Alive
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Sakura's mom died of cancer a year ago and she's been living at a boarding school for the past year. Her only escape from reality is music. When she runs into the most feared boy in school she realizes they have something in common. Summary sucks, just read. AU. Some ideas were from Sarah Dessen's book, Just Listen.
I woke in a sweat from the same nightmare I'd been having for a year now. I glanced at my alarm clock. 5:13 AM. Sighing, I got out of bed and ran a hand through my matted hair. I looked at my reflection and smiled bitterly. My striking resemblance to my mother was a daily reminder that she was really gone.
My mom was so beautiful and... alive. Then, suddenly, she was gone. We didn't know she had cancer until it was too late. I remember being in class, and getting a note from the teacher. The look on her face was so solemn, I instantly knew something was wrong.
My father had died before I was born, and my mother didn't have any family left, so I was given the choice to be adopted or go to a boarding school. I didn't want to replace my mother. I chose the boarding school. The state would pay for everything, until I turned 18.
I turned away from the mirror and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I stripped and stepped into the hot stream. Soon, the nightmare slid out of my mind and I felt myself begin to relax.
Eventually I stepped out and wrapped a towel around my body. After I dried off I put on some black jeans that flared at the bottom, a long sleeve black and dark gray shirt that was off shoulder on one side, and a dark green tank top. I placed a green stud belt around my waist on top of my shirt, and put on my plain black and white converse.
I pulled my long pink hair into a messy bun, my bangs swiped to the side, and applied a small amount of eye liner and mascara.
I was early, like always. It was only 7:30, and classes didn't start for another hour. I sat on my bed and gazed lovingly at my guitar. Music was the only thing that kept me sane after my mom died. I immersed myself in it. I wrote and learned so many songs, and listened to all sorts genres from indie to reggae.
I picked up the guitar and began to strum out the opening chords to If Winter Ends by Bright Eyes. It was such a powerful song. You could feel it in his voice, his heart is broken.
I wanted to achieve that perfection. I wanted to be someone who had the right words to make someone feel.
I craved it.
English class was always my favorite, besides music. Writing came naturally to me, and I most always bonded with my teacher every year. I loved watching my words take shape on paper, forming an impossibly beautiful rhythm that was steady with my heart.
Sometimes I would write something and re-read it and not believe it was me who wrote it. I let go when I wrote, and what I produced was like an embodiment of my soul. I surprised myself.
We were supposed to be writing an essay about symbolism, but I was writing a poem.
My heart is made of plastic.
It lies dormant in my open-faced chest,
beating to the evolution of my soul.
My mind is ever changing,
a blur of want,
diluted by need for a constant.
"Change" does not belong in my mouth,
and the thought of it makes fear run through my veins.
I thrive on familiarity.
Self-expression is seldom understood,
yet my ears spill over from the words of others.
I take the back burner to those around me,
and provide a reposed shoulder.
I cry alone.
My jaw is wired shut from blow after blow
of self-destructive silence.
I can feel it aching in the back of my throat.
In the roots of my teeth.
In my finger tips.
It's time for you to hear me.
My hand, poised and ready, over this blank page
can deliver me from this brutality,
caused by my own self.
My thoughts will bleed through the pages,
and with every slanted letter I will be born again.
I was so entranced with what I was writing that I didn't notice a strange boy had walked into the classroom. The teacher said my name, and instinctively my head snapped up. The boy began walking towards the empty desk beside me, and I couldn't help but stare.
He looked to be a little taller than me, and had deep red hair. His eyes were a pale shade of jade, and seemed guarded. On the left side of his forehead there was a tattoo of the kanji for "Love". He was dressed in all black, and his pants had silver chains on them. He wore heavy combat boots and headphones were in his ears.
When he sat down I could hear the faint sound of a familiar song coming from his headphones. I smiled to myself and strained my ears to hear. Without realizing it I began to hum along quietly.
I wondered who he was.
Authors Note: Okay, so here's my first chapter. It was a sudden idea, and I really wanted to write it. It's a little lame right now, but I think it will get better. Also, it might be a bit OOC and updates might be slow, but if you review for me I might wright more soon :D