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~Love to be Damned: Chapter Three
The thought had chilled me. High School started Monday. Summer vacation was fun, but I’d wished for it to end, for I had nothing to do but spend time with family that doesn’t even like me. Pointless, but whatever. School will start up and then I’ll be fine, Not! I have to deal with all of those big and tall popular people that walk all over you. Anyway, my name Is Jasmine Quianna Reeves. I’m your average soon to be freshman, and things have always been better, but they will never be that way again. I’m fourteen years old and strange things happen to me all the time, but the more I say it, the worse it gets.
I awak from my dreaming and walk dowstairs. Thetrophy case is toppled over, but everything that was in it seems to be in perfect shape. I life the large case up against the wall and put evreything in the same exact place it had been, ignoring the oddity of the unharmed items. It doesn’t take me long, but I haven’t eaten since this morning, so I make my way towards the kitchen. I help myself to attempt a fruit salad with the strawberries, grapes, and kiwifruit we have left, paying special attention to the knife as I cut the tops from the strawberries, remembering what happened last year.
Independence Day, 2007. Mom and dad are outside on the back deck, while John was out front playing with his friends. I was inside, for the bright summer sun had bothered me a little. I was in the kitchen cutting strawberry tops, and I cut meself. It was no ordinary cut, for I couldn’t feel it. The blood wouldn’t stop, and neither could my screaming. The next thing I knew, a shadow came and everything went dark. The darkness disappeared and right there in front of me, a gorgeous boy appeared, about my age. He waved his hand over my injured one, and it was fixed completely. I felt nothing, and not even a scratch was on it, except… a cresent moon shape.
That cresent moon shape has been there ever since. The strange thing is, ever since we moved here, it seemed… brighter. It’s hard to explain, but it was never the color it is now. I never told mom, dad, or John, and nobody even heard my screaming. I wonder everyday, “Will I ever see him again?” I desperately want to thank him, but for what exactly? He waves a hand, smiles at me, and leaves. What do I tell him? “Oh gee thanks for doing some superstitious voodoo on me and leaving,” Wrong! The point is, ill never see him again; it all happened last year! The confusion of my mind startles me and I immediately drop the knife on the counter. “No stress,” I whisper to myself. There’s nothing important to freak out that much for. Why do I worry so much anyway? I resume with my mid-day dessert and flick on the old, but tolerable television.
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