Our Second Player // Vanoss And The Crew

Chapter One - No One Shall Laugh

Chapter 1 - No One Shall Laugh

The sky was gray. The rain fell down on the brown haired girl that sat on the vacant picnic bench. Her chocolate brown eyes were clouded over with tears that have lasted for what felt like eternity.

Everyone told her that he was expected to leave one day. She just never knew that day would be on her birthday. The day that he was supposed to be with her, when no one else could fill in that position. To comfort her when none of her 'friends' showed up, and play with her. Even though she was almost an adult.

But none of that happened. He left too quickly. A small kiss on her forehead, and a little hug. His hazel eyes begged for forgiveness and he explained why he had to leave. She didn't understand since she was eleven. What eleven-year-old would understand such talk? About heart about to go out, and much more.

The neighbors would tell their sons and daughters to avoid the brown eyed girl. "She is dangerous," they would say. "Has been since her brother left."

She would give them the death glare before returning to the one bench. She sat on it everyday, one to two hours at a time. No one told her to move; she would beat them up if they did.

This was HER spot. No one else's. This was the spot where he always brought the girl, telling her stories about wonderlands. How the sky should always be blue to her. How she shouldn't be sad, ever.

Yet, here she was. The bench had her mark on it. She did it with his pocket knife she inherited after his passing. Her parents realized the mistake; but she wouldn't give the sharp weapon back. It was hers now. The name was etched in, really deep. Anyone that passed would stop to read it every time. It was intriguing the way she wrote. Her i's were dotted with hearts. Her N was swirly. Her whole name was intriguing.

Nicole Simone Chesser

Everyone said that is was vandalism, but no one told. The police would pass it up. Everyone remembered the one time that Nicole beat up a boy three years older than her. His name was Chase. He threatened to cover up her signature with black paint. He said that she wasn't special, and that her brother was nothing.

She kicked him in his manhood and punched him in the face until he was bleeding from his lips and nose. She broke his arm.

Nicole wasn't afraid anymore.

She now knew what happened to her brother. He had a heart failure, and escaped to California where they said there was the best doctors. They lied.

She was left with her crying parents, that didn't pay much attention to her anymore. Her mother locked herself in her room, throwing out handkerchief after handkerchief. Her father would drink himself out on the couch in front of the television.

Leaving Nicole alone on the bench. No one wanted to talk to her, no one wanted to friends with a girl who would kill. Kill people who messed with her brother's stuff. No one should mess with ANYTHING.

Her mother once beckoned a thirteen year old Nicole into her room. Nicole kept her arms crossed, not really caring what her mother said. But yet, Sue talked to Nicole, telling her about what she should do.

Said the one who didn't cook dinner for the young teen.

Said the one who didn't take care of the bills that covered the dining room table.

Said the one who didn't tell Dad that he needed to go to bed, and get slapped in the face.

The slaps were nothing. They were week for the brown eyed girl. She just took them like a God, and ushered him up the stairs. He always reeked of alcohol. He barely took showers. Nicole thought it was quite funny how they could cry over their son, yet not take care of their daughter so the same thing didn't happen.

Her room was vacant. She burned all the posters she had in anger after Zeke died. He was her best friend, and he didn't die with her. She had him promise when she was ten, that when he died, that he had to be with her. No matter what the situation.

Yet, he was stuck with his death all the way in Cali, while she was in Oregon. Yep, one state down, but it still broke her heart. She threw mugs out of the windows, and smashed plates on the floor. Her mother just kept crying at these violent actions.

Her eyes were either filled with tears or anger. She wouldn't allow anyone near her or her father or mother. Nicole was dangerous, just like the neighbors said that she was.

Now sitting here on this bench, Nicole thinks. It has been nine years since Zeke had died, and she was still crying over it. Her mother was still locked up in her room about it. Her father still drank away that problem. She was a problem to that he drank away, every sip of the bottle.

The rain still fell down onto her now soaked head. I should probably get home before I get sick, she thought and stood up. There was a single child left on the playground. He was snuggled up in a yellow raincoat, yet still held onto his shoulders for warmth. Nicole just passed him by, not a single care in the world.

Her black Converse slapped against the sidewalk, and Nicole stared straight ahead. Who knew what held at home. Her dad could still be drunk, her mother could still be crying her green eyes out.

Maybe one day, Nicole thought, I can leave.

The rain was still hammering down on the young adult, and she shrugged off all of the cloud's tears. Her black tank top was surely soaked from not wearing a coat, and her leggings were soaked. The Converse were already weak, the rain just making the shoes fall apart more.

But who cared? Who had the money to give to this girl? This dangerous, deadly, nice girl. She was a nice person, everyone just saw her when she was defending herself or her brother. She remembered the 'funeral'. There was no body to bury; his roommate had fulfilled Zeke's wish. Throw him off a bridge.

Nicole never got to meet this roommate. He wouldn't come around the family, saying that he was doing as told. Nobody messed with him since. Fortunate for him.

The blue house loomed above her as she walked up the driveway. The curtains were closed, and the door looked as if it were threatening to fall off it's hinges. Ryan, Nicole's father, always said he would fix it. But with all the vodka and beer bottles all over the floor of the living room, it was highly doubtful.

Nicole walked right through the door, not saying a single word. Her father snored from the couch, the TV playing Wheel of Fortune. It was sad to see your father like this, after NINE YEARS. She wasn't ever going to get over that, was she?

She trudged straight to her room. Grabbing the Sketchbook that lay on her mahogany desk, Nicole sank to the floor. It was time to make a list of what she needed to do in the span of a week.

•get food for a month
•make sure all alcohol is thrown away
•tell Mom I'm leaving
•pack up all supplies
•walk until my feet hurt like Hell

Short list Nicole knew, but if she wanted to it would be a huge long list, one that spans around her whole room. This was just a simplified version, one with fewer dots and fewer things to do. First, get food for a whole month. For her parents and herself.

That is a rather wait until tomorrow, when it isn't raining. But who seriously cares? Nicole knew she really shouldn't.

The brown eyed woman walks to her closet, and swings the door open. Dry clothes for sure, and black. Black, dry, warm clothes. That would be okay.

Her little fingers grabbed a long sleeve black shirt, the only one that had a design on it. Nicole knew why it was the only one; it was because she didn't really like plain clothes. She knew people would look at her different it she wore colorful clothes.

She slipped the shirt over her head after taking off the tank top. She changed her pants to black jeggings, and grabbed her black beanie that covers her thin hair. Time to go do this stuff.

She shuffles out of the room, making sure to tiptoe through the living room. No need to wake her  father out of his 'peaceful' slumber. Nicole could hear her mother's snoring as well, only it was coming from her room.

She slipped out the front door, careful to not be heard.