Prologue:
The thought that no one in the world can help you in your greatest need is melancholy. It's sad that you will not be able to get help, but it's better because it leaves the possibility that someone would if they could. The thought that no one could help you or cared is so terrible that it makes you want to die inside, unless you already are, and then there's no reason to wish for it. My situation could be described as both. My parents and my brother want to help so badly that this whole story is carried on by them, but they can't. No one in the world is going to help me. It would take too much time, and anyway, I'm just one girl. No one's going to cry for a stranger. Over spilled blood eh?
Chapter 1:
"It's a very nice day out Balie; how about you go outside and rest out there," my mother called to me. At the moment I was sitting on my bed, the heavy canopy around the four poster drawn to block me from the rest of the world. Hurriedly I hid my song book. The one I wrote all my lyrics in. Mom doesn't know that I can sing, and well too, she doesn't even know that I could be a writer if I tried. There's a lot of stuff my mom doesn't know, but she's always worried enough about me that I don't want to add anything else. Swinging my legs out from under me caused my to sway light-headed. A little too fast. Peeking out from under my canopy, I looked for my mom, seeing she wasn't there, I shoved my song-book under the bed, and walked to the kitchen. My house was really big, not to be boasting, but when you're locked up in it all day it seems a pretty big place to be. My mom only let's me travel the floor level though because I might hurt myself trying to go up or down the stairs, or if there's a fire I could get stuck inside. She's such a worry-wart, but I loved her. I sat down gracefully on one of the chairs in the kitchen. Everything was the best at our house. If we could of had LA-Z boy recliners at the table my mom would get them. The counter was a special marble or something that sat on the wall towards the back of the house. Clear glass cabinets, and a stove on the counter, all the "harmful" appliances on one counter, a counter I was basically forbidden to come within a inch of. Two tables, small ones with black table tops, were pressed together with stools. The stools were black and always cold, they backs extremely comfortable. I sat in one of the five chairs, though only four, every blue moon, lived and ate here.
"Balie, go outside and rest for a little while.Though I want want you in to help with dinner." Yeah right, my mom would never let me help with dinner. She just didn't want me to stay outside to long so I wouldn't get "HURT". I'll admit it, I was a little weak. It may have something to do with my mothers over pampering, but I don't say anything. Carefully, because I'm seriously clumsy, I walked out of the kitchen to the front room. The room where Dustin, my older brother puts all of his nasty shoes and sports equipment. We call it the front room, but really it goes to the backyard. I pushed hard to open the screen doors with my weak arms. Finally I got outside. The backyard had a nice wooden patio about a foot or two off the ground. the lawn was always well trimmed, the trees and bushes manicured. Instead of sitting like usual on the chair/swing, I stood by the railing. Mom was right, It was a very beautiful day. The wind was just perfect, not too much, but enough to make the hot weather bearable. I tried thinking of something to do that didn't involve sitting, but there was nothing fun I could think of.
I was home schooled. Or really, home lived. I spent almost every day of my life at home. except if one of mom's friends invited me over. I never go to stores, birthday parties, not like I have friends, parks or concerts, or anything like that. I live an overly sheltered life. My dear mother likes it that way. I'm rarely ever sick, and if I am it's only weakly. My mother makes sure the house is always sterile. I don't get it, my brother gets to go to school and everything. Maybe a little bit more prohibited than others, but he still goes to school and has fun and friends. My mother said it's because I was a preemie, and expected to die when I was born. Apparently my mom was really worked up about it, and wants to keep me safe all the time. Something sweet like that. I don't want to be mean, but I'm pretty sure I could last at school if she just gave me the chance. Though she won't, ever I don't think. Then there's dad. Good old dad, goes with whatever you say because he doesn't know or care enough to make the right decisions. At least in our life. At work he's a legend. The most perfect boss ever, making enough money to fund our expensive lifestyle. But not enough to fund his interest in his kids, I though bitterly. Did that matter though? I didn't have a school play for him to show up for, or games to cheer at, my life wasn't exiting enough for him to pay attention to me.
Feeling bitter and hot, I turned to sit down. I felt a little weak in the knees and the chair was welcome. I"m just too weak to be my daddy's girl anyway. I felt like grimacing, but mom said that was bad for the face. Did I want to be too ugly for him too? Maybe if I made my life more exciting. Had something to tell him when he got home...I thought about it. What would my mom let me do that would interest him? Nothing, that's what I came up with. Maybe that would make it better. If I took a step out of my mom's ove-rprotectiveness and did something daring for once. Growing a backbone! (or something like that I heard from on T.V). I tried to creep inside my house, luckily nothing was creaky, everything brand-new. Soon I was in my brother's stuff, looking around for...YES! A soccer ball. I could try kicking that around, what if I had a talent for it! Then my mom would have to let me do it!!!
I brought the ball outside and climbed down from the porch. I placed it on the ground. Never playing a sport before made me nervous. All I had to do was kick the ball, how hard could that be? I picked my left foot up and slowly lowered to the ground and tapped the ball. It moved about a Milli-inch. Not hard at all! I kicked it harder and faster this time. Watching it zoom across the yard was satisfying. I walked up to it again. "Hi-Ya!" I whispered, just for fun like I saw in those Ninja movies. The ball soared away again. What was the point though, I was getting tired. Just kicking it? No, in games they...I racked by brain for information. Oh yeah, they tried to get it past the goalie into, like, a basket, no goal or something. That's what I would do! I pictured a guy blocking a net across the lawn once I'd gotten to the ball. I positioned my foot, then stopped. What if I did it while running, that would definitely make a good story. I mean, I could do it while standing, but even Dustin would laugh at me for that. I kicked the ball a little forward, than charged after it. Well charged wouldn't be the word. More like stumbled fast after it. I managed to pound around a sharp stone in the yard, that would've hurt. Come on! I told myself. I neared the ball, then lifted my foot, but I was too off balance, that's when the world went into slow motion.
As I lifted my foot, the other mixed up, and I lost the beat of my running. I tried to kick the ball that wasn't there, and messed with my balance. My ankle twisted, and I felt my body folding. I let my foot drop behind me, trying in vain to get my balance. I'd never ran before, I didn't know how to stop myself. As far back as I could remember, I always walked, running took too much energy and made me feel light headed. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I fell like a sack of potatoes. My leg folding hurtfully under me. I felt the sensation of floating for a moment, then I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head. The rock I'd side-stepped! The one that made me loose my balance. Oops...and that's the last though I had.
OOC>Comments welcome. More Chapters to come.
Which apparently is the hard part. Thanks for editing it.
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