This is the first story I've written in a while. I wrote it yesterday. It's called 'Claire's Story'. I hope you like.
Claire's Story.
I was laying on my bed, a book in my hands and propped up on my stomach like always. Though my eyes seemed like they were glued to the book, I had other things on my mind. Like my step-father, Jack. He'd been at the bar down the street for nearly five hours now, and I was worried of what would happen, if anything should happen, anyway. Sometimes, when he was drunk, he wasn't really that bad. But other times, he could get really violent and dangerous. One time, he had hit my mom over the head when they were in an arguement. He left for a little while, but he came back. Mom was so depressed when he left. Why was he always welcomed back? Why did everyone try and forget what he did and make everything go back to normal? It didn't make sense. I didn't want him with us anymore. I was once told by my mom that before he started living with us, whenever he'd visit, it would be my sisters who'd be very excited to see him. They'd see his car pulling up in the driveway and jump up and down. But me...I'd see the car, and I wouldn't be excited. I wouldn't be overly enthusiastic like my sisters were. I'd just stand there.
As I said before, I didn't know why mom kept welcoming him back. The cycle would just repeat itself. Mom and him would get into a fight, something bad would happen, he would leave, and then he'd come back. Everything would be nice for a while, and then it happens again. I think it's stupid. If it were me, I wouldn't let him back in the house. I wouldn't welcome him back with open arms, just to have the same thing happen again. Then again, mom was in love with him. Love could be weird, I guess. I never really understood love, because I had never really experienced it. I'm fourteen, after all. Of course, I've experienced the friendly love, the sisterly love, and the family love, but not the romantic love. Nahh, I've had a few crushes in the past, but it definitely wasn't love.
As I turned a page in my book, I found myself lost in my thoughts. It seemed to sound like a wonderful thing, and I hoped to experience it one day. As I would like to travel around the world to all the different countries, mainly in Europe. Italy, Germany, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, France, New Zealand....it was my dream. I could imagine myself walking down the streets of London, stopping for tea(which I hated tea, but as they say- When in Rome). Going to Scotland and getting a kilt. Going to Ireland and drink alcohol. I wanted to try everything. And then someday, I'd write a novel about my travels. Of my experiences through my life and all the memories I've collected. I would try and become a famous author. And then, when I'm older, I would settle down with the one I love and start a family, and tell my children about my travels. Kinda like bed time stories. Someday, I might even take my children to another country.
My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the familiar creaking of my door when it opened. I turned my head to see the familiar figure of my step father standing there. I didn't really think he was that handsome at all- light brown hair, big, dark brown eyes, crooked nose, long face with a disapproving expression. He was bony, too. He looked down at me, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath even from the other side of the small room. I winced mentally- something bad was going to happen.
"Hey, where's yer mom?" he asked, a slur in his voice. Oh yeah, he was drunk all right. I shrugged, going back to my book. "Picking up Brianna. Where were you?" I asked him. He gave me somewhat of a glare and didn't answer at first. I guess all the alcohol he consumed must've stopped his brain for a while. Not like it worked, anyway. I laughed silently to myself at the little joke I had made. Which made Jack confused. "What the hell are you laughing at?" he asked, still holding onto the doorknob. It appeared that the door seemed to keep him from falling over. I sighed, shaking my head as my eyes stayed on the page of my book. "Nothing." I answered simply. Though that might've not been the right answer to him.
"You and your stupid books...." he muttered, as if trying to get me mad. "All the time, your nose is in them books. I don't...don't know what's wrong with you." he finished, swaying a little. "What if I like books?" I asked him, raising my eyebrows as I turned a page. I did like books- in fact, I loved them. I could read books non-stop for hours, and never get bored. Something about the stories in books entranced me- they took me to a whole other world, which is what I wanted to do to other people. Make them lost in my stories, so interested that they couldn't take their eyes away even for a second.
Jack glared at me, once again not replying right away. He glanced down at my floor, and then around my room, trying to find something to yell at me about. He liked to yell at me sometimes. He looked back at me. "Yeah, yeah...where's your mom?" he asked again. I set my book down flat on my stomach and looked over at him. "I told you- she went to pick up Brianna. You know, Brianna...older sister, went to the mall today..." I explained to him, as if he were stupid. Well, to me, he was stupid. Even more when he was drunk. "As if you would know..." I muttered quietly, looking back to my book once more. But apparently, not quiet enough.
"Wha' was that? Are you talkin' back to me?" he slurred, taking a step into my room. I looked back to him, sitting up in my bed. Was he going to do something to me? I hoped not. "No." I replied, closing my book. Jack furrowed his eyebrows, not looking happy at all. "I think you are." he stated, taking another step closer. I was now sitting up completely straight, a little afraid. But I didn't let him see that I was afraid- he would pounce on that in a heartbeat. I didn't say anything to him. I just braced myself for whatever he'd do. And if he did do anything, I'd retaliate. I was tired of just sitting there, letting him do whatever he wanted. It was going to stop today. Jack seemed to be angry that I wasn't answering him, and the closer he got to me, the more I could smell the odor of beer he was emmiting.
"Damnit, don't lie to me!" he said, almost to my bed. I hopped off of it onto the other side, the book still in my hand. "I wasn't." I said sternly, backing up. He growled. "Lyin' b***h." he grumbled, putting a foot on my bed, about to climb over it to get to me. I was now backed up against the wall, gripping the book tightly in my hands. "Stay away from me." I said, trying to make my voice not shake. He grinned, getting even closer. "Are you scared? Are you a scared lil' baby?" he asked. I shook my head, sliding closer to my window, which was open. My room could get very stuffy, so I had opened it to let a breeze in. I was hoping that I could escape through it. Jack, though he was too drunk to think, saw this coming, and automatically lunging at me. He pushed me up against the wall and slapped me across the face. Jack was surprisingly strong, despite his bony figure. So the slap really hurt, and I felt my cheek throbbing.
"Don' you talk back to me!" he slurred, slapping me again. I winced, tears stinging my eyes. That was even harder than the last. I had to find a way to escape. When he slapped me again was when my reflexes kicked in, and I raised my knee hard into his groin. He immediately widened his eyes, loosening his grip on my wrist and slumping down onto the ground. Just so I could make sure he didn't get up for a while, I stomped my foot on his groin, causing him to cry out in pain. I reached into his pocket, finding his cellphone. I then stood up, opened the screen to the window, and hopped out. Once I landed on the ground, I looked over to the windowsill, which as bent. 'Sorry, mom.' I thought to myself as I ran off.
A little while later, as I was running, I flipped open the cellphone and dialed my mom's cellphone number. Both Mom and Jack had easy numbers to remember, so I didn't have to rack my brain for too long. Soon, my mom answered the phone, much to my relief.
"Hello, Mom? It's Claire. Listen, Jack's drunk again, and he hit me.....Yeah, I know. He's at the house now.....No, this is his...yeah I took the phone from him....Where am I now?" I asked her, looking around. I found myself on a street that at the time I couldn't recognize. I tried looking up at the sign with the street name on it, but because my eyes were so blurry with tears, I couldn't read it. "I-I don't know. But-" all of a sudden, I felt a large pain in my side, and I stopped running. Instead, I fell on the hard road pavement, the phone leaving my hand. All I could see was red, and I couldn't move. 'Wha...? What's going on?! Am I dying?' I thought, seeing a small puddle coming from under my head. I heard frantic voices in the distance, but as I slowly closed my eyes, they grew farther and farther away. Soon, I couldn't hear them anymore.
I guess I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Claire Baron. I was fourteen years old and the top of my class, with many friends and a loving family. And I was killed in a car accident.
