Hello, everybody! Nice to meet you! I'm in a super good mood right now, just coming from reading a super good book (OMG YOU HAVE TO READ THE GLASS CASTLE BUT I'M PRETTY SURE THIS IS BREAKING LIKE 1000 RULES THAT I DO NOT KNOW BUT WHATEVER), and I am chilling with some pretty good music. This created a perfect situation for something dangerous. Something risky. Something also is known as…. PLOT BUNNIES!
As a result, I decided to try my hand at writing (again), but I decided that my first story was utter trash. Like seriously. I didn't know how to fix it, and I still don't know how to, but I want to try and write again. This little fic may be dark, but it might get better?
Please give me constructive criticism, and as always, please enjoy!
Rated T for cursing. Rating might change, depending on the level of gore I incorporate into this story…
I don't own Fairy Tail. This will be the last time I write this disclaimer since I honestly have the memory of a goldfish (except for those random things that everybody else forgets, but you know, it's a special talent of mine). I make no profit off of this, etc., etc. ON WITH THE STORY!
In which a broken person gains the chance to be the hero.
Helena was in the middle of a good dream. She could fly, well, at least she could jump extended distances. Gummy bears in the background danced to her ringtone, "The Gummy Bear Song". Her ruby hair, which was the only feature she actually liked about herself, whipped around in the wind. Her sister clung to her back, her musical laughter making Helena smile. This was the girl she raised. The younger sister that she treated like her own daughter. The girl that she depended on for love and attention that her distant father and busy mother could never provide.
Like she said before, she was in a good dream, with extra emphasis on the dream part. What seemed like moments later, Helena woke up with a massive headache and a raging hatred for her polka-dotted curtains, which were currently not doing their one job of supposedly keeping out the sun. After several failed attempts of going back to her little dream world, Helena grumpily lifted her head, absentmindedly wiping off the drool and tying back the frizzy halo of hair into a messy ponytail.
"Wha-," Helena sleepily mumbled before realizing where she was. "Ugh."
Fully getting her ass out of her chair, Helena placed the sketchbook that she was sleeping on only moments before into her backpack while trying to ignore the rather conspicuous drool stain that marred yet another half-finished drawing of her sister. Languidly, she slipped on some clothes that were lying randomly around the messy room.
Helena felt fully relaxed until she finally spared a glance towards her battered alarm clock, which was dented from the numerous amounts of time that she threw it at the wall in a desperate attempt to get it to shut up.
"Shit! It's 9:00! Shit, shit, shit!"
Throwing open the door, Helena slipped down the wooden floor of her home's hallway, rushed into her mother's room where her mother was motionless in her grief over Helena's beautiful, wonderful, sun-to-her-moon, dead sister to say goodbye, and ran outside.
Her mother never deserved Chloe. Helena would have been the better mother. She would have given Chloe the world in order for her to just smile.
Grimacing, Helena dashed down the streets.
Then she realized that there was no school today.
This was all her parents' fault. If they just showed a little bit of love, Chloe might not have been so desperate for attention.
After her sister died, Helena became more inattentive and retreated into her own little world. A once straight-A student suddenly received failing grades, since Helena couldn't bear look at her books without thinking of numerous bedtime stories read to a little girl whose smiles once lit up her world. Instead, all her days blended into one never-ending nightmare. She only trudged out of the house- her house, she payed the bills, anyways, while her mother was too busy being out of the house and her father doing who knows what- every once in a while to let everybody know that she was still alive.
On her way home, Helena contemplated just staying at her friend's home in order to avoid the silence that began plaguing her home, with her parents who divorced after… the incident and her sister, whydidChloehavetodiewhycouldn'tanybodyelsecouldhavediedinstead, gone.
Helena decided against it, since her friends became distant after Helena neglected her relationships. But what do they matter? Helena lost the one person that her life centered around. Making the turn to the street where her sister died, Helena froze as a red ball bounced onto the street. Looking onto the sidewalk, where she swore there was nobody there before, was a teenager with copper curls flipping through a textbook. Nearby, a little girl with an azure ribbon was reaching out for the toy.
Her younger sister was playing with a red ball while she herself was furiously flipping through pages of a thick book. The little girl, Chloe, excitedly shouted to her sister about a new trick that she could do.
"Just a moment, hon! Can you wait until I finish this? Now where in the world did I find that section about osteoblasts?"
Lost in her own little world, Helena never did look up until a loud screech of tires and a high pitched scream filtered through the air.
Shaking her head, Helena walked around the duo.
Her eyes widened as the child actually walked towards the toy.
Sprinting with the thought of Chloe on her mind, Helena tackled the kid out of the way of a vehicle that sped to a stop with screeching tires.
Furrowing her eyebrows at the child who suddenly wasn't there- why did she hear screaming?-, Helena felt a sudden jolt of pain. Everything burned, and Helena couldn't feel her legs.
Closing her eyes, Helena laid in a tangled heap of flaming red hair and crimson blood.
The last thing she heard was a familiar voice frantically asking her, telling her, desperately begging her to wake up.
Then the world faded to black.
Somewhere else, a pair of eyes flew open.
WELL THEN. Sorry for all that angst, I guess? Anyways, I will hopefully make the next chapter a little lighter-hearted. Thanks for reading, and all constructive criticism is welcomed! I would prefer if there were no flames, but if you really think my writing is that bad, please phrase it in a way that I could improve it, instead of just berating me for not writing something in the way you wanted me to.
Have a nice day!
Sincerely,
A Tired Coffee Lover