Tempting Fate
I wasn't quite sure if I could possibly endure another day in high school. Somehow, the abysmal days kept lengthening in time. Each more monotonous and bizarrely dreadful than the last. Every minute I spent there, it seemed as if I was dragged further into my despair. I was currently seated in my fourth gray seat of the day; in English class. I had been sitting here for the last hour impatiently waiting for my day in school to end. For what seemed like the hundredth time during the period, I turned to face the eight hour timer directly north of me.
I had ten minutes left prior to the point at which I could leave and rather than pulling myself back into my unpleasant timing mind, I quickly sought a less appalling option to focus my thoughts on for the time eyes scanned the room gazing over the twenty other uniform chairs and the students that occupied them. Their faces were all masked with undisputable worry about the pop quiz we had just received on the classic drama, A mid summer nights dream. I had always enjoyed the book, it was a alluring read and also one of the many fictional fantasies I loved, one that would allow me to escape the tedious schedule of my daily life.
With an accompanied sigh, I stood up and slowly walked to the front of the room. I was heading toward my teacher's muddled desk. There were stacks of paper scattered across the desktop and the recent failing grades from third block. Seeing as there was no way to place my paper safely in the clutter, I handed it to Mr. Virino behind the desk and waited as he checked my paper, tracing the patterns of random floor tiles with my eyes. I wasn't surprised when he placed the paper back into my hand. On the top was my grade in messy red ink. I had gotten a one hundred, the same as usual. The material was fairly easy, I had always done well with testing. However, the surprise on my other classmates faces as I turned, showed me that they did not have the same gift.
I rushed swiftly back to my desk, nearly colliding with another student on my way there. I never particularly enjoyed being in the spotlight and the front of the room held for me the same feelings described as stage fright. I didn't feel gratified by the other students stares, instead I felt something I couldn't quite put into words. Maybe it was self-consciousness but, every time I received a look from someone, I felt as if they recognized some distinctive flaw that separated me from all other people. Something that everybody noticed except for myself. But, then again, maybe I did have something abnormally wrong about myself that didn't allow me to fit in anywhere except the confounds of the unrealistic worlds of fiction.
My theory was all the more supported by the facts of my life. I had never had any good friends and never felt a remarkable need to stand out from others. One moment can change everything. A flashback invaded my mind, unwelcome, the horrific visions that had changed my outlook on life; my parents death two years ago. I tried desperately to remove the images but failed. The flashbacks never ended, I was reminded parents died in a car wreck when a driver veered out of his appropriate lane and swiped the side of my parents car. It sent them spiraling off the bridge they were traveling on bridge and into the water. They never resurfaced and I still remembered the excruciatingly painful phone call I had gotten later that night, telling me what had happened.
Ever since then, I had lived with my only relative, my Aunt Rachel, and though we weren't the best suited for each other's company, I still had a great deal of respect for her. She had graciously taken me into her care, after my parents death. I was forever grateful that she did not simply allow me to be placed into foster care, so that she wouldn't be in charge of another's life. She actually did care for me and once we got past our differences she wasn't quite so difficult to live with. As I was still contemplating, the sound of a high pitched ringing snapped me out of my reverie. It was the last bell of the day, school was finally over and I was free to leave. Startled, I hurried to pack, into my book bag, the disorganized pile of papers on my desk.
It was my homework for the day, and thankfully completed due to my early finish on our English quiz. I rushed then to zip my bag and leave the room. I was the last one out. Therefore, the halls were already squeezed tight with the two-thousand students that also came here for school. I was having a hard time finding my way through the crowd, all I could see were the multi-colored hues of tee-shirts in front of me. Eventually though, I spotted the exit and rushed outside. It was a relief to feel the cool, crisp air again and see the green undergrowth of the Washington forests that touched the edge of our student parking lot. Even though I had lived here for almost two months, I could not get over the view.
Something about the forests intrigued me. I wasn't sure exactly what is was, but I was captivated by it. It seemed as if it were a likely place where all my fantasies could come true. Where I could live in the worlds I wanted so desperately. By far, it was the best place I've lived in. Out of all the places I had been, this was the one that I believed I could spend eternity in. It was the only one that held my interest. However, I knew that I couldn't, I was obligated to move in just another week. My aunt and I were only temporarily living here in Kalaloch, WA. She had just finished a restoration of a house about thirty minutes north from where we currently lived and it was being sold for profit, as usual unless something went terribly wrong during its "flip". However, my aunt had never had such occurrences, only her unlucky co - worker had ever lost any large sum of money.
She was good at her job, and as a result we moved often and even though I hated the never ending procedure, I didn't contradict my aunt. This being because she had helped me when I needed her most, and was helping me pay for college. I already knew my career path; I was going to be a doctor. But, unfortunately, I did not have enough money to get there by myself. I also had a job as a waitress in a local diner, however that wasn't bringing in any income seeing as we hardly had any customers at all. So, I was stuck. I had no choice but to leave the one place I wanted to stay.
I slowly walked forward towards my car, a black Toyota corolla, scanning the scenery in front of me one last time before I opened the door and stepped inside. I took my key and turned the car on then, searched for a way to escape the crowded parking lot full of students as I listened to the sound of my engineSomething was off about the sound, but I couldn't tell what. I would have to bring it to mechanic. As I silently wondered how much that could possibly cost me, I carefully slid out into a space between two cars as quickly as possibly, I presumed it would be my only shot at making it outside school premises within the next hour.
Driving out on the open road was nice change, It was another one of the few places where I could free myself from the tedium's of daily life. Just like the forest. I loved to drive and see the lines on the street flash by in a streak of white. It felt good to know that I was in charge of my life in some way. Technically, it wasn't a very good thing to be charge of though. My life or my death. But, somehow the fear always seemed to evade me, only letting in the glory of freedom. I wished somehow that I could enhance my speed, to be flying through the forests. But, the speed limit countered my thoughts. It was only forty-five. Soon, the speed came an unbearable fifteen miles per hour limit, also signaling that I would soon be home.
In five minutes I pulled into the driveway of my one story brick house. It was small, but it had charm. It was the kind of house I wanted to have. I banished that thought though, as I saw my aunt waiting for me in the window. "Shoot," I mumbled to myself. As I was reviewing my freedom, I had forgotten to plan what I was going to do with myself for the rest of the day. My aunt was going to help fill out paperwork at her office and would be waiting to hear where she would find me during the evening. I had no idea what I was going to tell her. Obviously my homework was done, and seeing as we were moving across the state in a week, all the stuff in my room, except the essentials, had already been shipped away. I had no choice but to either go out or sit on the floor of our living room doing nothing. I chose the less upsetting option: going out, but I still didn't know where.
Looking at my tattered jeans, I realized I had at least one reason to go to the mall, that would have to do. I had no obligation to the plan though, I could happily spend hours inside of any fashion store. I tumbled out of my car, going as fast as I could up the driveway toward my door. My aunt opened it just then. Obviously, by the look on her face, I was making her late for work. Her next words reassured my thoughts. "Where have you been, I'm running late for work and -" my aunt Rachel said angrily.
I cut her off, hoping to stop her eyes from balefully glaring at me." Traffic, I'm going to go to the mall," I said as quickly as possible.
"Okay, but be back by eight, no later," she threatened. It was probable that she was thinking about how I seemed to get lost in time while around a clothing store. In the next few seconds she was already out the door and gone.
I was also eager to escape. Having just received my last paycheck, I would finally be able to buy some new clothes. I had my wallet on me, so there was no reason to go inside, I would put my book bag in the house later. For now, it could stay in my car. I turned around and shut the door behind me, strolling quietly down our driveway to reach my Corolla. I was excited to exceed town premises for the first time in just about what had been my entire stay time in Kalaloch and thrilled at trying out the mall just north of here. I had never been there and my sense of direction wasn't brilliant. I hoped that I could make it there and back without incident. But if I happened to go in the wrong direction, I knew where I would end up, Forks, Washington.
It had been easy enough to find the mall, but it wasn't quite what I expected. It only contained a few stores, to my severe disappointment. However, seeing as I had already made the journey, I figured I could go inside. The mall was just as depressing as it was inside than out. Basically, the only stores which it enclosed were obviously not aimed for the looks of a teenager and the few ones that were, I would have never gone in. The mannequins in the windows provided enough of a reason, they were all dressed in ripped jean miniskirts and see through tank tops. Obviously, not my style.
With chagrin plain on my face, I headed out the exit of the mall ignoring the polite gestures of passing people. I was in no mood to converse and if I were to, I was certain it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation seeing as I had just drove forty-five minutes away for nothing. I didn't end up with a single item of clothing. I had made it to my car, once again. I got in, slammed the door as hard as I could, shoved my key into the ignition and started the car. It was beginning to get dark outside while I wondered why my days always had a negative impact. I then turned out onto the highway and started my drive home behind a black Mercedes.
The driver was going much to slow, and I began to think about honking when I heard a sudden shrieking sound. I looked to my left and there I saw what was coming full speed at my car and myself. It was a green Land Rover whose tire had popped off leaving its metal frame to run against the road. I had no time to react, except for the sudden terror that seized me. Before I thought possible, the Land Rover hit into the side of my Corolla and I was pinned against the highways side rail, I felt the shattered glass of my windshield penetrate my skin and saw my crimson blood pouring down my sleeves. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness as I tried to scream for the driver in front of me to help, but never managed to coax up a cry for him to come.
In the next few moments, I was suddenly alerted of my regained consciences by the sharp slashing pain of glass continuing to cut through my skin.
In truth, I had never genuinely feared death in a physical manner. Even now as I faced it, I could not feel any apprehension toward the end. I knew that death was an unavoidable obstacle in life and I would face it one day or the other. The thought of passing however, had always been an uneasy subject. I had always contemplated about how my existence would end.
I imagined drowning in freezing waters, being brutally murdered by a foe, and the nations most preferred - dying in an unconscious, dreaming state. My least preferred involved a flame and the melting of my skin. Though, these ideas, they didn't frighten me. I wasn't afraid of the act of dying in the least bit. I was afraid about what happened after my life came to a close. The part of never being able to think again. Never being able to move again. I wouldn't be able to speak or to hear. I wouldn't be able to see. Never again would I feel emotion; not even the pain of my worst nightmares.
Worst of all was that I wouldn't have any memories when I was inexistent. I wouldn't be able to imagine my parents; I wouldn't even be able to care about my aunt because there would be nothing left. Not a single fiber of true reality would come with me. For once, I wanted to believe in alternate world, life beyond death. But, no matter how hard I tried, I could never accept the concept. The philosophy that someone such as a saint, an angel or God himself would protect the people of this world was a notion that never was embed into my mind.
I believe what is tangible and what is morally veracious. I cannot touch an angel, I cannot hear God. So, how do I know that they are real? I myself have prayed, and never once have my wishes been acted upon by a superior force. I prayed that my mother and father would always be safe and that somehow the world might discover the true meaning of the word peace. If innocent and loving people such as my own parents didn't deserve life then, why are there criminals on our streets and why does so much atrocity occur in our world? Children are starving because no one cares to help them, animals are being abused by people who cannot control their anger and murder is occurring so frequently that we learn to tune it out while listening to the daily news. How can one believe in the sanity of the philosophy while there is little sanity in the world of which we live in?
The last prayer I had ever spoken was more of hope and wishful thinking. It was that when my life ended that it would be painless. To have an anesthetic, numb feeling as I died was something I had always planned on. I suppose though; that death, much like life, was not treated with indifferent equality. Many suffer pain far beyond what the human mind is capable of withstanding. Our minds reject the agony of realistic torment. We unconsciously deter any harmful memory or disconcerting emotion that we may hold, creating a wall between our mental stability and the force threatening to overthrow it. However; when pain is being physically inflicted, it is not as easily disregarded.
No longer is it a mere thought rather than a valid occurrence. The idea of an oppressive and fiery trench within our lush, green planet had always held the same significance as heaven, in my mind. Hell, a deep abyss where torrid flames licked the walls simply didn't exist. It wasn't possible. My viewpoints were quickly beginning to fade away though. They were becoming virtually impossible to grasp. They were out of my reach. Scorching, orange flames enveloped my previous ideals as they trailed the outline of my body. Carefully twisting their way inside and continuing an agonizing torture.
These are not my own religious views: please respect the characters beliefs