Names In The Night [COMPLETED]

Chapter 1

Authors note:
Hello lovelies. This is my second fanfiction that I've written, and it's much better than my first. I made plot and character outlines. This one is also more fun to write, so the chapters will hopefully be up sooner. I've also come to a realization that putting a bit of yourself in each character allows you to perceive their actions and reactions much more clearly, and thus making it a more detailed and easier read. I also have a fucking amazing playlist for this one.
Another note, I have altered the characteristics and personalities of the real people in this story. Some of this stuff would never happen. Hell, all of this stuff would never happen. That's why it's a fanFICTION, not a fan-nonfiction. For instance, I've changed Andy's parents a bit, not out of dislike, just for the sake of the story's progression.
Above I have pictured in order from top left to bottom right: the guitar Ivy paints on her wall, Ivy herself (the brunette), the dress eve wears in this chapter, and Eve herself (the red head)
I would like to dedicate this fanfiction to lots of people. Firstly, anyone who has ever been bullied in school or self harmed or suffered from depression or anything of that sort. I believe that you can stay strong and you have the strength to keep on living. Secondly, my dearest readers. Without you, I never would have been motivated to write this fic or finish 100 Miles. Thirdly, I'd like to dedicate this to one of my best friends: Bethany. I know you won't be reading this, but without you, your guidance, and that phone call this summer, I wouldn't be alive today. Thank you.

Enjoy.

-W
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
My mom drove the Uhaul truck down the winding, paved street. The radio played a Talking Heads song that my mother was very fond of. She always played this song when we moved to a new house.
"Hey mom," I asked, "can I roll down the window and stick my head out?"
"Yeah, hun. Do whatever you want." I pressed the button with my paint covered thumb and rolled down the window. After unbuckling the seat belt that covered part of my Pierce The Veil long sleeve shirt, I stuck my head out of the open window. The wind drowned out the music and tangled my dark brown hair, but that didn't matter to me. What mattered was that I got to move to a new house, a new life, and hopefully a new record store that sold rock music CD's. The happiness was going to my head like a drug, and I smiled like today was my birthday. I let out a whoop, making my mom laugh. She said something I couldn't hear, so I got back in the car.
"What did you say?"
"I said, having fun out there Ivy?"
I laughed a little and replied with, "Yeah. Hey, if my box of acrylics didn't explode while we drove here, can I paint my new room?"
"Of course. I actually have a proposition for you about the subject of your new and undoubtedly fabulous new room."
"Shoot."
"Two days before my parents decided to move to Florida, they knocked out all the walls upstairs so they could have a big attic. The only wall still up is the one separating the room from the bathroom. There is nothing in the attic, I asked my dad. If you want, I'll let you have the whole room. If-"
"Here comes the catch."
"If you promise to try to make some real friends here, you can have the room and paint it all you want. Deal?"
"Deal." Like I was gonna make any friends. I was a weirdo. I liked punk music, I wore mostly black, I was a giant nerd, and I loved to paint. Hell, I'm as weird as they come. I did really want that room though. My fingers were itching at the thought of the wall murals and ceiling paintings just waiting to be created. At the end of the street, I saw a big brick house with a lightning rod on the roof. My mom pulled up into the drive way, stopping stopped the truck.
"Let's do this." We got out of the truck and, after unlocking the house, my mom showed my my new room. "The staircase is a bit of a pain, but it's worth it for 40 by 15 feet of space." The room was large, white, and bright. There were several wide windows on the wall parallel to the door that let in lots of sunlight. This combined with the many lights in the ceiling provided great lighting for painting. After going back downstairs, we unloaded the numerous brown cardboard boxes containing our possessions. We unpacked all of the boxes along with my dresser drawer, my mattress (since we didn't have a bed frame we just put it in the far left corner), the couch, and my mom's dresser. My mom left me alone to unpack so she could do the same. I tore the tape off of a box labeled "art", opening my package of old sketchbooks, unopened paint tubes, and my other art supplies. After taking what I thought was all of the contents out and putting them on a table under a window, I saw a small, unmarked, heart shaped box at the bottom of my art supplies package. I sighed and used the smallest key on my necklace to unlock it. Its contents were as follows: 12 razor blades, 2 scalpels, 3 safety pins, 1 switchblade, and a pair of silver scissors. I walked over to the bathroom, box in hand. Stood in the doorway, deep in thought. I needed to put the box in a place that would be accessible to me but not to anyone else. My eyes scanned over the claw-foot bathtub, and landed on a small drawer underneath the sink. I pulled it open and, after finding it to be empty, dumped the contents of my heart shaped box into it. I closed the drawer, hoping that I wouldn't need to open it again.

I already knew I was wrong.

I left the cold, tiled bathroom and finished unloading the boxes: three filled with my clothes and shoes that I put in the closet; one filled with loose sketches that I taped on the walls around my mattress; two filled with my sheets, pillows, and blankets that I put on my mattress; two filled with all of my books, half of which were well worn Shakespeare books I read over and over and over ( I arranged those in stacks around my bed to use as tiny tables); and two filled with miscellaneous items. I vowed that since I was so close to my new school, Rivervale High School, I'd walk to school instead of the bus. How I loathed the bus. It was noisy, the kids were cruel, and I had to get up too early to catch it in time. My mom came up the stairs and into my room, disturbing my thoughts.
"I'm glad you've finished unpacking. I think the walls could use a little paint don't you?"
"Definitely."
"Can I be of any assistance, O master of acrylics?"
"Can you hand me the big tube of black paint, a palette, and small, large, and medium brushes?"
"But of course." As she gathered the supplies, I walked over to my bed to pick a sketch that would go on the main wall. I selected a sketch of a zentangle style guitar and started to paint. The brush flowed across the white wall, creating a large, complicated painting of a guitar. I felt as though the brush was in control and I was merely an instrument of operation. I worked for what seemed to be hours, tirelessly devoted to my work. When I finally finished, the sun had set and the stars were coming out from behind the dark curtain of the night sky. The only light was the artificial brightness of the electric light fixtures.

The old hardwood creaked as I walked towards the door and down the staircase. My mom was sitting on the couch, watching television.
"Hey Mom, do we have any food?"
"Yeah. While you were painting I went to the grocery store. Don't worry, I bought all of the vegetables I know you love."
"Thanks, Mom."
As I walked to the kitchen, I heard her shout, "Hey, we also have leftover pizza and cake from yesterday in the fridge if you want some!"
I replied, "No thanks!" I don't eat pizza or cake. I'm fat enough as it is, and I don't want to get any bigger. I opened the fridge, got a class of water and some carrots, and walked up the stairs and into my room. The smell of paint permeated through the cold air. My stomach felt like it was filled to the brim with butterflies. The thought of tomorrow made me want to vomit. I downed the glass of water in one gulp and threw the carrots away in the bathroom trashcan.

I didn't feel much like eating.

I just had to keep telling myself that.

After brushing my teeth, I changed out of my clothes and into my pajamas.
Just as I was about to go to bed, my mom came up into my room and said, "Don't forget to set your alarm clock and pack up your backpack before you go to bed. I know you are always rushed in the morning, so get up a bit earlier, alright hun?"
"Yeah. Goodnight, Mom."
"Goodnight. I love you. One more thing, tomorrow I'm gonna go to work at the hospital early, so I'll be gone before you get up. Can I count on you to get yourself ready in the morning and at school on time?"
"I can get ready by myself, and I love you too." I really did. Most teenagers don't really appreciate their parents, but I did. I was lucky to have a mother who let me do almost anything I wanted, wether it be piercings or paintings or parties with under age drinking. Even though I didn't like parties, she made it clear to me that any kind of social event I wanted to attend was fine by her. I set my alarm clock and put all my school books in my backpack. I then turned of the lights and got into bed. It was seemingly impossible to sleep. The prospect of another new school made my stomach churn. I always think each new school is going to be agreed new start, but by the end of the first semester I'm crying myself to sleep. I was especially nervous, because this year I was starting 11th grade, which I've heard is like hell. After tossing and turning for an eternity, I fell asleep.
-----
Sorry for the short chapter. The next one will be much longer.