Aha, I see I've proved Dark Conscience wrong... Her prediction was that I wouldn't get any reviews for my prologue but, hey, I got two. Thank you two for reviewing. You guys made me extremely happy. n.n A lot of people just read the fic and don't review and it makes me sad...because really a response is all you get, you know? And I'm a big fan of feedback, just like everyone here is. Anyways, my point is that you made me very happy. n.n
DhaniCauldwell - Oh wow, I'm glad you enjoyed my prologue. n.n Yes, I read your fic and reviewed it. n.n;; Thank you so much for reviewing mine. You made me one happy girl. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
Miriku-Yami's Queen of the Nile-Yami no Hikari - You loved it? I'm so glad! n.n But I like this chappie a lot too. I hope you enjoy it as much as you did the last! ...And then some even!
Here is my newest installment. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you so much, in advance,for reading it and I'd love for you to review as well.
(P.S. If I'm missing spaces, that's because Fanfiction keeps eating them. It's not my fault but sometimes it just eats up all the spaces that I have. ...It makes me wanna cry sometimes.)
Once again, I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!
Oh, and also, just to let you all know, I've realized that listening to music while you're reading/writing proves very helpful and enhances the story's effects. For this particular story, I listen to "Find Your Way" from Final Fantasy Eight. I think it makes the story a lot more dramatic...but that's just me. Any sad music works but I feel that particular song works for just about any drama/angst fic you read. Thus, I use that song...a lot, let's just say that. A site great for music (and where I found my Final Fantasy Eight music) is mimisk8 (. com).They have all sorts of cool music there and others so feel free to browse around.
Anyways, let's get this story started, shall we?
Chapter 1: Mundane
I drop my backpack at the door inside my house. My mom's there to greet me. She's always there for me; I'm so glad. Life couldn't be better.
We go into the kitchen. I talk about my day; she talks about hers. And we both have some milk and cookies to top it all off. It's a nice thing we do together; the time spent with her like this, I couldn't possibly ask for more. No dad nor any other mom can provide as my mom does. My mom's the best; she's always there just when I need her and even when I don't need her, she's still there for me.
It's weird, but I swear I saw her flinch. I mention the name again; and the same thing happens. I bite my lower lip as a frown falls over my face. What's wrong with it? "Mom, do you have something against Joey?" I finally ask, exhausting my resources as to why she'd react in such a way.
"No, of course not honey," she replies quietly but she's unable to meet my eyes, clenching her fists loosely upon the countertop. She's staring down at the floor. I look down at the counter myself, my auburn hair falling crisply downward, hiding my face from view.
In a way, she forces me to mutter, "Alright," and drop the topic.
And then I think about it for a second. Is it just me, or does this happen everyday? Yes, I believe it does. Joey's my life and I talk about him every day to my mom. But I just now realize that, everyday, I've never been able to go on for two sentences without my mom forcing me to drop the subject. My eyes narrow a bit in suspicion but mom doesn't know. She never knows.
I don't say anything else. All I wanted was to get out of that kitchen; I just wanted to go to my room and put my mind elsewhere, but it would be rude to leave without finishing my milk and cookies. Mom would think something's wrong. So I just sit there, dangling my legs upon my stool and nibbling my cookie in silence. I still refuse to meet her eyes and I think she refuses to meet mine as well.
An awkward silence falls over the kitchen and it feels as if I can't breathe anymore. Both of us can feel the tension, the disturbance, but neither of us say a thing. I guess it's in the genes or something.
After a while, I can't stand it anymore. I wished I could eat faster but I couldn't. I felt sick, very sick. "I…don't feel hungry anymore," I manage to croak, dropping my cookie on its plate and rushing off to my room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see my mom stare at me, bewildered and scared. She reaches out for me but stops in her tracks. I don't know why but I'm glad she did.
I breathe in deeply. Fresh air? Far from it but it's better than suffocating. Besides, my room makes me feel more at ease; it's my sanctuary. The door is against my back, hard and cold. The scenery in front of me is nothing too unusual. A bed, a desk, a computer, a lamp. My books and papers are strewn everywhere though and my blanket sits bundled up in a corner on the floor. My computer, strangely, is on and the phone lay on the desk, away from its holder and the dial tone could be heard.
For a moment, I think and wonder in horror if a burglar was in my room. But then I remember. I remember last night I was all alone on the floor, hugging my blanket desperately around me. Everything felt so lonely without Joey. I had picked up the phone, wondering if I could call him but then decided otherwise, realizing it was too late into the night to do so. So I went over the computer and turned it on, leaving my blanket in the corner. I had hoped to catch him on an Instant Messager but he wasn't there either.
When I think about it now, I don't know why I had cried. It was weird and completely unorthodox. Things are going so right for me; I'm happy with the way things are. But sometimes, at night when no one's around, I wrap myself up in that blanket and cry. Not every night, but maybe once a month and I wait to see if I can contact Joey and just talk to him. …But he's never there. It's okay; it's not like I had expected him to be there. No, not that late; not for me. Besides, Joey was growing and he needed his sleep. I'm glad he's healthy; I really am. But I wouldn't mind it if… No. I stop my trail of thought right there. Just, no, that would be greedy of me.
I sigh and come to the conclusion that I think too much. So I decide to occupy myself with cleaning up this mess of a room I made last night. I upright the lamp first. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. I see it's raining again. I slowly close my shades; there's no point in looking the rain beating down on my glass window. I then go over and spread my blanket back over my bed. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The rain taps gently upon our roof. I look up, almost expecting the rain to splash across my pale features, onto my cheeks and down my face. Actually, I was expecting to be drenched as I raised my head toward the ceiling, drenched by the now pouring rain outside. I like rain and I like the gloomy onset it gives. I'm not too sure why, but I just do. With that, I pull my blinds back up.
I want to watch the rain instead of putting my room back together. Sitting in the comfy black leather chair next to my computer on my desk, I do that; I just watch it, curling up in my chair. The chair tips back a little bit because of my weight.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
I wonder what Joey's doing right now.
The rain creates streaks against my window, landing in one place with a harsh thud and slowly sliding down towards the frame.
He's probably hanging out with Yugi and all his other friends.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
I wonder why Joey doesn't hang out with me like he hangs out with them. Before, it used to be just Joey and I. But Joey seems to have been hanging out less and less with me.
Lightning flashes upon the window and thunder echoes in the distance.
At least we still hang out together. Yeah, we still hang out a lot. Every day, all day long.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
And I'm happy…just the way it is.
I apologize for the shortness of that but I felt it a perfect place to stop, ne? The next chapter should be longer.
Please Read and Review. It would be much appreciated. All authors love to feel that sense of pride when their work is respected and they all feel happy for being criticized so that they have something to work on to make themselves better.
Me? I may whine about criticism, I may not feel that comfortable when being given criticism. But I still take it into account and, now, I look back and see that the criticism my friends gave helped me so much. Don't be afraid to point something out that you didn't like. Don't be afraid to point out something that I did wrong. I'd be glad to know that you were looking, that you were paying attention, and that you want to help me improve myself.
And, as you know, everyone loves praise. It makes you feel good. What did I do today, you ask? Well, I stayed on my computer, typing up chapter two. However, every thirty minutes or so, I'd go to my "Stats" and see if I got any new reviews or if I got more "hits". Sad, yes, but it's not like I had anything better to do. Besides, I wanted to know whether or not my readers were content, what their thoughts were, how they felt, what they thought was going to happen, and anything that they didn't like about the story.
So please, if you have anything on your mind about this story--whether it be praise, criticism, predictions, feelings--feel free to click that Review button at the bottom-left corner of the screen. I'll be waiting.
Until then,
Alley Cat
