Life, Love, and Tragedy - Chapter One

Okay so first yes I am new to the site xD but I don't believe I'll be staying. I couldn't find another site to host my writing so I went with this one to host ONLY chapter one of my novel. The chapter is under Short Stories because it is only the first chapter I intend to put up. This chapter is mostly just Drama, but the storyline of the novel itself is more like Romantic Drama. If you choose to review it I will consider reviewing your work but again it's not my intention for using this site, as of right now anyway. If anyone actually does know of a better site for just hosting work then do tell and I'll switch sites. Being that I'm 15, I rated this 12+ but people may disagree, sorry if you do.

Another day ends as the humid summer air turns a cooler, more relaxing temperature. The light recedes, allowing darkness to engulf the world around me. I watch the lights of the city begin to flicker on, one by one, from the top of the cliff overlooking the city.

Three hours ago I told mom that I was leaving to go for a walk and that I would be back before midnight. I didn’t give her anytime to answer, just left. I needed to clear my mind, be alone and think for a while. All the thoughts, all the emotions, and all the confusion was running through my mind, fogging up the vision I had of my life.

“Beep, beep, beep, beep!” The eighth time mom has tried to call me… I seriously wish she would stop trying, because maybe, just maybe some of the fog would disappear and allow me to think harder about my damn problems.

Looking over at the phone set next to me on a stump, I see the time is now ten thirty. “Another hour or so and I guess I will head back, after all mom probably can’t wait to ground me for coming home so late.” I say in a mocking tone.

Staring off into the distance, I can see the old refinery up the river. The only people working there now are the caretakers. Following the river with my eyes, back to the lit city, I can see the flashing lights of what looks to be a cruiser heading up the highway. No doubt to bust a drug deal, after all Serlington is one of the largest drug spots on the island, thanks to the sea port.

Serlington is the largest city on the island, with a population of just over sixty thousand people. Not the largest of cities, but I don’t like big cities anyway; too hard to get around, whether you’re walking or driving.

I glance over to the area of new development on the hill side, eventually it’s going to be a resort, but right now it looks like a quarry. Just down from that is the city hall, a glass building towering fifteen stories, our tallest building.

Following along to the outskirts of the city, I come across my house. It is a red, older looking two-story house which has all new windows and an appealing rock bed in the back yard along with lots of small shrubs and plants all around the front and back. The old brick chimney is covered in green vines of some sort, which bloom pink, yellow, and white flowers all summer long. To my mother, the house is astonishing and tt is inexpensive to, which helps mom in the long run, since she only works as a nurse at the hospital. I continue across the outskirts until I run out of city and begin to stare at my feet.

The other day, while mom was out to get the groceries, she bought me some new shoes. They have neon green shoelaces with purple eyes, the rest of the shoe is black. They are great shoes, very comfortable. The fact that I have an arched foot means I need high quality sneakers to wear or my feet will begin to cramp and I won’t be able to walk very well.

A flicker of light coming from just in front of the stump takes my mind off my shoes. Turning to look and see what it is, I sense a slight movement in the bushes. I freeze, too scared to think, too scared to move. I don’t make a sound, just wait… and wish. I wish that maybe the earth below me will cave in and swallow me whole, so I can escape my life, but that isn’t going to happen.

The bushes moved once again, freezing my thoughts. Then, out of the darkness of the forest, hops a small, brown rabbit. It hops right up next to me; its golden eyes seeming to stare upon the starry skies above. I’m not even sure if it knows I’m here, so I just watch, not moving a muscle. The rabbit stays put for a few minutes, not really moving much; until I move my arm to scratch a very irritating itch. As I do, it takes off, past the stump and is swallowed up by the bushes on the other side of me.

Stunned by the nature around me, I sit quietly wondering where the little furry creature might be going. Then, once again the flicker of light catches my eye. I get on my knees and inch over to it. Looking down, I can see a puddle of still water, the light from the glistening moon above illuminating it in a vibrant shade of white, reflecting an image of a young fourteen year old boy with a slight tan. He has long straight black hair with a slight natural tinge of blue. He is about five foot eight on with a broad build, skinny, but a strong overall appearance. Looking at his face, I can see bright green eyes, surrounded by thick eyelashes, which glint in the light of the moon and a face that his ex-girlfriend would have described as the face of an angel.

Staring into the reflection prompts my thinking again, about all the new arising problems I’ve started having… well, not all new, considering I noticed some of it when I was in my last year of grade school. It wasn’t until this year, grade nine, that they had really started to effect who I was, or… who I thought I was.

Over my last two years of middle school, I had mapped out a rough idea of what my future life might be like, but thanks to this problem, all that had disappeared into thin air just like my father. The person in that reflection looks like me, but he does not feel like me.

Before these feelings and problems started happening to me, I lived an okay life.

My father, a man who needed help, wasn’t the worst father a person could have, but he was never going to be a role model. Coming home drunk four out of every seven nights, my father was a six foot four tall man; with light brown hair, brown eyes, and a strong, broad build.

He was always very verbal… but not to me, to my mother. I’m absolutely positive that every night he got home, a fight broke out between the two of them. Words were flung, things were thrown and eventually mom ended up in the shower with a large purple bruise on her face, crying her eyes out.

The day after he left her, for some young blonde heading to the mainland, had to be the best I had ever seen her.

Emotions quickly take control of my body and mind as I ball my right hand into a tight fist while tears roll down my cheeks. Overwhelming pain and depression which had been balled up for too long begin to let go.

I hall my hand back above my head before thrusting it hard, in a punching motion towards the pool of water, driving my fist forcefully into the dense rocky ground below. A large plume of water lifts into the air around me as it sloshes upwards, splashing my face and covering my black and white hoodie in a shower of water droplets.

A few seconds after hammering the ground, earth-wrenching pain shoots through my hand, up my arm and to my spine. My stomach churns form the lurch as everything begins to go fuzzy. My arm tingles like a thousand little needles had just plunged into it. I slowly watch the city lights come in and out of focus, soon turning vertical and then disappearing as I topple over. My head hits something extremely hard, as my body falls towards the ground.

I’m too busy to think about the horrid throbbing pain aching from the side of my head; instead I concentrate only on opening my eyes; on staying awake.

I know I am still somewhat conscious, after all I can still think can’t I? Or is this a dream? Wait… stop thinking of this as a dream and start thinking of it as survival; as if my life depends solely on myself. What if this is life threatening? Even though it hurt, the fact I can feel pain tells me I am still somewhat aware, but why had I blacked out, or nearly blacked out? Maybe it’s due to the adrenalin rush that occurred. Maybe the pain of hitting the earth’s firm surface with my fist triggered some sort of chain reaction? Stop It! Okay, all I can tell at the moment is it hurts to think.

Several more minutes tick by, which to me feel like hours. Lying on the damp cold ground, just barely holding on to consciousness seems so tiring. All I want to do is let myself drift off into my dreams, off into that magical imaginative place. I’m more intelligent than that though. I know the blow to my head may in fact pose a serious threat to waking up again, and I really do not need to slip into a coma at this moment.

I attempt to hold on as best as I can, hoping, clinging to the thought of a miracle, that mom will find me, or I’ll wake up home and this will all just be a terrible nightmare and I’m actually curled up in my toasty warm bed.

As the time passes, no such miracle appears to have befallen me. Then, a glimmer of hope as finally, I can feel myself starting to tingle all over, like my body was asleep. I keep trying to open my eyes but now I also attempt to move my hands, even the hand that was hurt.

My attempts pay off as I start moving my hands slightly. However, every time I move my bad one, pain again shoots up my arm, so I allow it to remain immobile.

Slowly, the rest of my extremities begin to escape numbness. I first regain the abilities of my arms as I reach up and lay one on my stomach. Soon after my legs follow, as my toes begin to feel prickly. The down side to my body’s recuperation is the little tint of pain I had following my head wound has now exploded in to an atrocious, torturing agony which is not going away anytime in the immediate future.

What has seemed like an eternity is now coming to an end as I finally reopen my eyes, the last step to my reawakening. Blinded by the lights from the city and distant glare from the moon, I squint to see the still peaceful scene around me.

I decide to wait another few minutes to attain more strength to descend back down to my house. As I sit up, all the blood rushes from my head.

I peer down at my hand: three knuckles were split open, the blood seeming to be ooze out of the wound in a steady flow.

Crawling back onto my knees, I reach up to where my head pounds profusely, only to find another nasty gash. It doesn’t seem bad, feeling around the laceration, but I know head injuries can be a very serious matter so I arrive at the conclusion that I must get home as soon as possible.

First however, I look over to my right in the direction I fell when I began to black out, and sure enough, the first thing that blatantly sticks out is the stump.

“That sums it up then, I must have hit the stump when I fell; it’s the most obvious thing near me.” I think aloud.

Looking at the stump, I remember the little puddle of water in front of it. Cautiously, I creep over to it and start to wash the drying blood off of my hands.

The un-dried blood came off with ease, but still left gross, red stains on my skin. As for my knuckle, it hasn’t stopped bleeding yet. Instead I just reveal the slits in my skin beneath.

I make the decision to try to wash some of the blood from the gash on my head. Leaning over the puddle, I scoop some of the water into my hands and rinse it over my head, in the general area of the laceration. I then start to rub my hands in one direction until most of the dried blood seems to loosen up and fall into my hand like little dirt specks; repeating this method a few times just to make sure the majority of it comes out.

Finished cleaning up, it’s time to take the first real steps to getting home. I start by putting most of my weight on one leg and quickly forcing myself up and onto both legs. Then a question pops into my mind… how long was I out? I lean over and swipe my phone up off the stump to look at the front screen which now reads eleven forty-five. I’m not sure of the time when I had passed out but I assume I was out for at least twenty to thirty minutes.

“I have to be home in fifteen minutes! Mom’s going to kill me! Ugh!” I utter to myself.

With this thought lingering in my mind, I shove my phone in my pocket and take one last glance at the stunning city below.

The view from this cliff always hypnotizes me and something that made it that much more special is that I’m the only person who knows about it.

Before I leave the cliff side, I quickly sweep the ground looking for anything I may have lost or forgot I laid down. Still extremely dizzy and in pain, the task is quite challenging, but I manage to stay standing. Seeing that there isn’t anything lying around, I begin to head home.

There was no clear cut path to the area from my home, just a roughly beaten path that I had trimmed shortly after its discovery, which also has been partly beaten down from so many trips up here. It only takes five or ten minutes to get here during the day, but the light from the sun has a tough time penetrating the thick branches that form the roof of the path, therefore much of the trail is pretty dark during the day. Night time is a whole different story.

Venturing down the trail at night without a flash light is nearly impossible. Even with a full moon shining bright in the sky, the thick overhead brush eliminates the moonbeams entire availability. Walking back home is a painstaking process without a flashlight alone, but to be suffering from harsh dizziness, a head injury and bleeding from several spots, it becomes dangerous.

Knowing I need some source of light, I quickly tug my phone out of my side pocket and open it up. Fiddling around with the options, I turn the black screen off so the phone won’t go dark and point it towards the trail. It doesn’t exactly brighten the trail all that much, but it’s better than nothing.

I commence my decent down the footpath, still wishing I had brought a flash light. It isn’t long before complications start to take shape.

Clearly I’m still bleeding quite a bit as I can feel the blood trickle down my neck and the world still spins around me, so I stop walking until things calm down a bit. This happens several times on the way down… upon other things such as fumbling over stumps, tripping on loose stones and nearly killing myself slipping on a very muddy decline.

Twenty minutes pass as I make my way through the thick foliage, and then, finally after what feels like an hour I break through into my backyard.

The first thought that runs through my mind is to go straight into my house and see mom… but then I think about what mom will likely say to me and how she will punish me for not telling her where I was going and coming home so late. Will she be glad to see me home safe and sound or will she be really angry and ground me for the next month?

Either way I know I must get my injuries treated, especially my head wound. It’s bad enough now; I don’t need to get an infection or something much worse. After all it is still bleeding quite a bit.

“Beep, beep, beep, beep!” My phone beeps in my hand. I don’t really want to answer it since I am only about twenty feet from the house, but I do anyway just because it might allow mom to release some of her worry and rage on me now. I flick the phone open with my thumb.

“Hey Mom.”

“Liam! It’s about time you answered your phone! Now where in God’s name are you?! You know you’re not allowed out this late!”

“Yes, I know mom, but I had to…” I trail off as she speaks over me.

“Had to what? Frighten me half to death by making me think something tragic had happened to you or that someone had kidnapped you? When you get home, you’re going to be in so much trouble!”

“Mom! Will you let me talk for one freaking second! I’ll be home in a couple of minutes. I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone, but I needed to get some air, clear my head and think for a while. I didn’t want to talk about it with you before, and I still don’t now, so when I get home, don’t ask.”

One thing my mother is good for is a quick change in topic and atmosphere of a conversation.

“Okay, okay, I understand, you are going through puberty and you are noticing changes in your appearance and feelings. Even so that still doesn’t give you the right to go out without telling me where you’re going or what you’re doing.”

Feeling weak and light headed I reply. “Firstly Mom, did you really need to bring up puberty? We went over everything about that in grade six and I already started puberty thank-you. Secondly, yes I know I’m not allowed, but you would have asked questions that I didn’t want to answer, so I just gave you an approximate time that I’d be home and then left. And thirdly Mom, do you happen to have the First Aid Kit handy?”

“Yes, but why are you asking?”

I need to make up a lie, since I don’t want her to know anything about my spot on the cliff. “Well, when I left I jogged up to the old wood road at the top of the street. While walking around one of the bends very close to the steep embankments, I wasn’t paying attention. Ended up tripping on a large boulder and fell over the side. On the way down I split my knuckle open and smacked my head off a rock, so there’s a gash on my head. Now before you start to have a panic attack, I feel fine and the cuts aren’t that deep; the worst is the gash on my middle knuckle.”

“What! So you tripped and fell over one of the embankments! Oh why did you have to go back on those stupid dirt roads anyway? Okay I’m going to get the first aid kit ready; you just get home in one piece. Love you and see you shortly. Bye”

“Okay mom, I will. Bye.” With that I close my phone.

Technically speaking, I am already home, I’m just not indoors yet.

Before I manage to slip the phone back in my pocket the time flashes on, clearly denoting that it is now twelve twenty in the morning. After being up since seven thirty yesterday without a wink of sleep between then and now, splitting my knuckle open, fainting, causing me to strike my head, and hiking back down that bloody trail, all I want to do is lie down and go to sleep. I feel so fatigued, hungry and lightheaded, it’s surprising I haven’t just blacked out and toppled over again. I am weak enough after all. The first was bad enough, but a second one from dizziness and fatigue?

With the thought of a second, more serious blackout implanted in my mind, I begin to walk towards the rear stairs leading up to the patio.

Even though the house is only twenty feet from where I had entered the backyard, it seems to be farther away than ever. It is as if my legs don’t want to move anymore, like they have transformed into cement blocks. Every step I take seems to be a bit smaller, but I know I still have to get home, so I force myself to move forward and just keep telling myself it is all in my head, that I’m strong, that nothing is going to happen now.

Pushing myself on, I notice that I am now seeing double and both images are spinning… fast.

I know I want to rest but I can’t, even if my legs are killing me from the long, rough hike down the mountain.

With dizziness now fogging up my vision and the feeling I’m getting like I need to throw up, I force myself to the extreme. Fighting off sleep deprivation and the dark circles appearing under my eyes I just keep telling myself “not much further now.”

This is true, since the stairs are now only a few feet away, but it’s then, this very point, darkness creeps into the corner of my eyes, slowly accelerating across my vision.

I stop walking for a few seconds and shake my head in an attempt to divert another experience, which I thought would work… boy was I wrong.

It is as if shaking my head triggers an extensive migraine, all the pain appears to have kept me awake, instead of knocking me out again. At this point, I know the next few minutes are going to be crucial. I don’t think I will be able to fend off another blackout.

I inch my way the last few feet to the stairs, get down on all fours, kind of like a dog and climb until I reach the top.

Gradually standing up at the top, the blood rushes from my face, anguish filling my body, feeling like someone was slamming my head repeatedly with cymbals. The rush of blood from my head also offsets my balance and the darkness returns to my eyes.

Reaching out, I grasp the railing to stop from falling backwards over the stairs and possibly killing myself.

The glass patio door is further down the deck from where I now stand. Releasing the rail, I make my way around the deck, at a slow pace that can stop me from losing my footing. Watching the darkness converge from every direction of my vision, I realise time is starting to run out, maybe a couple minutes at the most. By now, the large white glass door is directly behind me.

I lean against the stained wood railing. Pitching forward, I hastily stagger the last few steps to the door, almost tripping over my own feet.

Falling against the door, I can hear my dog barking from inside the house, but can barely see anything since darkness had enclosed my eye site completely. Feeling around for the handle, I start to breathe harder; my vision clears just enough to pick out the fuzzy outline of it. Gripping the sliver metal handle with both hands, I pray mom accidentally forgot to lock the door.

The moment of truth arrives. I fling the door open with every ounce of strength left in my body, stumble in and then collapse on the floor just as my vision turns to utter blackness. With my absolute final scrap of consciousness, I shout “Mom, I’m home!”