A Bullet Can't kill (Unfinished, chapter one)

I ran the tips of my fingers against the luxurious frame, dust framing the edges of my hand. This was my consolation, my protection. Up here, no one could find me. This thought, however, didn't seem to brighten my mood hardly at all. I tried so desperately to feel something; despair? Loneliness? Even his presence was non-existent. He was really gone... The tears that filled the brims of my dark eyes spilled over, dripping heavily on the frame as I choked out a few unheard screams. No one could hear me up here, I was positive. Falling to my knees, my fists balled up as I rocked back and forth, my arms grasped tightly around my knees. Small pieces of auburn strands stuck to my face as I gently peeled away my hair from my damp face. The tears didn't stop. I couldn't comprehend the fact that I wouldn't ever talk to him again. His heart would never beat the same, his flesh would die away in the past, his presence would fade.

The soft footsteps of an unknown intruder became more and more persistent as they reached the edge of the grand staircase, lingering in front of the small door. Suddenly, I heard a man grumble something incoherent as he idly fumbled with the door handle. It wasn't locked...but only I knew how to open it. Just a trick I learned while coming up here so often. I bit my lip anxiously, trying to whip away the loose tears and stood up shakily. As I got to my feet, I heard the man push harder against the door; I knew if he wasn't more careful, he'd surely break the door into pieces. This house wasn't the newest one on the block.

Step, by careful step, I walked to the door, trying to wash off the tears on my way. I knew he was one of them. One of the guys my mom had payed to help pack up our house. In a matter of hours, I would be in a cramped mini van on my way to Connecticut. I sighed reluctantly, grasping the door handle with both of my hands and yanked towards the left. The door immediately swung open, presenting a shocked man. “Oh, I'm sorry Miss,” He stuttered hurriedly in anticipation, “You're mother said to pack up the rest of the frames and candles in here,” He admitted, looking dumbstruck as he eyed me skeptically. Clearly, he was wondering what a teenage girl could possibly doing in an attic by herself. I didn't want to think of the possibilities that were now running through his head. I had to force a smile on my lips before I could talk. I knew that if I didn't fake it now, the tears would start again..and someone was bound to hear me this time. “No, no, it's fine. I probably shouldn't be up here anyway,” Though I knew no one could stop me even if they wanted to. This was my area of consolation.

Before he could answer me, I ran past him and the trail of boxes behind him towards my room. Slamming the door quietly behind me, I clasped the lock over the bolt and slipped to the floor. My head lay in my hands, but no tears came. It was as if the numbness had captivated every inch of my porcelain body, grasping and gnawing at my insides till I felt nothing but the tearing of a silent pain.






Idea: Past boyfriend died, she couldn't tell her parents..too much to keep in. Went to the funeral by herself. New boy; different, or the same? Talks to her through the medium of her thoughts.


Chapter one: The move;


I took in a deep breath and stood there, eyes closed. I felt the prickle of sanity as the air engulfed itself through my tenants, my lungs, through my whole body making me feel whole. It was all I could do from crying my way out of the room. Boxes that were strewn and clattered throughout my large room all had already been thrown onto the moving truck. My hands wound their way around the last one, not even a box at all. A simple black bag carrying my ipod, books, and a few snacks for the way down. Turning my back on my door, I stole one last glance at my vacant room and gulped. “This is it,” I muttered to myself quietly, and turned on heel out of the door.

“Honey, let's go!” My mom patted my back gently, smiling warmly. I couldn't believe she was actually happy about ruining my existence. She held the van's sliding door open for me, wearing that same big, cheesy grin. I rolled my eyes and hopped in, jumping in the back. “Ouch! Careful where you step, retard,” Chris mumbled, frowning as he rearranged his blanket on his lap. “Watch your language, Chris,” My mom warned, starting the car. This was going to be a fun ride, I thought reluctantly.

“We're finally here,” My mom almost called in pure joy. My hand instinctively went up to my face to rub my eyes as I squinted to see the house through the bright sun coming through the windshield. Apparently, I had fallen asleep. Chris was snoring in the front of me, looking more than peaceful. I sighed, and shoved his shoulder as he batted my hand away and turned on his side and began snoring again. “Whatever, don't wake up then,” I mumbled, grabbing my bag, and jumping over him as I opened the sliding van door and stepped into the bright sunlight.