So long, Helena (MCR Fan Fiction)

So long, Helena -Prologue

What brought me here?

The same question rung in my head as I sat in the doorway of my new apartment. I was in New York. New York. My duffel bag was slung over my shoulder and my rather large suitcase was seated behind me, dripping wet.

I had been here for a full hour. One whole hour and I have already been rained on, laughed at, and I had fallen in the mud on the way home from JFK. I laughed softly to myself, my rough voice tumbling out of my mouth.

I clamped my mouth shut instantly even though nobody was here. I hated it. I hated the sound of my own voice so much. It wasn't just because it was deep and rough. It wasn't just because of the stupid British accent I had. It wasn't just because of the way I said things made everything sound stupid. It was because of my brother. The incident that happened 4 years ago.

My teeth clenched as the memory came rolling back to me for the hundredth time in less than 24 hours. I shook my head to myself. I wasn't going to allow it to bring tears to my eyes this time. Not like it had all too many times before. He wouldn't have wanted me to spend my entire life mourning over him. He wouldn't have wanted me to be cooped up in my bedroom all day, crying my eyes out.

I guess that's part of what kept me going. That one thought has kept me alive, walking and breathing.

My mind wandered back to my original question. What brought me here? Of course I knew the answer to that. I just didn't want to admit it. I was perfectly fine with me pretending like I had just randomly decided to move all the way from London to New York.

Perfectly fine.

Unfortunately, my parents, my older sister, and all my friends didn't find it 'perfectly fine'. Everyone had a problem with it except for me. Now I was hundreds of miles away from them. I was a whole ocean away from them. I shrugged it off. I was in New York now. I could start fresh. I could start from the beginning.

No one in New York knew about the incident with me and my brother. No one here could look at me with the one expression I hated most. Pity.

I hated when people send me reassuring smiles, thinking that it will actually help me. They think that one person alone could fix me. They all thought wrong. No one could fix me. I was broken.

Yet, I didn't want to be repaired.