She loves him, he loves her. There's just one problem. He's dead.
So anyway, the few of you that actually were reading Keep Running and are wondering: “Hey, where the fuck has that story gone?” let me explain its demise. Truth is I had no idea where the hell it was going in the first place, (I honestly don’t know if that was shown through the plot line to you readers, but whatever) and hardly anyone was reading it anyways.
So yeah, thanks to you handful of awesome dudes who read and rated Keep Running and please don’t do anything reckless or violent out of anger for its destruction (though I highly doubt you will.) Hope you enjoy my fresh start!
If I had a penny for every time someone called me ‘emo’, I would be one rich bitch.
I wouldn’t have protested if they did. Don’t get me wrong, I was totally against stereotyping people purely because of how they dress or what music they listen to, but on the other hand I wasn’t some insanely extreme ‘rights for universal rejects’ activist or anything. To be honest, I guessed it’s just that I didn’t give a shit about what people thought of me. I wasn’t selfish. I just didn’t see the point.
“Am I emo?” I asked Frank one day. Frank was my best friend. We met in middle school at the
Nurse’s station when it turned out we were both skiving gym and had been good friends ever since.
“I dunno...” he nibbled on a corn chip. “Depends...what’s your definition of emo?”
Good point. I honestly couldn’t tell anymore. We were sitting in our spot, our territory, if you like, between the recycle sheds and the abandoned science block which was shut down in, like, 1920 and was never completely demolished from the school building. We sat there every day; eating lunch, skiving gym, skipping detention. It was right opposite the football field where all the douche bag jocks fucked around in short-shorts and helmets, but no one ever saw us, or as hell tried to find us. Unless some ass hole wanted Frank for his lunch money or something.
That was pretty similar to our actual aspect of the student body; too unathletic for the jocks, too morbid for the geeks and too wet for the rebels. We were invisible, Frank and I, except for the occasional detention for eyeliner wearing or the beating-Frank-up for lunch money. And we liked it that way. It was all good.
“Why are you asking me this again?” he suddenly asked, puzzled. I shrugged.
“I don’t know,” I said, then added, “some chick called me emo in Spanish today.” I nicked a corn chip from the bag that lay in Frank’s lap.
“So anyways,” I said, changing the subject. “What’re you doing after school today? Aren’t you at Bob’s or something?”
Bob was my friend too, and Minnie. They had been were dating since Christmas vacation. They both went to this skiing trip in Vermont or something, and when they came back she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Fun times.
I saw Frank shrug, but the shrill ring of the bell signalling the end of lunch enveloped all sound, so I never heard his answer. He then said something about having to leave early so I let him rush off to home room. I sighed, shouldered the bag lying on the steps next to me and trudged back to the main school building, allowing myself to be drowned by the wave of students thundering down the corridor to get to their home rooms before the fifth ring. I reached R5 (home room) and traipsed inside, four minutes late.
“Ah Leanne. We appreciate the great effort you made to bless us with your presence on time, don’t we class?” Mr Revel quipped. Lee, ass clown, my fucking name was Lee. I ignored the nervous titters that rippled around the class and slumped into the last available seat, second row from the back. Frank smiled sympathetically from across the room and I sighed again, flicking a loose strand of dark hair out of my eyes.
Geography was death. I had it in that room for the last sadistic hour and a half of school so I didn’t bother moving seats, or with the lesson itself. Instead of listening to Miss Henderson drone on about tectonic plates and shit, I let my eyes drift around the room, at my fellow high school suckers and how they were pretending to listen as much as I.
And that was when I saw him.
The kid in the back row. Slumped in the corner of the room, half swathed in shadow, he sat there like a whisper amongst the other students. This wasn’t the first time I had watched him; I didn’t know his name, I never talked to him, I hadn’t even seen him outside of school before. I didn’t know why I cared so much-he was just the kid in the back row, always was always would be. But there was just something I couldn’t place-something...off. And it sucked me right in.
His eyes flickered up and locked with mine behind the bangs of midnight fringe, shiny glass chips of hazel. I could feel a blush creeping onto my cheeks and a little voice at the back of my mind was screaming at me to look away, but I didn’t. He just stared at me with those shadowy eyes until he smirked and looked back down at his work. Smirked. At me.
Dick. Sexy, mysterious, evil, smirking dick. He was stuck in my head as I splashed through the puddles of chewing-gum speckled streets, thick grey storm clouds thundering irately over New Jersey. They heavy rain had already soaked the thin fabric of my hoodie and jeans by the time I was no more than half way home, inviting the cold in between the seams and seeping through my skin. I shivered, contemplating whether to walk down the simple route home or to cut across the underpass of the subway. The underpass was a magnet for junkies, kidnappers and rapists, but it was a short cut, and a dry one at that, so I headed off through the subway. And besides, if some meth head decided to try something on me, I’d sock him in the jaw, send a knee to the nuts and run away.
No I wouldn’t.
I’m a pacifist. No I’m not.
I’m a wimp.
Whatever, it was too early in the day for meth head rapists. Actually I don’t know-was there a set time in the day that allowed junkies to wait at the subway for young girls? It seemed unlikely.
“Hey sugar, where you going?”
I stopped dead in my tracks as the croaked voice slid off the graffitied walls of the underpass. Crap. The two figures slipped out of the shadows, waxy skinned and hungry eyed. They edged forward and I could see their faded eyes swim in and out of focus. Damn, these guys were higher than the moon. The first one that had spoken waved a half-empty bottle of beer at me when I didn’t answer.
“I said,” he sneered, taking another step towards me, “Where are you fuckin’ going?”
Fuck fuck fuckedy-fuck. I was so dead; I could almost taste the bitter cold of it on my tongue. I didn’t know if one noticed, but I was so shit in life-threatening situations it was unreal. Like the time I left a TV dinner in the microwave for too long and it set alight, I locked myself in the bathroom until the fire stopped.
“Whatcha doing hangin’ round here?” he slurred, stroking my neck. I stiffened and jerked my head away at the rough touch of his finger and he chuckled jeeringly.
“Pretty girl like you don’t belong wondering alone at a place like this...”
I cringed at his breath which was laced with the stench of cigarettes and vodka. Eugh. He glanced at the other, who made to reach for my bag. I attempted to pull it out of his reach but to no avail, and Dragon Breath laughed cruelly, grabbing the bag off my shoulder.
“Now...” He began to flick through the contents of the bag. “What do we have in here?”
“Tic tacs for your breath,” I muttered. He stopped and when he looked back up at me, his eyes flashed in anger. Suddenly this guy wasn’t some high faggot off the street, suddenly this guy could be a lot more dangerous than I expected.
“What did you say to me?” he snarled through clenched teeth. Okay, now I was really scared.
“Stupid, useless whore,” the other grunted, grabbing my wrists as I squirmed and cried for help.
“We’ll put you in your place...”
Oh my fucking God. I was too young to die. Shit, in a matter of minutes I’d be nothing but a bleeding wreck, crying in a puddle somewhere. Goodbye cruel world, this was the end...
What happened next was difficult to describe in both content and order of which it came in. Just as Dragon Breath and co. were about to beat the shit out of me, a silhouetted figure slipped out of the shadows and crept towards them. I watched in awe as the figure snapped out a foot to the back of Dragon Breath’s knees, sending him sprawling to the floor.
The other, the sidekick or whatever, made to sock the figure square in the nose, but the mystery man slid silently out of the way, whamming a fist into the sidekick’s jaw. The sidekick howled and spun onto one knee, clutching the side of his face. Dragon Breath attempted to grab the figure’s legs in a rugby-tackle type fashion, but the figure’s outstanding reflexes caused him to jump high in the air, ramming a knee into the meth head’s chin. The two alley junkies scrambled off the floor and ran away back down the underpass, swearing in outrage and spitting up blood.
As my saviour stepped out of the shadows to reveal his identity, my stomach did one massive fucking back-flip. It was the dick. The sexy, mysterious, evil, smirking dick. His eyes shone against the marble pallor of his skin and he flicked his fringe away from that beatific face, half shadowed from the hood that was pulled over his head. I scratched the back of my neck, chewing over what to say.
“Erm...” I stammered, pushing the wet strands of hair out of my eyes. “Thanks, I guess.” Awkward.
He took a step towards me. We were pretty close; about a shoulder width apart.
“Please don’t hurt me!” I suddenly squeaked. Sweet Jesus, how pathetic. I mean seriously! He
smirked again, probably thinking I was a total jackass now. Which wasn’t a lie in its entirety.
“It’s okay,” he finally replied. His voice was rough and deep, as if it hadn’t been used in a long while. “I don’t feel like it right now.”
I really hoped he was joking. His eyes were laughing, but his lips remained a thin straight line. Then, to my surprise, he stuck out his hand.
“Lee,” I replied, shaking it. I sharply drew my hand away from the shockingly cold touch of his skin. Geez, his fingers were cold. Like, fucking freezing. He shrugged and stuffed his hands back in his pockets. Then he pivoted around and walked away.
“See you around, Lee,” he called over his shoulder. I raised my eyebrow, gingerly picking my bag out of a murky puddle on the floor. I then started to walk as fast as my legs could manage to get as far as I could from the underpass.
So, um, yeah. There’s Chapter 1. Review and rate please, I need to know if this is worth while!