Can I ask you a question? …Just don't laugh, okay?
Can you see me?
Hey, stop laughing! I'm serious!
Of course you're now looking at me, but can you see me?
Like, see that woman over there? The one who's smiling all happy? She probably has a nice, happy life is what you're thinking.
That's looking.
But can you see the light bags under her eyes, or the way here smile doesn't stretch to her eyes?
No you don't.
That's seeing.
Now, can you hear me? Now you're listening, but can you actually hear me? Can you hear the fear in my voice? Or even understand what I'm saying?
Looking is not seeing.
Listening is not hearing.
I think I realized that today.
I also realized that police officers are short of hearing, and big on 'listening'.
This is my story. Nobody else's.
This is me.
My mother's face was bright red; her fist seemed to quiver as she continued chatting with The Coach.
It was after practice, and Coach demanded that he chats with my mother. At first my Mum smiled at him, flashing her light British accent, she twirled her hair, casting a nervous glance at my direction.
I had shrugged at her.
Seriously, I didn't know why coach demanded that he had to see my mum, as if it was a life or death situation (Which I doubted, as I hadn't played a prank all morning.)
But slowly, all the soccer kids started leaving, and it was only me, Mum, and Coach.
Mum's smile had soon turned into a frown, then into a failed glare that was never really scary.
"I don't care that some kid lost his iPad, I assure you it was not stolen!"
So they were talking about some kid's lost iPad? But what did that have to do with my Mum?
Coach said something as my Mum fumed, she brought back a leg and turned around just as he said,
"—stole it as we had found evidence—" there was an awful echo through the stadium as Coach's shriek went up some embarrassing octaves.
Mum set down her leg, glared at the traumatized guy, who was clutching his pee-pee.
"I don't friggin' care if they had some friggin' evidence, we did not steal the friggin' iPad!"
Mum grabbed my arm gently, despite her fierce glare and her bright tomato face. "Come one," she said, "We outstayed our visit." And went out of the stadium.
I didn't say anything as I sat in the back seat of the small old-fashioned car (Not that I had anything to say.) I just sat there obediently with a confused look on my face as Mum shoved the ignition key in the hole, and with an annoyed expression, she turned the key.
"—Explosion of a car in the parking lot of the Jubilife City Stadium. It is believed that it was a random terrorist attack. The occupants of the car were a woman and a child. The woman was majorly injured as her organs were—"
The nurse turned off the T.V.; she glanced at me in a pitying way as she apologized.
I just ignored her, and stared blankly at the T.V., as soon as she left I threw the pillow at the T.V.
"'There is no donor willing to donate some blood, and the organs we have is old and shall not work for long.' Stupid doctor, stupid nurse, stupid newscaster, stupid terrorist. Stupid me!" I sobbed, pushing my face into the wet blanket. The black patch over my right eye reminded me of its presence as it stuck to my eye with its one cord.
The doctor had said that I would soon heal and wouldn't need the eye patch, but it would take a year or two or maybe even three years to heal.
It was all the fault of that bomb attached to the ignition key hole, and now my Mum was on the brink of death and we had little money to buy a donor.
That was probably what had happened at the stadium, the coach thought that because I was a prankster and poor, I must have stolen the iPad.
There was this painful ache in my chest, and my ear ached uncomfortably.
I couldn't believe the fact that I wouldn't hear my Mum for long, if not forever, and I was helpless.
I couldn't stand up so I reached over with sore arms for the remote, and pressed the On button.
"And a normal beginning trainer's income yearly is over a thousand POKEDOLLARS!"
A thousand dollars just for being a trainer?
That's was a lot of money by its own, but if one aimed for championship the income would be beyond legendary.
But who's that one who will?
That would be me.
Hopeless Desires presents,
Project: Enter Name Here
Review and tell me if I should continue this.
Short because I have a test I need to study for 9and this is a prologue.)