Young Writers Society

Prologue

I pressed the tip of the blade on my arm. It drew blood. Tears were falling from my face. Can anybody see me?

Can anybody hear me?

Can't you see, I'm falling, falling, and I don't know when i'll stop?

Please, somebody, anybody, notice my pain.

Help me.

Help me.

Please.

Chapter 1

My life is almost perfect. I thought dreamily as I stretched out on my bed, sunlight poking through the closed blades. 1 day until August 24th, one day until my glorious Senior year.

Oh, I almost forgot. Today is August 23rd, my 17th birthday.

"Melody Shawn!" My mother called from downstairs. "Get your butt over here or i'll pour a bucket of ice all over your head!"

"Yes, mom." I shouted and got up. I whistled the tune to my all time favorite song: Somebody To Love by Queens, while I made my bed, fluffed my pillows, and re-organized my desk. I was moving slow; there was absolutely no reason to hurry in the summer days.

"Melody Shawn!" My sister, Jane, mimicked my mom. "If you don't come down in 5 seconds, I'm going to take your present."

"There's a present?" My head had snapped up at the word. I usually never get decent presents. At least not ones that Jane would like to steal.

"Well, duh." I could almost hear Jane roll her eyes. "Now, let's go!" With the word 'go', Jane banged on my door, making my kitty, Lilac, jump.

"Jeesh, Jane, you're so nice." I rolled my eyes and followed her downstairs.

"Happy birthday, hon." My dad was the first one to hug me. I smiled.

"Thank you, Daddy. you have a present for me?"

"Over here, Come on!" Jane practically dragged me over to the front door. I made a face, sensing a prank. I turned to my very immature mother.

"I'm too old for bikes, mom. I don't know why you think it's so funny to get me a kid bike for my birthdays, but if I see a tricycle out the door, i'm going to be mad." Mom laughed and pretended to be offended.

"Give your own mother some credit. In my defence, the joke stopped being funny 3 birthdays ago." Mom said. Jane laughed and snuggled into her arms. I felt a slight pang of a sharp emotion stab into my heart; an unhealed wound that keeps opening. Jealousy? Envy? Or was it disappointment? I have never been really close to my mother.

"Open the freaking door, Melody. Stop stalling, we don't have all day!" Jane said impatiently.

"Fine, calm down, Jane!" I snapped, and feeling everyone's eyes on my back, I turned the doorknob and opened it, nearly walking into a white Honda Civic. I quickly stepped back in and shut the door.

"Well?" Jane asked. She is very annoying sometimes. I ignored her.

"Dad?" I turned instead. "Some drunk driver has ran over our front lawn. Should I call the police?"

"Melody, why are you such an idiot?" Jane asked as Dad burst out laughing. "Open the god-dang door and get in the car!" She yelled.

"What a nice way to talk to your older sister." I commented mildly and walked out the door again, examining the foreign car carefully. "Oh gosh," I sighed, finally realizing. "This is my gift?"

Dad nodded, smiling. "Do you like it? I'm sorry it's not new, this was all I could afford."

"Daddy, it's perfect. I love it, thank you so much." I gave dad another hug.

"Happy birthday," my family all told me.

"Do I get to punch you 18 times?" Jane asked, enthusiastic for once.

"No," I said, annoyed.

"How about 17 times?" Jane asked again. I glared at her. "No? aw, dang it." Thankfully, she stopped talking after that, and we all went to the kitchen to eat some pizza while dad stepped outside to get some air.

"What's taking dad so long?" Jane asked when we were finished with our second pieces of home-made cheese pizza.

"You know James takes long walks." Mom sounded unconcerned. I looked for the clock. It was already 1 pm. 40 minutes since he went out.

"He usually doesn't take this long. I'll go check out the neighborhood." I set my plate in the sink and gave myself a look-over through a mirror. My dark-brown hair was in a messy bun, so I pulled the band out and let my hair fall freely almost all the way to my back.

The doorbell rang sometime when I was combing my fingers through the tangled heap that was my hair; Mom hurried to answer it while I continued on my work.

"James!" Mom's high-pitched shriek brought me and Jane running to the doorstep, and we both had to stifle a gasp. I felt my knees buckle under me and staggered backwards, loosing my balance.

"Daddy?" I asked in a quivering voice. Jane looked way too shocked to say anything. In front of us, two police officers supported my unconscious dad.

"Is this the Shawn residence?" My mom nodded numbly. The officers moved past the statues of our bodies and lay my father down on the living room couch. "We already called the ambulance. It's on its way." An officer clarified. None of us replied; we were still in our frozen state. Soon, I could hear the blaring of the ambulance siren, and with the sound, I heard something like a precognition-the life as I know it was over.