"My life changed in an instant. I was pulled into the anime world without a warning. I have no idea how to get out. Is escaping even possible? Most would think being trapped here is amazing and let me tell you how wrong yet right you are."
A story o...
All I hear everyday is whiny people complain about how much their lives suck because they have to wake up too early, the schoolwork is too hard, or they can't afford the makeup supplies or sports equipment. I could honestly care less about their problems. Apparently, teenagers not being able to afford MAC products is a bigger deal than a teenager and her mother being abused by the father. My life is ten times worse than theirs and yet I still don't say a thing. That's because I know no one's going to care and so I won't care about what they're going to complain about.
Everyday, I come home, expecting to get hit and I also expect to see my mother screaming. I can't stand to see the sight of my caring mother's blood which is why I always slip into my room and watch anime. Yeah, even in situations like this, a Japanese girl still has the right to watch anime. I try find a comfortable space to escape the noise in my messy room, lingering with bandages and my dark, ragged clothing. Why don't I protect my mother or call the police, you ask. Well, I've tried but my so called 'Father' has hit me with a beer bottle and really could've sent anyone to the hospital, but I've got great medical skills thanks to always getting into fights or being abused. And why does he do all of this? Well it's because he's an alcoholic. This drunkard isn't actually my biological dad. My blood-related father was actually used as a lab rat. He was captured and he was forced to have a bunch of chemicals placed on him. He eventually died of a heart attack and our family became broke. After a while, Mom met the drunkard. He wasn't liquor-obsessed then and he treated Mom really kindly. After we found out he had another family on the side, he became a bit unstable and started drinking. Mom planned on divorcing him and never marrying again but he came back to our house and demanding for money each day . If we don't have money, he'll hit us with anything and everything he's got. I eventually gave in and concealed my pain. Then, I stopped caring.
Meanwhile, I'm still at school where I don't give a care for studies and somehow, I still manage to get A-'s. Grades, makeup and friends don't matter to me because those subjects are the least of my worries.
Right now, the Math teacher is eyeing me down like a hawk, almost as if I killed his wife and robbed his house. I suppose it's due to me never paying attention and how I just nonchalantly eat a bag of chips in class from time to time.
"Miss Karen Shibuya, could you please solve the questions 13-16 on page 336." He smirked at me, acting as if he knew that I fail my grades because I don't listen to his lectures. He's just a plump, middle-aged American man who tells his smartest student to correct the handouts. Luckily I'm only the second smartest, which he obviously doesn't know. I'm only smart because I studied this simple material in middle school after dad died to make my mother happy but I guess it wasn't enough.
I slowly stood up and lazily walked over to the whiteboard and stared at the textbook while writing down the problems. I finished writing, closed the textbook, and simply stared at him, giving him a pitiful smirk. He looked angry and flustered, his face was red and his head looked ready to pop off like a cork on a bottle of champagne. This meant that my answers were 100% correct. Then again, I could honestly care less.
I walked to my small apartment building and came in to see that my father was already pulling and tugging on my mother's hair. I stood in shock, in anger as I watched him hurt her. I calmed down before the anger could subdue me. I creeped into my room and decided that today was the day that the drunkard got caught. I quietly called the police and informed them about everything. Why? Because I am done with his stupid attitude.
He banged on my door and kicked on it so hard that I heard a crack. "Open up the door and give me my $400!"
"I don't have your stupid money! If I didn't even have 30 bucks yesterday, do you think I could so easily grasp $400 in just one day's time?!"
"Open up the door ya stupid little girl!"
"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU-"I opened the door. He knotted my hair in his stubby fingers and pulled at his best effort to make me bald. He started slapping me after a while. It's been god knows how long he started bashing my face in the wall. I've gotten so used to it I forgot how to care about my life, how long I've been holding up on the inside and out. He threw me on the ground with blood splattered across my face. I bandaged myself and laid down to rest for a few moments. Afterward, I resumed watching the Railgun series.
"....let's go home,Sissy."
"Sure, if I even have a place to call home." I mumbled.
All of a sudden, my screen froze. I hit it a few times across the floor but it still didn't work so I tossed it to the side. I finally realized that there was something extremely off. The screaming voices were..gone. I opened my bedroom door to see that the drunkard's beer bottle was still, the liquid was stuck in a splashing motion. The beer itself almost looked like glass. Mom looked like she was petrified from shock. Somehow, I was the only one moving. I ran back into my room looked for my phone. If everything is now stuck in time then by the time I stop touching something, it should likely freeze in time as well. The same probably applies for people. As I suspected, the phone I threw was also stuck in time. Meaning, if I go over to Mom...she and I can run as far away as possible from the abuser until this weird time thing stops. The door slammed open,despite being stuck in time. As I was running, I was slowly being pulled back. My nerves and muscles stopped working. I too was stuck in time now.
I gradually forgot how to speak. My mind was going blank. It was almost as if I stopped seeing. The only sense that worked was hearing. Though I couldn't see, I could definitely hear the wind. This isn't the type of everyday breeze that you would hear. This is the sound of the crashing wind from some type of natural disaster. I was no longer stuck in time. I was laying down, being pulled through the strong wind as it brushed against my face. I had mixed feelings. I felt at peace but also in a state of struggle. Had it been hours or moments?
I opened my eyes and one by one, I regained all senses. Again, there was something odd about my surroundings. The trees looked like they drawn. The road looked a little pixelated. I looked down and saw that I was sitting on a park bench. What I also saw was my hands being a beautiful, pale color.
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"What the hell?" ---------- Deadline for Volume 2: August 11, 2016
