I tried.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 (In the process rewriting so what you read isn't finished)

       So now, I start. This is the beginning, but in this beginning, I start with the end.

     Her auburn hair was tangled in knots, a mangled mess caressing her pale face. The illusion of simplicity that had once been on her face had long been replaced by real simplicity. Her blood red lips no longer "popped" like they had before. Her eyelids were not blanketed with color other than a faint peach color, the color of her skin. She no longer had foundation covering her imperfections. Now, all that stood was the collage of flesh on bones, the structure of her face. She no longer desired her lashes to be dashed with black, elongating the wisps of hair on her eyelids. Her weight no longer had to be anorexic skinny, her ribs didn't jab out into her skin, stretching and contorting her frame. Her clothes no longer had to be designer fashion, she settled for subtle and simple. She had changed, all because of one person. All because of me. She was free and that was all she ever wished for. Her life was grand. SHE was grand. She didn't want the cycle of life to distort her sensational feelings of freedom and pureness and clarity. That's why the black haze now hovers over the once sea blue serenity of Hannah Stone's eyes.

     I'd be a mad fool, a heartless fool to say I wasn't the least bit guilty after Hannah's death. I can tell you about the day in school where we were informed of her death. I can draw you a picture, write you a story using an overload of imagery, so much that my English teacher would want to call me her daughter. I could record my voice, my cracked, dry voice, and tell you the story. You'd even hear my sobs and that might make the situation even more convincing. But you'd never, ever understand the feelings that I felt. You might tell yourself that if you were in my position you'd be the same way, crying and all, but how could you say that if you never even understood in the first place? RIght now, I'm not sure that I even care if you try to understand after I explain my story. No- Hannah's story. From the very, very, beginning. Not "the end" beginning like I did earlier, but the real, true beginning.

     It all started.. 

     No, I'm not going to start the story like that. To me, that's like saying there's a specifice time, a specific date that "Hannah Stone" occured. Well, I guess that's true because she does, did,  indeed have a birthdate. But "Hannah" progressed slowly, like any other child. Then, suddenly, her life took a sharp turn and she collided with a moss covered brick wall. That "collision" damaged her greatly, and if it wasn't for the "moss" I don't know if she would have become a grand person. 

     Well, here goes nothing.

    I'm sorry, I have to correct myself, yet again. I can't just say "Here goes nothing" because everything in life comes with a cost, a side-effect.

     Maybe it'd just make things simpler if I began with:

     Start

     I just remember the feeling of my heart. It wasn't crushing. Nor was it breaking. Or if you want a vivid description, it wasn't pressing itself against my chest, pounding. My hands didn't fly up to the left side of my body where the pressue rested and beg for the nonexistant pain to disappear. My hands didn't shake, my fingertips didn't tremble.

     The feeling was so new, so unusually simple. It was like a clock, a regulated, timed ticking, beating, clicking. So light and airy. Where crushing, breaking, pounding may have been the striking of a new hour, I just felt like another ticking second. I became so aware, yet I was thoroughly confused. It's like my heart was telling my head something of a foreign language or a complex code. Something that was so urgent, but all I knew was the feeling. The feeling of close to nothing, something that goes unnoticed unless given extreme thought to, the feeling of one second on a ticking clock. The feeling registered and I knew, somehow automatically that someone else was close to nothing, close to the black haze, close to death. That alerted my senses and I bolted. But where to?