
08-04-2007, 03:51 PM
Well, i have so many stories so i will make a thread only for them.
Rain
Chapter 1: Craig Selva
The rain seemed to come down as if to poke fun at the people who wished for sunlight. It came down from dawn to dusk without stopping. Craig had always liked the rain, so he never wore a waterproof jacket or kept an umbrella with him. He tended to enjoy the pitter-patter feeling of water droplets on his face, so he simply never bothered with covering himself up. In fact, he preferred the rain over a sunny day every time. All he did throughout those gloomy days in the city were talking with his friends on the streets, maintaining his little "gang's" territory, and taking walks in the rain with his clothes saturated with the chillingly cold gift from the clouds. In a way, he, too, poked fun at the sun-loving people in the dark and disgusting city he lived in. With it’s faceless skyscrapers and endless rain, it seemed only fit for the rejects of the world to live.
The sarcastic, smoking, drinking, high school dropout had once again found himself walking through the densely-packed sidewalks of the city with a lit cigarette between his lips and his hands in his pockets. Craig was a fairly tall seventeen year-old; about six feet on the dot. His short black hair was matted against his skull, and the rain cascaded down his thick locks in streams. He wore a dark brown trench coat and blue jeans along with dirty white cross-trainers. His mind had been lost in thought ever since he left his parents' apartment, and he had kept walking ever since. The roar of a passing truck jerked him out of his trance, and splashed an entire puddle of water onto his leg in the process.
Craig mumbled several curses under his breath and shook out his drenched leg, and continued to walk. He didn’t care if he got wet, what he cared about was when. Only he decided when he was going to get rained on. To him, nobody else had the right to do so. Just as he started to walk on a crosswalk on an intersection, there was a flash of light overhead followed immediately by a blast of thunder. A few people around him cringed at the noise, but he remained unmoved in his renewed trance.
“Well,” he said to himself as he spat out his cigarette into the gutter, “I may as well find a hotel for the night.” It wasn’t like he felt welcome back in that apartment, anyway. He stood under a bus stop’s overhang and counted the money in his wallet. Seventy three bucks. It was more than enough for a single night at a shabby hotel. Craig looked around and ran towards the first hotel to cross his sight. It was a simple hostel with a flickering sign standing on the front of it that read “Hotel: one night- $35.00”. It was run-down and dirty, but it would suit Craig’s needs, so he opened the door, which squeaked on the hinges followed by a small bell, and stepped inside.
A bellboy was standing behind the counter. He finished talking to a small group of people and gave them a key. Once he saw Craig enter, he said, “Welcome, sir.”
“Yeah, thanks. Do you have a room?” Craig said quickly and uncaringly.
“I’m so sorry, but that group just took the last available room. We’re booked.”
“Crap,” Craig said under his breath, and promptly turned around.
“Wait, I can call some of the nearby hotels and see if they have any rooms left. It‘d leave a bad taste in my mouth if I leave you out in the cold with this kind of weather.”
He stopped just as he put his hand on the doorknob. “Fine, make a call.” He walked over to the counter and leaned on it as the bellboy picked up an old-fashioned tan-colored phone.
After a few seconds, the bellboy said into the receiver, “Yes, I have a guy here who needs a room for the night, and we’re booked over here, so… yeah, just one guy… oh, really? Well, thanks,” He hung up and said to Craig, “Looks like a lot of people like you want to get out of this storm we’re having. I’ll make a few more calls if you’d like.”
Craig said flatly, “Go ahead.”
The bellboy made several more calls, but had no luck in finding a hotel for Craig. “I’m sorry about this.”
“It’s fine.” He started to walk towards the door once again. Not once throughout his short stay did he change his expression.
“Wait a sec. There may be a place with rooms, but…”
“Just tell me where it is.” He said without turning around.
“… Okay, then. It’s on Tune Street down a small alley between the video rental store and the pawn shop. It’s kind of hard to miss.”
Craig whirled around, tromped over to the bellboy, and said angrily, “That’s a love hotel, smart-ass!”
“W-well, there might be other singles like you staying there for the night, so--”
“No way in hell I’d go in there by myself. I have an image to maintain around here! And if you think for one second I'll sleep in one of those disgusting beds...” He shuddered slightly, but maintained his angry look.
Bellboy let out a sigh, “Fine, stay out in the cold, for all I care.”
Well, Craig later found himself walking to Tune Street and sidling inbetween the two closed stores as stealthily as possible. If any of his street friends happened to be catch him walking there, his reputation of being a tough guy would’ve crumbled in an instant. Once he got there, he was at least relieved to see that it didn’t even look like a love hotel. It seemed only slightly cleaner than the hotel he went to earlier… and had no windows…
After mumbling a few more curse words, Craig finally opened the door. Inside, everything was red carpet and draperies, shining hardwood floors, and chandeliers. It may not have looked like a love hotel on the outside, but on the inside…
“Welcome!” A woman, who looked like she was in her thirties, standing next to the staircase said. She had wavy black hair and wore a thick mask of make-up on her face. It was as if she was trying to hide the great beauty she had with a layer of dirt. At the most, she was mediocre-looking with the make-up on, but Craig seemed to be able to tell with those kind of things. The woman wore a red one-piece dress with black high-heels. “Oh. Are you alone? That‘s… rare…”
“Yeah, I just need a room for the night,” Craig said with embarrassment.
“It takes a lot of guts to come to a place like this alone,” she said jokingly. “If you’d like a room, then you’re in luck. The couple that took the last room just left…”
“Then I’ll take that room. How much?” He took out his wallet.
“It’s usually forty-five dollars for a couple, but since you’re alone, I’ll cut it down to thirty.”
“Awesome.”
She grabbed the last set of keys on the montage of room numbers on the wall behind the counter, and said, “This way.”
Craig followed her up the stairs all the way up to the fourth floor. The smells that emanated from each room were too out-there for him to describe to himself He was surprised that there was so little… sounds of activity going on throughout the building. He couldn’t help but ask, “Are the walls sound-proof or something?”
They walked down the hallway as she said, “Yeah. It guarantees privacy for my customers.”
“I had to ask.”
“They all do their first time here.” She smiled jokingly as she turned the key in the keyhole of the room numbered 406. The door opened, and they stepped inside to the brightly-lit room. “Hm. They must’ve left the lights on. Anyway, enjoy your stay.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Craig said as she walked out and closed the door behind herself. He tossed the keys onto the queen-sized bed, and unbuttoned his coat. Underneath it, he was wearing a black t-shirt that read across the chest: 'I’m not crazy, I promise!' From his lumped-up trench coat, he pulled a box of cigarettes, and bit the tip of one to pull it out. From his left pants pocket he brandished a black lighter, and casually lit the cigarette. He puffed out a small plume of gray smoke.
"Ah!" A high-pitched voice squeaked from behind him. He whirled around to see a girl, about a head shorter than he, standing next to the bathroom door wearing a white towel. She had long and wet dirty blond hair that went down past her shoulders and a somewhat petite body. Her dark brown eyes were full of fear and surprise. For the instant their eyes met, their senses seemed to fall numb. The cigarette fell out of Craig’s mouth and put itself out as it landed on the carpet.
At the same time the two of them shouted angrily, “Who the hell are you?”
---------------Chapter 2: Amelia Regenen-----------------
"'Who the hell am I?'" the girl echoed at Craig. She was still dripping wet, and her hair was still wet, too, and was closely matted against her scalp. "I just got this room for my boyfriend and me! How dare you walk in here!" She backed up into the bathroom and slammed the door. "Nathan! Who is he?" There were sounds of clothes being slipped on inside.
"Oh, for God's sake..." Craig mumbled to himself with a hand on his face. He walked to the closed bathroom door and yelled angrily into it, "Who're you talking to? I'm the only one here!"
There was a gasp from the other side of the door. The girl burst out of the bathroom door, knocking him out of the way rather forcibly with the door, wearing a long black skirt and white sweater. "No goddamn way would he--" She looked around the room, but only saw Craig's jacket laid on the bed and the cigarette packet on top of it. The girl fell to her knees, staring at the empty room with disbelief in her eyes. "Oh my God... Nathan left me here...?" A heavy feeling crept up within her as it she were freezing from the inside, and she wrapped her arms around her waist in an attempt to make it go away.
Craig got up from the floor, holding his head in pain. A bump was about to form on his forehead where the skin had already turned red. He sighed in annoyance and said, "I take it this Nathan guy is... was your boyfriend?"
She turned towards him with teary eyes and said with a stutter, "Y-yeah..." The girl apparently no longer cared that a complete stranger was in her room. She was holding back her tears quite efficiently, but Craig could easily tell. Kind of like with the makeup thing-- same basic principle, really.
He walked over to the put-out cigarette and picked up. After he threw it in the trash, he took another out of the packet. All the while, the girl gently sobbed on the floor. "Your ex-boyfriend is the worst kind of person. He wants to break up with you, but couldn't bring himself to make you cry, and doesn't go through with a breakup. So instead, he asked you to come here with him so that he could at least have sex with you, but in the end, he chickens out and runs away. It's almost efficient, if you think about it with the mind of an asshole. He doesn't have to see you cry or tell you directly what's up... but he has no consideration for you."
The sobbing only grew louder, and she had her hands covering her eyes and rubbing away the tears. "Nathan... Nathan...!"
Craig looked at her and shouted with so much force that she seemed to be pushed back, "Quit crying already! He was a complete ass hole! I haven't even met the guy and I already hate his guts! You should be happy that he left you!" The girl had a sudden confusion that swept over her. Who is this guy again? She thought to herself.
She wiped her tears away with her sweater sleeve and asked, "Who are you, anyway? And why are you making judgments on our relationship?"
"Wow, are you really so dense as to think that you still have a relationship with him?" Craig scratched the back of his head and stared at her with his eyes half-closed. He then began puffing the cigarette that hung from his lips as if to taunt her.
"Sh-shut up!" She stood up and hurled her hand towards Craig's face. Before she could make contact with his cheek, he grabbed her wrist. She tried to pull herself away from him, but to no avail. For an instant, their eyes connected. It didn’t seem like an instant, though. It felt more like days instead of seconds. During the time their eyes stayed in contact, however, neither of them could sense any anger from the other. Until…
"Why are you mad at me?"
She snapped out of it and yelled, "You keep saying bad things about me and Nathan!"
"You're mad at me for telling the truth?"
"It's not the truth!"
"Well, the truth does hurt sometimes. It‘s no wonder you‘re not taking it so--"
"It's not the truth!"
"Man, you're real choosy about the reality you accept, aren't you?" Craig leaned in close to her face and looked her straight in the eyes. "Now, go home." He pushed her wrist away, and plopped down on the armchair that was positioned behind him, a small cloud of dust cascading out of it as he did so.
"Go home? It's pouring outside!"
"It always is." He said matter-of-factly.
"I'll get drenched in these clothes! Sweaters aren't exactly water-proof, you jerk!"
"So? Just get drenched. It feels good every once in awhile."
She yelled some incoherent language that not even God knew, and shouted, "Why don't you go home?!"
Craig looked up at her and said seriously, "Haven't you ever considered that some people have no home to go to?"
She gasped, and looked down at the floor in shame. "I-I'm sorry... You're homeless...?"
"No, but in this city, it's always nice to consider it when asking someone to go home." He chuckled a little at his joke. The girl was silent; simply staring at Craig in absolute disbelief. "By the way, what's your na--"
"Ohhhhh! Will you just piss off already? You have at least have an apartment, don't you?!" She raised her fists into the air in frustration.
"You keep interrupting me… But yeah, I have an apartment. I'm just neglecting to go back tonight."
"Then stop neglecting! Get out already!"
Craig blew some smoke out of his mouth, and some out of his nose. The smoke from his cigarettes were starting to make the room stuffy, as if a light fog was cast around his corner of the room. "Listen, just tell me your name, okay?"
She seemed to be caught a little off-guard. That's a random question, She thought. Her voice's volume went down, and she lowered her arms. "If I tell you, will you leave?"
"I won't make any guarantees, but..." He smirked at her.
She looked at him suspiciously and said, "Fine. My name's Amelia. Amelia Regenen."
"I'm Craig Selva. Pleasure to belatedly make your acquaintance." He puffed out another cloud of smoke.
"Whatever…" There was a long silence between them with nothing but Craig's puffs of smoke. The stench didn't seem to bother Amelia; she must've been used to it.
He casually blew the last puff of smoke straight ahead and asked, "So, are you going to go home now?"
She threw her arms towards him as if to hit him, "Oh my God! How stupid are you?"
"I don’t see any reason why you can’t just leave, yourself."
"I'll get drenched! I told you that!"
Craig groaned and put out his cigarette in the ash tray that sat on the bedside table. "You rain-hating people really annoy me."
"What do you mean 'rain-hating?' The hell is that supposed to mean?"
"The kind of people who always say things like, ‘Damn, it‘s raining again, isn‘t it?’ As if it‘s an inconvenience. When was the last time you‘ve gotten absolutely drenched in the rain?" Amelia stared at him as if he just told her something odd--which he did, he just didn't think so. “Exactly! You don’t know how great it feels to have your clothes saturated with water. Rain also gives birth to plants, makes lakes, rivers, oceans, etcetera, etcetera.” Amelia thought, Wait, how many different tangents is he going on, now? “Without rain, you get no food. Without rain, you die. Without rain, there is no possible way that life can exist.” So what if she thought he was a spaz, that didn’t change the fact that he truly believed in what he was saying.
"You..." Amelia said as she picked up her purse from the dresser, "... are the weirdest, most idiotic person I've ever met." She walked towards the door with her fists clenched.
Craig watched her leaving, surprised that his little scheme worked, and said, "Wait a sec!"
She stopped and turned around, her eyes glaring straight at him with the kind of hate only seen in the movies. Horror movies. The kind that are actually scary. "What?"
“Why do you hate the rain so much?”
Amelia thought about it for a moment before she said, “It just keeps coming down on you, and you can’t get away from it.” She didn’t know if that was a good answer, but she said it, anyway.
Craig leaned towards her in his chair and said slyly, “How is it any different from that shower you just took?”
“What…?”
“If anything, the rain is better, because you’re usually not naked while you’re outside.”
Amelia was about to laugh, but she caught herself by putting a hand over her mouth. “I still don’t like the rain…”
Craig sighed and said with annoyance, "If you hate the rain so damn much, then go ahead and take my trench coat." He motioned his hand towards his yet-to-dry coat, which laid at the foot of the bed.
After a few seconds of contemplation, she tromped over to it, snatched it off the bed, and tromped back to the door.
He called after her, "You'd better return that, you know!"
"Like hell I will! I'll never see you again, anyway!" As she closed the door behind herself, she said quietly, so quiet that Craig could barely hear her, "Thanks..."
Craig stared tiredly at the door as she left. He got up, and flipped the bedside lamp off. Well, that was amusing... He thought to himself as he looked up at the ceiling with his arms resting on either side of himself on the chair's armrests. I wonder if I'll see her again? That'd sure to be entertaining! A smile spread across his face, and he crossed his legs and laced his hands behind his head in preparation for a relaxing night. He was indeed ready to get a good night sleep with his favorite song, the pitter-patter of rain, playing all night.
----------
The next day, Craig left that God-forsaken little adventure of a hotel and back on the streets. After wandering around, he bought a hot dog from a stand, and called it breakfast. While on his way home, he once again found himself aimlessly walking through the streets in the opposite direction in which he went yesterday. That day, however, everything seemed drastically different to him. Even though he had a good night's sleep, his eyes felt like they were on fire just from looking ahead. Despite being coat-less, he was actually warm.
He stared up at the sky with his eyes partly sealed shut, and put a hand on his furrowed brow to shade his eyes. "Since when does the sun come out here?" The streets were absolutely littered with confused, happy, and surprised people. They stared up at the clear blue skies with awe and a strange feeling of relief. It was as if it were an annual festival to celebrate the one day in the year the sun came out. Craig could even hear some people singing off in the distance. They were several bass-singing men from a bar that he walked by often. He recalled it being called "The Hideaway" or something along those lines. They sang something about sunlight and the rain going away. Don't get him wrong, it was quite nice, but Craig let out a deep sigh and said to himself, "... They're off-key..." A small smile snuck onto his lips, and he began to walk home-- this time, for real.
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------------------------Chapter 3: Traction----------------
Craig:
It had been so long since Craig had seen the sun. So long, in fact, that he'd forgotten the color of sunlight. There were so few clouds out that day that he felt a little annoyed with it all. It hadn't ever stopped raining except for at night. Never before in the ten long, hard years that he lived in that endlessly-rainy city did he see the sun. It was either cloudy or raining all the time. He wasn't even used to walking on dry cement, since he had always slipped and slid along the smooth sidewalks instead of doing a full-fledged walk. His hair hadn't ever been so damn frizzy and dry, either, and it was annoying him to no end. A little voice in his head told him to take a shower when he got home, and he agreed without a second thought.
The part of the city in which he lived in was around the edge of the slums. There, everyone was either a hobo, or struggling to get by in one of the dark, damp, filthy apartment buildings. Craig had been in one of his friends' apartments once before. The walls all had disgusting brown vertical stains on the walls from leaking rain, and the only light was from a single hanging light bulb in each room that had cast a hazy yellow glow on the stained walls with the pull of a string. Craig and his family hated that kind of thing, yet they could only afford so much. Therefore, the way they lived was much different from any other family in that city. Their home resided on the top floor of an abandoned thirty-story-tall building, so he had to walk up an endless flight of stairs to get to it.
"I'm home," Craig yelled into the open door as he approached it. The door was usually left wide open, since nobody ever bothered to come and look for things to steal on a floor that high up. Nobody else lived there, so not even the most adventurous thieves wanted to go inside, anyway. The inside of his home had a somewhat improvised roof, which was made of several large sheets of metal that were slanted and layered so the rain wouldn't leak through. All of the makeshift walls were made of either cardboard or giant wedges of wood, and they all had one form or another of logos, stickers, reminders, calendars, and a dozen other nuisances. The floor was mainly the old framework of the building, which was barely three or four large horizontal I-beams. Since a couple floors had caved in by the time they moved in, they had latters and zip-line type things so that they could get to different places of the building.
Their entire home encompassed the three top collapsed floors of the building. Most of the place was empty space, leaving the bedrooms to reside on the top floor, and the lowest floor to act as a kind of family room. It was cramped in the many small makeshift rooms in which they built wooden floors into, and what made it even more crowded were the dozens of different little gadgets and gizmos that Craig’s father always seemed to find time to make. Sure, they worked in getting from one place to another, but most of them were pretty much worthless. One of his latest inventions was a spring-loaded drawer that opened and closed automatically with the push of a button. Craig never used the top-left drawer of his dresser ever again. His father only kept them to remember his mistakes in invention, despite Craig's mother shouting at him all the time about it.
When Craig shouted out his greeting, there was the familiar sound of a rope sliding through a metal pulley system. "Where the hell were you last night?" His mother, Cassandra, yelled from above. She landed gracefully on a support beam to his left. Cassandra looked as if she were too young to have a son of seventeen, though she was in fact thirty eight. Barely old enough, but still. She sported long brown hair pulled back into a bun so that it didn't get caught in any of the pulleys, and wore a black t-shirt and tight blue jeans. There hadn’t ever been a chance for her to wear such warm-weather clothes since they built the place, but since the sun was out for once, she made an exception.
"Nice to see you, too," he said, and started to walk down the broken framework towards his room.
Cassandra let out a sigh, and began to follow him in midair along a zip-line, "Your father and I were worried about you. Why didn't you come home last night?"
"I didn't feel too welcome here after that little skirmish we had yesterday."
"That's your excuse?" She palmed her face in annoyance. "But we always yell at each other." Her foot found a solid hold on the steel support in front of her son, "How was yesterday so different?"
He sidled past her, and hopped down a gap between two thick horizontal steel beams into his room. Once inside, he pulled on a rope that plugged up the hole with a circular slab of wood as if it were a cork being put back into a wine bottle. Cassandra let out another sigh, and was about to say something when she was cut off.
"Don't worry about him Cassy," the voice of a man sounded from the floor above. She looked at the damaged roof ceiling above her to see a tiny submarine-scope-like thing sticking down through a small hole. "But I think that we should take away some of his savings. We don't want him wasting it all on hotels whenever he doesn't come home at night instead of going out to buy food. I mean, that's just stupid."
"I heard that!" Craig yelled from below.
"Yeah, you're right. The hard part is getting him to fork it over." She flipped a small switch on the wall, and a cardboard flap opened up in the ceiling, as well as a ladder that slid down against the wall. Cassandra climbed up the new pathway, and into the room her husband was in. "So, what are you working on now, Victor?"
The man looked up at her, wearing round black goggles and an oil-stained white tank top, and said, "Just something that could help to fix that generator. It hasn't been recharging as much from the waterwheel lately, so I looked into it, and one of the gears causes it to turn too slow. This new gear should fix that." He wiped his sweaty brow, which also brushed his short, stringy black hair aside.
Cassandra looked over her husband's shoulder to see that he was shaping a round hunk of metal into a new gear. "Well, just try not to have the wheel fall off like it did last time."
"Hey. That was your fault." Victor pointed one of his tools at her.
"Like hell it was," Cassandra said casually, and pushed aside a round piece of wood on the wall, which revealed a chute wide enough for a person to go through. She went in feet-first like a slide, and ended up in the so-called “Master Bedroom” where she decided to take a nap in the spot of sunlight that came through the round makeshift window.
Amelia:
Even though she got home around four in the morning, she donned her Hello Kitty pajamas and managed to sleep a few hours. She woke up at ten in the morning. Amelia walked down the dark-carpeted stairs of her home and ended up in the entryway of the house with a drowsy look in her eyes. The white walls that seemed to come at her from every direction had always made her feel both at-home and unwelcome in a way. Her home life was full of bright, vibrant colors and an elegant quiet air, while her social life in the city was surrounded by rain clouds, dark steel buildings, and outrageous din that was enough to make her ears hurt. She walked on the hardwood floor through the hallway to the kitchen. Her home was on the outskirts of the city, and she went to a private school, which was even further away. It was usually very frustrating for her, since most of her social life went on within the city’s walls of rain. But what’s a seventeen-year-old girl to do? Run away with the car her father just bought for her for her birthday? She may have been ungrateful, but not that ungrateful.
Upon seeing her father, Bernard, sitting at the dinner table with the newspaper, her heart sank deep into her stomach. Despite the memory of the fight they had the night before, she sat down in the chair opposite the bald-headed businessman. He already had put on his suit, and, like the master of clichés, had a sip of steaming-hot coffee before lowering his newspaper and staring at Amelia with seriousness in his eyes. Though he wasn’t really a man of strong build at all, he really looked serious.
"Good morning, dad," Amelia whispered, her eyes trailing away from his.
He stared at her with his hands folded on the table, and finally said, "I know that you hate these talks that parents have with their children... but I want you to listen to me right now as an--"
"'Intelligent individual.'" Amelia finished with annoyance, "Ugh, you've said that so many times that I can recite every word you're going to say."
Bernard looked straight at her with the slightest bit of anger in his eyes. He calmly folded his newspaper, and stood up with it under his arm. "Then you must know that you're grounded for a month."
Amelia slammed her hands on the table and shouted, "What?!" Her voice cracked a little at the peak of the word, and the anger in her eyes could put Cujo to shame.
Bernard stood up from his chair and picked up his briefcase. “You need to get to school. Your classes start at eleven.” He marched towards the garage, where his black Volvo was parked. Amelia’s car, a red New Bug convertible, was parked right next to it. Both cars took up little space compared to the rest of the crap in there. Everything and the kitchen sink, literally, was thrown in there when it stopped working. So the story went after Amelia’s mother left.
“Prick…” Amelia said to herself when she heard her father’s car start, which cued her to freely insult him from afar. She stood up from her chair, marched up to her room, and got into her school uniform. She’d never liked to have to wear a school uniform. For one thing, the skirt went too far above her knees, which she really hated. Furthermore, the long-sleeved top had small shoulder pads, and she had to wear a tie. All of these things were real peeves to her. Several times in the past she had used her embroidery skills to alter it, but the teachers didn’t take it too well, so she was suspended every time.
At her school, which was ironically called St. Bernard Private School, no relation to her father, she barely managed to park in the clustered lot behind the main building. Once she did, she trekked up the long steps to the back entrance. A few male students who were clearly delinquents, seeing as they didn’t wear their uniform jackets, whistled and whooped as they saw Amelia run up the stairs as if she were a walking in a strip joint in the city. She was able to ignore them for the time being, but they had been doing it for two months straight, and it was starting to piss her off. There was, however, a lesson Amelia learned from them: parents with money can get their kids into almost any school, no matter how stupid said children are.
“Amelia! Hey!” A girl called as she ran up to Amelia. The other student wore the same black and brown uniform as her, but was much taller with dark brown hair cut very short.
Amelia said with a lazy wave to her friend, “Hi, Jacky.”
The tall girl stopped in front of Amelia, panting from her mad dash over, and said, “What happened to you and Nathan last night? You left the group without telling us!”
Even though Amelia was feeling bad about being grounded by her father, Jacky bringing up the little incident last night made her feel even worse. “Ugh… I don’t want to talk about it, Jacky.” She put a hand on her head as if she had a headache.
“Why? What happened?”
“… I’ll be breaking up with him when I see him today…”
“What? But it looked like you two were having so much fun at the diner last night! What happened after you left?”
Amelia paused for a moment before saying, “He took me to… a love hotel…”
“Wha--?” Jacky began to yell, but caught herself and said quietly, “He what?”
“He took me to a tacky love hotel. I was completely overwhelmed as he took me there. I had no idea what to expect-- it just kind of happened.”
“You mean you--?”
“No, we didn’t do it.”
Jacky let out a huge sigh of relief.
“I took a shower, leaving him in the room. When I came out…”
Jacky didn’t say anything for a few seconds, patiently waiting for her friend to continue.
“There was another person in the room, and Nathan was gone…”
After a few seconds, Jacky’s face contorted into anger and she shouted, “I’m gonna kill that bastard!”
“Jacky?”
“Just wait ‘till I get my hands on him! I’ll rip out his tongue just to shove it back down his throat!”
“Jacky! Calm down! Hey!” Amelia grabbed Jacky’s arm before she could do any damage to the immediate area around them.
“What’s wrong with kicking an ass hole’s ass?”
“Just stop, okay? I’m not in the mood right now…” Jacky stared at her friend in surprise. Amelia had always stood there and laughed whenever she went on one of her rampages. It always seemed to cheer both of them up, but… perhaps now wasn’t the time. Amelia looked down at the tile floor and said, “We should get to class now… I’ll see you at lunch…” She walked towards the classroom down the hall with her head hung low and her hair shadowing her eyes.
“Amelia…”
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Il try to make the other chapters fast, but I'm kinda busy with my job.
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