Our Written Memories

1/ A New Word

Hi, sorry about the late update on chapter one. I've just been fixing up a lot of things and finally got it done, lol, so here
There is no trigger warning. If you want the trigger warnings there in the description, enjoy!
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POV:?

The girl sat on her bed looking at the ceiling, her mind empty. Her mother had left a few hours ago. She usually steals her mom's books and reads them all day when her mother is not home. She couldn't imagine the fuss her mother would make if she found out, but she put them back perfectly or tried to. But today, the girl didn't feel like reading; she just wanted to lie down and stay there. She convinced herself that maybe it would make her feel better and that the books were the problem, not her. But gosh, was this boring? There was nothing to do; she twisted and turned on her bed, hoping for some sort of entertainment. Eighteen years she was stuck in this house, well, 18 years, three months, and 14 days, to be exact. And yet she still found no way to entertain herself. She huffed and turned on her side again, just feeling exhausted. She looked over to her side table, and under some misunderstood drawings, she saw a brown busted-up notebook.
"No way," she muttered beneath her breath.
Her diary. She hadn't seen this notebook in over nine years.
Sitting up quietly, the covers falling slowly from her body, she picked up the notebook. The freezing cold breeze hit her body; gradually, she opened the notebook. She was as careful as possible not to rip the fragile papers. She flipped through her eight-year-old self mind.
She was shocked at the stuff she used to write in these. She stopped writing years ago because it simply didn't work for her problems like every book said it would. She laughed loosely, looking through the small drawing of dogs and people jumping around. She wondered how it felt, having someone for you to be there for you. She finally understood what feelings meant. She understood what having a significant other meant and wondered and wished to have a glimpse of what that felt like. It also hit her a while back that she never really did have the best mother but she doesn't have anyone else but her mother, so it feels normal to her. But her mother was always yelling at her, "I'm so done with you living in my house." She didn't know what it meant, just that her mother was mad. She slowly set the notebook back on the side desk and landed back on her soft bed, getting embraced by the mattress. Her braid fell behind her back. She shivered as she got back in the covers. Her eyelids started feeling heavy, and she accepted it by letting herself fall asleep. As she entered the world of dreams, she wondered what it was like having a significant other, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Dear Diary
I guess I'm writing again. I hope this could make me feel better about a few things; I can't believe I found this old thing. Mother was not home, but I didn't want to look through her stuff today. I guess I just missed Dad or just wanted to have one. It hit me that my mother is not that great, but I'm not sure what absolute comfort feels like, so I'll stick to that.
Goodnight. :)

3/6/2010

She woke up to a "Ding," and her eyes fluttered open slowly. She grunted, not knowing what was happening; turning to her side, she lifted her hands to rub her eyes. She kept hearing that "ding noise." As she opened her eyes, they quickly got shut by the blistering sun coming from her window, blinding her by the second. She slowly got up, the thin covers falling from her body.
"Ding" "Ding"
She turned her head to the noise.
"What the hell.." Her voice cracked. She was scared, not because of the dinging but because she thought her mother was home. Her mother gets mad at a lot of stuff, and most of the time, it's reasons she never understood. But the house stood still, nothing, just the sound of her shallow breathing. The wave of nervousness passed quickly, realizing her mother was, in fact, not home. She sighed slowly, letting herself calm down.
She swung her legs off the bed, the cold breeze hitting them. She wondered what the sound was, so she went to investigate. She pulled the covers around her since it was freezing in the house. It was not like they would really help, but it was something. She slowly walked out of the room, trying to find the source of the sound.
As she walked out of her room slowly, the old floorboards creaked each time they did. She shook, scared at what was to come. She got to the kitchen in a hurry before someone tried to kill her. She's been reading too many horror stories. Ugh, she had to stop, but it was the only books she had left in her mother's library. I guess 18 years of straight reading didn't pay off.
She found out the source of the sounds that she had been hearing. But they stopped abruptly the second she got to the door. She dropped the covers off her body to investigate better what was happening. Her brown eyes shining in the sun, she looked out the window by the door. A Man was standing with a brown box in his hand. A man? No way, why was there a man at her house? Usually, her mother brought many men home, but she recognized all of them. They usually were creepily tall and had black hair. It always freaked her out in a way she never liked them. The only thing they did was yell and make weird noises. And she really doesn't like yelling. It makes her feel terrified and trapped. But this man was different. He looked happy. He looked older and had grey hair. She squinted her eyes to get a better look. What did he want with that box? Was he trying to murder her? She shook her head, her braid falling behind her back. No, stop thinking that nobody is trying to kill you. Once she looked at the man, she realized the man was looking back at her.
Her eyes bolted out of her head. She quickly hid under the window, tucking her limbs into a ball. No, he saw me shit. She thought she put her hands on her mouth and blushed out of embarrassment. He had to leave soon, right? He can't just stand out there forever now. That's ridiculous. Is he going to tell mother? Oh no, maybe he didn't see me, she thought. She was going to slowly walk back to her room and try to forget everything that just happened by taking a really, REALLY long nap. But, of course, something interrupted her.
"knock knock"
Fuck. She turned her head so fast to the door her braid slapped her in the face. Fuck Fuck Fuck, what is she going to do. Mother told her never to open that door. She said that the sun would burn her eyes out when she was little. Obviously, she knew that was a lie, but now she's gently starting to believe it. Because she had never been outside, what if her mother was right? This was no time to overthink. But she's never met or talked to anyone but her mother and the various men she brought to the house, but that usually ended up with a slap on her face. She would never talk to her mother's men. She claimed that the girl was trying to "Steal" them or "seduce" them, but the only thing she did was stand there. So she never did it again. But this was different. There was no so-called "Mother" to stop her. So why not do it? Who in the hell is stopping her? Her breathing started speeding up in fear. Fuck it; she thought she was going to do it because this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who was stopping her?