Alone
************
Hello, everyone. This is my first ficlet. I hope that you like it, and if you don't, I'll take it down so you shall not have to suffer with this disgusting piece of literature on your site.
Disclaimer:
I must warn you - Nothing in this ficlet belongs to be, other than the things that you do not recognize as J.R.R. Tolkien's. I do not write like him, and if you are hoping that this piece of fiction shall come even close to the magnificence of Tolkien's work; I am sorry to say that you are sadly mistaken.
--Silent Silver
************
Chapter One: The Ironically Ironic Irony of it All
I opened one eye angrily as the beeping of my alarm clock woke me up, and I slammed my fist down on the 'Sleep' button. Five more minutes of peace, pretty please... I sighed, knowing that if I did not rise now, I would become ultimately tardy in the end. Ah, the wonders of Hell School and all of the dreadful things that it does to your life... Dreadful things, meaning the need to rise at five-thirty a.m, of course. Painful, no? Actually, yes.
I pushed myself up and out of bed, grumbling to myself about the injustices of the world today, and the damned school board who demanded that we be at our school by seven-ten a.m., as to achieve a full learning experience. The evil bastards...
I pulled on my uniform, a disgustingly short black skirt and a three- quarters sleeved button up white shirt, and then a pair of black knee- highs. At least, I thought with a depressed grumble, they let you wear the shoes you wanted. While most of the other girls wore high-heels with their uniform, I wore Dr. Martins. My Docs... I sighed, pulling on the worn brown combat-like boots, and tying up the rainbow colored laces in a depressed state of mind.
I took a quick glance in the dirty window, and it mirrored back a carbon copy of myself. I winced at the sight. Ugh... You see, I'm not so skinny I look as if I am anorexic, and I'm damned for sure not fat... Perhaps just thin...? Maybe so. Without another thought, I shuffled across the dirty floor soundlessly, ignoring the loud snoring coming from my foster father. I rolled my eyes in disgusted, and banged open the front door, and started the two mile walk to school, drumming my fingers absentmindedly on the side of the trailer-house I called 'home', staring at the black polish on my fingernails with a sigh...
As I walked, most of the beings in this place called London, England ignored me, aside from a few people who bestowed pitying smiles on me, or gazes of utmost disgust. I snorted as a little girl, clinging to her mother's hand, waved excitedly at me, and then her mother snatched her hand down, scolding her for 'talking to strangers', as she put it. Actually, no real communication had passed between her little daughter and I, but hey? I wasn't her mother.
* * * * * *
"Hey, Sanchez!" an annoying voice taunted me as I walked onto campus.
I sighed, and wearily shifted my gaze to meet that of an annoying, bouncy, perfect, girly blonde-headed "princess", otherwise known as Andrea Dunsworthy. She had crystal blue eyes, and she was oh-so-perfect... Twenty- four/seven. Ahh, and I've left out a minor detail... She was my worst fucking enemy.
I didn't answer the snobbish cheer princess, and kept my gaze hard and cold. People usually just pushed past me and talked behind my back, but NO, she had to do it to my face. You see, I was the freak of my private, all- girls school. The Freak. Meaning the only one who wasn't accepted.
You see, all the other girl's had bought their way in to Ms. Englebright's Academy For Girls... But no, not Ky Sanchez, not me. She was the only girl who had gotten in on a scholarship alone. She had no money; she wasn't like the other girls...
And to top it all off...?
"Hey, Orphan Girl! You gonna answer me, or what?!" spat Andrea Dunsworthy.
I growled at the "endearment", and cleaned my fists in anger, trying as hard as I could to ignore the bitch... Just two more days... Two more days, and I'll have GRADUATED. But no, not if I got one more mark on my Permanent Record, the one fateful mark that'd get me kicked out of the Academy forever... You see, I have a way of saying things with my fists, instead on my mouth, if you catch my drift, of course. Heh. It's always been that way...
The bell rang, and the girls of the academy filed in, giggling to themselves, and sneering at me occasionally. Honest to the Big Man in the Sky, I swear I'm the ONLY girl who isn't a blonde bimbo who goes to that damn school... All the girls are blonde with blue eyes, I swear it's like they fucking inbreed in the back of the classes!
Ahh, and this is only one of the things that make me a freak! All of the girls have curly, I'd-so-kill-to-get-it blonde hair. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have annoying, jet-black, board straight hair. All of the girls have perfect, silky smooth, porcelain skin. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have rough, slightly tanned skin. All of the girls have perfect, serene, blue eyes. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have emotionless, black eyes. Coal eyes...
Emotionless. Ha... Something I'm fucking thankful for; if I showed emotion, I'd be the laughing stock of the Academy. But I already am, so hey? Yeah... I sighed, stumbling into my next class...
* * * * * *
The bell... Yay? Oh, no. You'd think that poor Ky Sanchez would LOVE to get away from the sneering faces, wouldn't you? Not exactly. Oh, whatever for?! I'd rather be at school than at home...
I wandered down the empty streets, ignoring sneers and looks of disgust from the people that passed me. And no, these people weren't even ones from the Academy, they all had their private drivers pick them up in their Rolls Royce's. Enough to make anyone gag, is it not? Anyhow, I don't have a driver, and no one cares enough to pick me up from school, so hey? Guess what? I'm walking the two mile walk back "home"!
At last, I came upon the one bedroom, one bathroom dump I knew as "mi casa". I kicked open the already falling apart screen door, grumbling to myself. As I entered the first room, the "living room", I was met with the sight of a disgusting man, clad in a stained white wife-beater and black, torn jogging pants, sprawled out on the dirty couch, clutching a Coors Light in his grubby, dirty hand. I almost gagged at the sight, but kept my face cold, emotionless, just like my eyes.
"Girl!" the man bellowed, "Bring me another beer!"
I snarled in disgust, "Oh dearest "father" of mine, GET IT YOUR FUCKING SELF!"
The disgusting, beer-bellied man I knew as my "father" scrambled off the couch, sending stuffing spouting from the already ripped up seams. He pointed a chubby finger accusingly in my face, and snarled angrily, revealing yellowed teeth. Ugh... Serious lack of dental care...
"GIRL!" he addressed me, spitting at my Docs, but thankfully, I stepped back in time to avoid the disgusting yellow spit wad, "You DID NOT just refuse me!"
I snorted, "What if I did?"
The vile man spit on the carpet, and swayed slightly. He brought up his hand, and I felt the backside of it connect with my face harshly... Fuck... I mentally winced, but showed no emotion on the outside. I was so accustomed to this; it hardly affected me at all, anymore. This appeared to anger my "father" even more, and he smacked me across the face once more. This time, however, there was a painful crack of realization. Aw, damn. My jaw's broken. Surely, he expects me to grovel at his feet in a mass of whimpering and sobbing nerves! Oh, I am so sure. I felt blood trickle out of the corner of my mouth, but once again, I showed no emotion.
I was already plotting escape, though. The man seemed satisfied with a slight wince, and he plopped his fat ass down on the couch once more, chugging his Coors Light like mad. I collected my backpack of the floor, and scurried to the other side of the living room, also known as "Ky's Room".
There was a beanbag chair in the corner, as well as an electrical outlet, with an alarm clock plugged in. Yes, welcome to my room. Out from under my beanbag chair did I pull a five inch pocketknife, and shoved it into my back. From the snores emitting from the other side of the living room, I could tell that "daddy dearest" had worked himself into a drunken sleep once more. With a sigh, I disposed all of the schoolbooks onto the floor, and ran on silent feet towards the "laundry room".
With a grimace, I pulled some of my clean clothes out of the old, creaky dryer, absentmindedly rubbing my jaw with my free hand. Damn, he'd gotten me good that time... With a sigh, I folded the extra pair of underwear and the bra into a neat little pile into the bottom of my backpack. I grabbed a pair of blue jean shorts from the dryer next, and then a black tank top.
These two articles of clothing were also neatly folded, and then placed into the spacious backpack, along with a hairbrush. I gazed outside of the window, and grinned, despite myself. It was rather dark now; probably nearing ten o'clock, and soon, I would make my escape. Finally... Escape away from my god-forsaken life with my foster father...
With a sigh, I found my way into the rarely used bedroom. I went straight to the bookshelf, my feet processing the destination even faster than my mind. I pulled out a series of three battered books that had once belonged to Her, and then my own battered diary. With a sigh, I snatched a pen off of one desk, and then piled all of the five items into the bottom of my book bag.
At last... I was ready! Hoorah! Hooray! Ah, fuck. Who am I kidding? Might as well wait until I escape to enjoy freedom... I tiptoed through the hallway, and back into the living room. Much to my horror, I stepped on the loose floorboard, and it gave a menacing creak. My "father's" bloodshot eyes snapped open, and he glared at me accusingly, and then... And then to my bag...
"Where the fuck do you think YOU'RE going, girlie?!" he spat, pointing at me accusingly.
I didn't answer, and he managed to yank his disgusting, blob-like body off of the couch, and waddle over to me. I raised my chin defiantly, and his hand connected with my stomach. Ugh... I was about to spew from the impact of his fist against my stomach, but somehow, I managed to show no emotion. With a shaky hand, my "father" groped for something in the pocket of his dirty black sweatpants, and my brows furrowed in confusion...
Triumphantly, my "father" pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket, and being the oh-so-brilliant girl I am, I stood there, gaping at it like an idiot. Much to my horror, the vile man's knife came in contact with my thigh, driving into it about two inches. I didn't have enough time to react before my "dearest daddy" had moved the knife from my thigh to my cheek, and this certain predicament resulted in a deep, five-inch long gash from my earlobe to the corner of my eye...
But no, I refused to waste time. I punched him sharply in the face, and turned tail and ran my ass off... Straight into the street. The distinct cursing of my father could be heard inside of the house still, but the haunting blare of an eighteen-wheelers horn was what caught my attention... I felt every bone in my body shatter in two as the truck smashed up against me, and my eyes rolled back in my head... The last thought I remembered thinking was something like...
"Well, escape from the madhouse, only to be ran over by an eighteen- wheeler. Just my fucking luck! Ahh, but that's the ironically ironic irony of it all, is it not?"
+
Hi, Silver here. Please let me know what you think, and even if it's worth continuing. I've heard the term 'Mary-Sue' before, and I'm hoping that this story WON'T turn out this way... But it might... *exasperated sigh* Sauron, Satan, and Lucifer! Just REVIEW me! ...Please? --Silver
************
Hello, everyone. This is my first ficlet. I hope that you like it, and if you don't, I'll take it down so you shall not have to suffer with this disgusting piece of literature on your site.
Disclaimer:
I must warn you - Nothing in this ficlet belongs to be, other than the things that you do not recognize as J.R.R. Tolkien's. I do not write like him, and if you are hoping that this piece of fiction shall come even close to the magnificence of Tolkien's work; I am sorry to say that you are sadly mistaken.
--Silent Silver
************
Chapter One: The Ironically Ironic Irony of it All
I opened one eye angrily as the beeping of my alarm clock woke me up, and I slammed my fist down on the 'Sleep' button. Five more minutes of peace, pretty please... I sighed, knowing that if I did not rise now, I would become ultimately tardy in the end. Ah, the wonders of Hell School and all of the dreadful things that it does to your life... Dreadful things, meaning the need to rise at five-thirty a.m, of course. Painful, no? Actually, yes.
I pushed myself up and out of bed, grumbling to myself about the injustices of the world today, and the damned school board who demanded that we be at our school by seven-ten a.m., as to achieve a full learning experience. The evil bastards...
I pulled on my uniform, a disgustingly short black skirt and a three- quarters sleeved button up white shirt, and then a pair of black knee- highs. At least, I thought with a depressed grumble, they let you wear the shoes you wanted. While most of the other girls wore high-heels with their uniform, I wore Dr. Martins. My Docs... I sighed, pulling on the worn brown combat-like boots, and tying up the rainbow colored laces in a depressed state of mind.
I took a quick glance in the dirty window, and it mirrored back a carbon copy of myself. I winced at the sight. Ugh... You see, I'm not so skinny I look as if I am anorexic, and I'm damned for sure not fat... Perhaps just thin...? Maybe so. Without another thought, I shuffled across the dirty floor soundlessly, ignoring the loud snoring coming from my foster father. I rolled my eyes in disgusted, and banged open the front door, and started the two mile walk to school, drumming my fingers absentmindedly on the side of the trailer-house I called 'home', staring at the black polish on my fingernails with a sigh...
As I walked, most of the beings in this place called London, England ignored me, aside from a few people who bestowed pitying smiles on me, or gazes of utmost disgust. I snorted as a little girl, clinging to her mother's hand, waved excitedly at me, and then her mother snatched her hand down, scolding her for 'talking to strangers', as she put it. Actually, no real communication had passed between her little daughter and I, but hey? I wasn't her mother.
* * * * * *
"Hey, Sanchez!" an annoying voice taunted me as I walked onto campus.
I sighed, and wearily shifted my gaze to meet that of an annoying, bouncy, perfect, girly blonde-headed "princess", otherwise known as Andrea Dunsworthy. She had crystal blue eyes, and she was oh-so-perfect... Twenty- four/seven. Ahh, and I've left out a minor detail... She was my worst fucking enemy.
I didn't answer the snobbish cheer princess, and kept my gaze hard and cold. People usually just pushed past me and talked behind my back, but NO, she had to do it to my face. You see, I was the freak of my private, all- girls school. The Freak. Meaning the only one who wasn't accepted.
You see, all the other girl's had bought their way in to Ms. Englebright's Academy For Girls... But no, not Ky Sanchez, not me. She was the only girl who had gotten in on a scholarship alone. She had no money; she wasn't like the other girls...
And to top it all off...?
"Hey, Orphan Girl! You gonna answer me, or what?!" spat Andrea Dunsworthy.
I growled at the "endearment", and cleaned my fists in anger, trying as hard as I could to ignore the bitch... Just two more days... Two more days, and I'll have GRADUATED. But no, not if I got one more mark on my Permanent Record, the one fateful mark that'd get me kicked out of the Academy forever... You see, I have a way of saying things with my fists, instead on my mouth, if you catch my drift, of course. Heh. It's always been that way...
The bell rang, and the girls of the academy filed in, giggling to themselves, and sneering at me occasionally. Honest to the Big Man in the Sky, I swear I'm the ONLY girl who isn't a blonde bimbo who goes to that damn school... All the girls are blonde with blue eyes, I swear it's like they fucking inbreed in the back of the classes!
Ahh, and this is only one of the things that make me a freak! All of the girls have curly, I'd-so-kill-to-get-it blonde hair. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have annoying, jet-black, board straight hair. All of the girls have perfect, silky smooth, porcelain skin. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have rough, slightly tanned skin. All of the girls have perfect, serene, blue eyes. Was I blessed with such a trait? Fuck, no. I have emotionless, black eyes. Coal eyes...
Emotionless. Ha... Something I'm fucking thankful for; if I showed emotion, I'd be the laughing stock of the Academy. But I already am, so hey? Yeah... I sighed, stumbling into my next class...
* * * * * *
The bell... Yay? Oh, no. You'd think that poor Ky Sanchez would LOVE to get away from the sneering faces, wouldn't you? Not exactly. Oh, whatever for?! I'd rather be at school than at home...
I wandered down the empty streets, ignoring sneers and looks of disgust from the people that passed me. And no, these people weren't even ones from the Academy, they all had their private drivers pick them up in their Rolls Royce's. Enough to make anyone gag, is it not? Anyhow, I don't have a driver, and no one cares enough to pick me up from school, so hey? Guess what? I'm walking the two mile walk back "home"!
At last, I came upon the one bedroom, one bathroom dump I knew as "mi casa". I kicked open the already falling apart screen door, grumbling to myself. As I entered the first room, the "living room", I was met with the sight of a disgusting man, clad in a stained white wife-beater and black, torn jogging pants, sprawled out on the dirty couch, clutching a Coors Light in his grubby, dirty hand. I almost gagged at the sight, but kept my face cold, emotionless, just like my eyes.
"Girl!" the man bellowed, "Bring me another beer!"
I snarled in disgust, "Oh dearest "father" of mine, GET IT YOUR FUCKING SELF!"
The disgusting, beer-bellied man I knew as my "father" scrambled off the couch, sending stuffing spouting from the already ripped up seams. He pointed a chubby finger accusingly in my face, and snarled angrily, revealing yellowed teeth. Ugh... Serious lack of dental care...
"GIRL!" he addressed me, spitting at my Docs, but thankfully, I stepped back in time to avoid the disgusting yellow spit wad, "You DID NOT just refuse me!"
I snorted, "What if I did?"
The vile man spit on the carpet, and swayed slightly. He brought up his hand, and I felt the backside of it connect with my face harshly... Fuck... I mentally winced, but showed no emotion on the outside. I was so accustomed to this; it hardly affected me at all, anymore. This appeared to anger my "father" even more, and he smacked me across the face once more. This time, however, there was a painful crack of realization. Aw, damn. My jaw's broken. Surely, he expects me to grovel at his feet in a mass of whimpering and sobbing nerves! Oh, I am so sure. I felt blood trickle out of the corner of my mouth, but once again, I showed no emotion.
I was already plotting escape, though. The man seemed satisfied with a slight wince, and he plopped his fat ass down on the couch once more, chugging his Coors Light like mad. I collected my backpack of the floor, and scurried to the other side of the living room, also known as "Ky's Room".
There was a beanbag chair in the corner, as well as an electrical outlet, with an alarm clock plugged in. Yes, welcome to my room. Out from under my beanbag chair did I pull a five inch pocketknife, and shoved it into my back. From the snores emitting from the other side of the living room, I could tell that "daddy dearest" had worked himself into a drunken sleep once more. With a sigh, I disposed all of the schoolbooks onto the floor, and ran on silent feet towards the "laundry room".
With a grimace, I pulled some of my clean clothes out of the old, creaky dryer, absentmindedly rubbing my jaw with my free hand. Damn, he'd gotten me good that time... With a sigh, I folded the extra pair of underwear and the bra into a neat little pile into the bottom of my backpack. I grabbed a pair of blue jean shorts from the dryer next, and then a black tank top.
These two articles of clothing were also neatly folded, and then placed into the spacious backpack, along with a hairbrush. I gazed outside of the window, and grinned, despite myself. It was rather dark now; probably nearing ten o'clock, and soon, I would make my escape. Finally... Escape away from my god-forsaken life with my foster father...
With a sigh, I found my way into the rarely used bedroom. I went straight to the bookshelf, my feet processing the destination even faster than my mind. I pulled out a series of three battered books that had once belonged to Her, and then my own battered diary. With a sigh, I snatched a pen off of one desk, and then piled all of the five items into the bottom of my book bag.
At last... I was ready! Hoorah! Hooray! Ah, fuck. Who am I kidding? Might as well wait until I escape to enjoy freedom... I tiptoed through the hallway, and back into the living room. Much to my horror, I stepped on the loose floorboard, and it gave a menacing creak. My "father's" bloodshot eyes snapped open, and he glared at me accusingly, and then... And then to my bag...
"Where the fuck do you think YOU'RE going, girlie?!" he spat, pointing at me accusingly.
I didn't answer, and he managed to yank his disgusting, blob-like body off of the couch, and waddle over to me. I raised my chin defiantly, and his hand connected with my stomach. Ugh... I was about to spew from the impact of his fist against my stomach, but somehow, I managed to show no emotion. With a shaky hand, my "father" groped for something in the pocket of his dirty black sweatpants, and my brows furrowed in confusion...
Triumphantly, my "father" pulled a kitchen knife from his pocket, and being the oh-so-brilliant girl I am, I stood there, gaping at it like an idiot. Much to my horror, the vile man's knife came in contact with my thigh, driving into it about two inches. I didn't have enough time to react before my "dearest daddy" had moved the knife from my thigh to my cheek, and this certain predicament resulted in a deep, five-inch long gash from my earlobe to the corner of my eye...
But no, I refused to waste time. I punched him sharply in the face, and turned tail and ran my ass off... Straight into the street. The distinct cursing of my father could be heard inside of the house still, but the haunting blare of an eighteen-wheelers horn was what caught my attention... I felt every bone in my body shatter in two as the truck smashed up against me, and my eyes rolled back in my head... The last thought I remembered thinking was something like...
"Well, escape from the madhouse, only to be ran over by an eighteen- wheeler. Just my fucking luck! Ahh, but that's the ironically ironic irony of it all, is it not?"
+
Hi, Silver here. Please let me know what you think, and even if it's worth continuing. I've heard the term 'Mary-Sue' before, and I'm hoping that this story WON'T turn out this way... But it might... *exasperated sigh* Sauron, Satan, and Lucifer! Just REVIEW me! ...Please? --Silver