Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Because I Live... ❯ Chapter 1

[ A - All Readers ]

A 15-year-old girl sat in her room late one evening, arguing being heard from down the stairs of her big, beautiful home. It was her parents, once again, at each other’s throats, putting the blame of their marital problems on everyone and everything except for themselves.

“Why does it have to be this way?” the girl would constantly ask herself, when trying to drown out the noise.

She would hear their lack of reasoning during their arguments, her name coming up plenty of times. The girl would try hard to get her parents’ attention, when they weren’t arguing, but it never worked. The two were always so wrapped up in their own problems, that they rarely noticed her lately. It had gone on for years, this arguing, but this one was turning out to be the worst.

No matter how hard she tried to get the two to speak to one another, on civilized terms, it would end in disaster, as she would run to her room, locking herself in and away from the world.

The teen would normally write poems, or music, to help ease her pain and sorrow, but today was different. It wouldn’t have helped. The girl had finally reached her limit after months of enduring such pessimism.

“They don’t care about me,” she would constantly think, as tears flooded her eyes.

She stood up and walked over towards a sliding glass door, which was opposite her bedroom door. There was a balcony out there, which she frequently took refuge. She sat down on the cool, cement stoop, closing the door behind her, in hopes of drowning out the sound. She stared up at the starry sky, a few thick clouds soaring overhead, her mother and father’s voices radiating even through the thick, glass door.

“Why doesn’t it ever stop,” she cried while hugging her knees close to her body.

A ringing phone was then heard, the one on the dresser which sat by her bedroom door and her four-poster bed. She refused to answer, since she never really received calls; nobody liked her, in her mind. “Who would?” she would ask herself regularly. She didn’t hang out with anyone at school or after school. She was just...there. She didn’t really belong, and never seemed to fit in with her peers. It was normally her, her thoughts – which have been quite dark lately – her pen, and writing pad.

The phone continued to ring, and then abruptly stopped. Whoever had called, had obviously hanged up. She doubted that either of her parents had answered, since they were still going at it with their arguing downstairs. It wouldn’t have surprised her, if they hadn’t heard it at all.

The girl remained outside on the balcony, a cool breeze blowing gently through her long, auburn hair that particular spring night. The small town of Mizube, Rhode Island – a town known for its many waterfronts – seemed so peaceful and serene that night. The next thing she knew, she heard an unexpected tune play, which was coming from her skirt pocket, for she hadn’t taken off her school uniform quite yet. It was her cell phone, and it was playing an old tune, So Happy Together by the Turtles.

She ignored it – assuming that it was probably a wrong number, as nobody ever called her – as she continued to stare out at everything around her blankly.

Her cell phone finally stopped ringing, and her parents’ voices were once again, the only sound she could hear. The sounds of things being knocked over, her mother screaming out profane language that her father so happily and willingly returned.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” she mumbled with a sob.

She then heard it, her name being mentioned! He father said it; how could he? That he would’ve been better off if he had never married her mother, and how a kid just ruined his life.

Her eyes went wide as more clouds started to form in the sky. The forecast called for rain that night. Good old April showers.

Her mother vehemently retorted, but the girl couldn’t quite make it out, due to being drowned in her own thoughts.

No one cared about her; no one loved her. The students at school ignored her, regardless of how hard she tried to be acknowledged and get noticed, her own parents fought daily, she seemed to always come up in conversation, and she now felt that she wasn’t wanted.

No longer able to take what was going on, the girl rushed back into her room and grabbed her jacket, slipping it on over her thin, white, short-sleeved blouse.

She ran down the steps of her two-story home, slipped back into her school shoes, and ran out the front door. Her parents didn’t even notice, as they were still having a shouting match when she opened and slammed the door behind her.

To the girl’s surprise, she had no idea that she was being watched, and now followed when she’d left the house.

One of the people had a cell phone, and looked quite sad. “She didn’t answer,” the girl murmured. “We have to keep a close watch over her, before it’s too late. She only needed to put up with this for one more day.” The person with her, nodded in agreement…
She continued to run as even more clouds started to gather overhead. She didn’t care where she ended up, as long as it was away from them.

People walking the streets, or heading into nearby stores or restaurants, noticed the girl running by, all curious as to what was wrong. She didn’t care if people stared; she just wanted be free. Free of her parents’ negativity, anger, and hatred. She wanted to free herself from being such a burden on their lives.

After a while, the girl finally reached her destination; the bridge in the middle of the small town, which was almost 10 blocks away from her home. She clutched her chest, and breathed hard from having run so long. As of now, the clouds had finally grown saturated enough, and the water emerged in the form of rain.

She looked over the edge to only see dark, choppy water. The distance between the bridge and the water was so vast, she couldn’t even estimate as to how long a drop it would be.

“Just one quick jump,” she told herself, eyes closed, “and I’ll no longer be a bother to anyone, and I’ll finally be free.”

The rain fell down harder, causing her dark hair to stick to her sweaty face. Her eyes were stingy with the salty liquid, flooding her eyes, but she didn’t care anymore. Her arm was shaky, and was a bit hesitant as she started to climb up on the side, not quite getting up there.

She took in a deep breath, choking slightly due to her crying, but before she could do anything, she felt a tight grasp on her right arm.

Wondering who it was, she turned to see a girl and a boy about her age, decked out in rain gear, but the two didn’t look to be from around her area, mainly because she’d never seen them before. Both were wearing school uniforms similar to hers. The girl, who was holding a large, pink umbrella, looked to be about 5’2, had short, shoulder-lengthened jet-black hair, and a warm, friendly smile on her face. Her big, clear brown eyes showed concern and trust.

Beside her was a boy, a bit taller, about 5’6, who also had the same jet-black, or extremely dark brown, hair as she, only it was a bit longer; a little past his broad shoulders. His eyes also showed concern and trust and he was the one to hold her arm.

She stepped down to face the two and the boy let go. “Who-who are you?” she stammered, wiping her tears away with her wet hands.

“Never mind who we are,” the jet-black-haired girl told her gently. “What are you doing here?”

“Nobody cares about me,” she said quietly as she stared down at the ground. “Why bother living if no one is concerned over me?”

“That’s not true,” the boy told her firmly while placing a hand on her small shoulder. “We care about you.”

“How can you care about me if you don’t even know me!”

“We just do,” his female companion told her. “You see, we all have our bad days, or are in situations where we may feel pointless or useless. You have to be strong and try to get through it as best as you can.”

She wanted to yell at the girl for making such a cheesy statement. How can a stranger just come right up and tell her to “get through it”. She didn’t know her. She didn’t have the right to tell her something like that, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to tell this girl to “bug off” or to leave her alone and to let her end her life in peace.

“I want to be free,” the girl continued to murmur.

“Free yourself in other ways,” the boy told her. “You have a lot of true talent.”

She sat herself on the cold ground, the rain continuing to pound down on her. “Yeah, right.”

The two sat down on each side of her, the girl holding her large umbrella over the three of them, so that they wouldn’t get any wetter than what they already were.

“You’re a good writer, you’re good with your music, and you’re very intelligent. You make top marks in your class.”

Looking up at the boy, she asked, “What good is that when your own parents don’t care? They only care about fighting and how I ruined their life, and what good is it, if you have no friends to root you on?”

“We’re your friends,” the girl told her kindly. The boy nodded as well, and gave her a handsome, assuring smile.

“But-but you don’t know me.” She felt herself about to cry again. “How can you like me if you don’t even know me?”

“We like you, because you’re special. All of god’s creatures are in his or her own way,” the boy told her wisely, “and if you were to end your life, the world would miss out on what makes you particularly special. Those you attend school with, would be sad to hear of your death, and so would your parents, believe it or not, and we would be extremely sad if you died. How can we become better friends, if you’re not around?”

“Why?” the girl asked herself. “Why do these people care about me? Who are they? Why do I feel like I’m trapped in an after-school special?” Before she realized it, she started to bawl and sob, and shook from how cold she was.

The girl leaned over a bit and hugged her, and told her, “Suicide, is never the answer”, and, “There will always be someone there who cares for you, even if you don’t feel that way right now.” She cried even harder as she and these two strangers sat, trying their bests to comfort her…
The next day, the girl heard a loud ringing sound. She reached her arm over and shut off her alarm clock. She opened her eyes slowly, finally taking in her surroundings. She opened them to see that she was in bed, but still in her uniform. Did she fall asleep with the two strangers?

“Wha-how? When did I get home?”

Jumping out of her bed, she walked out onto her balcony. She looked out to see a few puddles around from the previous night’s rain, but the sun was shining brightly, and birds were singing cheerfully, a sound she’d always cherished, as she usually found it inspiring whenever writing.

“Where did those two people go?” She seemed quite puzzled and confused. “Maybe I never left? Was it all a dream?”

She walked back into her room, and closed the door behind her. Her jacket was hanging up in her closet, and she didn’t see her shoes anyplace, which meant that she’d left them by the front door.

There was a knock on the door of her room. “Carmen, you need to hurry and get ready for school,” a woman’s voice from the other side rang.

“Um, yeah, right,” Carmen distantly replied, her mind still on the events of the previous night.

Carmen hurried herself along, so as to prepare herself for the morning commute to school. After quickly showering and dressing, she walked down to the kitchen. Rummaging through the fruit bowl, she picked up an apple; she hadn’t had anything to eat since before her parents’ argument.

“Don’t you want anything other than an apple?” her mother asked, who was seated at the table.

“No ma’am,” she answered quietly. The events of last night might have been fuzzy, but the painful content of the argument between her parents was still fresh in her mind.

“Mind if we talk for a moment?”

She shook her head and sat down at the kitchen table.

“Well, as you know, your father and I have been having our fair share of problems, and last night, I realized how unfair that must have been on you. I’m sure we’ve been a bit negligent lately as well. If we have, we’re sorry.”

The girl blinked; did her mother just apologize? Her mother usually never apologized for anything.

“See, after the heated argument we had last night…we finally agreed, that it’s time we got a divorce.” Her mother bit her bottom lip awkwardly, as if holding back. “And don’t you ever think that all of the troubles that your father and I are having have anything to do with you. We both love you, and want to know what’s going on in your life, so please share. Do you understand?”

Carmen nodded slowly, and stood up. She tossed her apple core into the nearby wastebasket. She needed to think things over, as everything was happening too fast for her. “Um yeah, mom; I have to go.”

“But your father wanted to ta--”

The girl ran out of the kitchen, grabbed her book-bag, stepped into her shoes, and out the front door before her mother could get another word in edgewise. She made her way towards the bus stop. Carmen really didn’t want to think about her parents right at that moment. It was going to take a lot before she’d feel completely comfortable around either of them again.

While waiting for the city bus, and during the ride, which took her to the private school she attended, her mind was elsewhere and was still confused. What exactly happened the previous night? And what happened to those two people? Where were they from? She noted that both had pretty strong accents, as if they weren’t American. Were those people even real? Could they have been angels sent to stop her from doing something so drastic? Did she even leave the house that night? No, she couldn’t have, she figured. Her mother would’ve scolded her if she had.

The bus came to a stop, and she hopped off, walking the two blocks to her school. When walking down the hall, though not many, some people seemed to take more notice of her.

“Hey, Carmen.”

“Great poem, Carmen.”

“You’re going to win that poetry contest for sure, Carmen!”

“Um, thank you?” she would questionably respond when walking by these people. She really wasn’t used of receiving compliments, and came across as awkward whenever she did get one.

When she walked past the school’s main office, she now understood why some people were taking notice to her poetry. On the bulletin-board, there was an announcement posted up, along with her school photo, a brief biography:

“I-I’m a finalist?!” he girl thought excitedly. “I can’t believe it! My poem has an actual chance at winning!”

She made her way to her homeroom and took a seat, in the back by herself, mainly because there were always two extra seats on either side of her. Her homeroom teacher walked in, a proud smile on her face. She began to praise Carmen, and congratulated her on making it to the finals. If she managed to win, she’d win a full scholarship towards the university she gets into. Carmen couldn’t help but blush a bit from the attention she was receiving, especially since the class clapped for her.

“That aside,” her plump teacher started, “we have two new students joining us today.”

Two people walked into the classroom; Carmen’s jaw nearly dropped. “It’s them!” she concluded in thought. “The two people I met last night!”

“They’re not from around here, and just moved here from Odaiba, Japan, which is located in Tokyo, correct?”

The girl with the short, jet-black hair, tied up in a single ponytail, nodded. “Yes, it is one of the special wards of Tokyo; it is like how you all have counties here,” she replied shyly, hoping that her grammar was correct.

“Now, why not introduce yourselves to the class.”

She politely bowed. “I am, Misayoshi Miki. I am 15 years of age. We just move here recently. I enjoy reading, painting, and the sport of volleyball.”

The taller boy beside her with the long, jet black hair bowed as well before introducing himself, and gave the class what Carmen considered, a “handsome smile”. He also came across as being more confident sounding in comparison to Miki. “I am Takeshita Seiji. I am also 15. Miki is my cousin and I live with her family. I enjoy playing both soccer and tennis, and one of my favorite places to visit back home, was Akihabara. It is neighborhood in Tokyo. There are a lot of video games and other electronic devices there that one could buy. I enjoy computer games and video games very much.”

“That’s very nice, Seiji, Miki,” the teacher smiled. “Now, you two can take the empty seats in the back row next to Carmen. It looks like she’ll finally have some company. Those seats have been empty all year.”

The two did as they were told, and took the two vacant seats. Carmen rubbed her eyes. It was like she’d seen a ghost.

“Wow, it-it’s you!”

“Excuse me?” Miki questioned.

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

“You mean, you aren’t---and I---boy you--” she held her head in confusion. “What is the deal?” she asked herself.

“Are you okay?” Miki asked gently, a warm, friendly smile on her face.

“Nothing.” Carmen smiled back in spite of herself. “If you want, I can show you around town. Mizube isn’t too bad a place to live.”

“We would very much appreciate that,” Seiji thanked her.

“Are you not, Carmen Robertson?” Miki asked. “I saw your picture on the school’s bulletin board, and Seiji-kun told me the name was Carmen Robertson. It says that you write poetry. I would love to read your poetry.”

“Really?” Carmen was in too much surprise to even question why she’d referred to Seiji as “Seiji-kun”. Miki nodded. “Well sure, I’d love to show you! No one’s ever asked to see my works before!”

“It is very nice that we have similar interest.”

Seiji nodded. “The people here have been friendly. I am glad to know, that even here in this classroom, that we have made a friend. I am certain, we will be very good friends.”

Carmen thought about that for a moment. She felt that they would too…

And that’s the end, folks. I hope you enjoyed it. This was an English assignment of mine’s, and I wrote it pretty fast. I bet you can tell it. Well, I just decided to put it up for you all to read.

Thanks goes out to my online buddies Kaeri-chan and Scott Sanchez. Kaeri-chan helped me come up with the name for the town, while Scott helped me with the title. Oh, btw, Mizube does mean waterfronts, and seems that any original work I may come up with, takes place in this fictional town. I usually write the story taking place in West Virginia or Rhode Island, and I have no idea why it’s always these two particular places.