Stronger Than I Thought

Chapter One - Weak

At times things get tough, and you have to work through them. You just have to; it's practically a rule of life, just nobody bothered to write it down.

But what if you can't work through it? What if you don't want to?

I found myself asking these questions as I lay in my bed, curled up under the thick, green, white and black comforter, my head resting on the fluffly pillow with the pillowcase that matched the sheets.

"Kaela, you have to go to school today," came my mother's stern voice; it wasn't loud, but to my sensitive ears, and that fact that I was depressed, it just made it hurtful.

"Says who?" I snapped bitterly; I didn't want to go to school - not today, nor any other day.

"Says me," she replied angrily, opening the door, almost tripping over the piles of clothes that I hadn't bothered picking up. "And Chad. Now get up."

"How do you know that Chad said that?" I asked, beginning to consider getting up, the tiniest bit, after hearing the name of my best friend.

"Because I'm kind of here," Chad spoke up, striding into my room. He tore my covers off, revealing me in the fetal position, and gasped, "You look awful!"

"Gee, thanks Chad," I sneered, "That was a great self-esteem booster."

"Whatever," he said, "Get out of bed. I'll count to three. One... Two... Three..."

I stayed where I was; I wasn't getting out of bed that easily. But that's when I realized that he was counting down for a reason. Chad walked over to the side of my bed quickly, and, while keeping a straight face, tickled me beyond belief.

I couldn't help but laugh; he knew my week spots! He tickled my sides and my knees until I was spluttering and laughing at the same time - I couldn't catch my breath.

"Now will you get out of bed?" he asked, but we both knew that wasn't really the question - with his eyes he was saying Am I going to have to tickle you again? And I knew the answer to that - Hell no.

I jumped out of bed, pushing my mother and Chad out, before stomping over to my dresser, making it as loud as possible, and opened the top drawer with an annoying clattering noise.

I grapped a lavendar, almost see-through, low-cut t-shirt, and a white, spaghetti strap, camisole to go underneath. I opened the middle drawer of the dresser and took out dark blue, almost black, skinny jeans that would look great with the top because of the light to dark contrast. I might as well look presentable on my first day back in two weeks.

But, habits die hard, and I grabbed a black Volcom sweater, which had an inside pocket (thanks to my spectacular sewing abilities), that was just the right size for my iPod.

I changedquickly, brushing my hair after, and even applying a thin line of eyeliner, and a heavy coat of sparkly silver eyeshadow.

I grabbed the 32GB, filled with songs (that ranged from pop to screamo), iPod touch that was plugged into the docking station on the headboard of my queen-sized bed. There was a pair of black headphones lying next to the dock, which I grabbed and immediately plugged them into the iPod, before stuffing the iPod in my pocket.

I opened my door, and the two weren't waiting there for me or anything; I heard three voices coming from the kitchen downstairs.

I clomped, heavily, down the stairs, and walked through the archway to the kitchen. It was a small kitchen; fit for a small house.

Chad sat at the counter, drinking coffee, and Sarah sat beside him, eating scrambled eggs, with a glass of orange juice.

I kissed the top of Sarah's head, then I took Chad's coffee, taking two big gulps of it.

I put it back down, less than halfway full, with Chad scowling at me. No one takes his coffee away from him.

"Did you seriously just do that?" he growled, sending off an Oh-No-She-Didn't! vibe.

"Yeah," I smirked evilly, "I believe I did."

His glare intensified, making it really hard to hold back a laugh.

"You're in shit trouble," Sarah giggled, glancing at me. I stuck my tongue out at her. "How mature, Kaela."

"Come on, Chad, we're going to be late." I stood up, giggling, and pulled his arm. Then I remembered that I was going to school, and I immediately became gloomy and depressed again.

I walked to Chad's car in silence, he got there before me. He noticed something was up, but didn't say anything until we pulled out of the driveway.

"He died two weeks ago, Kae. Just because someone dies doesn't mean you can stop going to school," said Chad solemnly; I knew he felt bad for me, and I was grateful that he was my best friend.

Tears started rolling down my cheeks; he didn't have to remind me when he'd died. I remembered, clear as day, when I saw his car flip over, and over, and over...

"Bye Dad," I said to my father as he left for work. I stood on the porch, waiting for Chad to get here, to pick me up. I waved as he pulled out of the driveway. He was watching me as he left. Yeah, he did check the road, but only once.

The oncoming car hit him with full force, as he was paying attention to me, not the road. Not the cars.

My smile left my face immediately; the car was rolling over, the driver's side completely ruined, the top getting crushed even more with each blow it took to the pavement.

"MOM!" I screamed, the tears streaming down my face, wetting the collar of my lime-green shirt, making it darker. She came outside within two seconds - two seconds - and immediately, she began crying, too.

"Go call 9-1-1, Sweetie." She ordered, but I hesitated. "Now."

"What's going on?" asked Sarah as I ran frantically into the living room where she would wait to be driven to school by my mother.

"Nothing, just stay here," I said, as I tried wiping my eyes but more tears just blurred my vision. I picked up the reciever of the phone, and dialed the emergency number that you're taught so many times to do when you're younger. I almost forgot the number, thoughout all of my panic, even though it was recited a few moments earlier by my mother.

I explained to the woman that I needed a police - ambulane - firetruck - whatever would keep my father alive. I told her my address, and to get there as fast as possible.

But as I went outside, my mother was at the end of the driveway, staring at the car, maybe twenty metres away, that had caught on fire, and I knew my father was dead. He had to be.

"It was all my fault," I sobbed as Chad pulled up to the side of the road, "It was my fault that he died!'

"Don't you dare say that," Chad said, "It was not your fault. At all!"

But I could'nt and would never bring myself to believe that...