I walked away from the boy and made my way to my first period classroom. Trying to ignore the nagging feeling in my gut that something about that boy was actually quite important. Luckily the bell ringing did that by reminding me I was about to be late for class.
The day consisted of five classes; science, english, writing, math, and , everyone's favorite, study hall. Most people took study hall as a free class to just sit around and talk, while others, like myself actually used it to study. Walking into the classroom, the substitute teacher sat behind the desk, his big nose planted firmly in a book, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to his students. Which was fine because no one really paid attention to him as they all sat around and gossiped. I took a seat at a desk next to the window and pulled out my journal, flipping to a blank page. With the journal open on my desk, I turned to stare out the window looking for something to inspire me.
The journal was actually a drawing pad that was given to me as a birthday present from when I was younger, and though it wasn't very nice, it was very dear to me. Everyday during study hall, when I didn't have any home work I would doodle something that was on my mind.
"Have you guys seen that black Camaro around town? Dude that car is so sweet!" the sound of a sophomores cracking voice brought me back to reality. His friends nodded in agreement.
"Dude that car belongs to Derek Hale!" That caught my attention. I turned my hearing to their conversation, but didn't look away from the window. I remembered Derek Hale. I was a sophomore like those boys when he was where I am. By that time the accident that claimed almost his entire family had already come to pass. Derek was cold after that, not that I ever attempted to talk to him. Honestly he scared even me a little bit. I tried to recall what he looked like, but so much time had passed since I'd seen his face, let alone seen him around town. I'd thought he'd left, but from what I was hearing he was back in town- but why? What could possibly bring him back to the town where he'd lost his entire family?
My eyes traveled away from the window and to the blank paper before me. The pencil in my hand seemed to find a line below the surface and traced it out, then another and another. Mindlessly the lead traveled across the surface pulling an image out from the white. I fell into a trance looking beyond the paper, letting my hands guide me to the image that was so deeply rooted within my own mind.
RING. The sound of the bell snapped my trance pretty quickly though, the way it always did. I placed my pencil down and rubbed my eyes, attempting to make them work normally again. Placing the pencil back inside my backpack I stopped to see what I had drawn and was surprised to find a face staring back at me. A familiar face, and an old one. I gave a small chuckle and closed the journal. Of course it would be Derek Hale.
With the room vacant I strolled out, glad to not have to fight the flow of foot traffic as I made my way back to my locker. Upon reaching my locker I placed my two textbooks inside, but stopped at my journal. I ran my hands over the soft leather cover with textile-like patterns etched into the surface. Opening the cover again, I filtered through different drawings of birds, trees, other people, until I came to Derek's face. I looked at it for another long moment, studying the flow of his jaw and nose lines, wondering how I was able to recall with striking detail those features. Sighing I closed the journal and placed it back inside my locker, knowing that the answer I wanted would probably never be revealed to me.
Exiting the school building I moved to the right where the large yellow buses were grouped together and the student body mingled as they all tried to get onto their buses at the same time. I was never in much of a hurry to get home, so I would wait my turn while the masses sorted themselves out. I watched as the line for the bus shortened until my desired wait time then I too joined the line.
As expected the ride was noisy, crowded, and of course, pungent with the stench of hormonal teenagers. With my backpack in my lap I looked forward out of the dirty window, bouncing with every crack in the road, and let my mind go blank. Why did I choose this life? Why did I choose to be alone? My family…my family is dead to me. The cold thought brought me back to reality, just as the bus rolled up to its first stop; mine that is. Shifting the backpack onto my shoulder I walked off the bus and back into the blazing heat of the afternoon bus door closed behind me and took off down the paved road, leaving me standing on the edge of the hicks trailer park of Beacon Hills.
Loose grave mixed with dusty tan dirt mingled in the air as I shuffled down the main road of the the trailer park. I lived at the end of the road, my small trailer tucked right there at the end, just before the bend that led deeper into the park.
A small white picket fence neatly wrapped itself around the round trailer with a strange purple flower growing just outside the fence. I'd never bothered trying to get rid of the flowers, even though once of twice the land owner had threatened to kick me out if I didn't. And yet here I was.
I unlatched the fence door and moved inside, quickly climbing the metal steps with my keys in hand to unlock the door. The smell of sweet air rushed through the open door as I entered the trailer. Closing the door behind me, I let my eyes adjust to the dim light that filtered through the closed, red blinds. Sliding out of my shoes I dropped my bag on the floor next to the door. For some odd reason I always kept a baseball bat by the door, just in case another thought it would be a good idea to come and fuck with my trailer. I walked into my small kitchen, equipped with a small oven, sink and refrigerator which was also fashioned in a red manner. Picking up a clean coffee mug from the counter I flipped on the faucet and watched at the water filled the mug. Ironically enough I didn't actually drink coffee, but I collected coffee mugs. Sure enough if you looked at my wall you would see a hefty collected of coffee mugs in all sizes and shapes.
After admiring my collection I walked back to my room with my mug in fuzzy tan carpet was matted down after years of walking across it, even in my room, but it was spotless of any stains much to my pride. Pushing the wooden door aside I walked into my very plain and simple room. A mattress with a red comforter and two white pillows, a mirror and closet, which was poorly filled. Finishing off my water I placed the mug down on the floor and changed out of my jeans into my lazy sweats.
"Oh my god, finally." I flexed suddenly freed from the containment of my pants. I picked up my mug again and moved back into the living room, placing the mug on the kitchen counter as I walked past and made my way into my living room. Simply furnished as well the living room consisted of a table, red couch with a massive blanket draped across it, and bookshelf over flowing with books. No television, no computer, no connection to the outside word; complete isolation. I smiled and fell down on to the red couch and bundled myself inside the blanket. I looked at the digital clock on the oven just across the way from the living room and saw that it read three in the afternoon. Nap time. Sure enough my eye lids grew droopy and eventually closed to the warm and calm of the afternoon.
BOOM.Flung from my sleeping spot on the couch by something impacting itself on my trailer I fell between the couch and table. Grunting as I hit the floor I groaned with annoyance.
"Why me?" I muttered under my breath, my blanket still very much wrapped around me tightly. Crack! That was the sound of my fence breaking along with my patience. "Fuck." I sat up and unraveled myself from the blanket. Now with an impeccable bed head I stomped over to the trailer door, ready to give what I thought was a drunk driver a big piece of my mind. Reaching out to open the door I stopped as the air suddenly turned to ice and pulled my hand back. It wasn't the air that had turned to ice, but a chill had run up my spin stopping me from opening the door. Good thing too. A low, deep growl vibrated through the walls and I took another step back from the door.
It wasn't the growl of a dog, it sounded bigger and much angrier, almost like something out of a child's nightmare. I placed my hand over my mouth and moved another step away back, my body shaking with adrenaline as fear began to over take me. Then I heard something else- a man's cough. Someone as out there. Out there with that thing. I had to do something before he got hurt, or worse, but my fear kept my feet firmly planted a few feet away from the door. Move Belle. Move! My mind urged me forward, fighting the fear despite its control. The beast growled again, this time closer than before, then in a terrifying moment let out a roar. It ripped through the metal walls so violently I thought that it might tear them away and leave me exposed for the beast. I struggled to hold in my scream, but sank to my knees and began to cry. Pulling my knees into my chest I sat just before the door and shut my eyes tight.
"Belle"…a woman's voice called out in my head. It was warm and familiar but was distant as if through a fog. I placed my hands over my ears, shutting out all of the other noise that wasn't the voice. "Belle open the door sweetie." It was my mother. This was just a memory. I'd locked myself in the broom closet, after having seen my mother collapse. She was sick and when I saw her fall I'd become scared. I stayed in the room, locked from within for six hours until my mother had returned from the hospital. "I'm too scare mommy." I cried my head buried in knees. "Focus on my voice. Everything will be alright. You are stronger than fear." I looked up in the darkness at the door, sensing my mother just on the other side. "That's right. I'm here baby. Come out into the light." I opened my eyes to the dim light of my trailer, feeling the fear being melted away by a warm light.
"I am stronger than my fear…" I whispered, standing slowly to my feet. Someone out there was in danger and needed my help, I had to do something. With my mother voice in my heart I gathered my courage and took a step toward the door. I glanced down at my baseball bat and wrapped my fingers around its cold metal. Something is better than nothing. Taking breath I gripped the door knob with white knuckles and opened it to what ever was waiting outside