Sorry for the long update time last chapter. Stuff came up. But I wrote that whole chapter (the best one yet, except maybe the first) in a single night.
I also have ANOTHER funeral to go to. My LAST grandparent (Grampa Bob) died days short of a month after my father. It's quite sad, but I didn't know him much. And it's really best that Dad didn't live to have to go to the funeral. He was dad's step father, but his real father was an ass. Most people online think I'm shitting them this summer. But yes, I am thirteen, and yes, I am dealing with the death of my father.
I was talking to my horse today (okay, not my horse, but the horse I ride when I go down to the stable) and BlueBell has a murderous plot to kill one of the riding instructors!
I never knew… Tsktsk, Bluebi. I didn't think you had it in you to eat her.
It's really hard to type the word rape for some reason… but recently my mom got me a new watch (the old one was a leather astro boy watch, it was pretty darn cool. I still use it, but it's out of batteries and I need to get it a new one...)! It goes underwater... and I can type while wearing! Wait untill writing is your biggest obsession, then you'll get it... I can't type wearing most watches. Mary understands!
Oh, also, the chapter The Goodbye was pushed into The Inventor, so you guys don't get it. Sorry!
I woke rather late the next morning. It took me several minutes to register the events of past days. I was hurt. I was exhausted. I was really, really, pissed.
I hated to compare myself to the pig, but I had to say, like father, like daughter. I had a hard time with my temper. Once I had finished collecting my thoughts last night, I ran out into the town, searching stupidly and hopelessly for Mr. Wammy and my brother. I had begun to regret letting him go. I wanted him back. I wanted to protect him, to make sure he was always okay…
But the chance was gone. He had left. My brother, and my sanity, had left me behind.
It was true, he kept me sane. I had been his sister, his role model, and I held it together since mom died to show him something strong in the weak, changing world we lived in. I had only cried in front of Lawliet twice-the day before we left London, and yesterday, when he left. Every time we were cheated, made fun of, sneered at, beaten by our father or others, and even the time I was raped, I never once cried in front of my brother.
And now I was about to begin slowly losing my mind. Dammit.
I slowly stood up, and began down the list of things to figure the hell out. First, I brushed out my hair and put on a new change of clothes. Then, I went through my stuff and changed my entire life to fit just one person. That was the hard part. Lawliet had left a few things. Clothes, mostly, were all that remained, and they weren't anything I could really send to a pawn shop.
Dirty, ripped, and over-all nasty, they barely made good use as dish rags. I managed, however, to cut out a few patches, keeping them with me, so I could sew them on to a shirt later. I tossed the rest out.
I was then finished with my short to-do list. I wandered out to the street, looking only at my feet. I turned the corner, letting myself fall quickly to the sidewalk to wait patiently with my coffee cup.
It took me not only that night, but the next several weeks to find my thoughts and emotions. I scrapped them together with tears and hunger, and by August, I had lost an unhealthy amount of weight.
Honest to god skin and bone, and I still refused to even talk to anyone. I had problems with other people. I could give you hundreds of examples, but all I can say is that I beat myself up over every decision I ever made for the next five years.
Dropping out of school in grade five never sets you up for a good life.
(#0#)
September 6th, 1988. Not a good day. I had wandered to the local mall to find a Salvation Army something and get some more change in a better area then the cold, hard concrete. That wasn't the best idea.
You see, I was happily and comfortably seated next to a potted plant on the cool tile, when a few of your average run-of-the-mill group of bitches happened to be shopping in the area. Even with my skillful camouflage in the plant, they managed to spot me.
"Ew," said one, who was dressed all in pink, "She's disgusting."
"Yeah," another replied. "You think she has a mental issue?"
"Shut up, she's probably high," laughed a blonde.
"Let's go," the pink one sneered. "We wouldn't want to get TB or something."
I looked up from my seat, glaring at the group. "I don't have any issues, I'm not high, and I'm perfectly healthy. How about you? How many STDs do you three have?"
They stopped. A few shoppers around us did, too. "Did you just call us whores?"
"No." I smirked. "But that doesn't mean I wasn't pretty sure you were."
I looked back down, twisting an elastic band in my fingers. I was prepared for them to just ignore me, make a snide comment, and move on, but I had been wrong.
"Look, bitch," the blond, their leader, said, "if anyone here is a whore, it's likely the one I'm looking at. The one that needs cash for her drug dealer, because my bet is, mommy and daddy kicked the little crack-head out of the house."
I stood up, not in the least intimidated by the group of shoppers gathered to watch.
"If you would excuse me, my 'mommy'"--I used air quotations for effect-- "died when I was nine, and the last time I saw 'daddy', he was fall down drunk and smashed a whisky bottle over my head, so I left home with my brother to protect our lives. Your 'daddy' pays for your plastic surgery. Your 'daddy' pays for the condoms your little boyfriends do or don't use. Your 'daddy' doesn't ignore your existence until it's convenient, and your 'daddy' is stupid enough to let you become this slut who picks on the homeless."
It took several minutes for her tiny 'whore brain' to absorb the information it had been given.
"So where's this 'brother' of yours?"
I replied honestly. "I don't know."
The pink one stood there laughing hysterically when the blond said her final word on the matter.
"So you must really fail at protecting him, just like your life is a failure."
She had hardly made her decision to leave before I stepped forward and slapped her. I grabbed at her hair, and hit her once, hard, in the nose before the other people around swarmed in and a few took hold of my arms, restraining me from attacking her.
A few security guards rushed in as well, and then I knew I was screwed.
It was only an hour later I was sitting at a table opposite a rent-a-cop in the security office of the mall. I crossed one leg over the other and crossed my arms, looking defensively at the wall.
"Could I ask your name, please?" he asked.
"My name is Page. My last name is Lapinski."
"Alright then Page, I need to ask you a few more questions."
I turned my eyes towards the man. "Fine."
"I'll start very simply. Did you or did you not attack Ms. Carnell today?"
He was referring to Sophie Carnell, the slut that said I couldn't protect Lawliet.
"…"
"Please answer the question."
"She started it." I mumbled, just like a little kid.
"She may have started it, Ms. Lapinski, but she now has a broken nose and bruises to press charges with." The rent-a-cop leaned onto the table and I glared at him.
"She provoked the attack." I began. "Doesn't that count for anything?"
"Not in court." He paused before continuing his line of questions. "Page, are you currently under the influence of any kind of narcotics?"
"I'm disgusted you would even think of that." I got ready to stand up and leave if need be.
"Then I would love to know what Sophie said that could have made you hit her so hard."
"She said I was a failure at protecting my brother. I can't stand for that. I spent the past four years in this city because I was protecting him. Things have happened that I pretended never did for his sake. I-"
"That's quite enough." He said. "If you don't know where your brother is, then Ms. Carnell was right. You'll have to go to the police station with an officer from the police department and deal with any charges being pressed."
"Wait!" I stood up, slamming a hand on the cheap table. "I'm being arrested?!"
"Unfortunately, yes."
"N-" my head spun in every direction as I searched for the door. I started towards it. "No! I have to find Wammy! I have to find Lawliet!" Tears welled up in my eyes.
As I grasped the door handle, the rent-a-cop called out something about how I wasn't allowed to leave without an officer. Either I couldn't hear it well or I wasn't listening. The door seemed incredibly heavy to me, and time had seemed to slow. I was going to run for it, I was going to find Lawliet if it killed me.
I ran from the room to the nearest flight of stairs, which I took three at a time. As I was just touching on the door to the main parking lot, I bumped hard into someone. It was, unfortunately, a police officer. Turning to run in the opposite direction, I found the same, annoying rent-a-cop.
I took two steps, backing away. "No…" I muttered. I fell into the same odd position Lawliet had always sat in, and my wide eyes locked onto the floor tile. "No no no no no…" I pulled my hands up to the back of my head, and kept crying.
"Come on, Ms. Lapinski," I heard the rent-a-cop say. "This is just embarrassing for you."
"I can't…" I sobbed. "I have to find him."
The 'real' police officer grabbed one of my arms, helping me up, and led me towards to door of the mall. Before I even knew it, I was in the back of a police car, wiping my tears with the back of my hand.
"What happened…?" I asked out loud. This startled the female officer sitting in the passenger seat.
"I think you broke some girl's nose." She replied. "And she also says you were really high. We don't have a choice. When someone reports something like that, we have to bring them in, no matter what other evidence there is."
"I know that… I just… I'm not high! I swear! I've never done drugs in my life!" I cried. "Never! She was insulting me about everything! I haven't done anything wrong! I was just trying to protect Lawliet!"
She seemed interested. With a small smile, she replied in a comforting voice. "I know. Girls like that Carnell lie. You probably looked at her wrong. Just explain everything at the station and you should be out by tomorrow."
I was out by the next day, but only because I took several drug tests and had no money to be sued for or to pay fines. When I found my way back to the shop, I found the sad coincidence of the fact that everything was gone. I had been robbed again.
Now depressed and upset, I wandered around back to the music store, and sat in my old home. It wasn't really worth going into the store. I still couldn't afford that Queen CD I saw years ago. A bunch of music still wasn't going to help me.
I sat that night behind the shop, with no house, but still a home.
"Hey mom." I said, looking at the stars. "Look, I know everybody thought I was high the other day, but right now I'm just being an idiot and talking to you. I didn't smoke anything. I just miss you, so I figured, what the hell, I'll talk to you, y'know?"
My guess was, she didn't care.
"Well, I lost Lawliet. I'm sorry. I'm his older sibling and I should have been better, but I thought it would be best. I'm just hating it now though. I want my little bro back. It doesn't matter though. I can't be half the parent you were to him.
"I need a job, too. I'll find something. But… Mom? I want you to keep an eye on Lawliet for me, but also I need you to forgive me for the other day, and last July, and anything else that may happen. It's hard like this. I have to do what I have to do.
"But of course I'm talking to nobody." I laughed. "Good night, mom. I miss you."
I did get a good night's sleep that night.
(#0#)
"You can't just evict me! I pay rent!" I yelled at Mrs. Cheris, AKA, Landlady from Hell. At the age of seventeen, I got an apartment… problem: I couldn't get a job I could make work.
"Not on time you don't!" She screeched in reply, throwing a bag of my stuff at me from inside my unit. "So get out! I warned you!"
"No you didn't!" I was ashamed of myself. Wow. Twenty and uneducated. I felt bad about that little fact that kept my resume pathetic. "You even said I could have a break for a few months because I need to find a job!"
"You haven't gotten a job!"
"I'm working on it, Mrs. Cheris. What do you want me to do? Be a whore?"
"If it pays your rent, then fine!" She shouted. "Call me when you found somewhere else to live and I'll give you your furniture!"
"Whatever." I muttered, picking up my bag. It didn't matter. Next week she would take pity on me and give me the key back. She evicted me every few months, then decided she was being to harsh on a pour soul like me.
It was annoying… really. I had a friend I often stayed with, but she was getting sick of me, and not much else was going on.
I got on the bus and rode to my friend's house, barging in the door without a second thought.
"Way to knock," Christine said, putting down her study book.
"Thanks." I replied. "How's the whole University thing going for you?"
"Good…" She said in her heavy English accent, shortly before she noticed my duffel bag. "So it's that time again."
"Yup. The old bag kicked me out again. I can't find a friggen job." The language picked up from the street had begun to show its mark in later years.
"I found an interesting ad in the paper you may like."
I stopped and walked over to the table to see the ad in the classifieds circled in red marker. "Christine! You didn't have to do that!"
"It was good fun." She smiled. "Just read it."
So I did.
Wammy's House Orphanage
An orphanage for gifted children
Help Wanted
Then it listed a telephone number.
"Isn't that just the weirdest ad you've ever seen?" Christine said with a giggle.
I paused for several minutes.
"Page, hello? Earth to Page! Are you even in there?"
"I'm going to apply." I said at last.
"Why? I showed it to you because it was funny."
"Lawliet could be there."
"…Well…"
"Christine, I'm applying. I haven't seen my brother in years. I'm not giving up the chance."
"Well then, the phone's on the table."
And I did apply.
--
Wow, going strong until that police car showed up.
HELP, POLICE! SOMEONE STOLE THE GOOD IN MY STORY!!
Review none the less.