life. She was failing every grade, in ISS or OSS(Out-Of-School Suspenison) every other day, bullied by almost every other kid she knew, and growing even more distant with her mother, father, and step mom alike. (Not that I actually like Marian anyway.)
She grew in to sleeping problems, put on some bulk (the type that might make her look menacing), and the bright, cunning look in her icy steel gray eyes faded, only to come back when she stole.
Okay, so now you know a little bit about me. And as you can figure, I'm a loner. Alright fine, let's not sugar coat it. I'm a loser, plain and simple. They treat me like I'm some sort of freak, because I wear boyish clothes and I somewhat resemble Frakenstein's creation. I tend to keep to myself, unless someone does try to challenge me. Then I move into action.
Hense this new attitude and wardrobe, along with my own words of wisdom that don't really go beyond this: Trust No One.
Great thoughts for a ninth grader, eh? Especially when she's supposed to be in eleventh.
I sighed and looked up to see that the bus was nearing my home. Great. Home. I frowned bitterly. 1 nice, rundown apartment with peeling, white walls, leaky faucets, and a slight roden issue.
But I had to struggle to keep back a slight smile. My mom would be home, trying to find something to cook, something from the food pantry that could actually be put to use. She didn't care about my grades, how I looked. She loved me no matter what, and I knew it. As long as I was healthy and not crying, she didn't show the slightest sign of shame or misery, dispite her only daughter's awful reputation.
I stood from my seat, grabbing the back of the false leather bus seat in front of me for leverage as the yellow automobile began to brake. I stepped forward into the aisle, refusing to meet any of the eyes staring up at me as I glided down the bus like water sliding over ice. By the time the driver had the door open, I managed to half grunt, half mutter, an empty "Thanks." and jumped down the three stars onto solid ground.
Well, it might not have been necessary, but I still rose up my right hand and put up my favorite finger, teaching my peers a bit of sign language.

As I was saying, we're pretty poor. Now more than ever since my Daddy'o left my mom. He was an architect or something. I don't know exactly, it's been four years since I've seen him, and I don't care if I live the rest of my life without seeing him.
See, he decided my mom wasn't worth the trouble. Decided life and a family based on love and trust just wasn't for him. He left me when I was 5, a month before my sixth birthday. (What a B-Day present, eh?) My mom had just gotten over from being in the hospital with a broken arm and was still recovering. I can't remember how it broke, but it was something big. Maybe I have Post-Traumatic Stress or something.
Anyway, he joined up with some tramp blondie and had a couple of rowdy, rough boys, tossing me and Old Ma aside. We were old news.
Me? I'm not too thrilled he left. I could've used a father to help me learn to fight better, some new tactics. But I don't let it get to me. It's not like I have abadonment issues. Depression doesn't and didn't occur, not about him. Not until the dreams came about, and I wake up a dozen times a night. It's annoying, yes, but it scares me to death.
One time, I woke up holding my throat, as if some one were choking me to death. (Actually, I have a lot of dreams like that) I think I fight in my sleep since I wake up with big bruises and nasty cuts. In my nightmares, I fight a lot. I mean, a lot. And just when I'm about to find out whether I win or loose, I wake up in my bed, in a cold sweat gasping for air to fill my empty lungs.
I love my nose. It's not my best sense, but it works. It's almost as bad as my ears, really. Maybe some kid damaged it in a fight or something, but now I kind of toss my sense of smell right out the window. Regardless, I could pick up the mouthwatering scent of my mom's meathloaf. Garic, parsley, basil, possibly some salt, and definately bread crumbs. Okay, so maybe my nose isn't that bad.
Then it hit me. My mom.
What was I going to tell her? I know Mrs. Johnson had made an extra effort to make sure she called my mom. She knew. I was an eyelash's length away from being expelled from Wilson High. Then I'd have no where to go, and I'd bring Mom down with me.
I lost my appetite as soon as I hit the door. Grimfaced and shaken, I took a really, really deep breathe and forced myself to wrap my trembling fingers around the ice-cold metal of the door knob and gripped it hard, trying to anchor myself back to Earth.
Alright, I'll stop here for a second. Let's get things straight, shall we? I may sound like some drama queen trying to make everyone feel sorry for her, but that's only because you've only heard about my life. You've never actually experienced it. You've never had to do the things I did. You have no right to judge.
Like I was saying, I opened the door and stepped inside. It was a lot warmer in my small little home, so it made my chilled fingers, ears, and nose burn quite a bit. You know, like putting a cold foot into warm water. With a back pack strung upon my shoulders, I finally realized how drained I felt, and how tired my limbs and eyelids were. School always tired me out. It was mostly due to the dumbest lessons ever that bored you out of your mind and left you absolutely exhausted. Every fricken day.
So I slipped my bag off and let it hit the cheaply-tiled floor like a deadweight, giving up my chance for stealth. Stupid me. Mom would know I'm home now.


Hey, what do you know? Am I good or what?
I sighed, feeling even worse. My mom was just getting over the flu, but she refused to leave work. So she sounded just and exhausted as I was, but slightly worse.

"Hey Mom." I called to her, coming out slightly louder than a whisper. I tried to conceil the guilt from my voice, not ready to tell her the bad news. Not yet. I didn't need to worry her, she had enough problems on her plate already.
But if she was worried, she didn't show it. Not the slightest bit. (She never does.) "How was school?"

Yep. Same old mom.

"Great." I said, sounding a little enthusiastic. I should be an actor when I grow up.
"Good. Dinner's almost done, I hope you're hungry. Can you set the table for me, please?" she asked, leaning her head from behind a wall in the kitchen so she could see me, a wide smile on her smooth cheeks, hazel eyes glistening with pain and happiness. What a horrible combination.
"Sure, no prob." I answered.
Steam billowed, shuffling followed, and I could guess mom was pulling out dinner from the old oven we had to call our own. Or, rather, the landlord's own.
I pulled out some plastic plates and cups from a book case on the east wall, only two of each and plain in color, and put them down on the table. The ply wood one, with two stools on either side. I took out some silver ware from a drawer in the book case and put a fork and knife down by each plate, a pair for both of us. They gleamed in the dim light, and I was happy that even this metal could gleam like ice. Not everything had to be precious to be seen as precious.
As I headed to my own stool, I watched as a great mass of fur stalked under the table. A Bobcat. A big brown one, with fine soft fur with not a single marking on its coat. Well, except the ankle collars it's black stripe made, and the neat little pattern on its neck. I can't really explain it, I'd have to show you a picture. It hissed as it probably went to get its own dinner, in this rodent-infested house, it couldn't be hard.
"Molly, knock it off." I scolded her, chasing her away by threatening her with my worn out sneakers. I wasn't exactly keen on hearing squealing noises while I ate. Just like I wasn't keen on throwing up on the table.
My mom has this uncanny sense of timing, she can come in at the right moment any time she wished to. And sometimes, even when she didn't want to. It was amazing, and it still is. I wonder if all mom's have that sixth sense. You'll have to get back to me on that one.
As soon as the two plates were set down, and the silverware sat beside the dishes, Mom was catering out our meal. She popped into the room, carrying a cuttingboard of sliced meatloaf and peeled, baked potatoes. Yum.
"Hungry?" she repeated, a faint smile on her face. I guess she just had to make sure that I actually was hungry.
I stared up at her, hiding my confusion. See, before I was ready to shovel a whole cow down my throat and then go for seconds, possibly top it all off with a big glass of milk. But that was earlier, now I wasn't sure if I wanted anything to warm up my cold belly. I didn't know how to answer. But years of lying automatically did.
"You bet." I replied, not even thinking.
She smiled a little wider and put the hot tray of food down on our plywood table, right in front of me as she sat down in her own chair, getting comfortable. "Good."
I followed her pristine example and sat my butt right down at the table, on my own plastic lawn chair and pushing my chair in. I sat up straight, just as she'd taught me to and bowed my head, closing my eyes as I left my hands in my lap. I wated for a nice little prayer to start.
Mom was real religous. She believed in God, Jeseus, the whole nine yards. Well, nine and half when we're talking about my mom. She takes the Bible as her personal history textbook, as if the whole thing was real. It's my belief that if she read that Moses had jumped off a cliff, she'd do the same. Without a parachute, mind you. She always prays before meals, before bed, and whenever else she feels it necessary. Even when she claims she feels "lost". If I prayed when I felt lost, I'd be praying 24/7.
She never lost faith, not even when we've sank past rock bottom. The worse things get, the more she prays. I really do think its sad. I want to go up to her and scream in her ear, "God's got nothing to do with this!", but she'd probably just smile at me and pray for me. I never told her I didn't believe in God, because I thought she might actually kill me if I did. (But then again, maybe not since it's against the Ten Commandments.)
So, I waited, and waited. But I got nothing but silence in return. What gives?
I peeked open an eye to look at my mom, only to meet those hazel eyes, feeling them claw against my skin. Is she telepathic too? God, she scares me.
I almost jumped back as she contined to stare at me, evilly. Like I did something wrong. I met her gaze, looking on with confusion.
I finally gave in. "What?" I cried out, so lost at the moment. Should I pray? Nah, I'll pass. Come back next week.
"You know better than to have your headphones at the table, young lady. It's rude and disrespectful." she growled at me, her eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing.
That's when I realized how her voice was muffled and my ears felt all stuffed up and sweaty. Duh! My earphones! I still had my MP3 player going, as it played California Dani by Red Hot Chilli Peppers. (Good song if you have no clue what I'm talking about. YouTube it.) I yanked out the black cord, cold air hitting my ears and my throat started itching. I ignored it and fumbled to shove my electronic deep into my hoodie pocket, shutting the little machine off in the process.
"That's better." she closed her eyes and bowed her eyes, I knew enough to do the same.
Then, I did my best to trying to block out the noise my mother was about to make.
"Dear Lord our savior, we thank you for the beautiful feast you have blessed us with. And we thank you for all the blessings to come, Amen."
"Amen." I played along, just as I always had. Then, it was time to eat. But I still wasn't hungry, my belly seemed cluttered and nauscious. I was reluctant to eat. Very reluctant.
My mom, on the other hand, had no trouble getting her mouth full. She picked up the fork with such fast reflexes, she made Spider-Man look like he had down syndrome. Meat went flying at the speed of light into her mouth and potatoes weren't far behind. She was already going for seconds by the time I had hesitantly picked up my fork. You'd be surprised to know that she was as thin as a toothpick, thinner probably.
I shoveled my food around, trying to have a little fun, though I failed miserabley. I held my chin up, my back straight against the chair, desperate not to look miserable. I even forced a couple of potatoes down every few minutes. Time seemed to be going in slow-mo though.
"What's wrong?" Mom picks up negativity pretty damn quick. Try her, just don't be surprised when not even a second goes by that she asks you this very same question.
"Nothing." I answered quickly, looking down at my plate. God, this sucks.
But she didn't pressure me.
Five long, boring minutes dragged on ever so slowly before I got bored enough to hear my cellphone buzzing. I was somewhat shocked, yet again, since it was one silent. Yet I knew I had a message. Don't ask me how, but if I was bored enough, I could hear a mouse nibbling on pudding a hundred yards away. No lie.
I pulled out my handy dandy cellphone and slid the keyboard out, the phone instantly coming to life with light. A screen popped up and told me I had a new message. I took no hesitation in opening it. My day couldn't get worse.
Cat's Den at 7. See you there.
My jaw practically dropped and I looked at my watch. 6:50. I could still make it if I hauled ass. I didn't want to leave Colt waiting.
As I looked up, I saw Mom looking down at me and knew she had caught the urgency in my own gaze. I guess. I couldn't bear to let a second at the Cat's Den slip away. Hell no, not my haven. It was my only sanctuary, the one my mom had no clue about it.
"Going somewhere?"
I was shuffling through my dishes, not even knowing, piling everything up so I could bring it out to the sink.
"Budd y of mine is going to help me with some tricky Algebra. Really important I get this stuff down." I lied, still putting things away, but no intentionally.
As I looked at her, I could see the big grin on her face as she crossed her arms over her chest, and the room seemed to warm up ten degrees. I hope I wasn't blushing. I had no reason to.
"Yeah, he's helpin' me out. Can I go?"
Now she was hesistant, keeping her smile as I waited for her answer.
"Please?" I pushed.
She nodded and I could have hugged her. Yes! Cat's Den! "Go on. I'll leave the door unlocked for when you get back."
"Thanks Ma." I gave her a quick, gentle pat on the shoulder and headed back out of the house, leaving my backpack by the door. So much for homework. Like I was gonna do it anyway! Ha!
It was pretty damn cold out tonight, even for winter. Snow was caked on the ground eight inches thick, trying to infiltrate my sneakers with icy slush each step I took. Every tree I passed was bare, its limbs sticking out like dried up, shriveled arms, long past their expiration dates. Even the pine trees seemed to have lost their green spirit in the frigid cold. I didn't blame them. Besides the fact that snow was everywhere, the sky ceased to let anything else fall. It was snow, snow, snow. No hail, no rain, just snow. It was really, really, boring. Skies must be saving all the crap for later, so that they still had a way to make our lives miserable. Possibly for a day I was actually beginning to enjoy.
Now, for someone in a thin hoodie four years old like me, its pretty easy to say you'll freeze your ass off. Two blocks in the winter makes twenty miles in the summer look like a fun walk in the park, one with italian ice and dogs chasing frisbees. But I didn't care, not much. I didn't really have to take notice until the last ten, twenty yards to the Cat's Den.
Shaking off the cold was probably the hardest task.
Glancing up at the old, run down building, I grinned. This was why I was here. This dump, so to speak, had become a second home to me, somewhere I could gather my thoughts and pull myself together. Anything was possibly at the Cat's Den.
Placing a hand on the wall, I ran my fingers down the white, chipping paint that had become coated with ivy (Now dead.) and some spots of rotted mold that I had become so familiar with. I pushed when I felt a single crack in the wall, a vertical one. A secret entrance, Colt himself had installed, opened up and gave me access to my underground heaven. I crouched slightly, so I could move through the three foot tall space and into the dark of the abandoned bakery.
Old cash registers, broken, cracked display cases, and really, really old furniture littered the ground, broken pieces of glass and wood filled every other bare spot of the floor. Maroon used to color the walls and snowy white claimed the trimmings, but it was so faded the maroon looked like a soft pastel pink and the white, well, you couldn't fade white. When the place was open, I could guess it was beautiful. Especially the cherry wood floors, I loved their dark, rich colors. It's too dull to know what I'm talking about now, but still, you wouldn't believe it.
I already cracked open the register, and boy did that $250 help. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention on pretty big on thieving, so watch out.) One time I came in here, when it was all abandoned, and I smashed in the display case with kicks and various punches. Took me a while to calm down. I forgot what really ticked me off that time, but I get that way when something really pisses me off. So it's probably a good thing I'm in here today.
Besides the fact that glass littered the floor, I silently moved over to the display case and pushed it out of the way.
Yet another opening showed itslef, along with a long coil of rope snaking down to the dark abyss below. A dim light shone, hitting the stone formation and making the light turn a murky brown. Musky smells came and bit at my nose, but instead of recoiling, I leaned in and inhaled. Yup. Cat's Den.
Grasping the rope in my hands, I took one last breah of the surface world. Here, I'll even name what I smelled: sewer, dumpsters, car exhaustion, and even some gun power. One of the homeboys must have gotten on someone's bad side. Here in this city, we've got a few gangs. But hey, who cares right? I can tell you the cops sure as hell don't.
So I tightened my grip and wrapped my legs around the long snake of rope and slid down into the dimlit darkness. it wasn't hard, I mean the first time it was torture. But, as they say, practice makes perfect. Eventually, it became as easy as climbing down a flight of stairs. Easier, even.
As soon as I felt moist soil underneath my feet, I let go. I was safe, on solid ground. Ilooked up and saw the small opening from which I came, now about twenty feet above me. Hense the need for a rope. Stifling a sigh, I ignored the fact that anyone that could find our secret entrance (The one I had carefully replaced after entering) could easily find this and get a little curious. And then I could kiss this place away. They'd discover my secret home. My personal sanctuary. it was not a happy thought.
"I know, I'm not sure what to do about it."
I didn't even jump. I knew who it was. Voice as smooth as honey, yet strong and full of humor. Yeah, I knew who that prick was.
I didn't turn yet, but replied to him anyway as I continued to look up at the hole in the ceiling. "Stop doing that Colt, you freak me out when you do that."
I couldn't help but grin though, there's my buddyboy. My good ol' pal, my right hand.
Turning around, I met his gaze. Momentarily freezing, I blamed it on the cold frost in the air and kept moving. Unfortunately, he was still staring. And laughing. He was laughing pretty hard, actually. He had some sense of humor, that guy. Time I ended it.
"Yeah, yeah, funny boy. Why don't you shut up and keep those moss eyes of your on the pole. You gotta bite." I broke up his party.
That made him jump and he whipped around to see his pole whipping around, the tip twitching and flicking. I would've laughed harder if he or the pole fell in the water. They didnt' though, so I was just chuckling. But it was funny anyway. That bite of his was still jerking his grip about though, and he was struggling. I hoped it didn't take his pole. Because then I'd have to share mine, and sharing wasn't exactly my thing.
Oh yeah, because you're probably confused out of your head, I guess I'll explain. Just so you know what my, our, Cat's Den looks like.
For starters, lush green grass layers the dirt ground, making it soft. No dew down here, so no worries about getting wet. When we were a few years younger, before Colt quit stealing, he snatched a couple dozen bags of Kentucky blue grass seed or something like that. He covered the dirt with the seed and watered it, every day. After two weeks or so, we got a lawn. Nice addition, ain't it?
It's a really, really big basement. Like three hundred feet by three hundred feet. Something like that, I could be underestimated, I could be exaggerating it. I'll never go and actually find out how big it really is. All stone foundation, the walls lined with thick rock that looks like Limestone to me. Once again, I could be wrong. I think they insulate the place, because it never gets too cold, not even now. A slight chill, but nothing more. No columns to hold the building up. Guess they had really good architects or something to build the place.
Over in the front, there's a small pond. Don't ask me how it got there, I just keep telling myself it's from flooded rainwater, not sewage. Something must've dug into it since it's like thirty feet deep. I tried finding the bottom, but I couldn't.
And that's why we have these lovely fishing poles. We saw life, fish jumping, lilly pads growing. It's really cool. Niether Colt or I know how it happened, but we don't care. I, at least, am just happy its here.
Moss grows occasionally, but not much. It's too dry down here for a lot of the stuff. So no, we have no wierd, funky mushrooms to "look at the pretty colors". If it's one thing I don't do, its drugs.
At the side of the pond, me and buddy boy managed to drag down these two tree stumps, big enough for seats. They're really warm and comfy. He put this sealment stuff on it so no bug decides its more snug than a rug or something. And it no longer rots, it's water proof.
I noticed a few times that water voles hang around here, which brings some feline visitors. They're all thin and skinny, but some are fit and beautiful. I give them whatever fish I catch. They could use it more than me. Sometimes the cats, feral or stray, come up to us, curious. They let me pet them for a few minutes, but they always wander off again. They always get spooked. I think its because I'm human, and wild cats don't hang with humans. Like they're breaking some anciet rule or something. I don't mind.
I sat beside the water, on my stump, and rubbed my chilled hands together above a small flame I'm assuming Colt had set up. It wasn't big, but it wasn't smoky, which was convienent. I loved it. It was so warm and soothing, but I was never too comfortable around fire, so I didn't get too close. Although I do wish I grabbed some marshmellows or something of the sort. Throwing them at Colt is fun, but I guess S'mores are cool too.
O glanced over at him, watching as he fought hard with the fish on the other end of the line. He seemed to be having a tough time and I was weighing my options, for what I could do. How I could respond to the current situation.
Help him out
Stay at the fire and warm up
Push him in and have a good laugh
Throw in my own pole and show this sonuvagun how to catch the monsters
For the few moments I sat there debating what to do, he had hauled in his quarry.
"Are you kidding me?" I heard Colt whine, and I looked up from the hot flames.
An old leather boot hung drooping from the string on his pole, and I nearly fell onto my ass laughing. "Hey! I think its your size!" I laughed at him.
He glared at me, his emerald eyes pinned on me. "Shut up!" he said pathetically.
I laughed a bit more, relishing the moment. "Make me." I stuck my tongue out at him, teasing the crap out of him.
"I will!" he growled back at me, smiling somewhat sheepishly.
"I'd like to see you try." I taunted, leaning toward him, calling him out, egging him on. I'm such a little instigator.
Grumbling, he turned away and unhooked the useless shoe, drenched in water. I decided to follow suit and catch something worthy of being called a fish. I picked up the light pole I had for myself. Bringing it back, I pushed down on the line and swung it forward, letting go of the line as it soared through the air and landed neatly near the eastern side, right against a crowd of lillypads. I let my pole sit on the ground, so I could lean on my knees and stare into the water, loosing myself again. I was lost in thought.
I'm gonna get expelled. I'm gonna get expelled and then me and Ma will have to move again. She'll have to find some other job at a crummy Burger King or something, and then I'll have to do the same. I'm sixteen, old enough to quit school. But Mom doesn't want me to. She wants me in a school, she wants me to have a better life....
Oh who the hell cares? I'm moving and I won't be able to see Cat's Den, I won't be hanging with Colt, and I'll be forced to find some other friend. Which, of course, I doubt will happen. I stifled a sigh. God my life sucks.
"What's wrong?"
Snapping out of my head, I looked up to see Colt staring at me as if I head three heads or something. "Huh?" I said briliantly.
"You're biting your thumb. What's up?" he replied.
I looked down slightly without moving my head to see I actually was biting down on my thumb, a dumb habit I can't grow out of. I let go of my finger and saw the dark purplish-red line pressed against my skin. Only a few seconds more and I might have broken skin, which has happened before. I swore under my breath, practicing my colorful dictionary of vocab, and looked up innocently at Colt.
Short stings of pain pulsed through my thumb to the base of my hand. Isn't it amazing how little boo-boos hurt so much, but a broken leg barely makes you blink?
"Well?" Someone was loosing their patience.
I paused and looked down at the pond, its surface looking glassy and crystalline. So pretty. I finally sighed and decided to man up. Or Wo-Man up in my case, I guess. I met his gaze, with an even feeling that I could pull this off. I could tell him what was going on, just like I usually did. And that I wouldn't totally loose it when he found out I was about a whisker's length from getting my sorry ass kicked out. Because really, let's face it, Colt was too good at picking my lies out. He was like this ultra brand of lie dectors. He was the Brawny paper towl version of mind readers. I think it would be awesome if I could read minds. Do you realize how many tests I would ace?
So, I spoke up. "I got in another fight today." I smiled sheepishly. I held up my arm and pulled back my shirt sleeve to show a fierce greenish bruise, still in the process of forming. "Pretty, ain't it?" I grinned.
He crossed his arms, not convinced. "Come on, tell me." See what I mean about that mind reader thing?
I sighed again, looking down at the grass, then forcing myself to meet his emerald glare, shining furiously. "Alright fine. Mr. Roy told me he was gonna expell me if I got in trouble again." I felt my eyebrows furrow, so ticked. It was like opening a freshly healed scar. And believe me, I've done that before. Not fun.
Me? I didn't wanna look up at Colt, so I kept my eyes on the pond, kept looking at the murky water, imagining how good it would feel to be in the cool depths right now. Instead of here, instead of imagining how pissed, sad, shocked, or dissapointed he was. Or all four. I hated it so much.
Of course, it all took a little time to digest. Even back in the school, as I walked down to the lockers, hitting each one as I neared mine, I had a little bit of fury to work off before I really go what it meant. I was on a short leash, too short for my likings.
Eventually he sighed, sounding way too much like Mr. Roy. He didn't have a laptop with him, did he?
"This ain't good, Vixen. Not cool. Not at all. Your mom know yet?" he asked, curiously looking at me with his depressing gaze. Man, what a mixture of feelings. Made me wonder what I was feeling in all this, and I still can't come up with an answer.
I shut my eyes, fantasizing myself opening my eyes only to find this ancient old guy, hundreds of years way too old, giving me my daily dose of Words of Wisdom. Not cool. So not cool. But, I was almost jealous of him. He was so smart, he was always at the ready. Colt always knew what to do, loads smarter than I could ever be. What was my IQ? Probably in the negatives. Him? Oh, only in the two-hundreds. And I'm not kidding about that. He really was a braniac. He just never told anyone. No one but me.
But, being the idiot I was, I looked up at him, feeling so much agony. "How can I?" Let's think about this now. I'm already the worst kid she could possibly be stuck with. "I can't bring myself to tell her."
I thought I felt a bit of mist in my eyes, but I was probably just imagining it. I hadn't cried since I was a little itty bitty six year old.
"Fine. Just don't do anything stupid, got it?" he looked at me, meeting my eyes, eagerly searching me for the truth. Creep.
I nodded dumbly, though. I was too numb to do anything else, I felt so lost.
"Use your head. It's the only thing you've got going for you, Vixen. If you get too ticked off, count to ten and think of your happy place. No more free passes, one more slip and your gone. For good."
I looked back down at the water, holding my pole loosely in my right hand, just so I can feel vibrations. That's my fisherman instinct going on auto-pilot. Silence was probably the best thing I could wish for right now, and I was thankful to recieve it. But it tricked me, denied me one wee wish. Guess Colt didn't like silence as much as I did.
"Avira." his voice was now pretty dark, really serious. So I looked up at him, like a little kid would when their dad yelled at them, automatically finding that angry gaze even they didn't want to.
"Do you understand? Like really comprehend this?" his jaws was set and I could see he wasn't a happy camper. How could he be pissed at something that didn't even involve him? It kind of made me mad, actually. But his gaze was like two gleaming stones, and they froze my spirit, melting my ferocity. It scared me more than anything in the world. Ever.
"Yeah. I hear ya." I murmured, feeling the strength in my voice drain. My spirits were loosing altitude like a dive-bombing falcon that forgot how to swoop back up at the most vital moment.

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PostSubject: Re: My Story Thingy    Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:51 am

Chapter 3:
I'm Late. For A Very Important Date
I'm swimming. Well that's all cool and everything 'cause I love swimming. But..... Why am I hanging out with an otter?
He's swirlin' all over the place, screechign and yelping, freaking out completely. And I'm catching it like its some sort of Brazilian disease, or Californian wildfire or something.
Worry is clawing at my belly and I start flailing. Where the hell am I? What's going on? Where the fuck is the surface? Looking up, I was forced to realize that there is none. I was trapped in an underwater chamber, surrounded by the murky depths and this crack-head otter. Drowning. I'm gonna die.
What the hell? Why me?
Then I hear it. A really, really loud growl makes me to turn to my left, spinning around like a ballerina on a perolet. It was all graceful-like, but who pays attention to stuff like that in life-or-death situations like this? I'm terrified, there's absolutely no blood-lust rush to help me out. Adrenaline's not even kicking in. I'm loosing the fight before it even starts.
Then I get to see it. Well, I don't actually see it. More like the jaws of it. Giant jaws filled with sharp fangs and humango canines. Id didn't even think I had the air to squeeze out of my lungs for a decent scream, but there it was. The shrill piercing call of horror, and it didn't even distort itself, even with the fresh water shoving its way down my throat. How cool was that? It was like the kind of scream you hear in a movie theater, in those horror flicks, when someone's gonna die. Only difference was, this scream was real, not Hollywood, and the I was the one really dying.
I tried to struggle backward, but I found my back shoved against this ice cold, stone wall smoothed by the water's currents. I stared in horror as those slightly yellowed fangs neared me, but I could do a damn thing.
This thing was finding me a way easy target, those glittering points closing down on me and...

* * *

Gasping, sweating, and practically crying, I stifled a scream and held myself, sitting upright in my crummy bed. I was soaked in my own sweat, as if I really had gone for a swim.
I could still hear myself struggling for air, trying to fill my drained lungs. They must be feeling really fricken stubborn because no matter how much I sucked in, nothing seemed to be accepted. It was like they were ignoring me.
I closed my eyes tight, strengthening my grip around myself, possibly keeping myself from falling to pieces, as the icy air in my room stung my skin. During which time, I kept forcing myself to say "It's just a dream, it's just a dream, it's just a fricken dream. " Then I blinked and looked at my blank wall, now turned a dark gray in the night. "Great. Now I'm yelling at myself. I can imagine that's real healthy."
It all seemed so effin real. The water and the way it pushed and rolled itself over my skin, cooling every partof me. How it made me choke and splutter, but the wierd thing was that I only started acting up when that.... thing came about. I never really felt threatened about drowning.
I rubbed my pounding temples, eager to get them to stop. My fingers kept slipping over them, my skin slick with its gross layer of sweat, still being chilled and frozen.
Looking over at the clock, I saw it was 3:17 in the morning. Not bad for a night's sleep. My brain must not be as up and about as it usually was, 'cause I've only had about three dreams tonight. The daily dosage of dreams like this is about five a night, depending on my day. Each were as wierd and chaotic, and yes, horrifying as the last. And I could never make sense of any of them.
I slept pretty well tonight, despite the fact that I almost peed myself.
Speaking of pee....
I jumped out of my bed, suddenly aware of my bladder, feeling pretty close to bursting. It hurt really bad, stinging against my belly, but the pain was pins and needles from the inside of my belly, not just biting at my skin.
As my barefeet hit the cold, laminated floor, Molly came up to me. She mewed, looking innocently up at me. The Bobcat flicked her long, tawny eartip and rubbed against my leg. "Come on, not now." I whispered harshly at her, dodging her first attempt.
It was always an obstacle course with Molly, she followed you everywhere.
But I survived it, I get to keep my bladder another day by dodging and hippidy-hopping all over the place as she went to trip me up with her furry paws. I was able to silently sprint out my room, down the hall, and to the bathroom. (A.K.A. the first door on the right.), do what I had to do, and came right back out.
Now, when I came out, I realized I wasn't too tired anymore, only slightly groggy. My exhaustion was gone. Damn. What was I gonna do now?
I could change my bed, it was all sweaty and gross, and it was the best option I had.
So I did. Turning on the balls of my feet, I went back into my room, as quiet as the stars, and turned on the lamp in my room. I tore off the skimpy blanket and stripped the matress of its sheets. It all ended up in a pile of sweat-soaked linen. I even ended up putting my whole pillow in a hamper basket. (An old cardboard box I found outside of Cat's Den.) The small box was overflowing now, but it was still too late for me to care. I figured I'd take care of it and wash the crap tomorrow, if and when I got time. After school.
Seeing that my mattress was still slightly damp, I made the extra effort of flipping it over to its dry side. Fising out a blanket from my closet, I dropped it in its own little pile on my bed. (I had a large supply of bed dressings since this usually happens at least twice a day.) I went back over for a new pillow, but fell into slight dismay when I realized I didn't have anymore of the fluffy luxury. I thought for a moment, then steathily decided to get my coat. It'd be satisfying enough.
Before I did so, I decided I'd been in soaked clothing long enough and changed into some new light ones. Thin, loose pants of black I figured were made of cotton, and an even thinner gray T-shirt that went down to the base of my knees. Yup, really big clothes serve for really good P.J.'s.
After the small detour, I headed out in our short hallway and into our considerably small one-size-fits-all room and found by the door our makeshift coathook. I grinned with satisfaction to find my jacket. This one was thin with absolutely no stuffing in it. Really, it was actually a hoodie, but I didn't care. Soft, comfortable, yet hardy and able to endure anything. I love my coat.
There are a lot of things that suck from being poor. And when I say a lot, I mean a lot. But, there are a few benefits. (Besides Food Stamps.) One of which, just happens to be my choice of coats. I don't have to go out in this big, thick eskimo puff wintercoat. My mom can't make me, she can't afford it. So I guess my life isn't as much as of a hell as I would imagine.
So anyway, I took my comfy coat (hoody) and headed back down the hall. Just like I was supposed to. You know, the good little teenager? As I did, I let my mind drift. For some reason it fell onto my mother, about school, her working so hard, and me being the worst kid in the world. Now, why did I first think of Mommie Dearest? Well, I just don't have an answer for you. So there. Anyway, she was supposed to be at work by now. She's supposed to punch in by 2:30, so I've missed her by a good hour, seeing as though the time had passed and it was now about 3:45.
I passed her room. Almost.
I suppose I got curious or something because I dared to peek inside. My breathing was steady, not expecting to see anything or anyone special, just an empty bed with a lot of fumbled blankets thrown about it. Even after my horrible nightmare, I felt fine. The room was completely pitch black, but from the bathroom (of which I had left the door wide open) the nightlight brightened up the soft, black blanket of the night which stretched over into my mother's domain, only slightly.
There she was, in her bed, all snuggled up like a bug all snug in a rug, in her big fluffy blankets. But she wasn't supposed to be there, not now.
"She's hiding something." I whispered to myself, so quiet I almost thought I didn't say anything. Then, "She's not the only one with secrets."
A thought to tuck away for later, but now? I had to get to bed. Unfortunately, a soft mew came from within the room, and I turned my head slightly to find two glowing silver eyes, lined with a soft amber color. They were pretty, but scary at the same time. Think about it, two eyes? No body? Can't blame it on Casper, I just saw him last week, and last I checked, he had brown eyes. But I knew better, thankfully.
"Molly." I chided her quietly, desperate not to wake my mother. "What are you doing?" I tried to act tough, but I could already feel a happy smirk playing on my face.
The bobcat was standing on my mom's computer desk, the one in the corner of her room, facing away from the door. With her paws perched on the coputer's montier, she looked directly at me and meowed again.
"Come on, get off." I stepped forward and clutched the giant cat gently in my arms, and put her softly onto the floor. She padded off, with yet another one of her meows, with a purr trailing in its wake.
I was just about to leav ewhen I noticed the glowing orb of green light coming from the tower, from the power signal thing. The computer was still on. Mom. Doesn't she know she's wasting electricity? Evidently not, or I have the world's youngest patient with Alzheimers. But no worries, I sure was the conservitive one.
Wiggling the mouse a bit, I brought the moniter back to life. No password, my mom trusted me. Big mistake, but what can I say? She's way too trusting. And I didn't even have to worry about the light, the monitor was dimmed already, so there wasn't much light to bother me or mom. Cool.
What I saw next was really wierd. A big title with pretty foo-foo words spelled out in golden writing And beneath it, in minor size spelled out in that same disgustingly girly writing, Find Your Inner Romance.
Now, I'm very prone to throwing up. But thankfully, because of my hardy, steel-like stomach, I can stop myself from doing so. So, what's my vomit factor now? Well, on a scale from 1-10, I'd say about a 7.5. With, of course, 10 being the worst and I definately would throw up, whether I wanted to or not.
Anyway, the questions came up right after the urge of upchucking. Why the hell would she bother with this kind of pathetic place? God, if you're really up there, let it be known to all that this really sickened me.
I guess it didn't bother me too much, since its only online chatting, no one making out or anything, but it did make me think of my dad. What a great role model. Why would my mom even try to find someone else when she had my asshole-of-a-father to remember?
Whatev. Back to bed. I shut the system down with about two clicks. Its soft buzzing eased, then ceased and I left the room, just as silently as I came. Dude, I felt like an effin ninja.
I creeped into my own room and sank into my bed. How soft the spring loaded sponge could be. It was glorious. Kind of.... Well, no. Not really. But I was able to get halfway comfortable with my head resting on my coat. And I drifted off to sleep, slowly but surely, with about half an hour's worth of tossing and turning. And this time? No dreams.
Thank God.

* * *
My muscles ached, my head throbbed, my eyes stung, and my poor effin eardrums pulsed. On top of it all, my whole body stung with cold. Somehow my blanket fell off during the night, leaving me as one very unhappy, very unlucky camper. Yay.
I turned my head to glared with violent menace at the the alarm clock on its nightstand, beside my bed. 7:32. Late for school. Again. But hey, I'm always late. Why switch up the schedule?
I'd rather stay home, but I can't ditch 'cause then Mom would know. Not that she doesn't know my predicament now, I'd bet money on it that she did. Even if I don't have the dough on me now.
But whatever. Time to get up.
I lifted my stiff self unsteadily unto my aching elbow, then pushed my body to sit up. Rubbing my tired eyes, I swung my legs clumsily over the bedside and onto the cold tile floor, my toes screaming in despair. Poor things, need a hug.
I stumbled over to my plywood dresser and pulled out a black tee and a matching pari of black, baggy jogging pants. Again, made of cotton, not that polyester crap.
Took off the cozy pajamas, slipped on some real clothes, then I went back and took my coat/hoddie. Fashionable and warm, how much more could you ask for. And here's the grand bonus, it's in my favorite color. Black! I put it on and walked out, heading to the bathroom. My bladder had filled. Again.
Went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, my hair, and washed my face. When yet another mew came my way, I saw Molly leap easily and gracefully up onto our sink. Her water!
"Sorry girl." I apologized stupidly. And yes, as you have noticed, I talk to my cat. Don't you?
Anyway, I don't know why I said that when I know she can't understand me. Never the less, the Bobcat seemed to blink and nod slightly as I filled the sink with water, putting the stopper on to hold the water in the basin.
I pushed my black bangs out of my face and left.
Out in the livingroom/ kitchen/ diningroom, the table was cleared and spotless, as was the sink. Mom did dishes and the table? Usually she didn't have the time time nor energy to do both. Boy, she must've been on a role.
I grabbed my bookbag, not too inclined to find out why, and I opened the door, only to practically fall on my ass.
"What the hell?" I shouted, glaring at the sandy-haired teenager before me.
"I could say the same. Where the hell have you been, Vixen?" Colt growled at me, having just as much menace as I did. I just loved how he could meet me evenly, then I'd have to pull out a little more than he did, and he easily met up. Man, it annoyed me.
I stood up and crossed my arms, my jaw automatically tightened with attitude. "In bed, dumbass. I just got ready for school. Would you like to know the brand of toothpaste I used?"
Despite the fact I had insulted him, his frown formed into a slight smile, possibly half-grin. And, thankfully, his eyebrows lessed on their intensity, his green eyes lightning as well. "Very funny."
"Only the best for you." I looked down at my fingernails as I sarcastically replied.
Colt didn't respond to that. He more or less ignored it. "Do you know what time it is?" his eyebrows yet again furrowed a bit and I was nervous, but in a few seconds, I could decipher it was just curiousity in his voice, no anger.
But I was tired and cold, and not even for my best friend Colt hear could I shush the sarcasm and bitch-ness of me.
"What, we playin twenty questions or somethin'? No I have no clue what time it is. When I saw the clock last it was like seven thirty."
Colt actually raised his eyebrows at that, he was surprised. "Avira, it's twelve thirty." he said slowly, sympathetically. "In the afternoon." he decided to add, after about three milliseconds.
I felt my own hands clench fiercely and clamped my eyes shut for just a short blink. Well, maybe longer.
"Fuck!" I cursed, rubbing my sore forehead. "First the dreams, then the damn cat, now I'm late for school, and I am soooo getting expelled." I muttered, crouching against the wall of the room, seeing as the hallway part of the room was only about three, maybe three and a half feet wide. I closed my eyes and ruffling my short hand with both hands, tried to steady my breathing, with no success.
"Dreams? What dreams?" Colt asked, yet again curious. Why did he ask so many damn questions?
I looked up at him, meeting his emerald eyes, full of heightened curiousity, with an icy glare. "Nothing."
Readjusting my book bag, I slipped past him and started walking, ignoring the freezing crunch I felt every step I took in the really cold snow. "Come on." I said, keeping my eyes on the red Chevy Blazer ahead of me, "If I'm lucky, that dumbass principal will still let me in."
Colt followed, like an obedient dog. What a good little pet. "Right, right. Get in the truck, I'll get you over there."
Nothing like a friend to help you out on a bad day.
I didn't hesitate. Opening the door of the truck, I slid into the passenger seat, surrounded by way too neat, way too clean interior.
My best friend was beside me in moments, putting his seatbelt on and grabbing the big leather-covered steering wheel. He put the vehicle out of park and into reverse, expertly backing out of my parkinglot. Rocks cracked and popped, making me a little nervous and slightly on edge. The last thing I needed right now was to pop a tire, but Colt didn't seem to be the least bit worried.
Next thing I knew where were on solid, smooth concrete, racing with traffic. I don't exactly pay attention to directions very much, so I'm not going to even try and explain where we were. You don't need to know, this boring world of mine won't last very much longer. Keep reading, you'll find out.
I sat staring out the window, forehead pushed up against he ice cold glass. I let out a silent sigh, and the warm air fogged up the small section of glass in front of my nose.
The winter was harsh this year, blizzards and storms coming every other day, one after another. No one trusted the weather man anymore, the weather was unpredictable and did as it wished. Kinda like me. Well, sort of.
Now the roads were covered with thick with dirty brown slush. Undoubtfully, black ice was everywhere. I was hoping we would hit any, not today. I continued to gaze out of my point of view. I could see dimly lit yellow lights of the city to the right, in my seat. Next exit was our stop.
The snow as storming down on us, and sight was limited. But I guess Colt expertly knew this before. Duh. Of course he did. The Chevy's headlights blared with unbelievable luminosity. He must have replaced the bulbs and fiddled with the wires to up the wattage, turning this farmboy truck into a military-grade automobile. Man, I wish I had his brains. I wouldn't be about to beg Mr. Roy for my slot in school, that's for damn sure.
"So what's up?"
I turned my head, looking blankly at the driver as he briefly glanced at me and the road, back and forth.
"Huh?" I'm so smart.
Grinning, Colt repeated himself. "I said, what's up?" he said slowly, looking hard out of the windshield, focused on the road ahead.
I rolled my eyes, but found myself smirking.
"Nothing much, ol' buddy, ol' pal." I replied sarcastically, in my all-too-good redneck accent. I'm really good at accents, and its fun to practice 'em.
He chuckled to himself, then talked a little more. "You wanna here a funny joke?"
I stared at him in disbelief. What. An. Idiot. "A joke?"
Nodding furiously, he kept his gaze locked on outside. "Yeah. A funny one."
I held out my hands, "Sure, go ahead. Hit me with the best one you got."
He shook his head this time, "Can't hit ya. Mom said I can't hit girls, but I'll tell you the joke." he said, silly goose.
I rolled my eyes at him, still a little puzzled at his behavior. He never really acted like this before. He was one bright braniac, too smart for common idiocy. You know, my type of stuff.
Anyway, he went on. "Why'd the chef get arrested?"
"I have no clue Colt. Why?" I said, sighing.
"'Cause he was beatin' an egg." he laughed aloud at that, and I just looked at him with a bewildered gaze. What the hell?
I decided to change the subject. "This sure is some nice weather we're gettin', huh?" What a dumb thing to talk about. But hey, it was better than discussing probation regulations with the chef who beat his egg.
He seemed to snap out of it then, like he was fighting his own head. Two split personalities, only one could win. (Cue the dramatic music)
"I know what ya mean. The pastures are packed with snow, and we had to keep the horses inside while we try to unbury the fields. I'll tell you what, Fawn wasn't too happy about it." he said, his voice still groggy, but getting better with every word.
See, Colt's a born-and-raised farmboy, but with no hillbilly accent. (You are allowed to fistpump at this point of time.) He lives on a big ranch his parents own. They breed horses there, mostly this breed of drafts called Belgians. Whatever they are.
But that "Fawn" he mentioned? That's his horse. A mare. She's a beautiful black horse, with silver dappled all over her back in fine, neat patterns. Like a perfect Dalmation coat, painted right onto her. Silver on black, she's gorgeous. She's a mustang in her prime, and she's the most graceful thing on that piece of property. I love her to death. Colt let's me ride her, never alone, of course, but he does. He makes sure that's sitting right behind me, holding the reings with me, like I'm a little toddler. Mostly because he doesn't think I'm capable of riding a horse on my own, with my city roots and all. Normally I wouldn't put up with it, but this is Fawn we're talking about. I'd give up my own lung for her, nothing's too good for that horse. Nothing.
"It's only January, it's gonna get worse." I pointed out, sadly. Why couldn't spring just get here? I looked back out my window, settling back in the soft seat.
"Or it might level itself out." Colt mused.
I stifled yet another sigh. He always looked at the brighter side, even if there wasn't one. It was so annoying, he made me look emo. Maybe I was. To me, there wasn't a bright side. For moi, there was a bad side, and then there was the worse side. No good in either. It was a choice of two bad endings. Always had been, always will be. Always.
You know what? This is dull. No, it's not dull, it's worse than that. It's boring. Seriously, I'm writing all this stuff down and I'm practically falling asleep on the keyboard. I can't even imagine how bored you are. I'm amazed you got this far into the book. So you know what? I'll cut you some slack. Let's skip ahead to where my life starts. My real life.
Chapter 4:
I Got Mail

So, my life? Oh God, what a life. It's hard to explain, so I'll just say how it all started, and what's happened. And oh, did I mention my legacy? My great destiny? Well, we'll leave that little tale for later, I'll let the climax build up. You know, get a little suspense going. All that good stuff.
It all started in March. A Thursday, to be exact. I'd managed to be a good little Vixen all through February, just like Colt told me to, and only got in trouble for minor things. Stuff like yelling back at the teachers and ditching classes, and the occassional stealing problem. (It's a habit I gotta break, I know.) Stuff like that. But when I hit March, things went a little haywire. I got a little edgy and things just weren't goin' so well. Here, let's begin with how I got expelled from Wilson High.
Now that I think about it, it seemed more like a freak accident. A fun one.
Average Thursday morning, I rolled outta bed and struggled to get my daily headache under control. My skin tingled with numbness and various itches. Gnarled, frizzy hair made a messy blanket over my eyes and I struggled to half stumble, half trip my way to the bathroom, doing my darned best not to kick poor Molly and her pale, plain tawny coat. (And might I add her ankle bands were looking marvelous today. She must have groomed them recently.)
I turned on the shower, got undressed and hopped in. I did the usual, washed and conditioned my hair, and it responded by easily smoothing itself out, looking more like hair than a bramble bush now, brushed my teeth, and washed up with some awesome smelling soap.
Turned off the water, hopped out feeling quite rudely awake, and grabbed a towel. Soaking wet, I went over and filled Molly's sink, yet again stopping the drain for the bobcat.
And let this be known, to everyone: For all the hell I go through to help her out, she'd better be frickin grateful. Especially when she seems to make herself a living obstacle course. Every. Effin. Night.
Then I patted myself dry with my handy dandy towel and wrapped myself up. I felt so much warmer, and I was pretty happy with that. As a matter of fact, I felt pretty damn good. I went to my room thinking, Today's gonna be a good day. To this waking moment, I still cannot figure out if it really was a good day, or a living hell.
I walked out, with more control over my feet, and traveled back to my room. Got new clean clothes, got my coat, and I bundled up. Looking at my clock, I was almost grateful to see I was on time. 7:54. I had six minutes to chill.
So I went on out to the everything room, as I like to call it, and went to the sink to warm up my hands with some more hot water. My fingers were getting a bit chilly.
And guess what I found? A nice little note, to my surprise. Wanna know what it said? Here, go ahead, read:

Avira, (Well, it actually said O'Freak, but same diff, right?)
Just like to let you know in a few months you're probably gonna get a new loser sister or brother. Me and your mom had a great time last night, thanks for being so quiet.
From your favorite pal,

Well, here's how I reacted:
I took the note in my hand and crunched it together, into a little oragami snowball. Then I went and ripped it into shreds, fury sweeping over my brain, glazing everything a blazing white that hurt my eyes a little.
While I let the pieces float down to earth, I got a glass plate and smashed it hard against the wall, the ceramic shattering immediately. My fist followed, going ahead before my head could process that I was punching the drywall.
My hand went straight ahead, scraping my skin harshly, and probably causing a few bruises among the trickles of scarlet liquid. Oh yeah, in case you hadn't guess it, I was pissed.
I let out a furious roar and pulled my arm around. That's when I heard a shift of air, right behind me. Whirling around, I used my fury and felt the rush of adrenaline roar through my bloodstream, making my ears pound.
My eyes wild and teeth bared in a very audible snarl, I probably looked like a rabid animal. I pulled my arm back and took a fast swing at the person in front of me.
"Vixen!" Colt dodged me like I was a tortoise and he was the hare.
I stopped slightly, backing up against the sink, breathing heavily. I barely moved a muscle, but my lungs were on fire.
Colt caught sight of my arm and rushed to it. "Dear God. What the hell happened?" he asked, grabbing it fast, but gingerly.
It shut my crazed eyes for a second, shutting out my vision. "Renovations came early." I said simply, gasping for air, nodding with my eyes still shut to the direction where the hole in the wall was.
"Jesus, Avira." he said angrilly, but I could sense the worry in his voice. "Come on, get under the sink." he turned on the cold water and turned me around. It was my turn to be the obedient dog.
Yeah right. I stopped, shaking him off. "I don't need your help, okay? Just gimme a sec."
I opened my eyes again and leaned heavily against the sink. I put my pounding head on hands and grimaced at the feeling of the sticky blood on my head.
I practically growled like a wild dog and shut off the cold water, whipping the hot water on as far as it would go and shoving my bad arm under.
"Avi..." Colt began, using my other pet name. But I stopped him.
"Shut up. I don't care."
Searing hot pain sliced into my arm, making my wounds scream. They were only minor scratches, but like I said, the little things hurt like hell while the big stuff was a walk in the park.
I hissed in my breath, holding it, then let myself relish the agonizing feeling until my adrenaline subsided. That and the fact that hot water kills germs was the only reason I'd pulled this little emo stunt off. I had to wear off my adrenaline, otherwise I wouldn't be able to focus, I couldn't think straight.
I worked furiously to clean off my head and arms, then shut the water off.
Releasing all the oxygen in my lungs, I took a deep breather and chilled out for a sec.
"What the hell was that all about?" Colt asked abruptly. Great timing.
I opened my eyes again, whipping around sooo close to loosing it. I started seeing red.
But his wide, green, concerned eyes shut me down, shut it all off. I sighed, feeling defeated and weak.
"Derrell. He must have busted in last night."
He looked rather puzzled. Of course he knew who Derrell was.
And for those who don't know, that's his brother. Half-brother if you want to get technical.
But he was still looking pretty damn clueless, so I tried to fill him in. I tried to, anyway.
"He left a note saying-" I trailed off, looking at my feet, trying to blink away the anger.
"Saying what?" I could feel Colt's gaze burning into my neck, making me get goosebumps, but this time, I refused to look up.
No, no confessing this time. I wasn't a little baby. Besides, Derrell had crossed the line this time. So I bit my lip and forced myself to look up with a slight smile on my face. "Nothin'. It's nothing. Can you gimme a ride to school? I think I just missed my bus."
He met my eyes and I could tell he was trying to see if I was lying. If there really was something wrong. And duh, of course there was. Derrell was gonna have quite a bit wrong with him when I was through.
But, Colt being Colt, trusted me and dismissed the worry. Yet again, what an idiot.
"Sure, grab your stuff. Let's get outta here." he smiled at me.
I grinned back, one looking innocent and friendly. But I was full of deviousness and demise. Oh yeah, I was cookin' up quite a plan inside my demonic little mind. I felt like one of those mad scientists or somethin' on T.V.
So I grabbed my stuff and left my rundown joint, wrapped up tightly in my warm and cozy hoody.

Chapter 5:
Swimming. Is. Awesome.

After fifteen minutes of driving on a slick highway road, we made it to Wilson High. I'll tell you what it looks like, to give you a picture and all that fun jazz.
For one thing, it's an old church, actually. Really old. Still, it's structurlly sound. It looks like an old fashioned chapel: steep roofs, lots of ledges, lots of fancy statues, stained glass windows at least fifteen feet tall. Now, you know how their small and compact? Imagine it stretched out, like a piece of Play-Doh. Big enough to incorporate enough classrooms for 1500 students, scattered from ninth to twelvth grade, then make room for a really big gym, an auditorium, and who could forget my all time favorite cafeteria?
So, maybe its not your average church. It looks more like the Barcelona Church. You know, that big one in Spain? No worries if you don't, I had to Google it myself. But picture that, with a big sign draped over the doorway with a big cricket that says Wilson High Grasshoppers. Oh yeah, we're way scary. Fear us bugs.
Colt patted me on my back reassuringly as we walked up the stairs, 'cause we're just that friendly. "Take it easy, kay?" he smiled at me, one that kinda lit up my day. The type that let me know someone had my back, I wasn't alone.
I grinned back. "You got it boss." I replied, looking back on the doors as I pushed them open.
Not much left to say about the classes. Colt left, cause he was the same age as me, 16, but in eleventh grade, and I split to my locker and droned through the first six periods. There were only twelve a day, no worries, but my nerves were itching to ge my hands wrapped around Derrell's throat. But I forced myself to chill out and be patient. My time would come.
Let me clarify why I'm so ticked off. No, it's not really what he said on the note. He wasn't that bright, so it wasn't that insulting. I could tell he just threw together what sounded good, whatever his dim brain could whip up. It was just the fact that he actually broke into my house while I was in there and then had the nerve to let it be known. And then he just had to cross the line and bring my mom into it. My mom.
Meanwhile. Lunch! My favorite class of the day, one I didn't have to work in. One I didn't have to ignore teachers in. Only about have my grade was shoved in at a time, which was about seventy-five kids.
So, while the monitors and lunch ladies weren't looking, I snuck my freshman ass ou the door leading to the fire escape. I was out of that hell, and heading toward my paradise.
And up I went, all the way up. There were four floors, so eight flights. It wasn't too bad, but I had to dodge under all the windows to avoid being caught. I've only been caught twice before, but I didn't exactly believe in the third time being a charm, especially with my amazing luck.
When I finally made it to the top, I looked for the drain pipe sticking to the brick wall. (Hey, even churches had to have gutter systems.) My last ascent, up to the roof. Or roofs, I should say.
I grabbed the ice cold steel and almost recoiled, the feeling of the pipe numbing up my hand immediately. But I pushed onward, like the tough little cookie I am. Five minutes, three pounds, and eight feet later, I scrambled up the ledge of my sacred place. My second one. Not even Colt knew about this place.
I was easily up in the air three hundred feet, on an inch thick concrete ledge that was more than likely older than I could count. You do the math.
Me personally, I'm scared silly of heights. and at this dizzy point of elevation, it was enough to make me bawl.
But that's why I was here. Well, not to cry exactly, but to face my fears, or at least try to. Sure, its not exactly the brave feat Superman would be proud of, but it builds up my tolerance of heights so I don't suddenly freak out when I'm six inches off the ground or going into the elevator.
That's another thing. I'm really paranoid. You know what? I'll make a list. My fear list.
1.) Heights. I prefer the ground, if you don't mind.
2.) I'm paranoid. So I don't like crowds. At all. They freak me out. Really, really bad. I get edgy and and a bit jumpy. One little thing and I go totally beserk. But no worries, I'm working on it and I'm really close to having it under control.
3.) Exits. Gotta have somewhere to go, an easy escape route. Always.
I'll let you know if I can come up with any more.
So, I cleared off a little snow from the thin ledge and I laid down uncomfortably on the stone, leaning my back and head on the brick wall. I instinctively shoved my hands in my pockets and sighed. Today's plan? Pretty basic, I'm not into confusing stuff.

Survive this ledge. Again.
Find Derrell.
Kick the living crap out of Derrell
Deal with Mr. Roy and hope I don't et expelled
Find Colt
Get home and sort things out with Mom
Fill my belly with some darn good meatloaf (potatoes being optional)

Not bad I guess. Nothing too hard, too complicated. And #3 is sounding more and more fun with each ticking second. I still can't believe he had the guts to leave the note. The only reason I can think of why he did it was beacuse I was on my last leg, they had me on a damn short leash. He knew I couldn't do anything to him. Unfortunately, Avira O'Reilly was never one to do what she was told. (And yes, I know this is bad.... For him.)
So now I had a bit of downtime, fifteen minutes. Well, more like five minutes now. After my hiking trip up here.
I gazed at the statue directly ahead of me, on the corner above the edge I climbed up. It was steel gray, with some chalky markings. Must have been from the snow or something.
The great stallion reared, and the angel warrior was frozen in time, in the middle of a roar of fury, holding his sword high. And, like a hundred times before, I couldn't help thinking how awesome it would be if that thing was real, not just a statue.
Well, I didn't really like the idea of angels since I don't believe in them, and I never thought swords were cool. But regardless, I still wish it were real and not stuck up there, to endure the elements forever.
As I looked longingly at the horse's wild mane, a beep on my watch told me it was time to go. Now.
So, I crawled backwards over to my departure ledge and took a deep breath, filling my lungs as I hoped to God (Yeah, right.) that my feet would find the pole for like, the millionth time.
Man, you don't know how pissed I was that I missed my footing.
See, what happened was that I found the pole and latched my feet around them, then worked one hand onto the pole, while I was keeping my weight on the other as it still clutched the ledge, to keep me from falling three hundred plus feet. In other words, to my death.
And you what happened? My hand slipped.
Down I went, too scared and shocked to scream. I thought I was for, my life was through. The only things I could think of was Derrell's smug smirk when he found out I was dead and Mom's horrible sobs. Poor Mom. I wish I could've-
Well, that hurt like hell. I fell onto the fire escape, approximately five feet below me. Give or take some. And you could bet your sweet butt I wasn't a happy camper. I mean jeez, if I was gonna die, then get it over with. Don't tease me. Unless, of course, you don't fance your life.
The wind was knocked out of my lungs and all I could feel on y back, shoulders, and head were rossettes of new pain, blossoming to spread about my body. Not much adrenaline was there to numb it, so it hurt just as much as it should.
I lay there gasping, trying to get my head thinking straight. Trying to get my eyes to stop seeing doubles. Letting my eyes rest for a couple seconds, I felt my breath regain itslef and I sucked in fresh oxygen. I breathed in slow, ignoring the icy stabs of frost that clung to the air I took in. Then I looked at my watch, 12:48. Late by three minutes. Two minutes more and the hallway would be clear, no doubt about it.
I forced myself to struggle to my feet and take one wobbly step after another down the eight flights of slipery metal steps, not caring if teachers saw me.
I was just about to open the cafeteria door, unconcerned with being caught since I knew the place would be cleared when I heard that it wasn't.
Nope. Instead I heard a whimper. A soft, pathetic one. One you'd hear when all hope was lost and there nothing left to do but cower. Then, "What's wrong Jared? Mommy not here to protect ya?"
I knew that sneer. Oh yeah, I'd been waiting for that sneer all effin day.

Well, there was no backing out now. (Not that I was gonna.) I took one strong breath and shoved the old, creaky door open, an automatic look of scorn on my face. Or, at least, that's how my face felt like it was being held.
There was Jared, poor little scrawny, geeky tenth grader in an empty cafeteria, facing off with Derrell Jones. A nerd's worst night mare. My heaven.
Last I heard, lil' Jared here reported Derrell to Mr. Roy when he found out that Derrell had pot. Got him suspended for three weeks. Guess Derrell thought revenge sounded pretty good. It did to me.
And there was Derrell. Thick body, weighing in at like 190. Face covered with acne so bad you could play Connect-The-Dots. He was as tough as a bull, and as dumb as one too.
Jared whimpered again, then his blue eyes fell on me, and I saw a surge of hope break into his sight, and he whimpered a plea to me.
That's when Derrell caught on and turned around, his ugly face full of surprise when he saw me, only to grin ear to ear when he recognized the oppertunity. He tossed Jared over and face me fully. "Hey, lookit here. O'Reilly. How's your Ma doin? We had so much fun." he taunted, and I felt blood push through my ears.
He was so dumb it pissed me off.
I faked a smile. "Well, well. What da ya know?" I started casually, stepping forward. I stuck my hands in my hoody's pockets and clenched them into fists discretely. "My old pal Derrell, chilling out with Jared. What's wrong Jones? He won't do your math homework again?" Jared was too frozen with fear to react with anythign I was saying, let alone join in. He was probably doing the smart thing anyway. Lie low and nothing bad will happen.
I glared at Derrell, "What's wrong, pal? Two plus two getting too hard for ya?" I asked, almost innocently.
I saw jaw clench and his dark, brown eyes narrowed. "You got a lotta nerve bein here, O'Reilly." he growled at me, his hands visibly turning into huge fists.
Jared saw what was about to happen and ran.
"Oh yeah, I'm shakin in my sneaks." I continued to push him, a grin on my face. I'd have him pull the first move. I found defense to be the easiest.
And man was it a swing.
He growled, pulled his massive arm back, and before I could register what was happening, a huge fist impacted my face and had my arse on the floor faster than you could say "Doctor." Which, of course, is exactly what one of us is gonna need in a few moments.
Nothing like a good old fashioned punch to get your adrenaline kicking.
Pain blurred my sight, for like three milliseconds. I was flat out on my back, starring dizzily up at the ceiling, recovering.
That's when I saw Derrell jumping in the air, about to elbow my skull in.
"Oh no you don't." I muttered, rolling over at the last second and hopping onto my feet.
His elbow made a nasty cracking sound as it hit the stone floor, and I guessed he at least fractured it. He cried out a roar of pain and fury and got up.
Derrell was one tough cookie. I will admit it.
Now, let's take a moment of pause here. First, I'd like to point out that when I read (Which is like, never), action parts always seem better with loud actiony-type songs to go along with it. It kinda gets me into the zone. So, one I suggest would be something like "All American Nightmare" by a band called Hinder. Now, I know its got nothing at all to do with my current situation, but the heavy guitar cords just make you want to get up and smash something, don't they?
I stood there, waiting for King Kong to get up so I could out a move to pull on him, to get him to fall again. But I couldn't think, my body was thinking for itself, on autopilot, ignoring my thinking part.
Derrell was getting off his stomach, staying off his right arm as he used his other to get on his feet. He was stumbling and looked unstable, and his face looked pained. I probably lost a good oppertunity, letting him up. And you know what? I actually almost said sorry.
But that's not how I do things.
My body lurched forward and I ducked easily under and through his legs as he tried to punch me out again, with his left fist this time. But it made him slower, less accurate, gave me a longer chance. Gave me the break I needed.
I got an extra surge of energy as I turned to face his back and jumped. I wrapped my arm left arm tight around his throat, pushing my elbow with my right arm to put a good choke on him. Planting my feet on his back, I got a good vantage point, and it wasn't that hard to stand on his back, with him being so massive and all.
Anyway, he wasn't happy about it. He roared and reached over his shoulder, only to cry out with pain as he used his injured arm. I tugged a little harder on his neck, looking for some way to beat him.
I could snap his neck, but I didn't exactly want prison to be an option at the moment. I wanted to beat the guy, not kill him.
He reached back again, using his other arm, and grabbed my throat, on a lucky grab. Immediately he started pulling.
Fresh pain erupted in my neck and I felt like my head was about to pop off. I had to do something. Now. Before I lost my head.
I pulled harder on his neck, and I coudl actually feel the airway tighten. He started spluttering, but wouldn't give in. I gave him a little motivation and starting kicking him hard with my right leg, aiming for the ribs. As I did, I kept my hold tight on his neck and tried to bend my head slightly and bite his hand.
I did it. I reached my jaws over his wrist and clamped down as hard as I could, ignoring the awful taste, hoping I'd break skin.
He cried out again, twice, simotaneously. Once in pain, more of a loud grunt as I found my foot jabbed against his leg. He gasped, and then when my incisors felt his flesh, he screamed. It sounded like pain, but now I could hear traces of fear too.
I guess he couldn't take much more because he let og of my neck and I let my teeth off him. The he let his legs go out and he was tumbling toward earth.
I leaped out from off of him, and almost cleared the giant's body, but my left foot got stuck under him. It hurt like hell and it was my time to cry out.
I sat down and kicked out with my right leg, desperate to get him off of him. Derrell must have stunned himself with the impact because he didn't respond immediately.
I yanked my foot out, sneaker and all, despite the furious pain, and straddled the great beast. I looked hard at Derrell, manning up, ready to give my opponnent his last attack.
Now for those reading this, let me just say something.
Don't do this at home, kids.
He was dazed, but as soon as I was sitting on him, his eyes jolted open and he gave a light, but drowzy growl, raising his arms up to try and clumsily grab me. His arms were way too slow and he was far too out of it.
Unfortunatley for him, I moved way too effin fast, with all the fury fueling me. I pulled my head back and grabbed the collar of his red flannel vest. Then I clenched my jaws togethe, no need to cut my own tongue off, and swung my head forward.
My head hit his fasce, right below his forehead. I heard a crunch as my head crushed his nose. Pain hit my head like a ton of bricks and made me woozy.
One more Word of Wisdome: No one wins with a headbutt.
But, I did. I looked down at him, to find blood gushing from his nose and he was passed out.
"Try fucking with me again." I growled at him, standing up.

Boy was I surprised.

It looked like the whole school was crowded around me, joy and fear, with surprised wrapped all around it, written on each and every face I saw. Even some teachers. Everyone cheered, except the adults.
I looked on, dumbstruck. When did they get here?
I smiled slightly. "Hi guys." I said casually, lamely.
They just kept yellin and cheering, thrilled with the show me and Derrell put on. If only he could see it.
"Did you see that kick?" one geek said to another.
"I didn't know you could stand on someone like that." some diva said to her boyfriend.
Tons of stuff like that was spoken in the few milliseconds I had to live in, feel my pride swell.
A hand grabbed my sweaty wrist and pulled me.
I was so close to defending myself when I met the emerald eyes glaring at me. I bet you can't guess who it was!
Yep, that's right folks. Colt, right on cue.
"What the hell are you thinking?" he hissed at me.
I wasn't suprised at his reaction, but it didn't mean I had to be nice, nor did I want to. "I was thinking of how dumb your brother looks in a busted up nose." I retorted sharply, venom practically dripping out of my mouth. If only.
He took one look at me and I thought he was going to burst. "Let's go. Now. Before some officiall shows up." Nothing like a friend to show up and suddenly be the world's biggest buzz-kill.
Colt tugged me forward, not loosening his iron grip on my wrist, as he pushed through the crowd.
I followed, grinning from ear to ear dumbly, as people patted me on the back, congratudlating me. Guess no one liked Derrell. I sure as hell didn't.
Out the back exit we went, into the freezing cold and icy snow. Spring was coming around, but it was still cold as hell outside.
He dragged me all the way to his Chevy and then stopped. He ignored me for the moment and dug in his truck.
After about three minutes, he pulled out a rag.
"Stay still." He muttered, coming next to me, too focussed on the job at hand to speak correctly.
He began dabbing the cloth all over my face, which I now realized was coated over and over again with my blood. Colt touched my nose with the bloody rag and I winced. "Ow." I tried to pull away, but he grabbed my wrist.
"Sorry. Stay still." Colt said, more gently. He wasn't as angry, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes as he stared at my nose.
I clenched my hand and let my hand tense as he wiped my nose, trying to clean it up. "Is it broken?" I asked. The guy was like a doctor, he would know.
Colt's eyes were serious and focussed, and he didn't meet my gaze. "Yeah, I think so. But the bleedings stopped. Here, bite down on this." he gave the small hand towel and I bit down on it, as hard as I could, knowing what was about to happen, and tasting the iron tang of my own blood. It tasted really wierd. It's funny, I've never tasted my own blood before.
He grabbed my nose and took a breath, as if he really didn't want to do it. But I did. "Do it." I mumbled through cotton.
Colt responded fast as lightning. He snapped the bone of my nose back in place and I sucked in air, fighting to keep tears out of my eyes.
And then, it was over. My nose still throbbed, but it would heal. He grabbed at the cloth in my mouth, and I pushed his hand away. Colt didn't argue and I took it out myself, just like a big girl should.
I grinned. "I betcha ten bucks you're gonna have to do that again with-" I was cut off, smothered as Colt hugged me.
I was frozen with confusion, my hands limp, but tensed as Colt talked. Well, more like whispered. "You have no clue how worried I was. Derrell's three times your size. Where were you thinking?" he murmured with all seriousness in my ear.
"Um Colt?" I started, still spluttering with confusion. It was like twenty below out here, but my face felt like it was in the Bahamas, on vacation. But then, I felt annoyed that he was actually worried about me, and kind of snapped. But I tried at least a little to be nice when I said, "Can you get off me?"
"Oh." he stopped, tensed, and let og. "Sorry." he muttered, his voice low and trembly, his face and neck turning a healthy shade of red. Healthy for tomatoes, that is.
I nodded, opening my door of the Blazer. "I gotta get home and explain this to her before the school does." I said, climbing in.
He must have known I was talking about my mom, since he responded immediately. "Right." Colt closed my door before I could and hopped in on his side. "Buckle up, you're in for one helluva ride."
"Awesome." Was all I had to say.

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PostSubject: Re: My Story Thingy    Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:51 am

Chapter 6:
Mr. Roy Gets Paged
You still here? You still hanging? Of course you are, you still have my back. Why wouldn't you? Well here's another question for you: What do you think of Colt and I so far? Hang on, let me make things clear with you, my silly little pet.
You're right if you guessed Colt loves me, but you're thinking of the wrong kind of love. You're way, way, way off. I've known the guy since I was around seven, we grew up together. Colt and I, we're like... tight. Really tight. He loves me like a little sister, and he's my big brother.
Which pretty much explains every single argument we've had. You know how siblings fight all the time right? Come on people, some of you guys have little sisters or brothers, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You can relate when I say its really effin' annoying.
Hang on, I'm getting reports we're experiencing one right now.

"He could've killed you!" Colt once again pointed out, as he veered his handy Chevy onto the exit. We're on my way home. To my place. Where I get the fun job of telling my dear mother what happened at school today. And unfortunately, it wasn't disecting frogs.
"And I could've killed him. But did I? Nope." I retorted sharply, glaring at him, but my voice still low enough to be called talking. "You saw me back there, I had absolutely everything under control. He had nothing on me." I growled at him, getting only somewhat ticked off.
Colt glared back at me, meeting me with the same steely gaze. "Wanna say that to your nose? Or how 'bout one more time, nice and loud to the neck that almost got torn into two?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "No thanks Dad, I'll pass."
He shut up then. He knew my old man, and he hated him every bit as much as I did. Thank God.
But, of course, it couldn't last. Silence never does. Colt doesn't believe in peace and quiet, remember?
"Why would you pick a fight with Derrell, of all people," he let go of the wheel for like, a millisecond. "anyway?" He was back to drive nice and steady, what a nice guy.
Now, even as I decide what to say, I had a little list building up in my head. And, me being me, I couldn't decide what to say, so I said them all. "Hmm.... Let's see. One, he's a complete jerk, two, he thinks he rules everyone, including you," I gave him a hard look, harder than my usual glare. I saw his pride falter, but I kept going. I was too stubborn to stop. "Three, he was picking on four," I stopped. I didn't want to tell him about my little welcoming note. It just seemed to embarrassing.
But Colt made it seem like he was cutting me off. Cool. "Alright, alright. But you didn't need to go all Battle Royale on him."
"What?" I turned him, my voice raising, my spirit flaring. "He started it! He punched me in the effin' face! Do you see my nose? And you think I was gonna just let him go? Scott free?" I could feel blood roaring in my ears, "Oh hell fucking no. Not me." I lowered my voice to a regular talking tone, but I was still really pissed. I think I was overdueing it, but I kept going. As I spoke, I looked out the windshield, pantomiming and raising up my tone to a squeaking little girl's. "Oh no, my mommy's Catholic. I can't stand up to you, its against my religon."
Colt let out a sigh and turned the wheel as we pulled into the drive way. I was home.
"There's a difference between standing up for yourself and fighting. You're just as bad as him. You-"
I was already reaching for the door when I heard the click of the auto-lock. I felt my blood boil as I stared out my window, his gaze burning into the me.
He coninued, "you jump to fighting and violence way too quick. Learning to control-"
I cut him off, yet again, and smiled inwardly. It was fun, the kind of fun that you knew was bad but you did it anyway. I recommend it. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever Sensei, open the door." I said, staring out to my ran-down shackle home. I heard him sigh, but he didn't move.
And then I felt somewhat guilty. I turned toward him, facing him so I could look straight into his emerald eyes. "Listen, I'm sorry. I know I'm too impulsive, and I know I've been kinda hard on you. But I've got alotta stuff pinnin' me down right now, and I just gotta deal with it. I just want you to know its got nothing to do with you. Your my best bud, and you know it." I smiled at him, guinely, and placed my hand over his, keeping his gaze. "But for now, just stay here." I ended my sappy moment and pulled my gaze and hand away from him, and he was smiling big at me. But not a big "Ha-I-Gotcha-To-Say-Sorry" grin, it was a "Thanks-Avira,-I-Really-Needed-That" smile.
I looked ahead at out through the windshield. The silver Prius shone in the sunlight as it remain parked in my driveway.
Mom didn't drive.
"Stay here. I got a good feeling things are going to get a bit ugly." I slipped out of the car before he could reply, though I could see his mouth moving as I left.
I kept all of my stealth with me. (*Note*When in doubt, creep around so no one can hear you coming.) Best way to size up your situation. That way, you don't end up staring into the eyes of a man-eating tiger. (Though that does sound like a fun match, don't it?)
Crouching, I reached silently up for my kitchen-slash-everything-else-room window, slowly prying it open with every muscle tensed. I propped my head up, feeling my pulse in my brain, seeing absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Everything was just as it should be, nice and neat. So what do I do? I slipped into the house, my feet barly making a tap on the linoleum floor as I touched it.
Pushing forward, I made like a ninja and laid up against a wall, peeping my head around the corner. I tensed to see someone, anyone, but I saw nothing.
Nothing. But my mom's door was slightly ajar.
So I kept going, a red flag signalling in my small brain as I targetted my mom's room as primary target.
Putting my feet softly on the floor, one at a time, I swear I was as quiet as Molly walking down that hall. I felt invincible, really CIA material. I laid my back up on the wall near my mom's door. And, trying so hard to be a hero(Or is it heroine? What's the difference? They're the same thing, why do people have to be so sexist?), I opened my ears and listened hard.
Puzzled and curious, but none the less tense, I stepped into the room.
There was Mr. Roy, big arms all wrapped around my mom as he nuzzled her neck and kissed her and whispering in her ear and making her blush as she giggled like a little four year old on her bed.
"Mom?" I was freaked out.
Two heads moved in unison, their eyes zoning in on the area they're ears had pointed out to them. Shock waves of surprise rippled through the faces, and if I wasn't on the verge of puking, I would have laughed at their reaction.
Mom spoke up first. No duh there, "Avira!" she reacted in surprise, and my face was wrinkling into disgust and anger. My principal? Really? "What are you doing here?" she asked.
I glared at her, "I could ask him the same." I said icily, nodding toward the fat man.
She looked nervous and jumpy, like the Boogy Man was about to get up and get her. If only, right?
"You should be in school." she said, her voice strengthening. Trying to be Alpha, again.
"Kinda hard to when you're expelled." I snapped at her. I had a big mouth, incase you hadn't noticed.
She looked up at me, jaw dropped, eyes wide open.
"Impossible." Mr. Roy spoke up, I guess he had a right to. Not.
I sneered at him, my hate raging, the perv. That was my mom.
"They would've paged me long be-" he continued, only to be cut off.
Guess what went off? You go it, his god-damn-executive pager. It was on my Mom's night stand. What a great spot for it, I mean it was right in his grubby fricken' reach. He picked it up and read it silently to himself.
"I can't believe you. You're disgusting, you tramp." I spat at my mother, switching my target to her, my anger unfurling.
"Avira, wait a second, I can explain." her face softened and pain spread in her turquoise eyes. She started to get up, but I was already beginning to leave.
"No. You can't." I turned and left the room, stalking through the hallway with anger, disgust, and horror. What the hell was my mom thinking?
Soft patches of skin hitting the floor told me mom was racing behind me. "Avira, you can't do this. I'm youmother." she said, motherly and strong.
Oh yeah, that was the last straw for Avira O'Reily. She was gone. My fists cleched instinctively and I whipped around, my jaws slammed together so hard my teeth felt like they were about to shatter. "No." I said quietly, raging. I let my voice gather all the self-control it could, so I wouldn't end up screaming at her, though I wanted to. "No, Barba O'Reily. You're not my mther."
I left her with such shock it was easy to walk out the door.
Colt was outside, waiting with a baseball bat in his grasp, his head titled forward slightly so I could see the top of his head looked like sandy colored porcupine quils. Of course, his hair always looked like that. And why am I making note of that now?
He looked up at me when he heard the door slam and heard me stomping through the crunching snow. "What happened?" he asked.
"Get in the truck." I said sharply, my whole body urging me to fight something I couldn't.
He wasn't getting it. "But what happened?" he asked, more urgent, more curious.
"Get your ass in the God damn truck!" I shouted at him, barely an inch away from him.
He didn't question me then and turned and walked around to his side. He knew my temper by now.
I hopped into the truck slamming the door beside me as I sat next to my curious friend. My only friend.
He looked at me, careful not to get me going again. Smart move. The last thing I needed now was something else to trigger my already pending anger. I had my head in my sweaty hands, trembling softly, trying to ease my painful headache.
"Where to?" Colt asked softly.
"Anywhere." I started, my voice strong and violent. But when I spoke again, it sounded weak and pathetic. "Anywhere away from here." I croaked.
He didn't need anymore info, he backed out of the driveway, leaving the silver Prius and Barbara O'Reily long behind.
All of that, along with Avira O'Reily.

Chapter 7:
Fawn Gets Some PB&J
So it wasn't just all anger directed at my mom. I wasn't just grossed out. I was hurt.
Mom had taken this silent vow to never go out with anyone ever again, to not even think about it. And me, without even saying anything, without really even consciously noting, I'd taken the same vow. I didn't want to be like mom. I didn't think I could stand having my heart broken. I never thought my mom would be the one to break it for me.
And to make matters worse, she chose my arch nemesis (besides Derrell) as her teddy-bear. I've never felt more betrayed before, my heart had been ripped out of my chest, ripped into two and stomped all over. Then she swept up the remains and Roy emptied it into the garbage dispossle, flicking the switch on.
She looked so happy doing it. I was struggling to keep the salty sting of tears out of my face. I didn't cry. That was my one strength. I never, ever cried. Avira had forgotten to, it wasn't in her vocabulary. She could go through anything and not shed a single tear. And now I was actually gonna.
"Can I ask what happened back there?" Colt broke through my through about ten mintues after driving. He was calm and his voice was gentle, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that it felt like nails on a chalkboard to hear him ask that.
I guess I had to tell him. He was my brother. Adopted brother, anyway. He had a right to know. I spoke up, my voice sounding broken and weak. "Mother was going out with Mr. Roy. I'm guessing seducing him to keep me in school." Yeah, that was probably it. I felt a tear roll down my cheek. Damn It!
In the corner of my eye, I coudl see Colt glance at me, not exactly heartbroken about the news. He didn't know about our covenant. But he saw that big wet tear, and his hand was on my shoulder, rubbing my back gently. Just like a big brother would do to comfort his little sister. I felt so loved in that brief moment.
"I'm sorry Vixen." he said softly, calling me that little nickname he'd given me when I was twelve, though I never quite got it.
"Yeah," I wiped my eye. I wouldn't start crying. No effin' way. "So am I." I said, changing my tone. "But whatever, I don't care." I shrugged, shoving my sorrow-filled feelings into the little closet in my head. I'll pull 'em out on a rainy day. Not.
He smiled, his eyes on the road, though he was glancing back and forth. "At a girl." he praised me, soundling yet again like my big brother. Now more than ever. It was slightly comforting. "Nothing's gonna get to you."
Good moment lost. "Whatever you say, Constantine." I whispered under my breath. Sometimes Colt had no idea how annoying he sounded.
We stayed local, driving through our small town. Once we passed that, it was all rolling hills and farmland. Colt took a right about a mile after town, up through this gravel-covered road.
I didn't turn to him, but kept my eyes on the road. "You ever see that movie The Deliverance?" I asked, a grin begging to be let loose and wreak havoc. He laughed and I smiled. I was fine, nothing was gonna keep me down. Nothing.
Colt continued to drive up the lovely little lane, meadows on either side of us.
After about three mintues, a secondary road appeared and we turned on it, taking a right.
Now I knew where we were going, Colt's house.
When I was little, I would come over here and play with buddy boy all the time, and his parents loved me. They had horses and little foals in the spring that I ran around with, mimicking their every movement. I swear I could keep up with them, and so could Colt. We'd race from sunrise to sunset, glee written on both of our faces as we wrestled and play. Every little argument we had ended up being a little wrestling match that either of us won. We kept no tally, and I couldn't tell who was the better fighter.
I remember one day a young colt was thrashing about, a foot away from smashing his hooves on my head, and mini-Constantine had tackled the little horse, pinning it down to the grass. His parents had come out of the house to see what had happened, and found me. They said I'd spooked it and exhiled me from their farm, reguardess of all our protest. I'd call him Colt from that day on, and never be invited to his place every again. And when I fell victim to all the violence I'd committed, their hate and stubborness had risen even more, and they'd ordered him to never even speak to me. But he didn't care, we were still best friends. Yet again, we grew up together.
Three barns, two with just horses, and asmall one to keep the family stock. The Jone's had two cows, one bull, and a sheep they named meadow, and one small crowd of chickens.
Then there was a small, quaint house that the Jone's family stayed in. A basement, attic, four bathrooms, three bedrooms, a guest room, livingrooom, dining room, and a pretty spacious kitchen that I could kill for. A sunroom made a room for the two sheep dogs they had as well. Marty and Macy, the two pups were probably full-grown by now though.
All in all, it was a really big farm.
I cringed a little. This place was really confusing. Home of my greatest ally, and shelter for my biggest foe. Why did Colt have to get stuck with Derrell as a brother? Why not some wacky cousin or something?
Colt parked the Blazer, putting the emergency brake on and took the key with him. He didn't look too relaxed. He was jumpy, on edge.
"Hurry up, follow me." he said, his voice hushed.
I simply nodded and followed, as he led me to the smallest of the barns. He opened the door and rushed in, I was right behind him.
"Hide in here, I'll be back later." He pointed to a stall and I climbed over the wall. I looked up to see Fawn's beautiful muzzle sniff at me as I felt my heart bloom. "Hey girl." I murmured, smiling and patting her cheek fur.
Colt was grinning. "I though you'd be happy here. Now remember, stay-"
The door swung open on squeaky hinges and I ducked out of sight.
"Constantine?" came a shrill, female voice.
"Hi Mom." he said in reply.
I heard silence as tension built up. "What are you doing home so early?"
Colt cleared his throat so quietly even I struggled to hear it. "I was worried about Lilly. You know how close she is to foaling. Buster's foals always turns out big and Lilly isn't the tallest mare we've ever had." Good excuse.
More silence followed. I stared at the stall's wall, estimating how long it would take me to jump over and out. I'd have to make a run for it, and it'd be close since Colt's mom was quick. He told me once she used to be on some Olympic track team or something.
"Yes, but Lill's in the mare barn, not in here." she replied.
"I know." Colt said. "I just wanted to check on Fawn first." Someone give this guy a prize. Where'd he learn to lie like that? Me?
"Well, anyway," Colt's mom continued. "The school called." I felt myself tense. "Apparently your brothers gotten into some sort of mishap with that Avira girl. She broke your poor brother's nose, the little brat."
I felt myself tense. I was a brat? Take a look at Derrell!
Colt whistled, "Wow, I'm so sorry. I hope he's okay." he said sincerely.
"He'll be fine. They brought him over to the hospital. Your father and I are heading over there now to pick him up. Would you like to come?" she asked him, her voice getting me more and mre angry with each passing moment.
"No thanks. I'll stay here and hold down the fort, in case something does happen." he replied, sounding pretty calm.
"Good. I'm so proud of how responsible you are." she crooned her son. "See? It's good you aren't friends with that O'Reily child. She's nothing but a bad influence." the old hag said, sounding quite sensible. I wondered if my hands could fit around her neck. . .
"Yes mother." Colt simply replied and she left, the door's closing sounding her departure. Of course, I saw nothing but wood. Instead, my ears told me the story quite obediently.
Colt leaned over the stall. "Stay here, I'll go get some chow and a blanket."
I decided to lighten the mood and stood up, pinching his cheek. "Oh you're such a sweet young man, Constantine. I'm so very proud of you." I grinned and he pushed away from me.
"Oh shut up." he said, his face flushed.
I giggled and sat down, getting comfortable on fresh hay. Fawn laid down, her legs folded underneath her and nickered softly. "Good girl." I praised her, whispering, running my fingers through her soft, silky, silver mane. Her soft pelt felt like plush, and the silver spots were like stars against her jet-black back, the deep night encasing every silent star, trapped in its own place, its own little nightmare. But it wasn't frightening or depressing to look at the beautiful mare that lay beside me, she was perfect bliss. She was my happy place. She was perfect.
Her body was tight and whipcord with muscle, and I remembered just how fast she could go. She could make an Amtrak train seem like a snail. She really was just like a deer, gentle and timid, but quick and agile, and I loved her for it.
The door opened again and I ducked lower, scrunching up against the dark wooded stall, my back aching. I leaned heavily against Fawn, her chest moved rythmically with her gentle breathing, and it eased me a little.
Heavy heels, yet soft footsteps hurried toward my stall and I clamped my fists together. Crossing my fingers I found my eyes already shutting themselves. So much for self-control. It was Clt's father. I'd never met him sober, but I knew he wasn't a nice guy reguardless.
The steps kept coming, closer and closer. They seemed to echo in the bar, though I knew that was thoroughly impossible. And then, they stopped.
Right in front of me.
A giant bundle of what felt like marshmellows hit my face, making me gasp and my eyes fluttered open. A soft, white, hand-made quilt covered my face and I pulled it off, making my hair haywire. But it was messy anyway, so I didn't care.
Colt laughed at me, and I glared in return. "That was not funny." I said sourly.
"What? You can do whatever you want and I can't do jack?" Colt grinned at me, holding out a plate of neatly made PB&J, no crust. Just the way I like 'em.
I softened a bit and smiled. "What, no milk?"
He shrugged, still good-humored. "We ran out of cows."
I took the plate, "I would like to speak your manager, young man."
Both of us laughing, I picked up a sandwich and bit into it. "Yum...." my voice trailed off into the fluffy goodness. Crunchy peanutbutter and sweet grape jam made a party on my tastebuds.
"Eat up, it might be the only thing you're having for a while." Colt told me, sounding like a dad I never had.
Saluting him, I replied. "Yesh sir, right away, sir."
He half grinned and I leaned against the stall for comfort, petting Fawn. She'd heard me munching and craned her neck around to see. She nickered softly and sniffed at my sandwhich.
Me, being the big softie I am, took a piece and gave it to her. She licked it up hungrilly.
"Don't do that, its not good for her." my pal chided me.
I looked up at him, my eyebrows raised. "And those supersized frech fries from Micky D's are just dandy for you?" I asked him.
He rolled his eyes in obvious irritation, "She's a horse, Vixen."
I put my plate on my lap, my eyes growing serious. I see his gaze was drawn in to mine... somewhat wierd, but at least I knew I had his attention. "And you're a human. What's the diff?"
He gave up, stifling a sigh, I noticed. I gave Fawn another piece. Peanutbutter couldn't kill a horse.
We stayed there for a little while, him staring at Fawn, Fawn laying her head on my lap, comfortabley dozing while I stroked her silky smooth mane in sheer bliss. The serene silence was calming. It wasn't uncomfortable, it felt like it belonged there, and I relished its effects. It muffled all stress and soothed everyone, especially me. I loved it, because the past few months had been nothing but stress.
Unfortunately, it took out my adrenaline kick and my muscles started aching. My head was throbbing, my ankle severely painful to the slightest of touches, my nose was on fire, and my throat felt as if it had been tried to be streched out.
Boy, I wonder why.
I tried my best to hide my discontent, acting as if nothing was wrong. I'd lived with pain before. And this, on a scale from one-to-ten, was only about a seven. But, moi being moi, I stupidly touched my neck with the softest of fingers, and winced harshly immediately. A raw pain blossomed with such ferocity, I had to fight a choking gasp down.
"Hurts?" Colt asked.
I smiled sheepishly. I didn't really want him seeing my weakness, it was an inner concious thing that told me only I should know those few things. "Not really." I muttered, putting my pain and left over plate asside. (My plate went on some hay next to me) I kicked off my shoes, some black soft socks resting under the warm quilt. My ankle was in flames of pain, but I hoped with some rest, it would calm down.
I layed my head down on Fawn's soft chest, wide and gentle. It caressed my head and I stroked her mane, sometimes her muzzle. She nickered once, in content I guess, and quieted down. I felt so girly and weak, but I didn't care. It was appropriate with Fawn. And besides, I felt like crap.
"Shouldn't be surprised, you're all black and blue and bruised on your neck." he replied with some emotion, glancing briefly at my neck.
I felt my face burn and instinctively reached for my neck, gingerly grasping it in a gentle hold. I didn't look up, and I didn't panick. "It'll heal."
A few more mintures passed, me in intense pain, but practically falling asleep. I was really, really fricken' tired now.
But I never got an oppertunity to snooze, because things just never go my way. Gravel started popping and you tell a car was coming. I looked up at Colt, waiting for some words or wisdom, or at least some assurance. I couldn't get caught here, I'd be killed. Or worse, be sent home.
He just stared at the door, as if he were a deer mesmerized by car headlights, as if his eyes could shoot out lasers at the first person that entered the small barn we were in. He grasped his yellow birthstone pendant, looking for comfort, and I found myself doing the same. Only I had a locket, not a pendant on the end of string tied around my neck.
After about three minutes or ten hours, I couldn't tell, Colt's watch went off and he woke up from his trance and looked over at me, his eyes looking glazed over, but sharp at the same time. "Stay here." he whispered. His voice was glazed over and over and over with honey that I couldn't manage a witty comeback.
And what would I say to that anyway? "Oh no you don't I'm coming with you"? I was dumb, but not that dumb. He was making a good call, I nodded solemnly and he walked silently away.
I watched him go, my heart moving a little faster as my hands brushed over Fawn's shoulder fur, my head resting against her warm belly.

Words of Advice: Don't ever give me sentry duty.

Chapter 7:
Gravity Sucks
A hard nudge on my shoulder and I wake up with a hand over my mouth. I gasped and jumped, my hands reaching up for my captor to release me, my heart racing. My mind was reeling and I could feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins, pumping intensely fast out of their glands. I pulled my fist back, ready for action.
"Shut up, you'll start the stock." Colt whispered harshly at me.
I stopped moving, holding in a sigh. His heavy hand dropped, and the warmth over my mouth vanished. I suddenly felt cold, even with my blanket. He took me by my wrist.
"Let's go, before someone notices."
I struggled to my feet, sucking in air as I put weight on my bad ankle. The adrenaline lessed the pain, but it was still pretty intense. I swore under my breath and grabbed the stall's wall.
"You hurt?" my buddy asked, whispering, sounding urgent and frantic. Great.
I held my breath and stepped forward, silencing a really loud gasp and cry of pain. "Nope."
First step I took I fell. Thank God all the hay muffled my fall and I was absolutely silent. I felt an invisible cinder block crush my ankle and it hurt with a fiery passion.
Colt decided not to waste any time and helped me up. He hooked an arm around my waist, my own arm wrung over his shoulder. Thanks a lot, Derrell.
I hobbled out of the barn, with Colt, as fast as I could. But, I had to admit, it was really nice to be enveloped in the warm of Colt. He was strong and his stamina was unbelievable. He held me up with that strength, but with a gentle air about it. It comforted me and gave me the strength to carry on, the determination to keep going with him. (I swear to God if you tell anyone, I will hunt you down.) It felt really good to feel the night air at my face, until it nipped hard at my sore nose.
We kept moving, all the while dawn moving faster and faster toward us. It took us about five minutes to get just past the house, in front of the front door, (Which was good time, considering my ankle) but the sun had fully risen and shone down on us without mercy. The both of us gave it are all, and I tried not to cry like a little baby as I stepped with my bad foot.
Then the worst possible thing happened. The door opened. I figured this was just about the time everyone would be getting up, but I really hoped they'd sleep in a little.
We shrank back against the house wall, hoping to blend in with the white-painted wood, hearing clumsy feet fall onto the steps. One, two, three, dirt. Each one seemed to echo in my mind, blowing my eardrums away. He or she was walking toward us, about to turn around the corner the house. We'd have a nice little face off.
Derrell was glaring at the snow when he found two pairs of feet in his view. He looked up dumbly, in a shock of state of some sort. As soon as he met my gaze, probably as wide as his, if not wider, he found anger and glared at me. "O'Reilly." he growled with vengeance on his very breath. I tensed immediately, but he didn't look so threatening anymore.
He had a sling on one arm, all plasted up and orange, and his hand was stiched up in the other, also covered in a fabric of some sort, to protect it. A little white nose band was on his huge nose, pinching it so his voice went from dangerous and grave to high and nassally. I noticed before when he looked down, a glint of light was on his head, hidden in his hair. A staple?
And to myself, I'm thinking: I did all that to him? But I hardly did a damn thing!
I panicked, I really, really didn't want to be caught, and Derrell would have loved to hand me in. I could imagine his stupid grin, all caught up in his one good achievement, the praise he would recieve from his goody-two shoes parents, and acid churned in my stomach.
So, siezing my rage, I stepped forward and ignored the pain in my ankle. My fist went flying into his nose, and it crumpled jsut as he did, fainting as soon as he made contact with the ground. I practically fell, but caught myself weakly on the house, panting hard, trying to fill my lung as fiery pain seemed to stem into them.
"Time to go." Colt said, sounding rushed. He grabbed me so I could lean against him and we half sprinted, half hobbled out of there. In other words, we hauled ass.
We got to his trusty Chevy, at the parking lot of flattened grass a few hundred yards out in front of his quiant little home.
He directed me to the front of the seat and said something about "Nuetral", and figured he wanted it in neutral gear, so I put it in it. I heard a loud grunt and looked in the rear view mirror to see Colt straining to make his possibly-half-a-ton truck go forward, and I had time to admire how strong my pal was. The red steed did as it was urged to do, and started to wobble unsteadily down the gravel road, each pop making me cringe, my nerves shot.
I head him groan and pant with effort again, and I felt kind of guilty. I should be helping him. He was risking so much to help me, the least I could do is give him a hand.
But I figured I'd be of better use up here, steering the wide vehicle. My leg would only get in the way, and I would lag behind, and probably get myself left behind. He was stronger than me anyway.
Even though I've never driven before, I manuevered it out of the drive way pretty well, and turned ontot he road. It was pretty much like riding a horse, but instead reins you got a big wheel.
The ground was tilting downward just a bit, and gravity was greedy, and took Colt's job. He sprinted forward as fast as he could as the Chevy picked up speed rapidly. He opened the driver's side door and grunted, nodding his head to the passenger's seat. I was smart enough to move out of his way. He was sweating hard, a pool of liquid upon his brow, and I wanted to give him some water or something, but there was nothing of the sort.
I looked around, just in case, and found a rag. The same he'd used on me, blood splattered on it, but it was better than nothing at all. I took it and used it to wipe gingerly on his forehead, to take up the moisture on his face. After a second, Colt looked at me, his gaze strong and mesmerizing. We stayed like that for what seemed like five hours but was probably only three seconds. When a bump shook the car and nudged us out of our wierd moment, Colt pulled us back onto the road, and I put the rag away.
Once we rolled onto the main road, and we were both comfortable in our seats, he pulled out a key out from his visor, grinning. He seemed to forget that akward moment, but it rang on through my head vividly. I felt kind of tingly, and close to throwing up. But at the same time, I was completely numb. I looked back at him, but didn't meet his eyes.
"Always keep a spare." he said.
He started the truck up and the engine roared like an animal into life, momentarily going down to a purr, reminding me of my little Molly.
I got over myself and smiled at him, "Where we headed chief?" My curiousity yet again spoke for me.
He smiled again, "Camping."
Chapter 8:
Swimming. Is. Awesome.
The both of us drove through the town, my eyes hungry, desperate even, to see every sight, though I knew exactly where each and every building and car would be.
I leaned back in my seat, slouching comfortably. The pain in my whole body seeped in, just as I seeped into the chair. I felt slightly sleepy, my energy drained from me. I kept blinking rapidly, holding my eyes shut for minutes at a time to open them up later. I forced myself to ignored the bright-colored sparks going off in the darkness of my eyelids when I shut them.
Because of the lack of sleep and short-lived trauma I had shortly experienced, my ankle felt like it was under radiation exposure. Every slightly pound of blood cirulating kept me wincing, only muffled by my stubborness. It felt like I had a cinderblock tied around in, only a glance at it beneath the safety of my black pantleg told me it was swollen up bigger than a balloon birthday party.
And of course, me being me, I ignored it, refusing to look at the thing again.
Before I knew it, we were out in the old parking lot behind the abandoned bakery. The secret entrance to my beloved Cat's Den.
"You head in, I'll get the stuff." my best friend said, and I nodded without hesitation. Let him do the hard work, I need to go lie down somewhere. I was exhausted. He left before I could reply. "Sure, I'll give it a shot." I mumbled, following suit. I hopped out the car, instantly grabbing my ankle as soon as it made contact with the crude concrete, thankfully Colt didn't see it. Sucking in a silent breath of air, I tried to walk. But, of course, I hobbled instead, over to the door. It just seemed like the more attractive option, you know?
I stumbled over to the wall and felt for the door, easily pushing it over, experience guiding my fingertips. The place was still the same, still an old, dusty, mold-infested mess. An allergic neat freak's nightmare.
At this point, I was just about up for crawling over to the counter, but I forced myself to stay up by pride and willpower. My ankle was killing me, and I was beginning to think literally. Why?
Clueless, I still went over to the counter, just as Colt did, his arms stuffed full with sleeping bags and pillows, and one big backpack on his broad shoulders. He leaned hard against the counter and it moved, leaving the dust tracks in its wake.
He motion with a slight flick of four fingers to go, before practically dropping a snow white pillow. "Ladies first."
I faked a gracious smile and a lazy courtsy before limping to the entrance, getting down on my knees, and my hands. I gripped the rope strongly with my legs, even if it hurt like hell, and let myself slip down a little before wrapping my sweaty hands onto the thick coil. I climbed down, my hands instinctively tensing and and easing continously. The palm of my hand burned, but it was normal. Besides, it wasn't half as bad as the agonizing pain searing in my ankle.
I touched down with my right foot, my good leg, and let go. Almost falling right then and there, gravity taking hold violently, I struggled to limp over to a tree stump, taking a seat and reaching down to my ankle, for one quick second while Colt was busy, not paying attention. My ginger touch only sent more pain and I recoiled, squealing under my breath, stifling an pain-torchured moan. Man, it hurt.
I heard muffled thuds and instantly knew without looking that the equipment, minus the backpack, had touched down on the dark blue, almost purple, grass, lush with moisture.
Colt was unusually happy, humming all the way down the rope, looking up at the entrance, not a care in the world. Then I knew he had about a bigillion things zooming in his head. He just didn't to sit down and face it right now.
I kept looking down at my ankle, then at the pond, and finally back at my ankle, all in that order over and over. It hurt so bad, it hurt like hell. But I didn't want to bring it up, I kept hoping that if I slept it would go away. But the little voice in my head told me it wasn't going to be that simple, not this time. And, unforutunately, I knew for a fact my instincts were right. Again.
"Forty-eight feet." an awe-strucken whistle, and then, "Boy, I'd hate to fall down that." Colt said, and I turned to see him. Hands on hips, looking directly up to the surface.
I nodded, knowing he could hear it, but not bothering to say anything. I was afraid my voice would come out like a squeal. Or I might simotaneously burst into tears like a sixteen-year-old baby.
Buddy-boy turned to me, picking up a blue bundle, rolled upneatly, and tossed it at me. "Heads up." he warned, friendly-like.
I caught it easily, since his aim was accurate and precise, and it would've hit me in the face if I didn't catch it. So my reflexes reacted, never allowing me to be hit by something I could see. Even if I close my eyes, I can somewhat sense something coming at me. I kick ass in dodgeball.
I looked over to see a yellow version of my plush, soft sleeping bag, warmth already spreading up in my hand, a relief from the forbiding winter chill. Colt was on his way to pick his yellow sleeping bag off the ground. Yellow was his favorite color, blue was mine. I guess I must have told him once, otherwise tiwas just pure luck that the spare was blue.
Either way, I untied the string around it and rolled it out, the fabric making a soft whoosh sound, ending with a snap as the wind stopped flowing through it. It softly went down, laying on the grass nex to the stump, beside the pond, and I sat somewhat clumsilly on it. It had to be my favorite spot. Had to be.
Colt waked near and spread his bag out not more than three feet away, sitting down on it. He looked up at me, and I could feel his gaze on me, even when I was still glancing at my ankle. As as I did, I moved my eyes up to the pond, watching the still waters softly sway.
"Does it still hurt."
I wanted to say, "Only like hell." but of course, my gut feeling told me to lie my ass off.
I swivled my head, "What? No, it's fine." I forced the pain down with a swallow to get my voice working again and smiled.
He wasn't convinced. Did he ever believe me? That's what best friends do, right? Trust each other? Where was his trust in me? He glared at me, his eyes green steel. It was the scariest pair of eyes I'd ever met, and it made me wince openly. "Walk over here." he was testing me. The last thing I needed right now was a pop quiz.
"Why?" I retorted, not about to jump at his will.
"Just do it." he snarled back, his voice stern.
I gulped again and forced myself up, desperate not to show my weakness. I didn't want to the hospital, I didn't want to get sent back home.
The first two steps went pretty well, my teeth gritted together as hard as possible as I moved, and then an unleveled part of grass me me trip on my right foot and I had to slam down on my bad leg, (the left) to keep me on my feet. Pain jolted up my left leg, searing my flesh and jarring my bones. I let out a yell and Colt pushed me, making me fall on my ass. The pain was still there, and I had to wrap my hands around my leg, desperate to get it to stop. I thought I felt a hot tear roll down my cold cheek, but I couldn't be sure.
Colt was right beside my legs, on his knees. He started feeling my leg tenderly, padding and squeezing from my knee and working his way down. I didn't know then what was going on, but later I figured out he was trying to find where the pain was coming from.
Meanwhile, I'm breathing in hard, my fingernails digging into my calves, and my eyes clamped as I tried to steady myself. But, of course, it wasn't working too well. I wasn't going to give up, I really wanted it to work.
Colt was down to my lower calf, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes so focused I swear I saw sweat coming down his head, even though I knew there were gallons of sweat pouring down mine. He touched my ankle, just a little, and I screamed, trying to pull away.
My pal latched onto me just above my ankle, forcing me to stay put or inflict more pain on myself. I chose to stay where I was. He pulled up my pant leg gently, and I knew I was crying silently, tears slipping down my face freely. There was my ankle, black and blue, swollen up to the size of a soft ball. Some of it was pink, but I could care less, I just wanted the pain gone.
The Colt did something I didn't expect, but it made sense. He pulled off my sneaker and sock, picked me up, carefully so my ankel didn't brush the ground or anything, and brought me over to the pond. I had just enough control over myself to pull my pantleg up so it didn't get wet while he getnly placed my leg into the water.
He picked me up slightly and set me on his lap, carressing me as I stifled screams and moans of pain and frantic agony.
The water was cool, and swirled around my leg, bring the ferocious heat in my ankle down. Colt was warm and soft, his heat keeping me from chilling into an icecicle, and I had time to relish the fact that he was an amazing caretaker, and hugger.
Not more than mere seconds passed when I realized the impossible was happening: The pain was easing. Slowly, my breathing steadied and found my lungs following Colt's rythm, being a good guide. My ear to his chest found that my heartbeat was gradually slowing to follow his. He had his arms around me, holding me until I could gain control over myself.
I blinked hard a few times, still inhaling a few deep gasps for only a couple of times. "Ow."
Colt took the cue and got himself out from under me, ot sit next to me at the sound of my croak.
"How did you hurt your ankle?" he asked, his eyes on the water.
I answered with slight hesitation, trying to get my voice to work properly again. I sounded like an epic fail every time I tried to open my mouth. "Your bro fell on it. It didn't hurt then, not nearly as much." I kept my eyes on the soft ripples of the pond, just like he did. My good leg bend so I could wrap my arms around my knee, to keep it against my chest. I warmed me up a little, and slight comfort came from it.
Colt nodded. "Adrenaline does that. Do you know what part of him pinned your ankle?"
I looked at him, curious. "His shoulder. I thought you were there?"
Once again, he nodded. "Yeah, but some kid was in front of me when I heard you cry out."
I opened my mouth to talk, but he wasn't done talking. "He's at least two-hundred and fifty pounds. And that was his bone that fell on you. He broke your ankle, or a least fractured it. You're lukcy the bone didn't break skin or something."
I didn't question his diagnosis. Colt worked with a lot of horses, some of whom had unfortunately broken their legs. He knew what a broken bone looked like.
I brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes, sweeping it behind my ear. Of course it didn't work because of my short hair. It simply slid right back into place, in front of my eyes. "Thanks." I whsipered, swaying my leg thoruhg the water. It felt so good, I felt practically no pain.
Colt shrugged. I guess I wasn't going to get much more of an answer, but I didn't really want one. Of course, I was grateful Colt, my big brother, helped me out, helped me heal. In my worst situations, he was always there. It was convienent, and I wished there was something I can do to somehow repay him, but there wasn't anything I could think of.
I laid back on the grass, arms behind my head, looking up at the stone ceiling. All I remember was blinking. But I must have fallen asleep, 'cause the scenery changed fast.

I was flying. Through the air, smiling and feeling pretty damn happy even though I had no clue why. The wind soared over my skin, feeling almost as good as water, but not quite. The fresh, clean air filled my lungs and my energy levels were overflowing. It was night time and the full white, glowing moon seemed to call me toward it.
I had no reason to ignore it, so I aimed my direction straight at it, following gut instinct.
I remember this was awesome, amazing. Because, really, how many times do you really get out and fly, without a moment's hesitation and actually survive it?
Then a searing pain erupted in my arm, and I looked to see blood pouring out, the scarlet liquid bubbling over my arm and dripping freely into the sky. My beatiful scenery was painted over with my blood, a fiery landscape with each star looking as if it were tips of a blowtorch. I looked out at the moon as saw it become one boiling pile of flames and ash, burning away before me, as my heart broke over and over and over again. Each time more and more pain sliced through me. I looked to see my hand on fire, ablaze, and my bloodstream turned to flames, cooking me from the inside out. I screamed.

I screamed loud, bolting upright, my hand whipping up to cover my mouth, due to reflexes. I felt sweat over my whole body, causing my clothes to cling to my body. The sleeping bag that had been unzipped fully and spread over me by, I'm assuming, Colt, was damp and sticky.
Darkness flooded my vision and I thought I might have woken up to another dream, but the water around my leg told me otherwise.
I gasped and clutched at my arm, feeling for either or flames, I felt niether. No burns, no fire, not even a bruise, just slight pain and sweat beaded upon my pore-drowned skin.
I could barely smell smoke, but I could tell it was from the fire Colt had set up, most likely. By the weak scent I knew the fire was long dead.
I have to get up.
Struggling to my feet, I wiped my forehead a couple of times, failing each attempt and only smearing it on my face. After blinking furiously, the air turned a dark gray and I could tell shapes. Colt was still lying in a heap, sleeping. He was breathing calmly, only recieving a twitch or two as he dreamt. He probably didn't even hear my scream, I muffled it too soon.
My breath back, I decided to swim my dark dream away. It would clear my head up. Doing a one-foot dive wasn't exactly easy, and far less graceful then a two-footed dive I loved to do, but I got in the water. I made quite a splash.
The water woke me up fully, and my body was cleansed. I absolutely loved the clean liquid flowing over my body, cooling me down. The water seemed to seep into my head and washed it out, almost as if I'd put my brain in the washer machine and put it on "soak", then let it go to the rinse cycle. I could think again, without that haunting fog in it. It felt amazing.
The light had gone from complete darkness into a blue-lit waters, I could see clearly. I swirled around a little, staying underwater with my eyes closed, living in the feeling as I let myself spin, flip, even do some barrel rolls in the water. Water was the one place I felt safe, like I was in complete control with it, and lost without it. And I was in no hurry to surface.
Eventually, I got kinda cold and decided to get out and bundle up in something, possibly grab something to snack on, answer my rumbling belly. Hopefully.
When my head broke the surface, I found Colt staring directly at me, shirtless.
"Goin' for a swim?" I asked, floating leisurely on my back, smiling at him. Despite my horrible nightmare, I felt good. Better than I had in a really, really long while. I finally felt better, after months and months of bottled anger and fury, pain and distress wreeking havoc within my own mind. But it was gone, for now anyway. Eventually, I'd have to figure out what my next step was. I couldn't live in Cat's Den forever.
"I was just about to ask you. I thought you were drowning or something in there, you were down for at least ten minutes." he replied, an irradical tone coming from his voice. It made me grin, and I blinked at him, about to laugh at him.
"Really? That's beats my record by two whole minutes. Awesome." I clambered out of the water, ignoring the hand Colt had offered. The pain in my ankle had suprisingly evaporated into a slight wave, making me limp a little, but not noticeably. I walked over to the fire that Colt himself had made and sat down on my very own stump, warming myself up. That water was fricken' freezing if you stayed in there for too long.
"You feelin alright?"
I nodded, quite honestly. "Feelin' great. Tonight's a good night, I know it." I grinned at him, ignoring the feeling of my short hair plastered against my neck by water.
He seemed puzzled, and only a bit freaked out, but sat on his own seat reguardless. "Right." he started slowly, and my annoyed meter went up about one and a half degrees. "Can you tell me your name, and mine?" he pointed to each of us in turn, treating me like a four year old trying to spell Hippopotomus.
I only laughed, rolling my eyes at him. "I'm Donald Duck, and you're my faithful companion, Goofy. Duh."
He froze, his jaw dropped. He'd actually thought I'd gone bonkers, belonged in a funny farm. "Um..."
Winking at him, I replied, to reassure him. "Chill out, just kiddin'. I believe I am Avira Jerimiah O'Reilly, and you're Constantine Michael Jones. Ain't that right Colt?"
He loosened up a bit, and allowed himself a half-smile, wicked, but nervous. "Very funny."
A few minutes passed and my arms smiled as my grin was ear-to-ear. It was like my cheeks were frozen by overdose of botox. I started to thaw out and the warmth of the fire spread throughout my body, bringing my clothes up to a damp feeling, reducing the amount of cling they offered.
"So what's up with the midnight swim? Tryin' to catch catfish?" Colt asked, his elbows on his knees, his chin in his open palms. He stared at me with curiousity.
I cringed and looked down at my feet, unable to meet his eyes. Nightmares weren't exactly Christmas Day for me, and it freaked me out to just try and remember what I'd dreamed. But it was never that hard, because the wierd thing about my dreams, they stay in my head. Like childhood memories, only clearer. I remember everything, the people, the pain, the smells, down to the color clothes I was wearing. I don't even have to write it down. Its like I have a filing cabinent in my own brain.
I didn't answer him.
"Come on Vixen, tell me." he leaned closer, the fire the only thing keeping him from next to me. He'd coax it out of me one way or another, even if it came out to a brawl. And suprisingly, he's the only kid I think has any chance winning a fight with me.
I hesitated a little longer, and even though I wouldn't mind a little hand-to-hand combat, I decided against and just flat out told him. "Bad dream." I whispered, looking into the very blades of flames that licked the air, desperate to spread, but unable to. Trapped in their own power.
My hand went to my neck, for my locket. The one that had a picture of me, my dad, and Mom all together, all happy. I was just four then, and so very very blind.
But it wasn't there, it wasn't on my neck. "My locket." I whispered, my eyes still absorbed in the fire, the urgency not quite registered in my head.
"Huh?" Colt's confused tone made me look up at him, his face making her feel more alert, more awake, more afraid.
"My locket!" I patted the ground around me, my fingers gliding over all the loose dust and scrubby, dying grass around the fire, desperate for the cold feeling of brass and bronze alloy to hit my hand. "It must have fallen off when I was in the pond." I breathed, speaking fast, barely even recognizing the syllables coming out of my mouth. The words came so fast it was if I were talking giberish.
I stood up, panic rising up my throat in bitter, acidic bile. I had to find my locket.
"Avira, wait!" Colt called, getting up briskly. His own face looked like it'd been through three millions volts of fresh electricity. He stood by my side, his stern gaze focused on my eyes. "You're going to get sick. Hypothermic sick, and I don't have nearly enough things to keep you alive."
I looked at him, and I felt like claws were on my heart, squeezing at will, laughing at my feeble attempts of rescue. Adrenaline flashed through my body, and determination surged. Tonight was not going to be a good night. I could feel it. "I have to get it." I took my wrist from his hand gently, looking hard into his emerald eyes, sharp with concern. Man, it really is too bad he didn't have a sister. She'd be all set.
He looked completely lost and abandoned, and I had an urge to hug him, but I resisted that. This wasn't exactly a life or death situation, he was just exaggerating. I saw my eyes in his, he was feeling the exact same way I was, I could almost feel it. "I'll go with you." he said, confidence swelling in his throat.
I responded by turning around and diving with both feet helping me jump. I dived with purpose, a graceful arc in my dive, my body going under with little more than a trickle of water sounding.
I ignored the new sudden chill of the water, and the urge to twirl and spin, have a good time. Swiveling my head back and forth, I looked for a glint, a shine, anything that might be metal. Nothing showed.
Movement beside me showed Colt was in with me, probably freezing his testies off. I looked over and got his attention. I motioned to go deeper and he nodded, his eyes narrowed with a mixture of focus and freezing-to-death. Guess he wasn't a winter person.
I propelled myself down, faster than Colt could ever dream. I might be slower than him on land, but I held the upper hand here in the underwater paradise.
We had to find the bottom. The locket would most likely be there.
We went further down and I could feel the amounts of pressure getting bigger and bigger all the time, the depths slowly increasing. Well, for Colt anyway. I was at the bottom in about thirty seconds. Fifteen feet, twenty, thirty, all the way up to eighty feet. A new high for me, on the positive side.
Then we found it, the dip that formed the bottom. We followed it inward, hoping to see anything as we headed toward the center of Cat's Den secret pond. My lungs felt fresh and fine, and my head was as clear as ever, but Colt looked a little droopy-eyed and tired. Possibly even tired, but I knew he could hold on. He'd stop when he had to.
What we found amazed us both.
A small cirucular opening, about five feet wide, made the entrance to what looked like an underwater cave. But my instincts told me it was a tunnel. How? I have no clue. It just fricken' did, okay?
Colt looked at me and shook his head. He wanted up, not down. I glared at him. I wanted my locket. And with my luck, it was way down in there. I pointed to him, gesturing up, then I stuck my thumb to my chest and pointed to the tunnel. He could leave if he wanted, but I was gonna keep going. Whether he liked it or not.
Not thinking twice on the matter, I dove deeper into the watery adventure, pushing through the entrance. It was curved perfectly round, as if a drill had been through it. I thought I could see a wall down at the far end, about a half a mile away. At the time, I didn't think if it was possible for me to make it all the way down there and back, but I didn't exactly care.
I swooped down into the main tunnel another ten feet, then leveled itself out. It led to somewhere, my gut said. I told it I was going to find out where.
Water swirled beside me, sending a weak torrent over my bare arm. I saw Colt, barely able to smile at me with his pale white face. I nodded and went deeper, my heart pounding as I grew more and more eager to explore.
Down, down, down. We hit the bottom two feet and decided to go further into the tunnel. Colt was holding up suprisingly well, though he was slowing down way too much. Two hundred yards went by and I noticed no current flowing beside me. I turned around to see Colt floating in the distance, his eyes closed, small bubbles flowing out of his closed lips.
Freaking out, I rushed back, my legs kicking as fast as they ever have been. He couldn't die, not now. Not with me.
I grabed him under each arm as I twirled to be behind hm and went deeper into the water by about three feet, weighed down with my best friend's weight.
I went forward again, going half the speed I was heading before, which was pretty darn fast. I looked up, noticing a wierd dip in the tunnel where the top went up a little. I'd found a pocket. I thought of air and looked uneasily at Colt, he could use some.
Time for air.
I went up, fighting against the bulk of Colt's body, urging me to drop him or go down with him to the bottom, where I could drown with him. I found the dip right above me and broke through the water's surface, oxygen flooding my face. I sucked in, giving my muscles some air, and pulled Colt up with me. I swear he weighed as much as an elephant.
His head on my shoulder, I shook him as hard as I could without loosing my grip. "Come on, bud. Get up." I said, focused.
He didn't budge. Desperate for any sign of life, I held him up with one hand. My other hand in the air, I smacked him. Hard.
"Get." I slapped him again, "The." Whack, right on the cheek. "Fuck." Didn't he have feeling in his face? "Up!" I punched him dead in his nose, blood seeping out. My hand fell back into the water. "Damn it!" I swore.
We were more than half way through, it'd be quicker to get to the other end. I'd be able to get some air into his stubborn lungs. I dove back under, water making my head clear again as I surged through it, ignoring my muscles as they screamed in pain.
I kept going, choking on nothing, desperation clawing at my throat. Colt was going to die.
I saw dim light at the end of the tunnel, as it dipped back up into a surface somewhere and hope surged through me as violently as a thousand volts. It helped my legs as they practically motored through the murky depths. I smiled, my head clouded by fear and desperation not exactly sure how to respond to the sight of light. But I knew for sure my heart was still going a million miles an hour, so scared to loose my best friend's life.

Chapter 9:
Gravity Hates Me

Moonlight shining above us, I broke through the chilly water, my face swamped with fresh, warm air that felt almost like ice on my cheeks. I lugged Colt up beside me, not caring about my surroundings. His life was most important right now. I felt a current pulling me up as I kept Colt on the surface, making my life easier.
I had my eyes on him, trying to figure out what to do, when my back hit a jagged stone, making me cry out and loose my grip on Colt with my left hand. He rocked forward as I fought back yelps and curses and his throat landed on my fist, full force. He coughed and spluttered and blinked weakly, his lungs working again. He spit out some water next to me, and any other time I would've thought it was absolutely disgusting, but right now I hugged him tight.
I held on to him, keeping him up as he shuddered and blinked. His bright green eyes were dull and glazed over, but his lips moved.
"Wa...." he struggled.
I tried to translate it. My brain was fried.
"Water." he muttered, his eyes closed again.
"I know, I water sucks." I grinned sheepishly, having no idea how to apologize to him. My little adventure almost cost him his life, and it was all my fault. So what if I lost my locket, it was just a little necklace. Besides, my father was an asshole and my mom was a whore. I should have just left it there.
He shook his head, just barely. "Water...." I strained to hear him clearly over the roaring of the water. "F-f-" he took a breath. "Fall."
I stared at him, uncomprehending for a few seconds. I froze, completely shocked. Looking forward I saw it, the drop that would end my life. I held him close again, wrapping my arms around him. I'd land first, he still had a life to live.
We were too close to the edge to swim anywhere, and the current was too strong anyway.
We went backward, water swirling all around us in irradical movements. I was barely able to keep Colt up with me, but I managed.
He opened his eyes, still a bit foggy, but clear enough to let me know he knew what was going on. He put his held over mine, which was currently clenched hard onto his shirt. I looked down at his hand, over mine. I looked up to catch his gaze and grin, but by then we were already falling.

ooc: all I got so far, workin on the next chapter now.
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Aries Rat
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PostSubject: Re: My Story Thingy    Sat Apr 02, 2011 12:52 am

omg lady this will take mea couple days
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PostSubject: Re: My Story Thingy    Sat Apr 02, 2011 11:02 am

:) Srry, I couldn't resist
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