Feel... Chapter four By Grace Saada 2010
(There's another copy of this scene in my writing book. By the way, this scene is being fixed.)
If someone held a gun to my head and forced me to say one good thing about last year, I'd say it was a wonderful year to explore my house and annoying family. Though, the truth is there was not one good thing about last year or all the ones before it for that matter and so I would say nothing to that person.
I can picture it.
I'm seated in one of those rooms where kidnappers keep their victim. My hands and legs are bound to a chair that's been placed in the centre of the room. My kidnapper stands behind me. His gun is held in his left hand and is being firmly held against my head. Sweat drips down his face as he begins to form the words to ask the question he's been forced to ask. I shake my head in answer and he can't believe my answer and so he gives me another chance and asks again. Keeping still I don't answer and wait for the sound of the gun being loaded. He surprises me by leaning forward and apologising for doing this to me and tells me that: no way could a person as arrogant and foolish as you live in this world without having one good thing in their life.
Hearing the sound of the trigger and the bullet being plunged into a thousand different cells, I smile; I've been waiting for this for a long time. My kidnapper almost runs out right away before he can see any of the blood seep out from my lifeless body.
So, there I was. In my room thinking of all the possible solutions and fast deaths that could prevent me from going back to school, to my repulsive life and to get away from every single person in this life. But you know what, I think I might be fine with going through it; living that is.
If the topic of 'going on with my life' had been called to me in my earlier years of life, the most common answer would have been 'I'd rather go to hell than live another day of this retched life'.
But I don't know. There's this voice in my head though, telling me that this year will begin to change the way I see life. It will surprise people and it will definitely surprise me. The voice seeps into me, tries to be rid of the old me and help bring along the new fresh me. It brings love, promises and trust. It tells me to forget about any regrets and failures from the past; I'll have none this year. I smile as it tells me that I'll be loved by many for the rest of my life; even if it brings out the worst.
It's calling to me.
It's bringing my new life.
I feel like such a different person today. Energy that I never knew existed inside of me, bursts through my body like sparks from a firework display, as I fully awake. It makes me want to get up and start to jump on my bed and share smiles with everyone everywhere.
I get lost in these new imaginary thoughts and wishes that I think that just because there's a new me then of course there'll be a new world as well. Thank god though, I find my way back to the normal me and realise that it will all be the same, except for maybe the fact that I will be living through it this time.
Today is like any other day of my school life, except maybe the fact that Alex and I don't catch the bus; dad drives us.
I hate this day! I hate Tuesdays! Every time dad drops us off, he doesn't leave like the normal parents; he stays. Do you want to know why? He stays so that he can check up on how Alex and I are coping with school and how our behaviour was like in class. Alex's teachers always give him good comments about how he 'always contributes to class discussions,' and how he, 'always completes class work and homework'. When it comes to me though, none of the comments are nice and none of the teachers lie about how I am in class. My teachers are pain in the butts and dad always believes the comments of: 'She doesn't do her work,' (even though I actually do) or ''Jasmine always reads in class and doesn't talk to anyone.'
Dad only ever really checks on me though. He believes everything because that's what he has to go through with me at home. He has a solution though and I always laugh at him when he suggests it to me. He thinks I'm depressed and he thinks that we should, as a family, visit a councillor or a therapist and tell her (or him) our problems (but mainly mine) and sort them out. Who's the problem? It's me of course it's me, it's always been me. Whenever dad would bring up his 'councillor solution', I always answer him with the same two answers: GET LOST! (meant to be a different saying)
"Tuesdays," I grumble as I manage to put on my nightmare uniform. The blouse is a bright yellow, that reminds me of the colour of urine and our school skirt is a royal blue that reminds me of the colour of toilet water. You know how sometimes people (most likely teachers) brag you about wearing your school uniform properly, well my principle has one of his own mottos and right at this moment, it's in my head and its annoying. "Mix the yellow and blue together and you'll have green.' It's bad, it's annoying and it's always in my head in the morning when I put the stupid uniform on! I mean, if you're going to have a phrase like that, well then of course nobody would wear the stupid thing even if you put it in the crests on the jumpers and school bags. It's just plain old weird.
As I finish on getting changed, I chance a glance at the mirror.
Staring straight at me is a monster from all my nightmares with bright blue eyes and scars scattered all over her body. Little bristles have replaced the long luscious light-brown curls and make her head appear to be a halo in the light. She looks stupid. Her body is almost unnoticeable. Veins and bones are very noticeable under her pale skin. Almost as if she were a corpse smiling up at you, she had multiple tooths missing and when she smiled it was horrifying and disturbing.
I shiver, knowing exactly who that person is.
"Jazz," comes a voice from my door and a light knock followed after. Dad.
Before opening the door I hesitate and look back at the mirror and sigh. Staring straight back at me is the girl I know. Brown chocolate eyes assure me that there is no monster lurking behind me or inside of me. Her smile is perfect and not sickening to anybody but herself. No bones are noticeable under my clothing. There is not one scar on my body and all my hair is definitely there. It's Luscious, long and brown, reaching just past my mid-back.
Opening my door a slight fraction, I peer out at my dad where he stands closely near the far wall trying to take a good look at me from afar. "What dad?" I groan looking up at his tired face. Why does he always have to check up on me! God knows I find it irritating every time he checks up on me. I mean, if you were being accused of something wouldn't you be irritated with that person too?
Unlike most dads, my father was still quite young, very fragile and oh-so-single, not that I really cared. In contrast to my hair, his was a lighter shade of brown and seemed to appear like a halo in the light. Working out and going out for morning jogs, his body was in great shape for a thirty-four year old. A small scar from when he was younger was just above his right temple drawing the attention from his brown eyes; the only thing that showed resemblance.
Frowning slightly at my usual reaction, he scratched his chin slightly. "Uh, in a while we're leaving. I'm driving." I roll my eyes at him and begin to close my door but he stops me. "I won't be picking you up though, John might come or maybe Robbie and Vinese."
Looking up at him questioningly, I decipher the careful look in his eyes and uncomfortable body posture. Something was wrong and he wasn't telling me. If he didn't tell me what was going on I will just have to force out all my answers from him and in the end there will be no secrets. Though, maybe just for today I'll leave everything unanswered so that I can at least have some kind of adventure or mysterious journey and decipher everything and everyone's worries for the rest of my years.