Thanks to the awesome Minnie for creating both these fantastic banners :)
*Copyright of plot and characters. This story was inspired by the song, "My Immortal" by Evanescence.*
These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase
When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears
And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me.
I could never figure out why he seemed all too familiar to me. Every time I’d ask if we had ever met before, he’d just deny it, saying that I was crazy, that we had never met before that one evening. I never believed him, though. I knew I had seen him before, somehow. I knew him. Maybe from a different life? I couldn’t be sure, considering I never really began to believe in that kind of thing in the first place. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something about him seem much too familiar for me to be able to let it go.
I had to admit, he was incredibly intriguing, despite all my efforts to keep away from him. He was mysterious and very unpredictable, not the average boy you see walking the streets. He was… different. So exceedingly different, there’s got to be a whole story to it, maybe even some secrets hidden behind the story. He was sophisticated, more sophisticated than any other boy I had ever met, mature, insightful, thoughtful, and he pays attention to every little movement, every little change in emotion, making sure he’s taking any offense against anyone.
His only flaws were his cryptic, vague personality, never letting anyone in on his secrets, never trusting anyone who just wanted him to open up to someone he could confide in. He doesn’t trust anyone but himself. He’s much too stubborn to let anyone else have an inside look on his pains and burdens.
I’m determined to find out what they are.
I start my way down the street, in my usual black hoodie, dark blue jeans, black sneakers, and black gloves. I shove my hands into my sweater pocket, my hoodie up, almost over my eyes. My hair’s down and well past my shoulders, draping down and its tips getting a little wet. It’s raining in the town I live in, Lakemont. Or, rather, the town I currently reside in. I never stay in a place for too long, mostly because I’m a fifteen year old girl who’s emancipated.
The rain is pouring down on me, making my dark jeans appear even darker. The town is very small and quaint, so not a lot of people live in it. Couple hundred people live here and not even half of them are able to drive cars. This is why I’m walking alone on the sidewalk, no cars whizzing past me and no people walking on the sidewalk, due to the intense rain. But, frankly, I don’t mind the rain. Frankly, I like it, especially during this time, when it’s pouring on the houses. It’s like it’s playing its own music, its own drum beat against the house. I can almost hear it.
Anyway, I’m walking home from the market. I had just gone there for a soda. That’s it. Nothing else. I open up the Coke, hearing the light Tsss before taking a deep swing. I feel the cool sensation of bubble tickle me down my throat. I take the soda away from my lips, twisting the cap back on.
Just then, I hear them. Past the patter of the rain, I can hear their loud guffawing. I turn around, seeing their faint shadows through the rain. I turn back around and keep walking, slightly faster now. I hear them again, their low chuckling and hollering. This time, I don’t bother to turn around. I just walk faster, trying to get away from them. I hear them as they start walking faster, too, their voices becoming louder against the pounding rain. I look around, searching for some quick escape. I turn the corner, just a couple more steps away from my nice, cozy apartment.
That’s when they come up right behind me and put a hand on my each of my shoulders. I turn around, meeting their faces. There were two of them, both of them big, brawny, and very, very intimidating. They’re dressed in all black, from their beanies down to their tennis shoes. They both sneer at me, towering about a foot over me. One of them is much taller than the other, almost a seven footer. And the other is wearing glasses.
“Give us your money,” the big one says. Oh crap.
I say in a shaky voice, “I-I don’t have any money.”
The one with glasses squeezes hard on my shoulder. “We know you have money. Or else you wouldn’t have that soda in your hands, now, would you?”
I hide the soda behind my back, quietly twisting the bottle cap off. Had they followed me on my way to the market?
“Give us your money,” the big one repeats.
This time, I don’t say anything. I throw the bottle of soda at them, seeing as it spills all over them. I’m going to have to buy more soon, I thought to myself, a little ruefully. As they’re distracted, I run. I start running as fast as I can towards my apartment building. I can hear them running behind me, but I pay no attention. My main focus is getting my building before they can get me.
Too bad I forget that it’s raining and I fall face first on the hard, slippery pavement. I try to get up, but a foot presses me down hard against the ground. I look up at the one with the glasses, the one pressing me down. He smirks at me. Before I could even react, a foot meets my face. I scream in pain, feeling my head throbbing. I feel more kicks to my stomach and chest. I try to scream and yell for help, but I doubt anyone can hear me through the rain.
Once they stop beating me, they take my phone and keys to my apartment from my pocket and run off. I try to get up, try to call for help, but it’s not use. I lay here on the ground, unable to move, hardly able to speak.
I feel my eyes become heavy, feeling sleepy. Like I’m going to die. I even start to hallucinate before my eyes close, seeing the figure of a boy angel in front of me. And it isn’t a full second that I look at him before I fall into deep unconsciousness.
The first thing I feel when I wake up is my throbbing head. I have the worst headache in the world. I try to lift an arm to rub against my head, but I can hardly feel my arm. That’s when I notice that I’m no longer in the rain. Then where am I? My eyes flutter open. I’m in a small room, laying down on a couch or bed of some sort; this isn’t my apartment. I feel a cushion under me; a very comfortable cushion at that. I can now feel all my injuries. My chest is bandaged, as well as my ankle. To my right, I see a small bedside table with a clear glass of water and a lamp, the only light available in the room. One thing that leaves me most befuddled is that all my clothes, including my gloves, were still on… yet, they were incredibly warm and dry.
I catch my reflection in a mirror on the bedside table. I look terrible. My dirty blonde hair was still wet from the rain. Dried blood was stained under my nose, which probably broke when I had gotten kicked in the face. My lip is split and my light brown eyes are now bruised. My pale face was beaten severely, leaving it covered in bruises that matched my eyes. I probably looked worse earlier.
Had those guys kidnapped me? I can’t be sure, considering that my injuries are bandaged and healing. Whatever’s happening, all I know is that I should get out of here. I shift myself so that I try to sit up.
“I wouldn’t if I were you,” a soft voice says.
I look up to see someone at the doorway, leaning against its frame. His voice has a slight British accent and his long dark hair is tied back in a ponytail that looks like it reaches his shoulder blades. He wears glasses that framed his dark eyes. He looks somewhat familiar.
“What,” I ask, finally able to find my voice.
He walks slowly into the room. “You’re not yet fully healed. It’ll take longer for you to heal. Especially for you.”
“Why especially for me,” I ask, lying back down against my pillow
He chuckles and sits beside me on the bed. “That’s another story for later.” His answer makes me a little curious, but, considering how much pain I’m in, I don’t really feel like pressing the matter any further.
We’re both silent for a while. “What am I doing here,” I ask quietly.
He simply says, “I heard you screaming in the rain. Once I had found you, you had already been unconscious. You took quite a spill there.”
I thought to myself. He can’t be the angel boy I saw before I blacked out, could he? I take a good look at him. No, the boy I saw was shorter then this man. And lankier, too.
The man says, “I decided to take you in. I bandaged you up and brought you here, a spare room I have in my small house.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
He grins. “You’re quiet welcome.” He chuckles again. “So sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners.” He holds out his hand to me. “I am Reed. Reed Collins. And who might you be?”
I take his hand in my gloved one, wondering why he flinches ever so slightly, and smile back. “I’m Andrea Jeanine Johnson. Most people just call me Andi.”
Chapter 1 . . . . . Page 3
Chapter 2 . . . . . Page 5
Chapter 3 . . . . . Page 7
Chapter 4 . . . . . Page 9
Chapter 5 . . . . . Page 12
Chapter 6 . . . . . Page 14
That one act of almost-violence was enough to shake my nerves. I made sure to steer clear of Nicolette throughout the whole day, knowing that I’m most likely her next victim and I don’t want to get tangled into that mess.
As I walk cautiously to third period, I start wondering to myself why I’m so scared of her. I mean, dealing with bullies like her should be super easy, right? I used to deal with people like Nicolette at my old school all the time and I would make sure to let them know that they weren’t going to mess with me unless they wanted to get told off in front of the entire school. I start to remember someone similar to Nicolette at my old school.
Her name was Brenda. But she wasn’t as… friendly with guys as Nicolette is. Brenda had always thought she was the best in the school and deserved all the best just because her father was a big CEO in some food making industry. She had long dark hair that was usually tied back in a ponytail, light skin with dark freckles on her cheekbones, and eyes that were a cold, hard brown. She was a little chubby, had a huge butt that matched with her ego, and she wore way too much eyeliner for someone who was usually peppy and such. It was eighth grade year when I finally put that girl in her place.
I remember when she flaunted around in her white designer clothes and shoes during lunch, thinking she looked so sexy and they made her legs look good, until my friend Alexa accidently spilt her juice on the floor, right where Brenda happened to be walking by. Not only did her shoes get stained, but she slipped and fell flat on her back, staining her other clothes as well.
You’d think in a scene like that, people would burst into laughter. But when you messed with Brenda Williams, you were bound to get bitten back. She screamed so loud, her shriek bounced off the wall right into the center of the room.
Alexa’s jaw looked like it would hit the floor. “I-I…” she stuttered, unable to speak.
Brenda stood up angrily and scrunched her nose at Alexa. “You are going to pay for my dry cleaning!” she screamed.
Then she started throwing cuss words left and right. Thought swarmed through my head, feeding my anger. I couldn’t believe what she was saying. Who did this girl think she was to be screaming at my best friend about something that was a total accident and wasn’t her fault? The anger surged inside me until I was at my boiling point.
Once her tirade was over, Alexa’s face was completely flushed, her eyes frightened. I stood up out of my chair beside Alexa and started yelling back at her.
“Who the hell do you think you are to be telling her off like that? It wasn’t even her fault! It’s not like she did it on purpose to humiliate you.”
“She might as well have,” Brenda spat back, turning her eyes from me to Alexa. She gave a hard glare, and then went back to me. “For your information, nimrod, this outfit is very expensive. It costs more than your entire wardrobe combined.” Then, she grinned devilishly. “But I guess any piece of clothing would be more than yours considering that your clothes look like you took them off the rack from Goodwill.”
A bunch of “Oohhs” and guffaws filled the room. I clenched my teeth; I would not let this girl win. I took one step closer to Brenda, my foot stomping hard on the ground, my eyes narrowing, and my mouth set in a tight line.
“Look,” I start in a quiet tone, though I’m sure everyone can hear me. “As long I’m here, you better get something straight: You’re just like everyone else. You’re not more important, more special, or even prettier than anybody else in this room. So stop acting like you are, because it’s making you act like a total B**ch.”
That’s when the cafeteria started laughing and “Oohh”ing. Brenda’s face turned beet red and I assumed it was over, so I turned back to my little table of friends.
“Come on,” Brenda yelled behind me.
I turned around and she had her fists held in front of her, her face looking a little scared. I laughed.
“You really think I’m gonna fight you,” I asked. Then, I shook my head. “First of all, you’re not worth it. And second of all, I don’t think you want me to mess up your face.” Then I grin. “By the way, the clothes mixed with the juice made it look loads better. It definitely takes the attention away from your thick wannabe-Goth-Princess eyeliner.”
Again, the room erupted in laughter and sat back in my table of friends. All I heard after that was hysterical crying and the cafeteria doors slamming shut.
I smile as I relive the memory. I used to be pretty tough, never letting anyone give me crap. What had happened to me?
Then, the realization hits me and the impact makes me stop in my tracks, just steps from the classroom. Of course. How could I forget? It must have been the night I was jumped. Apparently the incident changed me in more than one way. I’ve been too hesitant and it scared me, made me remember not to mess with anyone unless I wanted to get hurt. That’s what held me back from telling Nicolette something. It was the most logical and most obvious reason.
I sigh; there’s nothing I can really do about it now, can I? I walk forward to my third period World History class.
I take a seat in the far right corner of the classroom, setting my textbook on my desk in front of me. As I wait patiently for the bell to ring. I look around the classroom and see a bunch of kids talking and sitting on top of the desks. I remember how I used to be like that with my friends. How we used to sit on the desks and talk about the latest school gossip and sit in the back of the classroom so we wouldn’t get caught passing notes during the lesson.
I’m taken out of my reverie when a boy looks over at me with curious blue-green eyes. He’s sitting on a desk in the row on my left. I stare back at him, wondering why he’s looking at me and not talking with his little group of friends who look like they’re having a fun chat. I take notice of the boy’s unusual (well, unusual for me) haircut. It’s almost like helmet hair, but longer and reached the bottom of his neck. It’s like a dark auburn. Not like the ugly carrot-top orange-red or the completely fake, dyed vibrant red. It’s like a mixture of brown and brick red that looks really nice on him. He wears a dark blue beanie on his head, a white V-neck t-shirt, dark skinny jeans, and high top sneakers. I’ve seen people like him around, and I wonder why they have their hair the way they do.
Just when I think about turning away and looking straight ahead, he gets up from his stop and starts walking towards me. Like an idiot, I look around me and see if he could possibly be walking to another girl sitting beside me.
He’s walking to you, you moron, a voice screams in my head.
I turn to meet him and see he’s already halfway here. A small smile creeps on his face and he sits in the desk next to me.
“Hi,” he says in a nice, smooth voice. He smiles again, showing a perfect set of white teeth.
“Do I know you,” I ask, a little harsher than I expect. Then, my cheeks flush. “Sorry for-”
To my surprise, he laughs. “It’s all right. I don’t really expect you to remember everyone’s names on your second day.” He holds out his hand for me. “I’m Blake Peterson.”
I feel my cheeks flush again. Why the hell was I getting so nervous? I take out my gloved hand and take his hand. “Andi Johnson.”
Of course, he looks down at my hand, but then looks back up, not saying a word. Once he lets go of my hand, he raises his eyebrows. “That’s a pretty cool name. Short for anything?”
“Andrea,” I say, groaning as I announce my full name.
Blake laughs. “Sounds like you hate that name.”
“Trust me, I do,” I say, chuckling after. Then, there’s silence. I hesitate before asking, “Not to be mean or anything… but why are you over here?”
Blake shrugs. “You looked lonely over here. Figured you might want some company.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you be talking with your friends,” I ask.
He looks over at the boys laughing at the desk and shakes his head, turning his head back to me. “Naw, they’ve got enough to talk about without me.” Then, he smiles again. “I’d rather be here talking with you.”
Once again, I feel my cheeks go hot. Just as Blake opens his mouth to say something, the bell rings and the teacher, Mr. Bennett, enters the room.
“Sorry I’m late class,” he says, scratching the top of his bald head. “Get to your seats and our lesson will begin.” When the class groans, he commands, “Now.”
The class shuffles to their seats and I expect Blake to go sit with his group of friends. To my surprise, he doesn’t. I look at him, only to see he’s already looking at me. He half smiles.
“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you,” he asks.
I shake my head, unable to get the words to form on my mouth. He smiles at me again, and turns his attention to the front of the classroom, the grin still on his face. As I start to feel the smile to spread across my face, I realize that, for the first time in a long time, I’m starting to be… normal again. I feel like a normal teenage girl, grabbing a boy’s attention, being flirted with, feeling all embarrassed and a little giddy.
The smile suddenly fades from my face as I clench and unclench my hands. I sigh silently to myself. I suddenly remember why I’m not a regular teenage girl. More than anything did I want to take away this curse of killing anything with a touch of my fingers, a brush of my bare skin.
I suddenly feel depressed and it goes on the rest of the morning.
As soon as lunch comes along, I’m finally relieved that I only have three more hours of the school day left. Just three more hours and I can finally get out of this hellhole.
As I bring my sack lunch into the cafeteria, I look around for Nigel and see him sitting at the table we sat at yesterday. He gives me a sympathetic smile as I sit down with him.
“Are you okay,” he asks.
I furrow my eyebrows as I open up my water bottle. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”
“I heard what happened in first period.” I groaned; how the hell did he know that? He pats my hand reassuringly, flinching slightly at the touch of my glove. “Honey, gossip travels ‘round this school fast. There’s hardly ever a secret kept in this place.”
I laugh one humorless laugh. “No kidding.”
We’re silent for a little. “Wanna talk about it,” Nigel asks.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing really to say except that she’s a total b**ch.”
Nigel chuckles. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
I slightly smile and laugh a little. Then, he grins mischievously. “I also heard that a certain Blake Peterson has eyes for you.”
I look up at Nigel, seeing the huge grin on his face. I roll my eyes, but can’t help but feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “News really does travel fast around here,” I mumble.
Nigel laughs. “I knew it wasn’t just a rumor! Tell me all the details. Was he nice? Do you think he’s cute? Did he ask you out?”
“Easy there,” I say, resisting the urge to laugh at his total gayness. “Nothing much happened. I was sitting alone before class started, he came over by me because he wanted to keep me company. We exchanged names and he sat next to me for the whole period. I swear that’s it.”
“So no flirting at all?”
I bite down on my lip. “Well a little… But only coming from him, I swear.”
Nigel grins. “Look at you, starting to act like a girl.”
I roll my eyes and start to eat my lunch again, but I can’t deny that what he’s saying is true. Blake was flirting with me and, me being a girl, I couldn’t deny that I felt a little… I don’t know, embarrassed? I think flattered is more of the right word. It made me feel… normal again.
Nigel then lowers his voice and says, “Don’t let Stevie know about it though. She’s been crushing on Blake since the sixth grade.”
I raise my eyebrow. “She crushes?” Even though I’ve only met the girl, she doesn’t seem like the person who would give a damn about boys.
Nigel chuckled. “I know, it’s hard to believe, but she does. She just never admits it. So don’t tell her.”
“Don’t tell who what?”
Stevie starts to seat herself in the table when she asks the question.
Nigel replies, “I was just warning Andi about Mrs. Lockwood’s hair piece. She hates when you tell her it’s starting to fall off because she gets embarrassed.”
Stevie nods. “That hair piece won’t stay in place even if it’s hot glued to her head.”
Nigel and I laugh. Just then, as well all start to eat lunch, Nicolette walks by our table with her tray in hand. I hear her high heels stop right in back of me.
“Hey, little freak,” she says. I turn and look up at her. Beside her are two girls who look like they’re trying to mimic her in shorts that would pass for belts and tube tops that show way too much of their non-existent cleavage. But Nicolette is staring straight down into my eyes; her lips turn into a smirk that could make milk curdle. Of course, just like Brenda, she had the whole cafeteria looking at her and she made sure everyone was watching.
My mind starts to panic, but I keep my voice steady. “First of all, I have a name, in case you didn’t know. Second, you better make this quick because I have more important things to do than put up with your crap.”
I hear a couple whispers and giggles behind me. Nicolette flinches, but then her smile turns sweet. Sickeningly sweet.
“I just thought you looked a little dehydrated,” she says, opening up her soda and pouring it on my head. The whole school erupts in laughter as the scene unfolds, except for Nigel and Stevie, who look at me in horror.
Me? I can’t take it. I feel the tears coming on and I run out of the room. Just as I close the doors, I hear someone shout, “What the hell is your problem?” But I don’t stick around to hear the rest. I run into the nearest bathroom, making sure it’s empty, and start crying my eyes out.
I hate this school.
I hate Nicolette.
I hate my life.
I feel so bad for Andi right now :( So much has been thrust on her shoulders... her "curse", Nicolette the b**ch, her being attacked... I just feel so sorry for her :(
But then it's good that she has some friends to talk to :) (well at least about Nicolette xP)