The Ones Who Understand: Chapter 1

Stories are something we all relate to. They’re told from person to person, and rumors are spread until everyone knows the legendary tale. But there are a lot of exaggerations when it comes to legends, and a lot of false information. You hear about all of these different people, and if a story seems funny, you retell adding a few details of your own. You never realize it, but this how rumors start. You don’t see it as a rumor because you think it’s true. You also could never imagine how much it would hurt to hear your friends and teachers to talk about you.

So here it is. The whole truth. My story. It may not be important to you, because you’re too considered with yourself. If so, then this story isn’t for you to hear. This is the story for the people who know what it’s like to be completely vulnerable to somebody. This is for the people who know what it’s like for your heart to break in a million pieces. This is for the people who know what its like to lose someone you care about. This story is for the ones who understand.

As for the rest of you, I ask of nothing more than for you to simply listen to this story. And to know the difference between fact and fiction.

Chapter One

Expectations always contradict reality, no matter how much we hope they don’t.

 I started off my freshmen year well. I had reunited with my middle school pals, was maintaining a 3.8 GPA, and had found my way out of the so-called “High School food-chain”. Things were looking up for me in my social life, even though my home life wasn’t doing too greatly.

One day, just like any other, one of my old sports friends, Jessie, sat down with me at lunch. She was a sweet, good-natured person, and had often turned to me for advice. “Hey girly! Are you going to the winter formal?”

I had wanted so desperately to go, but no one had asked me. I wanted to go with a boy, but boys weren’t supposed to be my priority, as my sister constantly reminded me. “Yeah, maybe if I could somehow get a date, not that it’s likely.”

I could tell she wanted something by the look on her face, “Well, Gus and I have been fighting lately, and I don’t really want to date him anymore, but he really wants to go to the Winter Formal. I figured we could make it less like a date if I came with you and a couple of other friends.”

I sighed, “I suppose I could go. Have you bought a dress yet?”

She shook her head. “No, not yet.”

We went dress shopping, and we were both happy with our selections. I thought hers looked better, but she deserved to look good. After all, she worked harder to keep in shape then I did. And although I wasn’t fat, I did have a significant amount of weight. I looked rather skinny, but the numbers on the scale made me feel otherwise. I was also jealous of her hair. She had beautiful, think dark brown hair. It was incomparable to my stringy, thin, ash-colored hair. We each bought a couple of accessories to go with our dress. I bought some flowers to put in my hair, and she bought a new pair of shoes.

I wasn’t really looking forward to the dance, but I pretended to feel excited to make her feel better. I didn’t want to go and look like a fool. Nobody would ask me for a dance, and I wouldn’t know who to ask. Jessie knew a lot of guys on the track team, but she wanted it to remain casual. A casual formal, how ironic?

The day of the dance had arrived and I was extremely nervous. Nobody was there to help me get ready. My mom would be gone for a while on business, and my sister had to work. She lived an hours’ drive away anyways. So, I had curled my stringy ash hair, gotten dressed, and applied a small amount of make-up. I had thrown up three times, and I hoped I would be able to choke it down if I had to again.

While I was in the bathroom, getting rid of the smell she knocked on the front door. I came out of the bathroom and answered the door. It was Jessie. She looked pretty good, and she told me I did too. We went to the dance. All of our friends were there dancing with their boyfriends or grinding in a mosh pit. It seemed pretty normal for a high school dance.

Although, I had a lot of friends I felt alone. No one wanted to dance with me, so I sat down and started eating the kisses on the table. Everyone kept asking me why I wouldn’t dance, but nobody actually offered me a dance. Until Isaac came in and saw me all alone.

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I know I haven’t gotten very far with my story, but this is only the beginning. Each and every detail is important for you to know, why I did all of those things that year. We are going to flash into my personal life. I had already mentioned that my home life hadn’t been doing so well.

My mother had been gone for about a month. I was staying at my dad’s house for now. My parents have been divorced for years. My dad’s a drunk, and my mom’s a very ambitious businesswoman who was engaged to a man I’d never met. It wasn’t exactly the best situation, but I did have a lot of freedom and a lot of money from what my mom sent me.

Neither of my siblings lived with me. My sister, Maryanne, lived by herself in a fancy apartment in the city with a man she barely knows. My sister was a huge flirt. She always stole away any guy that I liked. It was one of the main reasons of why I had never had a boyfriend. He’s twice her age and they’re thinking about getting married. As for my brother, he worked all the time and lived with his wife and three kids in Oklahoma.

So with a non-existent love life, my mother away, my father drinking, and my sister living with a stranger, I was quite a mess. With my access to alcohol and all the freedom, every now and then on the weekends I would leave my house and go to the park. I’d get drunk, and yell about all the things that had gone wrong in my life.

During one of these drunken outbursts was when I had met Isaac for the first time. He was at the park just chilling out and listening to music. He heard me yelling and stumbling around on the stage where they held local events. I was drunk and don’t remember much of this night, other than his face.

He ran over to me and grabbed me, because he knew I was about to fall. He put his hands on my face. I thought he was going to kiss me or comfort me. Instead, he grabbed a cup of water and poured it on my head. He slapped me on the face and let me fall to the ground.

“Listen here, you may not know me, but I do know you. You’re towards the top of the class, and the best of the best. If I ever see you drunk again, I will kick your ass so hard, you won’t be able to feel it anymore. Get your shit together, Lucy!”

He was trying to get me sober and it had worked. His words stuck with me, though. He left me there crying. It may have hurt temporarily, but it had helped me more.

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While I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself, Isaac came up to me and offered me a dance. I didn’t recognize him at first. I just noticed his stunning good looks, and accepted.

We danced to a slow song. As we were dancing he leaned into me and whispered, “Lucille, I hope you haven’t been drinking again.

I was kind of mad that it was him. How on earth had I encountered this boy again? I stomped on his foot, and made it look like an accident, “Oops. I hope you haven’t been trying to sober up anymore drunken damsels in distress.

He laughed, “Not since you. And hopefully, you have made some positive changes in your life. You should consider me a hero, really. Like a knight.”

“Alright,” I said, “What dost thou go by, valiant knight?”

His smile literally lit up the room, “Sir Isaac Hoffner.”

I had heard the name many times, but I had never actually seen his face. If our small Indiana town had a bad boy, it was Isaac. He was a notorious bully. He was also a juvenile deliquant and had served time. Nobody knows what for. Some people said it was because he set his house on fire, killing his family. Others said it was for drug dealing. They called him Sick Isaac. There were a lot of rumors about him and I believed every single one of them.

When he told me his name I freaked out. “I know who you are. And I know what you do. Stay away from me Sick Isaac.”

Unsure as what to do next, I stomped on his foot hard and went into the bathroom. It was cliché, but I had to get away from him.