Her Story

Chapter Four: Journal Entry #1

Her Story

Chapter Four: Journal Entry #1

                         January 25th, 2014

    Dear Diary,                                                          

               When I was nine, I used to have a playground in my backyard. I would swing, slide, and climb on that thing… until one day… I was climbing onto the top rail, and I fell. My neck got wrapped around the chain of the swing, and I nearly choked to death if it weren’t for my dad grilling out and had heard my fall. I was okay after they had my neck untangled, it wasn’t broken, but there were some nasty marks and my parents ushered me to the hospital even though I protested, telling and showing them I was alive and fine.

    That day, I knew what it felt like to not be able to breathe, or have your life flash before your very own eyes, and all because of one little fall. But, ever since then… I’ve stared fear and death in the face multiple times; from wrecking on a dirt bike, from plunging off a rock cliff, hitting my head onto one of the rocks below, and even to getting sat on fire at my girl scout camping trip. I’ve had a lot of dangerous moments in my life, and yet here I am, sitting on my window bench, well alive, writing in a journal that my mom just bought and shoved into my hands not fifteen minutes ago.

    This is stupid, but I’m doing it to make her happy. I’ve caused her and dad so much… pain and stress lately, that… I sort of owe it to her; to them…to atleast actually cooperate for once.

    I actually don’t know what to write in here… she (mom) told me to write about my feelings, but… right now? I don’t really know or understand what I’m feeling. I’m kind of numb.

    Have you ever felt that way?

    As if sometimes, ---well... for me it’s been all the time--- something just hits me out of nowhere. All of a sudden, this overwhelming sadness rushes over me. And I get discouraged, and I get upset and I feel hopeless, sad, and hurt. And once again, I feel numb to the world.

    Sometimes, my emotions get the best of me, and I feel like crying, but I try hard not to, because when you cry, you’re weaker than you already are.

    And you have to be careful as to who you choose to let your guard down in front of.

    --- Ella Grace Rose.

   I clicked the pen, letting the ink ball slide back into it, and closed the black leather journal, before staring out of the window.  My eyes found the beautiful old house as they always did, but this time... something was different. There was a u-haul moving van parked in the narrow driveway, along with a white Truck, a red Porsche, and a black Camaro.

    That’s odd.

    “Mom!” I walked to the railing of my stairs and screamed down them. Mom was standing at the bottom of the stairs in seconds as she sighed in relief.

    “I thought something was wrong.” She muttered.

    “Oh, I’m sorry.” I told her, walking down a few stairs. “But, I called you because...  someone moved in across the street…?” I jerked my thumb behind me.

    “Yes.” She chuckled, “I know, sweetie.”

    I frowned at her, “You do?” She nodded, climbing up the few stairs to me, taking my hand and pulling me down them.