I Had A Part To Play Too

I've been called a lot of things before. Such as Girlfriend, Baby, Girl. Especially since I became an inspiration for a song. It's like, nearly 35 years old now, but I remember it clear as day. The nicknames are so well-used, that I don't even know my real name anymore. I know what you're thinking. "How can someone forget their own name?" Well...put it this way. I never did see that car coming. Being a ghost and all is ok-ish, until recently this year. Some little punk thinks he can just write a retaliation, just like that. Well, I got news for him. Both the guys had their points of views heard, but what about mine? After all, I was there, and that little prick wasn't. I'll get my point of view heard, and hit back.

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1. My Last Memory

I know I was a bad person, deep down. Don't get me wrong, I didn't kill anyone, steal anything (well, technically not, if you don't count stealing two guys hearts at once) or anything really bad, but I was a rebel.

I didn't care what my parents said about my life and how I lived it, or what anyone said about me. I was my own person, through and through. It was a fight with them that got me like this, over the stupidest thing ever. My earrings, or rather, that I could wear them.

Both my parents despised piercings of any sort, including ear piercing. They despised what I was like though, so it was nothing new. Yeah, so what if I wore makeup? Every girl did. Same with a boyfriend. Every girl at my tender age of 20 had one. Well, to be fair, I had 2, but they didn't know that.

It was through my 2 lovers that I became a muse. Well, mainly the second one. He'd known about the other one before, and only just told me I could have one boyfriend. We'd argued about it, he'd threatened to blackmail me with some old letters (and I mean the sealed-with-more-than-a-loving-kiss, the kinda things I'd do to you when we're alone, sort of letters), and I had a right go at him. Somehow, and don't ask me how, it had all gotten recorded. The song was released, and I even got a personal letter of thanks for having such a loud argument and inspiring love life.

Not long after that, came the last fight. I'd planned to go out with my second lover, and I was so buzzing about it. I'd come downstairs all done up, with not a hair loose from my high ponytail, and my brand new poodle skirt pleated to perfection, when one of my parents, and it gets hazy over which, noticed me. Or, more accurately, noticed what was dangling from my earlobes.

I'd pierced my ears ages before, and just worn the smallest studs possible, so they wouldn't attract attention. As it was a proper party we were going to, I thought I'd add some jazz. A tiny vinyl disk with label, about an inch in diameter, hung from my earlobes. Way to piss off the parents.

The fight is very hazy, but I remember a few things from it. I'd taken my hot pink cross-body purse off the coat rack in the hall, put it on, and gotten out the front door, when my father had grabbed me by the wrist. I'd torn away from him, and ran down the path to our house.

I was telling myself "Get across the road!" and had just gotten onto the road, when there's a shout from behind me. I can't tell if it's a wordless shout, or my name being called. I get to the centre of the road, when there's these two bright, white lights, a loud squeal of brakes, I scream, there's a very loud bang, and that's it.

I'm gone, just like that. No whooshing down a long tunnel, or a long, meaningful chat with some guy in robes. I'm just, gone.

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