She had a chance. She was Chance. --- All her life, Chance Abernathy had been bullied. From her grandmother to her classmates, there was no one who didn't. No one except her one best friend, Natalie Cadwell and her parents and aunt. Chance is afraid to tell them that she is bullied, but she knows that's the only way out. Will she tell, or will she keep her mouth zipped about her daily tortures?


7. The Pond of Tears (Part 1)

Halloween didn’t go well. You might have guessed it already, but it really didn’t go well. Despite the fact that Grandma was finally off on another vacation to Monaco, I had been in deep thought since the day with Natalie at the park. All my life, I never tried to look at people in the eye because I didn’t want to see their memories. I absolutely using my daunting, forbidding powers for anything ever. When I was younger, it was uncontrollable and regularly brought me misery in the form of a curse. But I had seen Kristy’s dream.

I had seen how frightened she was. I had seen how she knew she was doing wrong. She was afraid of Natalie finding out. She was afraid of someone standing next to me to argue it out with them. She was afraid I would tell. I knew I had to take my advantage and tell someone. While Dwayne and Kristy were almost absolutely sure I would never tell anyone, that I would always be a scared wimp, they did know the consequences of someone fighting back against them.

The day at the park changed my perspective of life, if even just a little. I started to have a feeling I thought I had lost long, long ago.






God, no.

It was hope, a halo of snow white light. It came like a faded ray- as if I had uncovered a half-dead body. I had no words for how refreshed I felt as I thought about that. My heart skipped a glorious beat. For a moment, all my scars felt like they had vanished and I was suddenly not feeling so hurt and miserable anymore. Perhaps, thought I, I had a chance. An actual chance to do something about the dark wall of tortures and secrets building around me as it built up with such reckless swiftness that it blurred my desolate mind with the speed.

With a little determination building in my shallow soul, I approached my school notebook and flipped through the pages till I found a blank page near the end. My palm enclosed upon the top and I ripped it out with a harsh split. I laid it on my closed notebook to keep balance and picked up the nearest pen I could find. And then, with the galactic-themed, blue pen between my fingers, I wrote.

I did not really have a particular idea about what I wanted to write but I knew I had to write. Writing about myself and all kinds of things that happen to me is something that actually helps clearing my head when I am with myself. I am not into writing fictional tales, though. In my opinion, the idea of myself writing about something that does not exist – and probably never will – just fails to make any sense at all. That, of course, does not mean I despise stories and storywriters. Natalie is a fiction fanatic angel but, no, that is not the reason. My perspective says that no hobby or interest is ever something that is useless. Hobbies clear the murk in our life and I appreciate every hobby.

For now, I scribbled my mind down on the blank sheet. I wrote whatever came into my bloody heart.

I have a terrible life, I wrote, and I am very aware of that. I am cursed. I am cursed with every bloody thing Heaven has to curse me with. I am bullied. I am a secretive dump. I have a Grandma who wants me to be miserable every second. I have mysteries upon mysteries raining down upon me in the form of curses – unearthly abilities that make me feel like I just don’t have a place in this world. I don’t question: why me? If anyone had to go across with what I am fraught with, it would be equally horrible for them. I think I would rather bear with this than try to pass on so evil and torturous a life.

Granted, I have a loving mum, dad and aunt. I have a sweet best friend. But, please. What else do I have? What else, but more and more horrors every day? What else, but two teenage bullies who would gladly kill me once they have the total opportunity? What else, but a Grandma who would abuse me all to her heart’s desire if I was left with her? What else, but my whole world screaming curses at me? People sniggering at my face? A school where I am looked down upon – except Natalie, but still… A diary to tell my bloody horrible life to? A mirror to stare at my wretched self daily?


I have nothing. Not enough, if not nothing.

I am cursed. Please, just understand. I am not meant to live.

I still must add, that they are afraid. Kristy and Dwayne are afraid. Out of concept, isn’t it? But this little piece of knowledge might just put me out of so much despondency. I don’t really know but, if I manage it, maybe I could tell someone something about them. Maybe they will help. Maybe Natalie will help. In Kristy’s dream, she thrashed Kristy after learning I was being bullied.

I don’t doubt she might just do that in real life. She is my heart and, if not for her, I would already have jumped in some river or you would soon have find me hanging from a dead tree, a noose around my neck. I have to thank her for being there when she is because, I swear to God, I would die if she weren’t.

She was my little angel that lit my dark world and there is so much in my life that would never be if she was not there. Please, I love her so much and I am ever thankful to her for being my friend and refusing to see the immeasurable flaws I have. I love her so much for caring for me when I desperately needed the hands of someone who would, for just once, treat me like a normal person and care for me just a little. I do love her so much for just being the perfect person she was and knowing right from wrong and just loving me like a friend.

And my family. I should love to count Grandma, but she is so coarse with me that I have no words. I would love it if she could someday tell me my flaws and the reasons she hates me so much. I would definitely do my very best to correct myself as much as I can then. I think I would feel much less hurt if she could just forgive me for any wrong I have done and give me a second chance.

But, my family, they are great guys. I love them all – yes, Grandma, too. They do support me ever so much and I always ask myself why I keep all these secrets from them. I ask why I lie so much. Indeed, secrets and lies are one of the worst things to happen if combined. I love them all so, so much. They are just so great. They are the best.

I sighed. I could feel my heart get heavy with sorrow and regret but my mind was clearing up. When I wrote, memories opened like a new wound and my shaky heart had to bear with that. Some way, I still felt like since I had let some things out, I had a lot less to carry on with. A lighter burden, I would say.

I sighed again and, at the bottom of the nearly-filled page, added my signature along with the date. Then I folded it and popped it in the inside pocket of my black hoodie. I put my notebook and pen away and got out of the room, putting on the hoodie over my white blouse as I went.

Mum was jotting down the house’s weekly bill on the desk in the verandah and she looked up from her calculations as I came down. She smiled.

“Hi, Chance.”

“Hey, Mum. Writing bills?” I smiled back.

“Yeah. Big bills this week,” she laughed, putting her pen down, “Are you going somewhere?”

I shrugged. “I’m just going for a walk near the park.”

“Oh, well. In that case, could you get me some oranges on your way back?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure. From Bedder’s?”

“Uh-huh. Here, honey, take this,” she held a twenty-dollar bill at me and I took it. “It is for the oranges,” she explained.

“I thought so,” I giggled.

She just grinned and waved at me. “Bye, baby!”

“Bye, Mum!” I smiled, kissing her cheek quickly before heading out of the house.

I shut the door with a gentle creak and made my way along the streets. As I walked, I didn’t precisely think of where I was supposed to be or where I wanted to go. Cars shot past me and horns blared in the air. Cold days like this intended to be a bit louder than the warmer ones because, I guess, everyone wanted to be done with their work before the darkness just made everything colder

I, though, didn’t mind that. Cold days absorbed my feelings so naturally that I would be glad to have a cold day any time. Warm days were all cheery but they were probably just not the type for me. Still, I walked on. My mocha heeled boots pressed against the inky black pavement and I shoved my skinny hands together behind my back. The wind blew across my slightly parted legs, making my ankle-length magenta skirt sway in soft rhythm. I had a slight flu that noon, but before leaving for her weekend shifts at a pizzeria, Carol told me that walking was a cure to minor infections such as that.

So, I probably had a reasonable excuse for staying out for long – I didn’t mean to stay out for so long, but I knew it was going to happen whether I liked it or not.

Minutes streaked by, and I finally found myself standing at the gates of the beautiful, local park. Entry to the park was free, and no checking was done at all. It was absolutely acceptable to enter whenever you liked and you just had to before ten at night. It was rumored that the park had lots of hidden CCTV cameras and any wrongdoing would be noted and the criminal would be punished. Of course, the fact that there were CCTV cameras was known but hidden? That just failed to make sense of any truth.

I gazed at the greens that ran inside the gates and eventually pushed open the gates. They groaned and creaked as I parted them and then slowly stepped inside. It was a lonely time for the park because, despite the good old autumn it was, no one was there in sight. There was a strong gust of the chilly wind and my dark hair flapped restlessly and my eyes watered without purpose.

I wanted to sit down but my heart just didn’t feel like cooperating with my bodily wants. I tried to ignore it and slumped on a bench, but I just didn’t like it even when my legs wanted some rest. I stood up again, bringing a queer, death-like warmth in my body. Internally, I wrestled with my instincts into letting me sit down but, when everything turned hopeless, I stubbornly fell back on the bench. Again, I had to stand up because I could not sit.

This anomalous routine went on for a while till my instincts defeated my physical power and I, in utter desperation, dragged myself to the pond that lay in the centre of the park. The rippling water gave me a broken reflection of my pathetic self and I shut my eyes tightly, trying to envision myself laughing and playing with flowers as Natalie played with me. Picturing myself with Natalie brought a wave of tender feelings in my heart and I felt happy tears spilling out of my icy, dark eyes. She was the only reason I even stepped outside of my house, and I could never repay her.

Exhaling with a light heart, I opened my eyes and that light heart suddenly came in my mouth. I clutched my chest and stumbled a small step back in horror.

Her face rippled with the moving water, and her hard eyes narrowed at me, the girl from the mirror glared at me from the reflection of the pond. She dressed just like me – a half-sleeved white blouse, magenta skirt, a gold-brown belt and a black hoodie to top it all. Still, her snappy features were nothing like mine and her appearance was itself the most unexpected of all.

“W-What are you… What are you doing here?” I stuttered, as she glared at me, arms crossed.

“What are you doing here?” she retorted sternly.

“I am… I am just… relaxing,” I whispered.

“Oh. Relaxing,” she nodded sarcastically with a false smile and then lashed at me again, “Do you expect me to believe you for real!? You actually think you can lie to me too?”

I shuddered. “N-no. Uh, it is not like that. I did come here to relax…”

“From what?” she snapped.

“Uh, well, lots of things…” I swallowed.

“Just answer me, and make it snappy,” she spat.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” I said quickly, “concerning… my life…”

“Your bullies, or your life as a whole?” she said, seemingly anxious for me – in a strict manner, but still anxious.

“As a whole,” I whispered, “I have been trying to find some way to let my family or Nat know that I’m… bullied…”

She frowned, “Is that so? Have you done anything yet about it in the past week? Did you even follow anything I told seven days ago?”

My silence was acknowledgement of my guilt and her eyes darkened.

“You… haven’t?” she hissed.

I gulped. “I- I didn’t have the time. I swear, I wanted to! But… I couldn’t…”

She cackled darkly.

“And, what else? Hmm? Are there any more lies you would like to tell me?”

I trembled shakily and my face flinched from seeing her stubbornly severe gaze. My feet were quivering and I feared I would lose my balance anytime. I breathed in absolute unsteadiness while dry tears pricked my eyes.

“What are you?” I exhaled with shaking lips, looking at her in fear.

She raised her eyebrows and then dropped them into tilted lines to accompany her thin, constricted eyes.

“Let’s just say I am someone who wants to help you. Someone you don’t want to listen, I guess.”

“I do want to listen!” I cried, bursting into unwelcomed tears. The girl didn’t give any of her spiteful remarks but waited and watched with a set face. Saliva dribbled on my lower lip and I shivered as I cleaned it with my sleeve, still choking back dry sobs. It took me a minute to settle myself down and I dared myself to make eye contact with the girl yet again. I swallowed as soon as my eyes fell on the heaving pond.

She sighed and clicked her tongue dismissively at me.

“What was the reason?” was the first thing that escaped her wet, pink lips.

I quavered and whispered, “W-what?”

“Why did you cry?”

I gave a slight shrug, clasping my hands in front of my chest tightly. “I- I don’t know,” I whispered almost inaudibly.

“I thought not,” she snapped the very second I had spoken.

Helplessly, I looked at her and I could see the hardness on her face and the vibes of an upcoming lecture on her tongue. Immediately, she lashed at me – in a dark manner.

“Do you want to know something, Chance? Do you want to know something really horrendous about yourself?” she spat, eyeing me wildly.

I shook my head at once. Whatever she had to tell me was not nice and I did not want to know.       

Mercy glimmered on her face for barely a second and I ran the pink tip of my tongue over my bottom lip, staring in silence. I was well aware that her question was merely rhetoric and my refusal was not going to make a difference towards her mind. If she felt like saying it, no one could make her do otherwise.

Her lips tinted a forbidding, but stunning, brick red parted and her eyes became dark and hollow in unforgiving truth.

“You are going to die,” she whispered – in a manner that almost seemed that she was terrified.

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