Young Writers Society

Light_Devil wrote:Preface

I WAS ALWAYS THINKING ABOUT DYING, THOUGH IN THE LAST FEW DAYS IT HADN’T FREQUENTED MY thoughts as often. The situation I was in hadn’t been part of my imaginary list of possible deaths, though it was very romantic.

I glanced, taking shallow breaths, around the rounded room and looked straight to a man’s derriere. I had to look away as the man turned and gazed at me as if blaming me for something, it was not my fault he had decided to park himself right there.

Many people would think that this was a good death; hell, they would probably think dying for someone else was noble even. Well, stuff them and their idiotic thoughts – I would rather live. They can go and dive in front of a bullet for all I care.

I knew that if I had never gone to Utensil, I would be sitting in a cool icy pool drinking pina-caladas. Instantly after realising this I regretted the decision to come here and it made the fear in my stomach settle a little – as if it wasn’t actually my fault. Truly, I knew now it wasn't.

It was stupid, I had had everything I had ever dreamed of, beyond anyone’s wildest expectations and now it was all going to go bye-byes. This thought saddened me and the loss made me grieve for a slight moment, though only slight.

The man smiled – he smiled the way a pocket-thief might while apologising after bumping into you and picking your pockets. He flowed forward in one graceful movement and I lent back into the wall; he was going to end my life.

I knew this with certainty, but I doubted that it would take a lot to kill me anyway.

CHAPTER ONE

Dad and I walked to the airport with our shirts tied up to show our tummies. It was 40 degrees Celsius in Madrock and the sun was so bright that I didn’t even want to look up to check if it was a clear sky, afraid that my eyes would shrivel in their sockets.

My shirt was a loose navy singlet and as I mentioned it was tied in a little knot at the front to aid the cooling of my body, though really as I noticed the rank smell of sweat drifting up it didn't help much.

In the Northern Territory of north-east Australia a town named Utensil exists always being poured upon by constant bouts of rain. Gladdening to say it rained there more than any other part of Australia, I loved this rain.

This so called town was the place my father stole me from when I was barely five months old. I had been staying there every summer of my life until I was 13. My summer holidays were a break from the constant strain of my normal life. It was at 13 that Dad had decided I didn’t need a mother and he had stopped me from the going on the vacation.

Luckily Mum found a loop hole and instead of me going to Utensil, we vacationed at Brisbane for two weeks each summer holidays.

It was to Utensil where I was now going, I had finally had the courage to say to my dad that I wanted to live with mum. Wonderful rainy Utensil I thought with a smile. I loved Utensil.

I hated Madrock; its heat was disgusting and the busy streets always gave me several tones of different head aches.

“Bella,” Dad said a worried tone in his voice. I glanced at him, “No dad, that’s your other child.” He looked shocked for a second and then he pulled his glasses out of his pocket.

He placed them on and squinted through them, “Oh, Tricksy!”

I resisted a shudder, I hated my name; Patricia - dad had made a habit of calling me Tricksy which I decided wasn't so bad. He had a pout on, “I shouldn’t be letting you do this.”

This was about the fiftieth time he had said that; he really didn’t want his little slave to go, did he?

I bit my tongue to make sure this little thought didn’t turn into words. I glanced sideways at Dad. Dad looked like me except he had longer hair and brown eyes. The resemblance was uncanny. I found myself staring at him.

He was frowning; I felt a spasm of panic as he moved my bag behind him. Was he going to make me stay? How could he?

He had Phil to do everything now. The chores would get done and there would be dinner cooked, the car would be clean and the bills would be paid . . .

“I don’t want to go, but mum insists.”

I lied; lying was so easy for me, as I had been raised in that kind of environment. This was not the first time I had blamed mum; poor thing was my scape goat.

“Well, tell the woman who gave birth to you I said hi.”

Dad refused to call my mother, my mother, “I won’t.”

He smiled; we shared a little of the same humour, though I don’t think I got any violent tendencies from him. I think that was how Dad had met Phil, although I wasn't sure. Dad was lucky, he had managed to snag a millionaire.

“I want to have you back soon,” he insisted; god, why won’t he just let me leave already, “You can come home anytime you want – but you have to walk home.”

Well, if I had wanted to stay I wouldn’t have walked the 20 kilometres here with my 50 kilogram luggage bag would I? And there was no way in hell he was going to get me to walk back. I suppose it was a kind of punishment; leave home and walks 20 k’s – come home and walk 20 k’s for leaving.

I sighed inwardly; I could see the evil glimmer in his eyes behind the pleasant words.

“Oh, I’m not coming back. Mum’ll have me in chains.” I lied again. Mum would never do something like that – scape goat again, poor mum.

He chuckled, I knew he would and I could tell he was thinking pervertedly, he raised an eyebrow at me and replied, “Don’t give me and Phil any ideas.”

Eughh. That was one of the things I was trying to run away from; dad and Phil – blatant homosexuals. I had nothing against homosexuality perse’, but I saw them once chasing each other around the house in nothing but g-strings. I repressed a shudder and instead I threw a cheeky smile his way, “Oh, you know he likes it kinky.”

He laughed and patted me on the back. Ow, his hand was really heavy; somehow I knew that he was the man in the relationship. He scooped me up and hugged me tightly for a second; it was obvious he was imagining Phil in chains while doing so because some drool dripped onto my cheek.

I wiped it off, slightly disgusted, yet slightly amused that dad could find Phil so attractive. Phil didn't have any hair. He let me go and then I got into line for boarding, I saw him mouth something, “I’ll miss you, Bella.”

I rolled my eyes and waved with a fake smile and an exasperated sigh on my lips, “Dad just never remembers, does he?”

The flight took only about 3 hours; it was a small plane and I had to sit next to fat smelly man. It didn’t bother me much as I slept on the way.

I think mum was trying to be funny because when I got there she wasn’t. I waited another three hours and she still wasn't there. After a while I began to walk on the highway, lugging my suitcase in tow. No one cared much. I didn’t expect them too, but it would’ve been nice . . . It wasn't like some animal was going to eat me; this was Australia for gods sake there wasn't anything that could.

During my walk, I observed the country side as I forced my feet, in the thongs that they were in, to move. It was green, rain forest that surrounded the highway and I could hear the little whistle of a brook somewhere nearby. A luscious memory came back to me; it was me playing in water, the rain to be precise, with mum and dad and a warm innocent smile on my face.

As the memory left me, my heart ached for something more.

I arrived home to find mum skunk drunk on the couch; should’ve guessed. When she saw me she threw a crooked smiled my way, “I registered you, Bella for the high school and I bought you a shiny new car.”

Her words were slurred, but I was used to it. I gave her a hug; another person forgot who I was. It hurt. Inside somewhere deep; I was bleeding, but no one would know. I walked into my room and lay down on my bed.

Something must’ve irritated my nose as I sneezed. I couldn’t stop. It must be dust.

It seemed mum hadn’t cleaned the house since the last time I had been here. The house consisted of about 7 rooms on the first floor and 4 on the second. How mum had afforded it was beyond me. I walked out of my room with a red, runny, itchy nose and my mum laughed at me; she must’ve sobered up a bit. I saw a full beer can next to her just begging to be drank.

Walking towards her I tried to scoop it up, but she scowled at me and snatched it away. I sighed; no getting drunk meant I wouldn’t be able to forget the pain now. I looked to her and it made my heart stop; she had sunk so low since the last time I saw her.

Imagining me like that in a couple of years did nothing for my self esteem, but I did it anyway. Like mother like daughter, huh? Mum was staring at me and I looked her way. She managed to slur out, “How you been?”

“Well, I died the other day.” I knew she wasn't interested and I knew what her reply would be. She took another scull of some beer and replied, “That’s nice.”

I laughed as I stood up and asked, “What’s my name?”

She stared at me lewdly for a moment before replying, “Bella?”

That’s what I thought. I walked out of the room and outside. It had already begun raining. I opened my mouth and let in a few drops. It was refreshing; it had been so long since I had had pure rain water. A few drops landed in my eye and I blinked in response – it stung a little bit.

Kind of like when no one remembered my name, but that was in my heart. The rain cleared and I saw what mum had been talking about, “the shiny new car” was in fact a rusty Ute. The kind of car that would fall apart if someone kicked it. It might have once been a colour, but now it was just orange and brown with rust. It sat in the rain; looking very sad and lonely. My heart went out to it.

It reminded me of myself.

I ran my hands from the side door all the way to the bonnet. It would do, this was probably the best thing I’ve ever gotten from my mum. Resting my head upon it, I closed my eyes feeling the vibrations as heavy drops of rain hit the car.

THUD . . . THUD, THUD, THUD . . . THUD.

It relaxed me and it was then that I truly felt at peace. My mind drifted as I listened to the rain. She had enrolled me for high school, huh?

I sighed, Utensil wasn’t a very big place, but the people were kind. I wondered about the friends I would make. And if I would make any. Sure, I had been a popular person back at Madrock, but that was because I wasn't me. Because I wasn’t trying to be me. From here on in I would be me and nothing else.

I wasn't sure if that would make me a recluse, or a lost cause or even a juvenile delinquent, but I was going through with it no matter what. I didn’t want to be “Bella” for the rest of my life.

I opened my eyes and stared at the Ute, some of the “rust” had just been in fact dirt and it had come off in the down pour. I stared at my reflection; dark skin, dark eyes, dark hair and even the aura that I gave off was dark. I sighed; I might look pretty in a horror flick, but never in real life.

Actually that might even be joking myself; no one would hire a girl who purposely chose to look like a guy. I had cut my hair ridiculously short, pixie style and my shoulders were wide. I had next to no breasts, but my most stunning feature which Phil had commented upon were my legs; he had said, “Those legs of yours just don’t end do they?”

And indeed they were quite long and shapely. As was the rest of my body, but I tended never to wear tight clothing.

I hadn’t noticed, but it was getting dark; it must get darker earlier here. I patted the car reassuringly and walked inside. Mum had fallen asleep on the floor and drool was seeping out of her mouth. Her face was gaunt and it looked like she was enjoying herself. How long since she had been able to sleep peacefully?

I walked up stairs and towards my room. Before I even got there I began sneezing. It was obvious mum just frequented downstairs. I snuck into my room, hoping not to disturb anymore dust and make it angry. When I got to my bed I crawled into it relishing the warmth that instantly set in my bones.

Sure I liked the rain, but I still had to climatise my body to get used to it.



Sleep took me like a storm; sudden and destructive. My dreams were of nothing and I found myself waking up every few minutes or so crying tears of nothingness.

By the time it was morning and the sun was rising, black sleep bags adorned the spaces under my eyes.

Staring out the window I enjoyed the black clouds and soft thunder I could hear, it calmed my sleep frazzled nerves. After a while I got up and got dressed. It was a free-dress school, no uniform policy. As I walked downstairs I could hear mum snoring in the lounge.

I smiled and crept past to the kitchen. It was a small kitchen compared to the size of the house, but it was cosy and it had a fire place specially for those extreme cold nights. Mum had owned this house forever and it hurt me to see she had never really loved dad. Everything dad made she had thrown out a long time ago.

I pulled out a cereal box; Crunchy Nut Clusters – what can I say, I loved sweet things. I ate them greedily; it had been a while since I had had something of choice. This was why I loved my summers here, I got what I wanted, well at least I got what I wanted and could afford.

Once I had eaten I left for school. Mum was still asleep and hell, she needed it. I drove to school in my rusty Ute. I decided to call it Ballow. It matched, really. Water began to fall from the sky as I drove to school and the windows began to fog up with the warmth of my breath.


*Yes, this is what happens when you get my mind and add a little Twilight. I hated the book, just in case you wanted to know. In my opinion I think this was better than Stephenie Meyer's whole series - jk.*