Olive Music

November 7, 2011

Filed under: Uncategorized —— oliviaacevedo @ 11:32 pm

I was only fourteen when I died. I used to think I was immune to all the crazy things I heard about on the news. Clearly I was wrong.

I was your typical wounded fourteen-year-old. My parents abandoned me before I can even remember, I had been a foster child my entire life. The only thing I knew was running away from my so-called “homes”, fighting with my so-called “parents” and being thrown into some other stranger’s care.

I met my best friend on one of the many nights I had decided to run away again. My foster dad came home and headed straight to the bathroom to hit the needle, as usual foster mom went ballistic. I was no where near prepared for another night of screaming and broken furniture so I climbed out my window with no intentions of returning anytime soon…or at all. I walked to the little kiddy park a few blocks down and sat on the swings until the sun came up. Around five in the morning I figured I should probably leave the area before my foster parents realized I was gone. Walking out of the park a guy around sixteen or seventeen came up and asked me for a light. Human interaction never really was my thing so I dismissed him pretty rudely. Didn’t stop him from following me down the block trying to get my name though. I wasn’t in the mood to fight him so I let him strike up his conversation. Turns out he was a foster kid and he was running from an insane family too. He was like an open book this kid; I’d never met anyone so eager to talk. I can’t lie though it was a bit refreshing having someone I didn’t have to explain myself to what with foster parents always asking, “What’s wrong? Why are you so quiet? Don’t you like your new home?”

We walked around aimlessly for a while, he told me about his crazy religious foster parents who spoil him to no end because they think he’s the messiah or some shit. They cry when he acts out and then force him to go to church the next day. He got arrested for possession a couple of times, they told him he needs to repent and the only high he should be feeling is from the love of God. Nutcases apparently. So I told him about my drug addicted foster father and my psychotic foster mom. That’s not something I normally share with complete strangers, or anyone for that matter but I was oddly comfortable around him. I felt sane for the first time in a long time.

We walked and talked until it started to get dark again. It was around five in the evening when we realized neither one of us had eaten yet so he took me to a cute little cafe. He was a sweet kid, didn’t let me pay for a thing. Eventually he said he had to go home or his parole officer would have his ass. Earlier that day I had no intentions of going back to that hellhole but he convinced me. Something about him made me need him, and I felt like he needed me too. It was the start of a not so beautiful friendship.

I hadn’t realized how far we had gotten from home, turns out he only lived a few blocks from my hellhole. We took a short cut through an alley I was always too afraid to go through alone. The alley was a hell of a lot longer than it looked, I was starting to get nervous. Shit really hit the fan when some creepy older dude popped out of nowhere and started whispering to me about how sexy I was and how I should let him take me home. I didn’t have to think twice after that, I broke into a run followed by my newfound friend until we saw the streetlights. Once we caught our breath, we both bust out laughing. I think it was the best laugh I’d ever had in my life. Little did we know…

I completely regretted my decision to come back home after an hour or so, more yelling, fighting, questioning. Normally I’d just leave again but I couldn’t abandon the only friend I’ve really had. He said he’d see me tomorrow and for some reason I believed him…his promise kept me going. So I sucked it up, went to my room and ignored the noise.

I sat staring out the window for hours daydreaming about what my life would be like if my biological parents loved me enough to keep me, or at least make an attempt to find me now. I wondered what they looked like; did I look more like my mother or my father? Did they love each other more than they loved me? Are the still together, happy with a family that never included me?

Movement outside my window interrupted my thoughts. Eagerly hoping it was the boy I’ve become so familiar with so quickly, I walked to the window but the person was gone as abruptly as it came. This eerie feeling came over me sending a shiver down my spine, but I chalked it up to exhaustion and went to bed. Mistake number one.

The next day was Saturday; I didn’t get a number or anything so I didn’t know how he expected to get in touch with me but it didn’t take long to find out. I woke up to the doorbell ringing and my foster mom yelling up the stairs for me. I was too disoriented to wonder who was at the door being that I had just woken up but as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs I was wide-awake. There he was, smiling his huge smile in the most obnoxiously charming way possible. I had never been so glad to see someone at the door.

This happened every Saturday morning for the next couple of weeks. He was the best friend I always wanted; I wasn’t my normal cynical self around him. I was happy. I was naïve. Some weekdays he’d come pick me up from school and we’d walk around and talk for a while. One Friday after school, I can’t remember the date, it was getting dark and I noticed a man walking close behind us. I didn’t pay him any mind though, I felt safe with my best friend next to me. I can’t say that I regret trusting him so much… but I do regret not trusting my better judgment when I was with him.

It was getting dark and we were on our way home when I saw the same man walking towards us from up ahead. I didn’t think it was odd until I recognized him as the man we had run into in the alley way the first night we met… the same man, I realized, who was standing outside my window that night. It occurred to me that my friend probably hadn’t made the same connection I did. I didn’t know what to think. The man was to close he’d be able to hear me if I said anything. So we kept walking… I stopped breathing.

Next thing I knew I was on the ground, my friend looking down at me with regret in his eyes. A blow to the face and everything went dark. Next thing I knew I was laying on the cold ground in the dark with a swollen face. The realization of the fact that my new best friend had betrayed me hit me harder than the blow to my face. I was disappointed in him, but more in myself for being so stupid. I was so numb I couldn’t even cry…I was scared out of my mind but I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t believe I had let this happen to myself. I didn’t matter to me that he seemed to regret his decision to set me up I hated him. I was too angry to feel anything else.

The second I decided he was the biggest piece of shit I had ever come across in my entire fourteen years of life, the door opened and a light came from the top of the stairs. I forgot about my anger and damn near pissed myself with fear. I couldn’t move. Even if I could, there was nowhere to go. I was trapped, all because I trusted this idiot boy. Flashes of fear and anger as I heard someone climbing down the stairs. Two sets of footsteps. Was that fucking traitor there too? I should kill him. Why me man, why fucking me?! Someone’s crying. What the hell is going on? Halfway down the stairs the footsteps stopped and I saw the silhouette of a person being thrown down the stairs. The other set of feet went back up the stairs and slammed the door shut.

It was him; a rush of simultaneous relief and disgust overcame my whole body. I suddenly found my legs, stood up and started throwing anything I could find at the boy who made me trust him. He stood there silently taking all my blows until I paused long enough to let him explain.

He told me he and the mystery man had been working together for a while; his job was to lure young girls like me into his home. After that he hadn’t the slightest idea what the man did with them, he was being paid generously so he never asked questions until now. He had gotten too attached to me, he questioned the man and followed him home until the man got fed up and threw him in the basement with me.

I was fuming. I couldn’t believe he was giving me an apology speech when we were both locked in a goddam basement. But I was glad I wasn’t alone…partially because he made me feel safe, mostly because I’m an idiot. I forgave him because for once in my life I couldn’t be self-absorbed. No matter who’s fault it was, we were in this mess together and we needed each other. There was no sense in being angry with him, especially when I saw how scared he was for not only himself but me too. I could see how sorry he was in his eyes and I couldn’t hold it against him, not in a situation like this.

The door opened and we both reached for the other’s hand. I don’t remember much after that besides watching the mystery man slit my best friend’s throat and chop him into pieces. Then it was my turn…I was frozen. I let the man have his way with me and then I was dead.

Now here I am, the ghost of girl who watched her best friend die before meeting the same fate, waiting for my chance at revenge against the man who killed me.

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5 Responses to “”

  1.   erin Says:

    hey haha i had to come home and read/comment your story. at first i was like who is this guy? and okay i understand, its the speakers best friend. i like that theres a little background given about the foster parents and about her personality. it fits well that she isnt a people person and hates life. you kept the naive, young voice and i think thats really important. i kind of hate her but im so freaking curious how she died and stuff. i like the way she is speaking, laid back and young, even casual for a not so casual situation-i wonder who she is speaking to. little did they know what? i need to know haha. you already know i really dig your story and i cant wait to continue reading it… just tell me what happens haha

  2.   Pru Says:

    I want to know what happens!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!I want to know how she dies too! Love the friendship that is being created! Write more!

  3.   Julie Says:

    I really like your story so far. The beginning really captured my attention because I was once 14 and thought I was invincible as well. Also, the ending definitely left me wanting to know what’s going to happen. Can’t wait to see what you come up with!

  4.   jenny abeles Says:

    Hi Olive. You’ve done much here that effectively sets up the suspense of the story, as your peers have registered in their comments. The opening line is killer, completely contrary to how tension is traditionally created in a story. Usually we are compelled to hope to the second that the protagonist will survive, and here you’ve erased that hope from the very beginning, wch means you have other plans for getting your reader emotionally involved in the story. You must be very careful not to give too much away about the circumstances of her death, make us think, guess, wonder, and hope in other ways. For example, we kind of like her new bf, so we hope he’s not the killer; if he is, don’t give it away–shock us.

    There’s much emotional truth in this story, and your narrator is definitely the linch-pin, the important crux around which everything else revolves, so spend time with her, crafting her and making her real. The more involved we become in the labyrinth of her fictional soul, the more effective this story will be.

    Like the others, I can’t wait to see what happens, either! Keep writing!

  5.   jenny abeles Says:

    Interesting, Olive–are you finished with it? The way you’ve ended it allows you to continue should you choose with a revenge plot, or leave it as a bittersweet (mostly bitter) ending. If you are still revising for the portfolio, I recommend keep attending to and refining this character ala my statement above. do you have any questions for your readers about this?

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