The Perks of Being on a Train

Prologue

Okay so new story, I know I haven't updated anything for a while, and I really fucking should but writers' block is a bitch and I'm having inspiration for this new idea so I'm writing this now.

This was originally going to be a short story so I already know what's happening for the most part and it shouldn't end up like Cats and Dogs where I just waffled and didn't actually get on with the story. That being said, I don't know how long this will be when finished, but I'm thinking it will still be on the shorter side. I also think that the chapters will be quite short, which I know some people dislike, but it means that I should be able to update quicker.

This book is NOT, and I repeat NOT a fanfiction, despite what the title suggests, I was just referencing the book for literary purposes. I also, whilst do not intend no copyright infringement Stephen Chbosky, expect that this story will not be copied as it is All Rights Reserved and if discovered I will report you for plagiarism.

Warnings: this book will contain profuse swearing, subtle references to possibly triggering issues such as self harm and suicide, and two girls who flirt a lot so if any of these may affect/ offend you, I recommend you don't read this book, or any of my others.

So on with the story:

***********************************************************

Since my parents split up three years ago, I've been riding the train every weekend between their houses. I used to ride with my older brother, before he turned eighteen and moved to Prague. Now I ride alone, but I'm not really.

With my brother, we always used to sit in the C carriage. And that's when I first noticed her. She was always sat at a table in seat C27. We sometimes sat near her, but never next to her. There was a feeling of a wanted barrier around the entire table, probably induced by the fact that, despite being small and making space for other people, she always had headphones in, a book, and three deteriorating bags that she often had to mend with either safety-pins or hand sewing. For whatever reason, the only time anyone sat at her table was if the train filled up completely. Which was rare as a result of the train times. 5:07 a.m. on a Saturday, and 11:39 p.m. on a Sunday aren't particularly busy times, although my Sunday train can get slightly congested.

I remember being sat opposite my brother at the table on the other side of the carriage to her. And I realised she was reading one of my favourite books - The Perks of Being a Wallflower -, and then I realised that she was always sat on the train. I just hadn't noticed before as a result if her ever-changing hair. Over the past three years, the longest I have seen her go without changing the colour of her hair was two weeks. However, she restyles her hair everyday, regardless to if the colour's changed. She's had fringes of all manor of shapes, she's had two pigtails, she's braided three small plaits, she's shaved half of it off, she's tied random bits of fabric around her head as headbands, she's curled it, straightened it, left it naturally wavy, and don't get me started on all the colours.

In contrast to her hair, the rest of her appearance never changes. She is always wearing a black vest under a khaki-green waistcoat, denim shorts, ripped black tights, black Dr. Martens, black earphones, black eyeliner and a lot of bracelets. She carries three large bags. Two of her bags are plain red (a messenger bag and a large satchel), the other is a black rucksack with patches covering it, and as mentioned previously, they all are all falling apart from the constant use.

God, I sound like a stalker. I'm not, it's just you notice things when you see someone over three hundred and twelve times for an hour each time.