Fan Fiction ❯ White Rabbit ❯ Chapter 2

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

White Rabbit
by Marie Lesure/Odango In Black
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>I've scared them all away again! Haha! Haha!
I've scared them all away again! Ta-ta! Ta-ta!
The world is laughing
The people are clapping
and we all fall down and we bounce around
and we won't stop running till
our sanity goes far away. . .<

Thursday had, for some unknown reason, always been my favorite day of the week. Maybe it was the quivering anticipation as I waited for Friday to lead my away into the weekend. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I would watch a history video in my art class.
Or maybe I'm just a freak.
I don't remember what Thursday of the month it was, but I do remember that it was Valentine's Day. Oh, how I loathe that day. It's disgusting what the greeting card companies do to celebrate the death of one of the greatest men of all time.
It's made me laugh since I was six.
It was the first Valentine's Day that my boyfriend and I had together. Ah, Brent, I hardly knew ye.
Sometime around 4 PM he came knocking on the door. No one was home but my brother and me, and he always kept himself locked up in his room. I opened the door to a dressed up Brent holding a lovely boquet before him. Red roses. How romantically cliched. I had told him that my favorite flower was the yellow hibiscus. But I suppose it would be hard to form a boquet of yellow hibiscus. Still, you'd think he could try to be a little bit more creative.
Men.
I invited him in and took the roses into the kitchen to find a vase to stick them in so that I could watch them slowly die. Maybe I wasn't so different from a red rose after all. I must have mumbled it to myself, and he must have heard me.
Diana, he said, what's wrong with you? I just wanted to bring you some flowers. I haven't seen you for so long! You haven't been to school for weeks.
This was true. My parents had been begun to watch me very closely once more. My new dark mood didn't suit them too well. They refused to let me out of the house and they had locked up the knives and scissors. I wasn't even allowed to shave my legs any more. But, like I said before, jeans had been my friends for quite some time. They couldn't be with me twenty four hours a day, so when they absolutely couldn't be there, they left me with my brother.
When he showed up, I looked absolutely terrible. My hair hung in strings down my neck, my lips were chapped and dry, darkness circled my eyes. By this time, I hadn't slept in five days, and my body was starting to hurt almost as much as my mind. Still, I couldn't be pulled from my writing.
Come with me, I said, taking his hand and leading him to my room. I gently shoved him onto the bed. There was no hiding the happy surprise in his eyes. Although he had never said it, I knew he had wanted to get into my pants since day one. When I started to walk by, he took my hand. I wrenched it away and kept going until I sat in my chair before my computer.
What are you doing? he asked.
A smirk painted itself on my lips when I answered.
Writing.
I knew how much he hated me doing it. I knew how much he hated the fact that I spent more time with my writing than I did with him. It was pathetic, and when I cried at night, it made me laugh all the more.
He jumped up from the water bed and ripples swam across the mattress. The thin sound of tiny waves swirled through the room. I didn't bother to look at him as my fingers flew across the keyboard. My eyes were locked on the glowing screen when he grabbed my wrist, pulling it away from my best friend. I kept typing singlehandedly. I pulled against his hand, but this time, he wouldn't let go. My jaw clenched and my hand paused as I glared up at him. I stood.
I didn't like the way he was looking at me. I could tell he was getting angry again.
I'm sick of it! he spat at me. I asked him what he meant, although I knew perfectly well. I just said it because I knew how much it would piss him off. It seemed that, the angier he got, the funnier it became.
You're always writing that stupid book of yours! It's completely replaced me!
Now, I've always hated cliches, but something in me snapped. There's no other way to put it. I lost it.
How. Dare. You.
You know that really, really calm feeling you get when you're so angry that you can't go any farther?
Yeah. That was me.
I turned my hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting it around. Hard. He let out a small grunt and let me go. It came smashing against my cheek. It was funny to feel pain brought on by someone other than myself. My face stung and prickled as I rubbed my hand against it.
That stupid book is all that's keeping me alive right now. That stupid book is the only reason I haven't killed myself.
Do you know how pathetic you sound? His voice was getting louder and louder. I could hear the venom dripping from his canines. The left side of my lip curled upand my eyes narrowed.
You must not realize that I don't care.
What the hell is wrong with you?
If you'd have paid more attention to me, you'd know.
Don't try to blame your problems on me!
Get out.
What?
Get the fuck out of my house! I could feel the harshness tearing against my stinging throat. It burned, like my cheek.
He glared at me. I glared at him. Finally he turned away from me and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. A frame fell from the wall. The glass broke. I picked up the frame and put it on a chair by the door.
As I cleaned up the glass, one shard cut my finger. Red blossomed from the digit and I watched it drip to the tile. I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned to see my brother.
What happened? he asked.
Nothing, Toby, I said. Brent just came by. We broke up, and he wasn't happy.
Are you ok? Do you need me to help you clean that up?
I'm fine. Go back to your room.
He did so, no more questions asked.
I finished picking up the glass and readied to throw it in the trash can. But I paused, and stared at the glittering beauty in my hands. I picked out the largest, most jagged piece before throwing the rest away and took it to my room, setting it on one of my bookshelves. I grabbed my package of matches and went back into the kitchen where I had left the flowers. I knew that the smoke would set off the alarm; wet things don't burn very cleanly. So I took them outside.
I laughed and I cried as I watched the roses burn, one by dying one.
I sat outside under the tree in the dirt and charred remains of the first boquet I'd ever been given, staring at the leaves until the sun went down. I closed my eyes and breathed in the smell of mankind's disgusting facination with what we call technology. Eventually I heard the door creak open. It was Toby. He called for me to come inside. I was too exhausted to argue and I stumbled in as he held the door open. I tripped over my feet and he caught my arm, barely keeping me from the ground. He looked down at me, and my tired eyes must have frightened him. He later told me that they looked empty, like I'd gone through taxedermy.
I was proud.
Everything turned grey and fuzzy and my whole body began to shake. I could feel myself vibrating. Toby was still holding on to my arm.
I don't remember how, but in some way I got to the couch where he laid me down. The next time I opened my eyes, my parents were looking down at me as Toby sat by my feet.
I had passed out, and I didn't even get to sleep. Fuck. I began to sit up so that I could go back to my room, but my dad pushed me back down.
I don't want you going anywhere, he said. His voice was harsh, but at the same time, it was gentle. I don't know how, and I didn't care enough to want to figure out. I looked up at him.
Then could you bring me some paper and a pen?
He looked to Toby. I could feel him stand and the couch creaked. It was an old couch. Older than me. I heard rustling in the kitchen and he came back with a spiral notebook and a red pen. He handed them to me. I looked at the pen.
Red? I asked. He shrugged.
It was all I could find.
I looked at him a moment.
Oh.
I bent up my knees and rested the notebook against my legs. I flipped open the cover. It was blue and falling off. The first page had my mom's handwriting scrawled through it, and the second, and the third. She must have been using it for notes for her job, I guess. I flipped through the pages until I found a blank one a quarter of the book through, and I started scribbling things down. Words flew from my pen, some that made sense, some that didn't. Sentences, fragments, single words, and at one point a short paragraph. After a while, I noticed that my parents and Toby were still there. I glared up at my parents.
What.
They looked at me, and Dad stood and left. Mom got up and sat back down in a nearby chair, saying that she wasn't going to leave until morning, and neither was I. I looked at Toby and he shrugged and stood, heading back to his beloved room.
She nodded off and I went back to my scribbling. The clock chimed eleven.
I could tell that it would be another sleepless night.

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A/N: Chapter 2, as promised. Aren't we proud? ^_^ I know I am. If, while reading this, you notice anything that just screams to you as bad, please tell me in a review. Nicely. No need to be rude, you know. That's all. Thankee kindly.