Scratch- Chapter Four

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DisturbedDisorder wrote:There was something very different about Victoria, and I knew it. It wasn’t just a simple illness or brain damage. Her very presence would make me uneasy and scared. When I found her in the closet and in the classroom scratching, her eyes #FF0000 ">had been "Were" is better. It's active, where as "had been" is passive. completely black, and as far as I knew #FF0000 ">, I'm not an expert on commas--seriously not--but I think you don't need this. there wasn’t anything normal that could do that to a person.

My feelings toward her were starting to change, too. I was no longer afraid of her, looking for the nearest exit as soon as she drew near. Again, I found myself drawn between two completely different #FF0000 ">feelings. You just said feelings. I'd reword one of the sentences, because repetition, unless purposefully and skillfully done, is not good for a story. Sometimes, seeing her would make me happy, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw her. I even really liked it when she #FF0000 ">would sit This is a "to be" sentence. She "would" sit. Instead say she "sat", indicating that she already did. close to me.

Other times, though, it was the exact opposite. As soon as she #FF0000 ">would sit Sat. down beside me, a clear picture of me killing her would come to my head. Every possible weapon in the room would become suddenly visible, and I was able to quickly plan out how I would execute the murder. A few times I even caught myself reaching for her head, preparing to thrust it into the lab bench.

Every time Victoria ran out of the classroom, I would follow. I knew exactly where she was every time, because it was always the same empty room. When I first stepped into the room, I would reach for the sharpened pencil in my pocket, or the belt off my waist. But as soon as I looked at her, seeing her kneeling on the floor, helpless and alone, I would rush to her side and try to help her. Unfortunately, every time I touched her even the slightest, she would throw me across the classroom. In seconds, I would go from trying to kill her to caring about her. It took me a while to figure out my emotions, but once I did I was even more confused than before.

#0000BF ">I was falling for Victoria, but at the same time, I wanted to kill her. Oo.... Not. Good.
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Emily was feeling better, so she, #FF0000 ">Victoria, James, and I were hanging out at James’ house. I was sitting on a couch alone, and James and Emily were on the couch across from me, nothing between us but a small glass table. We were going to play some Guitar Hero, but #FF0000 ">Victoria was late so we were just waiting for her. You said they were hanging out, then you said that Victoria wasn't there yet. That's kind of contradicting yourself. I'd say that "she, James, and I were hanging out at James' house, waiting for Victoria to arrive", or something of similar structure.

Victoria hurried in and, as usual, #FF0000 ">she You don't have to say this. We get that you're talking about her. looked stunning in a long, tight, purple shirt and leggings. She smiled and sat down right beside me...

I reached for James’ mom’s knitting needles and gripped them tightly, inspecting the tip as the others continued to talk and laugh and pay me no mind. Then, quickly and easily, I plunged the needle deep into Victoria’s chest, ending her life...

I shook the image from my head, but couldn’t help but look down at the knitting project that I hadn’t noticed on the coffee table. Then I looked at Victoria, who was staring at me. Her face was straight and showed...anger? She quickly put on a smile, though, and laughed with James and Emily.

“Well, shall we go play Guitar Hero?” She asked, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. Gotta say, I love Guitar Hero.
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I slipped out of the classroom, not bothering to close the door behind me. This was a bit abrupt, and a little hard to follow. I'd slip in a transition such as "The next day at school" or something similar. I went straight for the empty classroom, where I knew I would find Victoria. I got there quickly with no interruptions, and shut myself in with Victoria. I was going to turn to #FF0000 ">Victoria You can say "her". Saying such a long name in so close a procession can be repetitive and can take from the flow of the story. , but I first locked the door. I was going to kill her that day. No more fooling around. I #FF0000 ">had "Told" is past tense, so you don't have to say "had". told myself that every other time before, but it was #FF0000 ">the truth I'd write "true" instead. It's more direct that time. Then again, I #FF0000 ">had Take out. told myself that, too, every time before.

But this time I had planned ahead. That morning I had gone out to my dad’s tool box and grabbed a nice and long flat head screwdriver. I unzipped my sweater and reached into the long inside pocket of my jacket, liking the feeling of the cold metal on my hand.

I turned and walked calmly over to Victoria, the screwdriver held loosely between my fingers. I kneeled beside her, no longer affected by the strange force around her. I watched as she scratched at the floor, fear and pain clear across her face. I smiled and put the screwdriver near her heart, careful not to touch her. If I touched her, she would attack. I waited for her to move into a better position, and then drove the innocent tool into her heart, laughing at the sight of her sweet blood dripping out of her and onto my hand...

I dropped the screwdriver to the ground and stepped back, bumping into the wall. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a violent person, so why was why smiling about Victoria’s death? Why did the thought of ending her life give me so much pleasure?

I looked down at her. She was sitting on the floor still, whimpering quietly and scratching. She just kept scratching, over and over again. I was disgusted with myself. I returned the screwdriver to my pocket and backed out of the classroom, wishing that I could stop imagining such horrid things.

I got back to class and returned to my open notebook. There was a short note scribbled on the corner of the paper, closest to James. He looked at me, then down at the note, and back to me with a face that could have been slight anger. I read the note.

What’s up with you and Victoria?

I quickly scribbled my questioning response down and slid the notebook over to James. He read it, and then wrote back.

You two disappear pretty much everyday together in the middle of class. You’re gone for ten minutes sometimes, and you come back like nothing happened. Is there something going on between you two? I won’t be mad if there is. I just wish you would have told me...

I was about to respond that no, there was absolutely nothing between us, but two different thoughts made me stop. The first was the cunning and lying part of me which told me that, unless I wanted to explain Victoria and her scratching, I should say that there was something between us, just as a cover up story. But the other voice in my head was the nicer, more innocent part of me, which simply asked me a question. Is saying that there is something between me and Victoria really that big of a lie? The question was simple, but it shook me. No, it wouldn’t be a lie. I definitely felt it and I was sure Victoria did, too.

I wrote my response slowly, choosing my words carefully.

Yes, there is something.
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We were trying to keep it a secret, and Victoria still is. So she’ll probably act like she has no idea what you’re talking about if you ask her about it. But it isn’t anything too extreme we’re doing with each other when we leave in the middle of class. It’s mostly just talking and being alone. Nothing else.

James read it, nodded, and pushed the notebook back without writing a response. I let out my breath. #FF0000 ">Gullible James had bought my story again, just like he always did. This could just be me, but it seems like he's making fun of James sort of, like he would say "Ignorant James" or "Retarded James" or anything else he would call him. He's not calling him those things, but it seems like he things less of James because James trusts him, maybe a little too much.
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Victoria’s blood pooled at my feet as she coughed out more and slowly died. I had hit her with a wooden plank hard enough that she was internally bleeding, and blood poured from her mouth and ears. I watched as she fell from a kneeling position onto her stomach, and I smiled as her last breath left her lips.


I cried out, but couldn’t wake myself from the dream. I kept trying, at least until it progressed a little further.

I fell to my knees beside Victoria’s body, the truth of what I had done catching up with me. My favorite jeans were soaked through with her blood, and my legs were probably just as red. Even though she had died, blood still continued to drip from her face. #0000BF ">Every few seconds#FF0000 ">, This comma isn't needed and takes away from the flow of the story. #0000BF ">a drop would join the puddle on the ground, hitting with a quiet splash. I like this sentence. It reminds me of a leaky faucet, of a steady [i]drip, drip, drip of cold water on a hard metal and/or cement surface, sending and eerie message and showing the cruelness. I sure hope I worded that right....

Not too long later#FF0000 ">, Not needed. though, the other me took control again, and I stood back up, staring hatefully at Victoria’s broken body. There was a huge sore in the back of her head where I had hit her, and blood dripped steadily from there, too.
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I finally woke from my dream, opening my eyes slowly. It took me a couple seconds to realize that I was crying, and not the quiet type. Tears poured down my face, and I let out soft moans every so often.

I was finally able to fall asleep, but I was afraid of what I had become.

Grammar

As always, your grammar and spelling are almost perfect. A few mistakes, but we're all human... that is unless you're an alien from mars, in which case you probably wouldn't bother posting this on a young writer's society when you have intergalactic contacts....

Characters

Victoria:

She's keeping her air of mystery, which is good. I like her, feel bad for her. I also have many questions, which is good. As long as you intend to answer them, which I think you do.

James:

Hmm.... Well he certainly took a twist. If you play your cards right this can be a very good thing, but make sure that he doesn't seem too much like a psycho killer, otherwise readers will fell little sympathy for him. Also, make sure he's likeable, because if your MC isn't someone people can relate to and someone they care about, they aren't going to take the time to read.

Plot

Staying interesting. Can be pretty much summed up by what I already said. One thing though: Why does your MC go after Victoria every day, yet do nothing? Tell no one? Or at least check out what and why she's scratching? I mean, things wear out. Wouldn't he go see what she's scraping? Maybe see why she's doing it. Not a HUGE deal, it could just be a blunder and he never thought of it, but it's something I've been wondering.

loveness, ultraviolet