Glass


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1. The First Day Of The Rest Of My Life

 

The rocks on my driveway crunched and crackled as my car rolled over them. The sky was dark, only a few stars twinkling. The moon was out and high in the sky. I heard my dogs barking and saw them running up to the my car. I couldn’t see the, clearly though. Yes, I was drunk again. But I have a good reason this time. It was the anniversary of my brothers death. Twenty-four years old when he died. That was two years ago, and I’ve been in trouble ever since. He was my best friend. The only one who stood up for me. Even though we were home-schooled, I was still bullied in our small village. Now that he’s gone, I’m and alcoholic, a smoker, a cutter, and only 18. But I have a dream.

Yes, even the ones with the most screwed up minds, a dark side, can have a dream. I want to be a photographer. I know it sounds kind of corny and original, but I have a talent for it. Billy always said I needed to get out of this town and show people what I am capable of. I don’t see that happening any time soon. I still have to take care of my mother, now that my father is in Iraq. He’s been gone four years. He was there when Billy died. He hasn’t been home since.

But I don’t miss him. As bad as that sounds, I have a good reason for it. My father never wanted a daughter. He thinks I am a curse to this family. So he treated me like a boy. When I was 12, I was put to work. I was doing everything my brother did, especially fixing up the old mustang. He expected so much from me, that I often failed him, He bullied me, called me names, and never made me feel wanted. That was when I began cutting. August 4, 2008, when I turned 14, I used the blade for the first time. Now I’m addicted, and its my only friend. Billy and I were the only kids in the village other than Tim and Jamie, who live two miles away. But we didn’t like associating with them because they were rude.

I had been young at the time and didn't know what they were saying, but when Billy explained it to me, I barely ate for a month. I am actually afraid to eat now, and don't have more than a couple of slices of bread a day. I know I’m being ridiculous, and that I shouldn't listen to them, but at such a young age, I guess you could say I was scared to eat.

Now I don't want to bore you with my pathetic life, but you are going to listen anyways. Why? Because you are like a sponge. You absorb everything you can and the let it all out. You don't really want to know about me, but I guess you will anyways. Now, my life isn't anywhere near normal. We only have heat working sometimes, disgusting running water, not a lot of electricity, which means no TV, computers, phones, or even a radio. I don’t use the radio in my car, the mustang that me and Billy fixed, because it was the only piece of the car we couldn’t fix. 

I sighed and slowly brought my car to a halt in front of the house . It was nothing spectacular at all. It wasn't beautiful or anything, and actually looks abandoned. But I knew my mother would be sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for my drunken ass to arrive home. I knew I was letting her down, but I knew I couldn't even stop if I wanted to. My dogs were barking outside of my car, and it was getting quite annoying. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to get the noise out of my head, but it wasn’t going to work. I clumsily opened the door and slid out into the warm night. Rose,http://weheartit.com/entry/35895263/via/LittlegCoco came up to me first, just like she always does. She was my favorite to photograph, especially when we were at the beach. 

Duke on the other hand, was howling and jumping around. He was a mastiff, and WAY too big to be playing around like his is now. Along with Rex. Him and Duke were best friends and were always intimidating, http://weheartit.com/entry/35389967/via/MarydJaspe, no matter where they were. Then theres Shep. My wonderful sheepdog. Always so mellow and calm, but ferocious to strangers. He was a good dooby too http://weheartit.com/entry/35234358/via/DaisyInTheWind (The one in the back, not the Shepherd.). They were my guinea pigs. The one I take pictures of. I needed to practice on something, right?

I wobbled to the front door of my shack of a house, opening the door slowly. The kitchen light was on, my mother sitting at the table. She always waited for me whenever I went out for more than a pint. But today, I was hurting. A picture of my brother sat in front of her, tears in her eyes. She usually didn't cry for Billy. She loved him like crazy, but she never cried. I couldn't understand why she was so upset now. Soft footsteps came down the stairs to my room. I looked at the staircase to see my very best friend. He was my orange tabby cat. His name was Oliver, and he literally reads my mind, and attempts to make me feel better http://weheartit.com/entry/38865016/via/Keff. He follows me everywhere I go, unless I take the car. Then, he’d watch me from the window until I left completely. He would always be waiting for me when I got home.

I sighed and sat down at the table across from my mother. She looked up at me, nothing but pity in her eyes. I had to look away from her, and pull my sweatshirt sleeves down more. I know what I am doing is wrong, but I’m hurting, and its the only thing keeping me alive. I looked back up at her when she placed the picture frame down.

“Theresa. You cant keep doing this.” I hated that name. Ever since my father made fun of it, I couldn’t stand it.

“It’s TJ, mother. I can do whatever I please. I’m 18, and really shouldn’t be living her. But I’m stuck taking care of you.”

“Is that why you’re still here? To take care of me? I think its me taking care of you Ther-”

“I’m only here because you cant seem to take care of yourself! I had a dream, you know! Billy said I should go and do it! But I don’t see that hap-” I was cut off by the sickening words that were whispered out of her mouth. I looked into her swollen, red-rimmed, brown eyes with horror.

“You’re fathers dead.” She scooted her chair back harshly, standing up. Tears slipped down my cheeks as a crazy, maniacal laugh escaped my mouth, choked with sobs. I stood up and walked to the cabinet, grabbing the last bottle of Jack Daniels. I unscrewed the top, taking a long swig. 

“I’m sorry mom.” I said, a tortured smile on my face. I knew I was losing it. I couldn’t think straight with the new alcohol in my system. She looked at me with pity and sadness.

“I don’t want your pity.” I muttered as I walked past her and up to my room. Two deaths. Two years. Same date. My life was a living hell, and I couldn’t get out. I climbed the old and creaky stairs to my bedroom. I needed out, and I needed it now. But I couldn’t leave my mother, not now that we are both emotionally unstable. I lay down on my musty bed, Oliver hopping up next to me. I took another drink out of the bottle and placed it on my windowsill. I grabbed my cigarette box and slid one of those cancer sticks out. I regretted doing this every time, but I do it anyways. I lit the flame on my lighter and stuck the cigarette in. When the intoxicating scent filled my nose, I knew I’d e able to forget. Forget about everything. I had to torture myself tonight. I needed to. It just felt so...Right. My brother was dead, and now my father. How could my life get any worse? 

How can it get better?

Stupid voice. Always trying to get me to fix my life. Oliver’s gaze pierced into mine as I got up from the bed. He had been staring at me the whole night. I took another drink from the bottle. It was almost gone. That would be the sixth bottle this month. I new I was running dry, but living in poverty doesn’t help. Even having an $800 camera, that was sent from my Aunt in Quebec, has its ways. I used to think of selling it, but the thought of what Billy would think, always stopped me. I rummaged through my desk drawer, looking for my best friend. The one who took my pain away. My razor.

I sighed with a mix of emotions when I picked it up in my small, thin, pasty white hand. I sat on the edge of my bed, cigarette hanging out the side of my mouth. The whiskey bottle was on the window cill again. Oliver stared at me as I lowered the glimmering razor blade. I put it against my skin, the skin tearing as I applied pressure. Blood welled from the cut, the crimson liquid running down my pale arm. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Instead, I took the whiskey bottle from the window, and splashed some of it onto the cut, watching it bubble, and feeling the uncontrollable sting. Instead of crying like I usually would, I tilted my head back, taking the cigarette out of my mouth, letting a stream of smoke out into the room, and laughing. I laughed because of the pain. I laughed because of the deaths. I laughed because I knew I was never getting my life back.

 

I woke up to the sound of dogs barking downstairs. I sat up too fast and quickly regretted it. I had a splitting head ache, an empty whiskey bottle by my side, a burnt out cigarette on the floor. Oliver was giving me a disapproving look from the end of my bed. He was laying there, just relaxing. Stupid cat. Always thinking he can do what he wants. I sighed and rolled out of my bed, feeling a layer of dirt on my skin. I shuddered. I went to my dresser and grabbed some clothes. I walked out to my shower and turned on the rusty pipes, watching the water color change from brown to...almost clear. Its gross, I know, but I need to get relatively clean. I stripped down quickly and hopped into the already cooling water. I quickly scrubbed my body and hair, just as the water turned deathly cold. I shivered and finished up before jumping out and grabbing a thin, ratty towel.

I quickly walked back to my room and dropped the towel. I closed my door and grabbed my clothes. I flung on my tank top and long sleeved shirt, along with my denim shorts. I quickly rubbed down my hair in the towel, not even bothering with the old and almost broken hair dryer. I was going to let my hair air dry, just like I usually do http://s2.favim.com/orig/37/beautiful-brunette-fashion-girl-pretty-girl-Favim.com-304214.jpg. I sighed and went to go and hang my towel up in the bathroom. Once I did, I headed downstairs for my ‘breakfast’. I heard a soft thump in my bedroom and knew right away that Oliver was following me. I headed into the kitchen to find my mother already sitting there with a cup of sludgy coffee. We didn't have any coffee supplies, so we had to ground our own coffee beans. It tasted awful, but my mom still drank it. I smiled at her as I went for the cupboard. Wait...Did I just...SMILE?! I widened my eyes, but went for the bread anyways, pulling out a slice. 

I folded it in half and took a bite, wishing I would eat real food already. See, some people are mute and want to speak. I’m starved and want to eat. Its the same concept, but I just don’t have a reason to eat, other than to live, which isn’t much. I sighed and sat down at the table, chewing slowly on my bread. Oliver was rubbing at my feet, wanting to be fed. I sighed and ate the last of my crust before getting up to the cat food. I scooped out a cup and put it in Oliver’s bowl. He happily trotted over and munched on the dry kibble. Ew. That stuff was naaasty.

I sat back at the table, my mother reading the paper. She seemed different today. The house felt lighter and the air wasn’t filled with dirt. She looked at me from over her newspaper. I started drumming on the table with my fingers and looked around the kitchen. Nothing had changed. So why did today feel so weird?! I sighed again and watched Oliver eat his food. He seemed so...calm. I stood up from the table, but was stopped by my mother’s words. 

“Pack your things.” She said quiet and nonchalantly. I turned to face her, a confused expression on my face.

“What?” She sighed and put down her newspaper. She uncrossed her legs and stood up, walking over to me and putting her hands on my shoulders.

“Your brother was right. You don’t belong here. You belong out there. I want you to pack your things, and get out of here. You need to. I want to see you successful. I want to see you happy for once TJ. I really do. I’m giving you permission.” 

I had tears in my eyes. She wanted me happy. She wanted me to leave. But could I? Could I really just up and leave the place that I was born? Of course you can. The voice in my head stated. I looked down to my left to see Oliver sitting on his haunches, his tail tucked over his paws. His green gaze was fixed on me. I looked back at my mother. We both had smiles on our faces. I bent down and hugged her since I was a couple inches taller than her. We stayed like that for a good minute. She pulled back and kissed my cheek.

“I love you, honey.” 

“I love you too, mom.” I said truthfully. I stood up straight and quickly walked up the stairs back to my room. This was the last time I would see this room.I wasn’t hesitating, I was leaving today.

 

I quickly threw all of my clothes into a couple of trash bags. I didn’t have any suitcases, and these would fit in the trunk better. I then moved on to the bed sheets and my girl essentials. I packed up at least 5 trash bags of all my stuff. I through them one by one down the stairs. I grabbed two loaves of bread and went out to my car. Oliver followed behind me, clearly interest in what was going on. I stuffed the bread and trash bags in the trunk and closed the hatch. I walked back to the house and into the kitchen. I heard my mom in her room above the kitchen.

I went under the cabinet and pulled out the cat food. I grabbed Oliver’s food dishes and went back to my car, putting it on the floor in the back. I went into the old garage and brought out Oliver’s crate, putting it in the passenger seat. I went to go collect my cat, but my mother stopped me.

“I have some money for you. Its not a lot, but it will get you some where to stay.” I glanced down at the wad of cash in her hand. Holy crap...

“Five grand?! Where the hell did you get five grand?!” I was stunned. How did she get all this money?!

“I was saving it for your AAA meetings, but I think this is more important.” She was going to send me where...? I bent down and hugged her tightly. I couldn’t believe she was doing this for me. I went and grabbed Oliver, walking him out to the car and putting him in his crate. My mother followed me out. When I turned around, her face was firm. I could tell she was trying not to cry. She had to be strong, for her own sake. I kissed her on the cheek, thanked her again, said ‘I love you’, and hopped into my car. I turned the key, starting the ignition, and slowly pulled out of the driveway.

I looked in my rearview mirror, spotting my camera case in the back seat. I couldn’t wait to be out of this awful village. I turned onto the main road and down the main road. I would have turned on the radio, but I couldn’t. I hadn’t heard music since Christmas, which was almost a year ago. I wanted so badly to hear it. To see what new music I could listen to. To see whats hot this month as apposed to last month. I had only heard Christmas music in all the years that I can remember. Have you ever gone a long period of time without music? A phone? A TV? Or the internet? I have. And its not fun. My mustang http://weheartit.com/entry/18933107/via/dallongrrrlxx7 rumbled through town, on my way to the highway.

I was doing it. I was actually doing it. I was getting away from this dreaded place I used to call home. I was getting away and I was going to start a new life. I was heading to the one place I knew I could go.

I was going to London.

 

I had no where to go. I was lost, but all I knew was that the scenery was beautiful. Yes, I had pulled onto the shoulder of the highway to take pictures of the scenery. I had no sense of direction and was driving aimlessly. I had no place to stay and was planning on sleeping in my car tonight. Oliver had been meowing for the past ten minutes and I knew he had to do his business.

“Just a little bit farther, Olly. We’ll be somewhere soon.” He calmed down a little when I started driving again. I needed to get to a rest stop soon. I was getting tired, and it was slowly getting dark outside. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer. But the thought of being free from the hell hole where I grew up in, kept me going. Oliver’s constant meowing made me wish my radio worked. I frustratingly groaned. I put my blinker on and pulled over to the right. I unlatched Oliver’s crate and took him out, holding him against my chest as I stepped out of the car. I walked over to the woods and plopped him on the ground. He went over to some leaves and did his business. When he was done, he came back to me and we headed for the car. I waited for a gap in the traffic before getting back in the car, Oliver jumping in first, and driving off. A huge yawn escaped my mouth. There was a sign for a rest stop a half a mile up the highway. I needed sleep, and I needed it now.

I weaved in and out of traffic before I pulled into the rest stop. I looked at the clock on the not so working radio. It read 9:30. I had been driving for about 9 and a half hours. Holy. Hell. I stretched my arms as I turned the car off. I reclined the seat and grabbed a sweatshirt from the back. I spread it over my body as I let Oliver out of his crate. He snuggled up to my chest, his body heat keeping me warm. I smiled and buried my face in the crook of my arm. 

But before I fell asleep, I thought of everything imaginable. My mother, my father, my brother, my one aunt, no cousins, my dogs, Oliver, the home I left behind, the home I hope to find soon, what music sounds like, how TV’s work, if I’ll get a cell phone now, if I will find some friends, if I’ll ever see Billy again, and last but not least; What the person that is perfect for me is doing right now. This put a smile on my face, and a quick pace to my heart, trying to picture what he looks like, or if he’s even out there.

 

I woke up sore and tired. Its kind of hard sleeping next to a highway in a car. Not the best decision in my life, but oh well. The separation between me and alcohol was making me a little irritable. I wish I grabbed a bottle of anything, but I guess that wouldn't be safe while driving. I woke Oliver up with a poke on the head and reached for my old purse. Lying in there was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I lit one and put it in my mouth, before putting my seat up and starting the car. Oliver could wait for his food just like I had to. I took a drag and rolled down my window, letting the smoke drift out. The morning air was brisk, but warm. I pulled out of the rest stop at around 6:30 and headed for where ever I was going. I was hoping I would end up in London, but I wasn’t so sure. I knew now that I had more daylight and time for mistakes. I just wanted to make it there so I could find a place to live, a job, and more than 5 grand to depend on. Because even though I could be minutes away from a new start, today was the first day of the rest of my life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I’m a little disappointed. I don't want to seem selfish, but I’ve noticed people have unhearted on Moment In Time, just because it ended.

I’m sorry you wanted a sequel and for the story not to end, but they all have to sometime.

Good things always come to an end, no matter what.

So please, don't think anything less of me, or the story, I worked hard on it.

But anyways, how was the first chapter of Glass?

I really want to kick this story off, but its going to take a while for the lovey dovey stuff.

Sorry 

I love you my little nubs 

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