Young Writers Society

Haha I've been reading so many stories on here, and mine can't even start to compare

Oh well, I guess my writing has improved since I've gotten here lol and it will continue too...

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The trees whistled as Mitch Maloney drunkenly drove down Gretchen St. The wind whined as the stolen pick up truck zigzagged its way towards the curb of McGregor Middle School. As the worn rubber met the hard concrete, a loud screeching sound and a bump could be heard. It ricocheted throughout Jess’s brain, reminding her of her very existence. Or lack of existence.

As the engine finally stopped roaring, Mitch limped out of the driver’s seat and started making his way down the sidewalk. The stench of whisky and dirty sweat found its way to Jess’s nostrils, forcing a sigh out of her lungs. It was a small yet overbearing sigh, driving her to hold her head low as if the rope had been cut and the chair knocked over. A noose around her neck stayed around her neck as long as Mitch kept up his daily—hourly—masquerades of a good father and not a boozer. She would stand on the edge of herself for as long as she could bear it. For as long as she could work it.

Jess sat on the school bench, not letting a single word pass through her lips. Words proved not enough for her situation. She wanted to curse the person who dared to say that sticks and stones could break my bones but words could never hurt me. It was a ludicrous statement and she was living proof of its invalidity. Words hurt. Slurred words sliced. Words paired with fists tore. Words from a blind girl however did nothing.

Jess’s watch had Braille on it so she could read the time. Today was one of those times she didn’t want to use it. It probably read some ungodly time. Some time that a girl should have been picked up by school by now.

“I’m sorry, Jess.” Mitch said, stuttering and slurring.

“I lost track of time. C’mon, let’s go home.” She could almost hear the sincerity in his voice. But not quite.

“You always say that Mitch. I’m not stupid. How many?” Jess said, staring right at Mitch with void eyes.

“I’m not going to tell you that.” Mitch said, “You’re too young to be knowing all this stuff.”

“Thanks to you, I know all kinds of stuff.”

“It’s too late in the day to get in an argument. Get your stick and let’s go.”

“And it’s my fault, its too late in the day?” Jess said, putting her fingers over her watch. 5:30. School got out at 3:30.

“I said let’s go. Do you want me to help you out or what?” Mitch said, under the illusion he could actually be of help under the influence.

You’re such an idiot, Mitch. Jess thought to herself. You think you can help me?

“Fine. Walk home with your stinkin’ stick. I’m sleepy so I’ll meet you there.” Mitch said, staggering off.

His gait started to get weary and his body swayed back in forth like a Grandfather’s clock. Mitch was a puppet, being controlled by fermented grapes and only God knows what else. Finally, the strings broke.

Mitch’s body fell to the ground, all thanks to gravity. His head rolled over, scarlet leaked across his eyebrow and invisible pain burst through his throat.

Shut up, Mitch. You’re going to wake the whole neighborhood. Jess thought as she wobbled to his side.

The same old soup warmed over. That’s what she was doing. The same old routine of helping Mitch when she was the one in need. She was the younger one and she was the one who couldn’t see.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Jess asked, when her stick touched something.

“What does it look like?”, Mitch breathed, “Help me up, would you?”

Give me some more time, would you? Jess mocked inside her head. How could he be so ignorant?

Jess kneeled down on her hands and knees. Her sinewy fingers found Mitch’s shoulders and explored lower until they found his smooth hands. They grasped his wrist and pulled upwards.

Mitch fed off of Jess’s strength and pull yet lost his balance. His body came tumbling down on Jess’s and they both fell to the ground. Both of them had enough energy to let out a laugh and a few exclamations of hurt.

“Mitch, you’re squishing me!” Jess said. Mitch’s body covered hers as they lay on the ground. His face was inches away and his alcoholic breath tickled Jess’s cheeks.

Mitch laughed drunkenly, sending spit over Jess’s face. She imagined his bright baby blue eyes staring into her. Yet not in the right way. He started touching Jess’s neck. His head started lowering into hers in drunken stupor. His lips screaming for love. A sick smile plastered on his face.

“Stop it! Get off of me!” Jess squirmed under Mitch’s weight and let out a small scream. Her cries slapped Mitch back into reality and he immediately got off the ground.

“Jess, I’m so sorry. I—”

“Just shut up! Shut up!” Jess said, pushing Mitch’s hand away and using her walking stick to propel herself off the ground.

Tears started to flow down her face.

“Jess, c’mon lets get home. I need to lie down.” Mitch said. The sun was starting to set and the wind was beginning to chill.

“Lie down? Why don’t you just leave me alone!” Jess yelled, “You’re no help anyway. You’re just my brother.”

“Exactly. I’m not perfect.”

“You bet.”

“But I’m your legal guardian. Mom—”

“Mom’s dead. Gone. She left us, Mitchell.”

“I know that, Jess. Don’t you see I’m trying.”

“With alcohol? That’s your way of trying? Well, Mitch this is for you. I’m trying too. But you know what? Trying isn’t hard enough.” Jess said, her eyes seeing nothing but darkness.