The World That Was Mine (Part I & II)

I

Story Will Be In Isabelle's Point Of View Unless Other Wise Specified

They write words on my locker telling me what I am. Who I am. Freak. Weirdo. Loser. Or whatever other generic insult you can think of. A new word, less creative than the last, waits for me at the beginning of each day like an old friend I never want to see. And each day I ignore it as if acknowledging its existence will magically make the words true.

This is my 7th grade year and yet nothing is different. Nothing is better or even worse for that matter, it's all the same. And while some may thank their lucky stars for that, I continue to wait for change. To wait for something to get better or maybe even worse.

6 months ago perhaps I would have minded the words written in red ink on my locker but then again there are a lot of things that would have been different 6 months ago. She was here then, not gone yet. She would have told me not to let them get to me. Not to give them the satisfaction of seeing me upset, and I would listen because that's what I did when she spoke. I listened. But now there was nothing to listen to.

Radio silence filled my brain where her words used to be as I mindlessly wiped away the new word they intended to be hurtful. This time it was airhead written in that all to familiar red. But the words didn't hurt anymore. Not like they used to. I wasn't numb but I was getting there and it seemed with each new word my concern and frustration melted away just as their creativity did. Sometimes I wondered why it was me they picked on.

Perhaps it was the way my clothes smelled musty all the time, or the way I kept my head down in the halls not acknowledging their jeers and taunts. Was it a reaction they were looking for? Would they leave me be if I gave into their endless provocations towards me? I often thought of giving them what they wanted but her words always rang too loudly in my mind to allow me to do so. 'Don't give them the satisfaction.' She says holding me by the shoulders. 'You're better than they will ever be.' if only that were true.

If only she was here to speak the words herself. If only he hadn't taken the one true friend away from me. It is selfish of me to want her back just for the protection she provided me but it seems the things we do as human beings more often than not have selfish intentions. At school I feel like a ghost, floating around silently until I fit into their horror movie. Only I was the villain and the victim.

At home I felt like a shadow, ignored completely watching their lives unfold. There the smells of Marijuana and whiskey seem to follow me as a reminder what our lives have become. The level my mother had sunken too. There, the lights flickered and the water slowed from unpaid bills that I scraped to finance. There I did things I never dreamed I would do simply to survive.

My mother doesn't notice when I leave late at night or return early in the morning. I sometimes wonder if she ever gives any thought to the fact that she hasn't paid aint bill in years and yet the water still runs, the lights still glow, and we still have a warm place to call home when the bitter winter sets in. School I am a ghost. Home I am a shadow.

But in my mind, I am the ruler of the world. My mind has become a kingdom I escape to where I no longer bend to the wills of others. In that kingdom I got sick of letting the world run me so I decided to run the world.

So there you have it, I am a ghost, a shadow, and a ruler.

But what I am no longer is whole.

THE WORLD THAT WAS MINE

In the school hallways there are those who give me fleeting smiles. Ones filled with empathy and remorse for their classmates actions towards me. Then there are also those who scowl at me as if I am a piece of gum clinging to the bottom of their shoe. Their faces twist into annoyance and disgust every time I am present.

On this day however, there were no fleeting smiles, nor disgusted scowls, but instead gazes filled with pity were pinned on me as I walked through the hall. I could feel their eyes following me as I tried to ignore the buzzing whispers. Walking towards the front door to begin my march home, a hand landing on my shoulder made me turn around. Jade Hathaway stood there with a small frown on her face and sorrow in her eyes.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about your mom." 

I scrunched up my eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?" Jade hadn't even spoken to me since 3rd grade and I was sure she knew nothing of my home life. 

Her frown deepened in what seemed to be realization. "You don't know yet." She concluded. I stared at her expectantly but she gave me a cheerless smile, and turned away before I could question her.

"Okay then..." I muttered to myself turning back to the front door. I sighed in confusion, walking out the front door into the searing September heat. The town of Brinley Georgia is one of community and southern hospitality. The heart of Brinley is known for its lively atmosphere that makes tourists smile. But what they'll never show the tourists is the North side of town. The part that was considered, dirty and rundown. The part that I called home.

The presence of police wasn't unusual for my neighborhood so when I saw the black and white cars in front of my building I didn't think anything of it. When I arrived at the door to apartment 65 B, I fumbled in my pocket, pulling out the little brass key. Only, the door wasn't locked. In fact upon closer inspection, it was slightly ajar. As if someone had been waiting for me to come home.

Cautiously pushing the door open, the sound of voices coming from the living room alerted me. I took hesitant steps, towards the voices and my eyes widened at what I saw. Three police officers stood in my living room talking amongst themselves and my mother was nowhere in sight. The smell of Marijuana and cheap perfume hung in the air, suffocating the stale atmosphere in the cramped apartment.

In other homes, the walls are lined with family pictures, and beautiful artwork. In my home the walls were stained with,splatters of what looked like wine and cigarette burns. "Are you Isabelle Cane?" One of the officers speaking made me turn my attention to them. A sinking feeling settled in my stomach at the grim expressions of the three men standing in front of me.

"Y-yeah, thats me." I muttered, biting my lip anxiously. 

The officer sighed, hanging his head. "We're very sorry to tell you this, but your mother was killed in a car accident this afternoon." 

I put a hand to my mouth in shock. "K-killed. As in s-she's dead?" I whispered incredulously. The words barely registered in my head. It didn't make sense. Or maybe it did. I could tell at the moment. 

The officer nodded sadly. "We're very sorry for your loss." I squeezed my eyes shut suppressing a sob. Disbelief coursed through me. I couldn't lose another person.

I couldn't feel that pain again or worse, that emptiness again.

But if there is one thing I've learned about the world, it is that the world does not conform to what we think or need from it.

We conform to the world.

A/N-Hi! This is the author of the book in March 2021, even though this book was published in August. I am currently editing part one before I dive into part two so if you see mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will fix them. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Love you all, and have a good day.