bathroom stalls » mileven

vingt et un

the quote that started inspiration for this story: i was never really insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched
-edgar allan poe

good information to know (hint comes in later)

tragic hero characteristics:
1. a belief in her own freedom: she believes in whatever she chooses.
2. a supreme pride: it gives her a unique power and dignity. she is strong.
3. capacity for suffering: she suffers because she believes in what she is doing, and because she feels both guilt and guiltlessness at the same time. she justifies her actions yet is not convinced they are just. she has the strength to endure pain inflicted upon her.
4. a sense of commitment: once the forces of conflict are set in motion, she is committed. there is an inevitability to this.
5. vigorous protest: she objects against the situation in which she finds herself. she does not accept her fate resignedly.
6. transfiguration: the suffering transforms her. she learns from it. her death is not meaningless for she leaves a memory of glory.
7. impact: the audience/other characters experiences catharsis (cleansing of emotions).

—

everyday he continued to go to the bathroom stall. the quotes lingered, both a memory and a broken dream. he ran his fingers across the words. they were faded as the janitor had tried again to take them off. he tried to memorize each quote, how her "l's" looped and the way she stressed "y's" and always finished them with a flourish.

everyday he cried in that bathroom. no one questioned it. his friends didn't wonder why he came to class with tear tracks and puffy eyes. he stopped doing quotes. it was too painful to see something that reminded him of her.

everyday his health deteriorated, slowly yet surely. he stopped eating and started losing weight. he ate at school to placate his friends, but he couldn't eat anywhere else. he started throwing his food out, promising his parents that he was eating, only he wasn't.

eleven had died, and her loss had turned michael wheeler into a living ghost.

the news called eleven a hero. she had saved them.

mike felt tears well in his eyes. he was in high school now, a freshman. school hadn't been easier. he drowned himself in school and extraciriculars, as if that could make him forget her. it didn't. he was reminded at every turn of her. in math, they were always assigned twenty to thirty problems. that meant they always went over number eleven. in english or history, there would be time periods like the eleventh century or teachers asking to turn to page eleven. in english, they were learning about greek mythology. eleven was a tragic hero like oedipus.

mike closed his eyes, throwing his head down into his book. he sighed, feeling tears seep into the textbook and blurring the printed text.

"mike, i'm glad you're with me," she whispered, locking her hands behind his neck. he blushed, awkwardly bringing her closer. they were slow-dancing. it was a year ago- at the snowball.

"thank you for coming back," he replied, meeting her eyes. she flushed under the disco lighting. it cast pink and blue shadows across her face.

"i really just- i like you a lot," she revealed. mike tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. at those words, she laid her head on his shoulder, the doors opened, and a storm of bullets rained down upon them.