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Invision
October 28th, 2010, 07:59 AM
This is an unfinished short story I wrote a year ago, that some people seem to enjoy, so I figured I'd post it here. >.>
<.<

--


f r a g m e n t s
episode one

I can't tell you why she feels that way. Lost inside, every day – like there's nothing left to pray for. Nothing left to see, nothing left to touch or feel or love or hate.

Her life was empty, but only to her. A gray, emotionless haze. Memories forgotten forever, ground to dust in time.

This is the story of a girl who lost her life.

Let us begin our journey through her past. Come with me and find out what went wrong. What, when, where, and, most important of all; why.

Suddenly, a mist falls over us. When it fades, we see a young girl – if you had to make a guess, you would say she was about thirteen. She is crying over the body of her dog. He died. And he was her best friend.

We see her mother walk over to her. “Get over it,” You see her sneer. “It's just a dog, you wimp.” The girl continues to cry, and her mother slaps her. “Grow up!” She yells at the girl. We see her run away, across the lawn, away from her house, her mother, and the dead body of her best friend. “Don't you walk away from me!”

The mist takes over us again, and when it thins out we see the girl in her mother's room. We see the mirror smashed, the pillows and the bed look like they have been cut into with a knife, and the girl has carved the words “Help me” into every surface in the room. The girls takes out her cell phone and texts her mom with the words, “Come see your room.”

We see the mother come in, moments later. She bursts through the door, staring at her ruined possessions. “You little bitch!” She yells. This time, she is vindictive. “You killed my dog! You fucking bitch! You killed my dog, and this is what you get!” The girl throws down the knife. As soon as she does, her mother leaps towards her. “My things are more important than your little dog, you little brat!” The mother yells.

The girl is forced into the bathroom, and we hear her whimpers and screams. We wait for about fifteen minutes in front of the bathroom door, listening to it all and wishing the mother would stop. But she doesn't - and then we hear the girl's screaming cease.


f r a g m e n t s
episode two

As we hear her screaming stop, the mist comes over us once again. We know the when and the where of the beginning of this girl's story, and what has begun must end, but what has happened must also have a reason. We know the when and where, but not the why and how.

The mist fades once again, and once again we see the girl. She isn't upset, she isn't crying – but she has done something terrible. The girl and her father, appearing like silhouettes against the sunset.

I can see that she is in danger. Her father is going to hurt her, and make her suffer for the terrible thing she has done. But she is strong, her soul yet unbroken. We see the silhouette change into an embrace, but it does not stay one.

The girl is trapped in her father's arms, and the mother walks out of their house with a knife in her hand. “You little bitch,” We see her sneer. “You're going to pay for locking up Larrisa like that.” The girl looks morbid. Her mother picks up the girl's dog.

We see the girl suddenly start screaming as the realization dawns on her, of what her parents are going to do. “Please, don't kill it! Don't kill it please! Please!” Her tortured screams fall on deaf ears. “She killed a man! Larissa killed a man! Don't punish me for this! Please don't kill him!” The girl is desperate, and her mother knows it. Her father puts his hand over her mouth. “It's for your own good,” He says sternly. He seems to be well-meaning, as if this will actually help his daughter.

We see her mother stare at her daughter and as she holds the knife to the dog's throat. “This is for Larissa,” she whispers, as she slices through the dog's throat. It's body falls to the ground, blood staining the grass forever as we hear the girl's muffled, desperate cries and screams.

As we see her mother laugh at her daughter's pain, revenge and hate shifting into joy at the sight of the girl's desperate screams, the mist comes over us, to begin the journey anon.

The mist fades once more, and we see a young woman – not an adult, but not a child by any respect. Her and two friends are in a forest, with a young man. They each hold a crowbar in their hands, and we see the boy, broken and bloody, in pain on the forest floor.

We know the girl; her name is Larrisa. The other two are named Bryan and Mike. We don't know the young man, and we cannot guess at the crime he has committed. The question here is, who is more at fault – the broken young man or the deadly young girl?

“You wanted it!” He yells at her. “You wanted it! You're a slut, a whore, a bitch, and you always will be! Don't you dare play hard to get!” We see Larrisa's eyes flash. “Hold him down,” She said, crowbar in hand. It doesn't look like they used the crowbars before; they had beaten him, punched and kicked until he was on the ground. Not wondering why, but rationalizing – not worrying, but wondering when it would end.

Her friends put down their crowbars and held him, as Larissa smashed into him with the crowbar. “You're a bastard! You raped me, you raped Ashley, who else will be a victim of you?” She says, vengeance in her voice. “One thing is for sure,” She whispers, “You will never, ever hurt anyone ever again.”

The mist comes upon us again. Larissa commited murder to the man who raped her – but which sin is worse? Rape, or murder? Do they go hand in hand?

It fades, and we come into a bedroom. Larrisa is sitting on her bed with the girl – one a victim, a broken soul, the other yet to feel such pain. “Can you keep a secret, sister?” She asks the girl. The girl nods.

“I killed a man last night. A terrible man, who has done horrible things...”

As we watch the girls, whispering in the dark in a deadly silent house, as Larrisa confesses her crimes to her sister, and the mist fades over us once more.


f r a g m e n t s
episode three

As we leave the two girls, whispering in the dark about a crime that will change both of their lives forever, the mist fades and once again we see the girl. It is evening, and she is standing at her front door. We see her father and her mother, standing in the doorway, staring at their daughter, alone in the pouring rain. “Get out of my yard, girl.” We hear the mother hiss at her daughter, her voice dripping with anger and betrayal. Her father joins in, but we hear nothing but hate in his voice. “And never come back.”

We see the father slam the door, and the girl is left there, standing alone in a place that used to be hers and never will be again.

She stares at the rain, she stares at the stars, and most of all, she is staring at the door.

It opens, as if in an afterthought, and the girl's hopes light up in her eyes. At this moment, it isn't hard to guess what they would be if she voiced them. “They're taking me back, aren't they? Oh please let them take me back!”

As it opens all the way, we see her father standing in the doorway. He holds a green backpack in his hands, a note in his hand. He doesn't say a word. No last good-bye, no last, “I love you.” He throws the backpack at her, hands the girl the note, and leaves. “But dad!” She sobs, holding the note in her hand like a lifeline. “Please take me back! Please, please take me back!” But all he does is shake his head and close the door.

The girl doesn't sob. She doesn't scream, cry, yell, or throw things. I see her hands shaking, and she drops the note – this time she lets out a small little sob. “No!” She picks it up off of the wet doorstep and tries to read it in pouring rain. “I love you. But I cannot forgive you.” And she sees a tiny scrawl, added like an afterthought to her father's bulky handwriting. “And you can never come back.”

Now she stands there, angry, hurt, abandoned, and betrayed. “I deserved this.” We hear her whisper. “I did this to myself.”

The mist comes over us once more.

The girl committed a terrible act of betrayal. Her sister had told her about the murder in confidence, and she had lied. This girl has betrayed her sister, destroyed lives, and ruined her mother's posessions. But are these crimes, while large, deserving of disownment? Of abandonment?

The mist fades, and once again we are in the mother's bedroom. The mother is no longer there, and the door is open – we see her lying on the ground. She isn't moving, her head is bleeding, and she lies there, eyes closed – looking like a lifeless, soulless shell.

I must confess, I have now been through much with this girl. I have seen her condemn, seen her sister's act of murder, her mother's act of hate and her own act of revenge. I have seen her as a criminal and seen her as a victim. And now, I stare at her blank, lifeless body, look at her blood on the floor, and I see that she isn't breathing. I have been through so much with this girl, and I feel I cannot give up on her now, no matter what the cost of my interference in this reality.

“Wake up,” I whisper softly to the girl. “Breathe, girl. Wake up.”

I touch her cheek softly, putting some of my energy into her. “Wake up.” I walk back to the mother's room and sit on the bed, looking at the girl. “Wake up.”

And I see her gasp for air.

--


Pssst: The narrator is an angel or something. I have absolutely no idea why I added that to the story.

Please ignore melodrama, random things trying to be deep and philosophical, etc. When I read over it, that kind of thing made me want to just click the 'delete' button on the document. Heh.

James

Bucky24
October 29th, 2010, 12:24 AM
This is a very pretty story-I enjoyed reading it. The ending I liked especially.

Just one thing that made it a little hard to follow at times:



We see the mother come in, moments later. She bursts through the door, staring at her ruined possessions. “You little bitch!” She yells. This time, she is vindictive. “You killed my dog! You fucking bitch! You killed my dog, and this is what you get!”




The mother is no longer there, and the door is open – we see her lying on the ground.


Both times there are multiple people indicated in the sentence, but there is no way to tell who unless you take a little time to investigate based on what they are doing/what they are saying. This puts a nasty break in the story, makes it flow less smoothly.

Also:



We see the father slam the door, and the girl is left there, standing alone in a place that used to be hers and never will be again.


Then how did she get back in her mother's bedroom?

Kordain
October 29th, 2010, 03:33 AM
i almost puked, sorry but just that some people are capable of these sorts of things, i liked the ending. i admit i didn't like it much, not that you did a cruddy job but just the sorrow and the hate and the anger just...i just don't like it. not my kind of fiction. for those to do enjoy it, its pretty good.