Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ (iNSeRT SToRY NaMe HeRe) ❯ (iNSeRT SToRY NaMe HeRe): Lorant's Story Part I ( Chapter 1 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: MariaKnight 
Lorant's Story, Part I
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.20.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 904 | Visits: 208 | Status: Work In Progress
Lorant's Story, Part I
Miscellaneous: Original Stories Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 11.20.2008 | Pages: 1 | Words: 904 | Visits: 208 | Status: Work In Progress
(DiSCLaiMeR): I own Lorant Rylan, Noelle Byant, and Collette Rylan, I don't, however, own Dylan Wood, Dylan Rylan, Aiden Rylan (seen in later chapters), or Blake Rylan. [lots of Rylan's ne?]
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(iNSeRT SToRY NaMe HeRe): Lorant’s Story
I’d watched him die, I saw him hit the floor, I saw the blood, and heard his last words, felt his last kiss . . . and I couldn’t stop him from dying. If only . . . his parents didn’t attack him, if only. . . I could have saved him. I’d regretted it, picking up that phone and telling the operator everything was fine. But, even if I didn’t, would they have still sent those doughnut obsessed pigs? Would Dylan still be alive? I felt that it was entirely my fault, and now, my baby isn’t going to have a daddy.
I had touched my stomach lightly, hesitantly. Blake, my brother was going to kill me for this, I frowned, causing agitation in the huge facial bruise my brother had given me just a few hours before I’d come to Dylan’s house.
The following Monday, I attacked the most popular girl in the school, she was evil incarnate right after the deceased Mr. and Mrs. Wood. She’d said that it was a good thing Dylan was gone, that he was a waste of air and so on and so forth. I could tolerate it when she said it when she was talking about him being gone for the day, but she was talking about his death. I tackled her, choking her, I don’t think I’d ever been so mad about anything outside of Dylan’s parents abusiveness.
The principal had pulled me into his office, he was an old friend of my parents, that’s one of the reasons they put Blake and I in this school, so
Mr. Goody-Goody could watch us. I hated him, and refused to tell him what happened, “Read the news, their lies should be sufficient” I hissed, and walked out of the office, It was miserable, without his smile, or even his frown, his jokes, or his angst. It was all a wonderful dream now, and his death was some cruel twist of fate waking me up.
One Year Later . . .
I held my Dylan in my arms, he was so precious to me, the only bit I have left of Dylan Wood. I sighed, and stroked his little chubby face. He looked so much like him already, I wondered if I could handle him at sixteen, the age Dylan was when he was shot by those pigs. I stared outside the window of my fifth story apartment. It hurt, when I lived with my parents, the place where, if I had just stalled, Dylan would still be alive. I think. I sighed, well, the past was the past and I couldn’t bring him back. I choked back a little sob. It was hard, thinking about what I would tell my baby boy when he started asking where daddy was, why he didn’t seem to have a dad like the rest of the kids in this town. . .
Six Years Later . . .
He just got home from his first day of school. That beaming smile on his face nearly broke my heart. His smile . . . is almost identical to his fathers. The smile he’d give me when he thought of some brilliant plan, or things like that. I hugged him tightly, I didn’t want to let go, but when his blue eyes looked questioningly into mine, I weakly smiled and asked if he was hungry. He nodded, and I went into the kitchen to make him something to eat.
Ten Years Later . . .
I sighed, yesterday was his sixteenth birthday. I could hardly look at him, I know he thought I was mad at him, but it was just that I couldn’t look at him! He looks to much like Dylan. Too much pressure on my mind. “Mom?” I heard his voice ask for me in my pitch black room. I shifted, “Come in . . .” I murmured, I was half asleep right now, tired from the stress. He sat on my bed, wrapping his arms around me, I felt so tiny, with his large frame lying next to mine. I let out a little sob, so much like his father . . . and he never knew him. He squeezed a little, questioning me with actions. I wiped away my tears and turned to face him, stroking his hair lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, shouldn’t you be out with Collette?” I inquired, wondering why he was home when I’d asked Noelle myself if Collette could go on a date with Dylan.
“I couldn’t, I wanted to find out what was wrong with you.” “You sound like your father right now” I told him, “Stubborn and bad at listening.” I smiled a little and hugged him, “You’re all I have left of him.” He looked at me, I could tell because he’d opened my curtains a little so we could see each other. “I know.” He said as sleep swept me into darkness.
End Part I Lorant’s Story
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(iNSeRT SToRY NaMe HeRe): Lorant’s Story
I’d watched him die, I saw him hit the floor, I saw the blood, and heard his last words, felt his last kiss . . . and I couldn’t stop him from dying. If only . . . his parents didn’t attack him, if only. . . I could have saved him. I’d regretted it, picking up that phone and telling the operator everything was fine. But, even if I didn’t, would they have still sent those doughnut obsessed pigs? Would Dylan still be alive? I felt that it was entirely my fault, and now, my baby isn’t going to have a daddy.
I had touched my stomach lightly, hesitantly. Blake, my brother was going to kill me for this, I frowned, causing agitation in the huge facial bruise my brother had given me just a few hours before I’d come to Dylan’s house.
The following Monday, I attacked the most popular girl in the school, she was evil incarnate right after the deceased Mr. and Mrs. Wood. She’d said that it was a good thing Dylan was gone, that he was a waste of air and so on and so forth. I could tolerate it when she said it when she was talking about him being gone for the day, but she was talking about his death. I tackled her, choking her, I don’t think I’d ever been so mad about anything outside of Dylan’s parents abusiveness.
The principal had pulled me into his office, he was an old friend of my parents, that’s one of the reasons they put Blake and I in this school, so
Mr. Goody-Goody could watch us. I hated him, and refused to tell him what happened, “Read the news, their lies should be sufficient” I hissed, and walked out of the office, It was miserable, without his smile, or even his frown, his jokes, or his angst. It was all a wonderful dream now, and his death was some cruel twist of fate waking me up.
One Year Later . . .
I held my Dylan in my arms, he was so precious to me, the only bit I have left of Dylan Wood. I sighed, and stroked his little chubby face. He looked so much like him already, I wondered if I could handle him at sixteen, the age Dylan was when he was shot by those pigs. I stared outside the window of my fifth story apartment. It hurt, when I lived with my parents, the place where, if I had just stalled, Dylan would still be alive. I think. I sighed, well, the past was the past and I couldn’t bring him back. I choked back a little sob. It was hard, thinking about what I would tell my baby boy when he started asking where daddy was, why he didn’t seem to have a dad like the rest of the kids in this town. . .
Six Years Later . . .
He just got home from his first day of school. That beaming smile on his face nearly broke my heart. His smile . . . is almost identical to his fathers. The smile he’d give me when he thought of some brilliant plan, or things like that. I hugged him tightly, I didn’t want to let go, but when his blue eyes looked questioningly into mine, I weakly smiled and asked if he was hungry. He nodded, and I went into the kitchen to make him something to eat.
Ten Years Later . . .
I sighed, yesterday was his sixteenth birthday. I could hardly look at him, I know he thought I was mad at him, but it was just that I couldn’t look at him! He looks to much like Dylan. Too much pressure on my mind. “Mom?” I heard his voice ask for me in my pitch black room. I shifted, “Come in . . .” I murmured, I was half asleep right now, tired from the stress. He sat on my bed, wrapping his arms around me, I felt so tiny, with his large frame lying next to mine. I let out a little sob, so much like his father . . . and he never knew him. He squeezed a little, questioning me with actions. I wiped away my tears and turned to face him, stroking his hair lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, shouldn’t you be out with Collette?” I inquired, wondering why he was home when I’d asked Noelle myself if Collette could go on a date with Dylan.
“I couldn’t, I wanted to find out what was wrong with you.” “You sound like your father right now” I told him, “Stubborn and bad at listening.” I smiled a little and hugged him, “You’re all I have left of him.” He looked at me, I could tell because he’d opened my curtains a little so we could see each other. “I know.” He said as sleep swept me into darkness.
End Part I Lorant’s Story