I usually leave my attempts at a new fic in my documents so I can fix it over time, or let it rot, but this one seemed decent enough the first time around and I decided to share it with my lovely readers.
I made a pledge to myself when I was thirteen. It stayed solid for over three years, but it seems it wasn't that solid at all, just appeared to be. It only took one small act for me to realise how frail it really was, as delicate as a spider's web. They were so easily destroyed. The fingers that marked my face had somehow reached my assumed to be powerful pledge and poked through it effortlessly and that's when I discovered its fragility.
My pledge was to never cry and, with it broken along with my pride and self, here I was, bawling my eyes out. I didn't even know where the hell I was. All I was seeking at the time was somewhere uninhabited where I could break down and hopefully put myself back together without any observers. Maybe I wanted to be able to convince myself that I hadn't really fallen apart at all, that it was just my imagination. The tears that scarred my face weren't really there, they didn't happen, I was still tough. I was a big girl... who's crying...still.
Another river of tears was set free and it was only when I resurfaced from the misery of drowning in my own productions that I noticed I was no longer alone. Someone was next to me. I lifted my head from my knees, wrapping my arms around them tighter as I focused on the figure sitting next to me, mirroring my position. My eyes were aimed at her bare feet. Her toenails were painted red and her jeans were torn at the bottom. My gaze travelled up her legs and if I weren't so out of it, I'd probably be a bit jealous of how nice and long they were. I moved up her thin torso, covered by a red shirt with sleeves that were almost not even there, displaying her slender, tan arms. I hadn't paid attention to the weather so I guessed it was warm out. I continued my ascend and was soon introduced to big blue eyes, overflowing with concern, curtained by long, slightly curled, chocolate or maybe sepia brown hair. Her face shifted and I glimpsed down to see a hint of a smile forming across her un-glossed lips.
"Hi," she greeted with an accent I couldn't pinpoint. I would've replied sooner, but I was too busy being hopelessly drawn into the captivating orbs that now resembled more of a cyan colour than blue. This was going to sound cheesy, but I think this girl has the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen. "You looked like you needed a friend," she explained, her smile arching higher in a hopeful manner.
"That's the last thing I needed actually. Leave me alone," I replied. I know, that was totally rude and she didn't need to be spoken to like that for trying to be friendly, but that's exactly the reason why I said what I said. Such a seemingly sweet girl shouldn't be near me, doesn't need to lower herself to my level like she's already done. I would've been happier keeping quiet, but my happiness didn't come before anything. I bet I scared Pretty Eyes off. I dared a glance, wishing I hadn't, and saw how hurt she appeared because of my remark. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. I've had a really rough day. I didn't mean to be a bitch," are the words that I should've said to save whatever could've started forming between us. But no, I didn't say anything at all, simply watched the transformation Pretty Eyes was going through. First, she looked pained, then curious, then nothing, and then, finally, totally pissed off.
"Fine. Stay here by yourself and be miserable," she said coldly, standing up and wiping sand from the back of her jeans. I recognised her as a southerner now that I got a longer listen to her accented words and that just made me feel worse. I could've made nice with a cute little hillbilly.
"That was the plan when I first got here," I said, taking in my surroundings for the first time. A beach. It was late afternoon and the sun was setting. The glistening water on the horizon dragged my mood down into its depths, making me hate it for resembling a certain pair of eyes. I knew she'd left; the smidge of comfort, unacknowledged at first, she had given with her presence was now gone too. I was once more left with my solitude, desired in the beginning, unknowingly morphing into a poison I'd already swallowed, too late to take back. I glanced over my shoulder to confirm that I was alone again, but I didn't want it this time. Sometimes, I wish I didn't give people the opportunity to leave before they entered the world of a screw up. I was nice enough to warn the girl of my contents before she tried to get me to open up and I knew she'd thank me for it when she wasn't carrying the baggage I came with.
I hated being so considerate.
I rested my chin back on my knees, my cheek brushing my arm. I winced as the stinging on my face increased. The result of a slap could really do some damage. Not only physical pain, but a side dish of mental as well. Great. I hated the stepped on feeling it induced. I didn't deserve it, but the ache in my cheek and the words of my mother said otherwise. She claimed I didn't treat her well, that I should be more understanding about the move. But she's stupid, didn't know me one bit. The one thing that kept me safe was back where we lived before. Not here. Not where complete strangers feel the need to butt into peoples' lives, trying to act like they were a fucking Saint. Moving didn't solve anything for me like my mom said it would! It made me feel worse, not better. Made me break...
The death of my dad brought us here. He was dead, I felt dead and mom's alone, like I was now. I could relate to them both, but I didn't want to. It's a jointed fault. They both took part in making me leave my comfort zone. The unknown affairs weren't so bad, I didn't have to talk to either of my parents, I had my best friend. He's what kept me going knowing I was created by betrayers. He kept me alive. And, after death, literal for my dad and figurative for me, I was frozen in a hell-like place. Mom couldn't stand the memories or the signs that blamed her for his death, so she left, dragging me kicking and screaming with her. No more best friend to confide in, no more father to support us or "love" us. Staying back at work all day couldn't be love could it? Nope. Not when work consisted of fucking your secretary. Let's just say I had bad timing when it came to opening unlocked doors without knocking.
So, voicing my thoughts and truths to my mom was what got me a nasty slap to the face. I, at least, had enough courage to leave her sights and make it to the beach before crying like a baby. Crying never worked for me in the past, never got me anywhere. That's why I promised myself to stop broadcasting my weakness to the world. But, even knowing I'd accomplish nothing from it, I just couldn't stop myself from shedding more tears. There's not enough superglue or sticky tape in the world that could keep me together.
I know it's a short start, but it's a fresh idea, so I haven't thought too much about the plot yet.