Random Short Story Thing written by Zael...

Random Short Story Thing written by Zael... (Edited by Landen).

***THIS IS NOW EDITED BY LANDEN***

I didn't even notice the truck before it hit me. I didn't feel it coming, or have any sense of it whatsoever until those last two seconds. Two seconds. That's how long it took me to die. And even during those two seconds, beforehand, and possibly afterwards, I had more important things on my mind. I was focusing more on what was in front of me instead of the oncoming truck to my left.

                But my story starts before that. It starts before the truck, before the death, before the knife,  before the fist, before the kiss, before the guy. For this story both starts and ends with a death.

                I woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. I didn't want to get up, and even when I did, I had this annoying feeling in the pit of my stomach that something bad was going to happen. But I tried my best to ignore it.

                The day went on as just like any other. School was the same as always. I was 17 at the time, and one of the most popular kids in my school. I was part of the the 'inner circle'. I was having fun. My junior year until that day had been the best school year of my life. I was pretty, popular, had an uncountable number of friends! Parties every weekend, maybe even during the week. Teachers loved me, I was a cheerleader, head of numerous clubs. It almost seemed that the world revolved completely around me.

                "Your father is dead." Were the first words said to me when I walked through the front door of my home that afternoon.

                I broke after that. My whole world seemed to be crumbling down around me. My father, my best friend, had just died without me being able to say goodbye. Without me being able to say 'I love you' one more time.

                For three months, I was a wreck. I didn't speak to anyone unless I had to. I never left the house. Ever. Most of my days were spent with my locked up in my room, on my bed, and staring blankly at the ceiling. I used to think that after someone close to you died, no one really did that, that it was just to put more drama in a book or movie, but not I believed them. It was real. And I was doing it.

                It was in the next month, that after countless weeks of therapy, I made myself go back to school. REALLY go back to school. Not, go to school and then run back out twenty minutes later because I broke down during homeroom. No, I literally went through a full day of school.

                Two days after I went back, there was a new guy in my physics class. He seemed nice enough, and just out of coincidence, he sat down next to me. We talked briefly, ignoring the jabs that my old 'friends' sent in my direction about me being a lonely loser.

                'Briefly' didn't last though. Soon enough, we were talking constantly, and I think I actually laughed for the first time since my father's death, because of him. I was finally having fun again, and I loved it.

                It was about three weeks after we had really started to get to know each other that we kissed.

                We had been hanging out at a local pizza place after school when it happened and that's when everything changed.

                It didn't happen right away, and it wouldn't have been very noticeable to everyone else after it started, but it was noticeable to me.

                The grip he would have on my waist would be a bit too tight when we walked by other couples or other men. He would tighten his grip on my hand so tight when we passed someone, that my knuckles would turn white. At first, I just passed it off as him being a bit protective or possessive. I wasn't really sure which. And just left it at that so I wouldn't worry myself too much.

                All of that last on its own for a total of a month.

                Then it got worse. Lot's worse.

                We had planned a normal date between the two of us around 7 o'clock at the pizza place. But on my way there from my part-time job, I got stuck in bad traffic. This resulted in me being maybe an hour and a half late to the date. I had called him while I was in traffic and told him to just go ahead and leave, because I was going to be a while, and that we couldn't try again tomorrow or this weekend when I was off.

                But he waited for me until I arrived.

                When I didn't finally get there, I could already tell that he was angry, and that enough scared me enough to not get as close to him as I usually would. But then he said some mean words, which scared me even more, and I moved back a few steps. I think this is what triggered him.

                He slapped me hard across the face.

                And that was it. He left and after a few seconds of being in complete shock, I left as well, a hand held against my cheek the whole way home.

                The next day, he made it seem like nothing had happened. Even though there was a clearly visible bruise on my cheek, he pretended as if he had never hit me. And for the sake of myself, I pretended along with him, wishing I could forget the pain of his hand against my cheek all together.

                He hit me a few more times in the next two months, though nothing too bad or anything. And every day afterwards, we both pretended as if nothing had happened.

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END OF PART 1...

I'm not quite sure why I wrote something like that, but I needed to get my mind off of Thresh and Luke... And this was the result.

Anyway, i may not even continue it, so don't expect part two (probably the last part) anytime soon.

It is a short story, so the ending will come quite quickly...

                                                                                  ~~Zael

I didn't edit it that much because I got bored.

-Landen