This is a short story I wrote a while back and posted in this rant book and I decided to re-write it now that I'm better at writing in English and my creative writing is getting bettah.
So yeah.
Once upon a time, there was a lonely girl who lived in a small town near the Colorado River. She had always been the weird kid, the outcast, the lonely girl to stand and watch all the other kids play and envy their laughter and smiles. To be honest, even her mother would talk to people, desperately trying to get an answer or help for how, special, how strange her own kid was. As a child, she didn't even try to make friends, she just watched as everyone made friends and enjoyed recess. At first teachers would bring up the fact that the young girl didn't talk much and didn't seem to work well in groups but then after she changed from middle school to high school; Teachers at her school were overwhelmed with the fact that there were at least three troublemakers in every class, so the fact that she was silent, did the work alone (and she did it well), didn't bother the them at all.
Everyone in their small town got used to it, they got used to her being her. They got used to her silence, to her small nods when the teacher was giving a lecture. They were used to her, but that didn't mean everyone accepted her. Kids can be cruel, everyone knows that and that little lonely girl who just wanted to be a public to the movie going on before her eyes was a victim of cruel, heartbroken children seeking revenge or satisfaction with acts of pure cruelty.
Ruby Frank, that was her name. There was also 'freak', 'fugly', 'fucking accident', 'thing' and many other names but her real name, the one everyone in the small town knows (even 15 years after her death) is Ruby Frank the frog kisser.
Her mother was a single mother who worked full time at the local Hospital. She worked her ass off to pay for the small apartment in which the two lonely girls lived. Her mother wasn't lonely of nature but the curve her live had taken pushed her to become lonely; she either worked or slept or tried to reach out to her daughter to try to get a word out of her, with no result.
Don't get it wrong, Ruby wasn't retarded, she was very smart and she could talk and she would if she needed to but she wouldn't talk about her feelings, about her own thoughts, about herself. She would not talk about herself to anymore. Sometimes, her mother would come home at 8pm and as she walked in the apartment, she could feel the heavy air charged with molecules of water; Ruby was taking a shower. She always took her showers so hot that the whole apartment would become humid for a few hours. The exhausted mother would stand quietly in the entry with the doorknob still in her hand and she would wait to hear her daughter sing quietly. Even if her feet were killing and even if as years went by the singing just got worse and it almost made the mother cringe, her she would stand there until Ruby finished with her shower and turn the water off and at that moment, the single mother would move the door with her arm to make sound and then she would scream 'I'm here' and turn the lights in the small hallway on an off a few times for her daughter to know she was home. Ruby knew the exact moment her mom came home every day, the front door made an awful sound and the fixations were so weak that it made the next wall vibrate. It made the shower's wall vibrate. She knew her mother was home and she would keep singing. It was her way to show her mother she was alright. But pushed her mother to think things were alright when they weren't.
Ruby was the result of a bottle of vodka and the backseat of a car on prom night. The father moved four states away two weeks after he learned he had a child in the making and he never came back. Ruby's mother told her daughter her father died as a hero, fighting mean little men in Vietnam. (Ruby was born in 1994, do your own research about the Vietnam war and do the math. It's impossible. Ruby knew it wasn't true but she figures out that if her mother lied to her about it, it was better that way. Most of the time, the young mother was straight forward but some things are better left untold. Like the story of her father, she figures and she figured right.) Ruby and her mother lived in a small apartment too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter but they always had food and blankets to cuddle and watch the same three Disney movies. It was all they needed, they said.
