writersstuckinabox

[writersstuckinabox]

Inevitability

I woke up and got ready for the day, like any other day; except today wasn't a normal day. Of course, I didn't know this; not yet. People don't exactly know when their day will be off schedule; even just a little bit, and it makes their day completely turn around. Usually it's something bad, but sometimes it could be really good. Although, it's rarely ever good. So, I woke up like any other day: I got dressed, ate my breakfast, and walked to school.

 I saw a few friends before school and decided to talk to them before school started. We were usually the outcasts of the school. Never really fit in. It's not like we got made fun of, but we also weren't left alone. There was no specific group to fit us in, we weren't diverse either. So, as a compromise, we were just called "weird." I wouldn't say it fits, but most do. My friends and I talked about a bunch of random things. One boy joked about a school shooter today while the rest of us laughed. We went on the topic of "if there was a school shooter" and who it would be. Some of us thought it would be this popular boy with anger issues, and a couple joked it would be one of the most normal kids in the school. No one's as normal or perfect as they seem and we all knew that. I took it into perspective and thought about it seriously. Not serious to the point that I would think someone would actually shoot up the school, but serious enough to have a debate. When I was going to bring up who I thought would be the school shooter, the bell rang and my friends rushed off to their lockers and then class. The discussion was over. Although despite that, I had a strong feeling I knew who would be the school shooter. It would happen eventually. Eventually, but not today. Or so I told myself.

 I walked off to my locker and took my things out of my book bag and put them in my locker, then proceeded to put my soccer and book bags in my locker. I grabbed a binder and folder I may need for my first period and walked to that class. The class wasn't very interesting today. All we did was listen to the teacher talk before the bell rang. It was some lecture nothing to do with English; instead, it focused on how our safety is of the utmost importance. It's above anything else. It seemed many students didn't believe him, although no one noticed their obvious expressions when they see a liar, though try to hide it. The bell rang and we went to the next class.

 During lunch, I noticed everyone's confused murmurs. Most students talking about worst-case scenarios, even most teachers are on the confused side. I walked to the lunch table with my trey in hand and noticed only two of my friends are there. The rest left and I was left even more confused. When I sat down, Alexa got my attention. "People think there's a school shooting, today," she mentioned. I looked at her and shook my head, finding it unlikely. Then, the more I thought about it-- "You've been really spaced out today. What's wrong?" Bryan asked. I shook my head and replied. "Just lost in thought."  He nodded and went back to eating and talking to Alexa about the oddities of the school today. I listened in as per usual. There was nothing much to say, in my opinion. I had a bad feeling about today and wished I could just leave campus, but I couldn't. Strict school rules, and all. I'm pretty sure we're also on lock down. I had many questions, but did nothing to answer them. I just waited and listened in to conversations. Hear the latest rumors and pick apart flaws with them. I combined some and tampered a bit with words, but none sounded right as none usually do. I waited it out to see what the answer truly was, knowing I'd get it one way or another.

 Which I was too stupid to figure out I shouldn't have waited, and instead should have done something about it.

 As I was walking out, a guy in front of me was stalling a bit and waiting around, despite teachers insisting he go to class. If not, he'd be late. He didn't care and neither did I. I saw it as normal teenager behavior. He was the rebellious type, after all. Though, I never thought of him to misbehave. I've known him for years and had a crush on him for a little less than that. Which is why I should have paid more attention to warning number two.

 Warning number three came and went too fast. All I heard was a scream. My eyes widened and I turned around to find a safe place. With all the suspicion, I doubt that was just a normal misbehaving teenager scream. Before I could run, I felt a hard object hit the back of my head with increasing then decreasing pain as the room went black.

 When I woke up, my hands were tied behind my back and I was on a chair in a cold room. My hands felt like they were against a pole. When I opened my eyes, the place was dark. So dark that I forgot I opened my eyes and tried opening them again. I was confused for a bit until a blinding light shone in the room, forcing me to squeeze my eyes tight. "Open your eyes," I heard a familiar voice say. I attempted, not wanting to make things worse on myself. The light wasn't too bright after a while, in fact it was a dim light. I looked around and saw myself in a basement, then looked in front of myself and saw someone just as familiar as the voice.

 "Daniel?" My cracked voice asked. He stared at me in response to my curiousness. He looked just as curious, possibly because he wanted to know how I knew his name... when he had a mask on. My eyes widened and I looked down to my lap in embarrassment. "How do you know my name?" He asked. I stayed silent. He walked closer. "How," he shouted. "do you know my name?" He asked again, no longer shouting. "I recognized your voice," I said in response as I looked up at him with confidence. He furrowed his eyebrows, knowing it was a lie. After all, he only ever talked once or twice in class. No one recognized his voice, although it was familiar to all who knew him. He knew that. He made sure it was that way. Truth was, I watched him so much I had gotten used to his body type.

 I stayed in the basement a couple more days. He fed me and made sure I wasn't too skinny. He once let me pick my meal and drink. He also gives me water every few hours. I didn't know what he was doing, and I couldn't tell if his intentions were good or bad. I'm a good judge of character, but he's tough to see through. That's what made me originally interested in him and that's what's keeping me interested in him despite this. Despite all of it. I know I should keep self-control, but I can't seem to.  He came into the basement and stood in front of me. After I figured out who he was, he stopped wearing his mask. He sat down where he was standing and looked me in the eyes. I was confused for a moment, but then he spoke,

 "To keep you updated, nobody's worried about you except your friends. They're the only one's looking, but I doubt they'd ever find you." This seemed to come out of nowhere, so I was a bit confused. Then, he stood up and started to untie me. "But, they will see you. At school." "You're taking me to school?" I asked. "Hurry, or we'll be late," he said, then paused. "But pretend this never happened." I nodded in response, but it never stopped my confusion. What was he planning?

 I got to school and approached my friend group. They seemed excited and then worried. I assured them that I was fine, but they didn't believe me. I wouldn't either, if I were them. I went through my classes and no one seemed to notice or care I was back. The school was safe and fine, so it must have only been me that was attacked. On my way to lunch, I got pulled to the side by Daniel who took me to the janitor's closet. I was confused, and he seemed to notice that. "You're very observant," he stated. I nodded. "I've noticed you're intrigued in me." I nodded again in response. "I want to make this clear: despite my feelings in return, this must be done."

 I realized what was happening quickly, so I stood there. "May I ask?" "You may not," he said coldly, yet not in a harsh tone. I saw him take something shiny out of his pocket. I squeezed my eyes shut and embarrassed what was going to happen soon. After all, my death was inevitable.

[writersstuckinabox]

What Should You Do?

What do you do when you're being ignored? What do you do when you feel something you've never felt? You feel something of anxiety, regret, confusion, alone, unwanted, unneeded. You want knowledge. Of what you feel because you don't know. You need to know. You don't like not knowing. You need to be smart, intelligent. But you're not. What do you do when you need to know if what you want to be is all in your head and unachievable but no one tells you? What do you do when you're being ignored?

What do you do when you want something so badly that you can't have it? What do you do when you feel something so strong you can't feel anything anymore? What do you do? What do I do? Imagine a scenario.

Something like this: You're reading. You like to read. You're reading one of your favorite books. Not right now, but you need to. You're reading a comic on your phone, instead. That's not the important detail, but it's what you're doing. You're also talking. Talking to someone you know. Of course you're not talking to a stranger. You don't like talking to people. You don't like people. You don't mind talking to someone you know. You don't mind someone you know. That's not an important detail. This is who you are. You're talking to your ex-boyfriend. Yes, you have an ex-boyfriend. Multiple. That's not an important detail. That's an additional detail. You're talking to him about an insecurity. That's the best way to put it. You're insecure about your intelect and maturity. He's talking to you about it to. Of course he is. This isn't a one-sided conversation. He's giving you advice. Good advice that would usually help. It doesn't this time. You're too far down. You keep thinking. You tell him you're scared. This is an important detail. This is where the story starts. A portion of the conversation goes like this: You: I know. I want to change, but I don't know how. And honestly. You: I'm scared to. Think people will call me a liar or a freak. I shouldn't care. I just. You: Don't want to lose the people I have. You: Because I know what I'm capable of. I could be smarter. I can try harder, be less lazy, commit better. But I don't. I don't take it to my advantage because I don't want some of the only friends I have to leave. Him: I can't believe this is coming from you, your stronger than that more than me XD. Ok 1. Talk to your friends about change and 2. I doubt they would leave you unless you pushed them away they would still accept you no matter what change comes to you

You don't have many friends. Maybe five or six. You count. You have six. This is not an important detail, this is for context. You're in a group chat with two friends, your boyfriend, and an acquaintance. This is the group you're in. This is not an important detail. This is a helpful detail. You go to the group on KiK. You type. You type something about asking if you're smart or could be in a certain scenario. About if you're mature or could be in a certain scenario. Someone reads it. They don't respond. You point it out. No one reads it. You feel neglected. This is nothing new.

What would you do? What do you do? There's no correct answer. Just a decision that will affect you later. You don't know how. It just will. What do you do? What are you doing? Sitting in bed? Reading? You're on social media. Maybe you have to go to school or work soon, or maybe not. Maybe you're reading while driving. You shouldn't. That's dangerous. Get off your phone until you get where you need to go. Maybe you have nothing to do. Maybe you need to finish something and are procrastinating. Maybe it's none of these. Whichever it is. It doesn't matter. That's an unimportant detail in your story. You're still typing in your notepad in you're computer. You're still writing. Writing this. You should be asleep. You can't. It's two in the morning. You can't sleep and you won't. You're still typing, soon to be done. You're done. You go to Tumblr, then to your writing blog, and post it. It doesn't get any attention. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

What do you do?

[writersstuckinabox]

Abandoned Hospital

We arrived to an abandoned hospital, thinking of the fun we could have.

“Why are we here?” Nick asked for the third time, although I doubt he remembers.

“Because I like creepy things,” I laughed.

“Well, I don’t.”

“You’ll grow into it,” I say. He looked uneasy at my words. I don’t blame him. We walked around a bit. It was obvious Nick didn’t know where we were going. I doubt he remembers being here.

We looked through the rooms of the hospital.

“May, what are we doing?” Nick asked in a shaky voice. The closer we got, the more scared he seemed.

“We’re exploring!” I exclaimed without looking at him. We looked through all the rooms until we reached one with the door already opened, unlike all the others. I walked inside taking a look around.

“May, I don’t like it in here,” he said. “What if—“

“Nick, nothing’s going to come for us. They’re all gone,” I interrupted. He stayed silent.

Around the room was a body of bones surrounded in blood-stained sheets around his arm on a hospital bed. By the dot was a body of bones in a nurse uniform. She was surrounded in blood-stained tiles and a scalpel lay beside her. I sat down on a part of the floor where it was slightly clean. Nick looked around, but eventually and cautiously walked over to me and sat down.

“Why this room?”

“It has a story behind it,” I explain.

“What’s the story?” He questioned. I smirked. It looks like it’s time for a story. I prepare myself for the story.

“Well,” I started. “This hospital used to be very well known for tormenting the patients. It stopped getting as many clients five years ago. The only people to come we’re those with no money and those who hated their family.”

One day, a boy’s family put him in here. They didn’t want to, but they had no money. They almost didn’t put him in here, but decided that if their son was healed, it would be worth the risk, after all this was the best hospital when they decided on helping patients. The boy had asthma and was currently suffering an asthma attack. This boy—Nickolace—“ Nick’s eyes widened.

“You’re messing with me,” he shot. I smiled.

“This boy—Nickolace—“ I put emphasis on ‘Nickolace.’ “Was put into the hospital. The parents were careful, though. They stayed say and night. Took a break, starved themselves, all to make sure their precious and only son was safe. The dad slept during the day and mother during night. Both took turns watching their son.

Well, the mother got a call from work. Her boss insisted she come into work because she had missed too many days. She understood. Her son was precious, but she could not afford to lose her job. Just in case her son made it out alive. Nickolace’s friend came in that day. It had been nearly two weeks since she had seen him and wanted to know if he was okay.

His friend was told of the situation. She offered to stay after until the mother got off work. Well, she was thanked by the parents. The mother went to work.

After a few hours of talking with her friend and his father, she insisted the father eat. He barely had skin, it seemed. The father agreed and walked to the hospital cafeteria. A nurse came in to check on the boy. She was messing with the IV. His friend was suspicious.”

“It must have been bad.”

“Hm?”

“You said it was an asthma attack, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, it had to have been bad if he was connected to an IV,” he clarified. I smiled sadly.

“Yeah. It was pretty bad.” He nodded sadly at my statement.

“Anyway, his friend was suspicious.

‘What are you doing?’ She asked. No response. She walked over.

‘Ma’am, what are you—‘ she paused. The nurse had been disconnecting the IV from his arm. The girl thought nothing of it at first. The nurse must have know what she was doing. She slowly sat down, watching the nurse with unrelenting cautiousness.

The nurse grabbed a scalpel. The friend quickly stood up.

‘Hey—‘ she began to exclaim. The nurse cut the boy’s cubital.”

“Cubital?”

“Inner elbow,” I said. Once Nick found out what it was, he rubbed his inner elbow where a fresh scar remained.

“The girl screamed at the nurse who ignored her. The friend attacked the nurse, suddenly. The nurse fell to the ground emotionlessly and dropped the scalpel. It gave the boy’s friend an idea. She grabbed the scalpel and struggled to cut the Nurse’s throat. The father came back and stared in horror. He looked around the room. The horror of the friend now cutting deep into the nurse’s throat—and now stabbing her repeatedly in blind rage—faded once he saw his son. He ran over to find his son dead.

He cried and cried. He wasn’t the only one. The girl did as well as she was giving the nurse the same deep scar given to the boy.”

Nick shuffled.

“I’m getting uncomfortable,” he stated. I nodded. I understood why. This entire horror story was so surreal.

“Twenty questions?” I asked. He nodded making me smile. We started. They started off as simple teenage questions, then I got curious.

“Do you remember anything before getting here?” I asked. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“No. May, you know I have terrible memory,” he responded as if it was obvious. It was. He needs to know.

“Ummm. How much do you like this hospital?” He asked, obviously not knowing what to ask.

“I hate it,” I answered.

“Nick, do you know your state of living?”

“Funny, May. I’m not insane.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“Nick, you’re not alive.”

“May, stop messing around.”

“That body on the bed is you!”

“May!”

“Nick, what do you think that scar is?!”

“Stop messing with me!”

“I killed that nurse! She killed you!”

“Stop it!”

“Your parents were devastated!”

“May!”

“Your mom killed herself! I cried for two weeks!”

“This isn’t funny!”

More screaming. More cried. More yelling. More pain. The pain never fades. It always remains. Your dead friend never truly left. But you did. You have to move on. You never really do. That’s why you come back. Then you realize your friend thinks he’s alive. That his asthma is gone. It is. He doesn’t know why. So, you need to tell him. To relieve your pain, he has to go. You never thought you could get over it. You thought you’d be sad forever. But seeing him again. Reliving memories...

I cry. I cry hard. I’m still yelling. He starts realizing this isn’t a joke. My throat hurts.

“I miss you,” I say quietly. He’s quiet. So quiet it feels like your brain made this entire thing up to make me feel better. I look up. He’s crying. He’s starting to disappear. Rest In Peace.

[writersstuckinabox]

Left and Right at War

"You're so bipolar," my friend said. My smile dropped. I went from giggly and playful to upset. I guess I am, huh? I only let my pain show for a second, but I think she noticed. "What do you mean?" I asked with a smile. I looked her deep in the eyes. She was joking, or playing it off as one. I was trying to show that I wasn't sad by staying playful. If I get upset, it's my own fault for taking words too seriously. "You know. You're always laughing and giggly. But you try too hard to be serious sometimes. You completely change your mood in a second." The others were laughing and agreeing. Although, she has it all wrong. If anything, it's the opposite. I try so hard to be fun. I try so hard to laugh, to be cheerful, to be a friend nobody wants to get rid of. I always fail, though. I laugh a bit. It's fake, but isn't too obvious. I hope so, at least. "I guess so, huh? I shouldn't try so hard." She agrees with my words and I'm a bit pained.

When I got home, I laid in bed. I stared at the ceiling and thought for a moment. Everyone knows me as this giggly, annoying girl who laughs at everything. I don't know if that's who I am or who I'm used to being. Although, I wish to be another. I wish to be who I think I am myself. Someone more mature. Someone who is a bit more competent and less idiotic. That is who I believe I am. That is who I wish to be. That is who I wish others to see me as. But I know it isn't who I am. I'm immature and childish.

I stare at my ceiling more. Still thinking an hour later with three missed calls and twenty unread texts. I'm giggy and upbeat. I have emotions. I can laugh. I'm sad. I know it. It's okay. Emotions are good, everyone has them. Everyone needs them. Although, that is all a mere lie. I have no emotions. They are useless to me. I have no need for them. But laughing is fun. Laughing is nothing but sounds coming from your throat. Sounds showing others you find them humorous. But all those times you get to smile and have fun. My only fun has nothing to do with people. People have no understanding of others and most are close-minded. But if you find the right ones, they can be fun! That includes searching. For people who will inevitably hurt you more than any physical pain could ever do. You're being stupid. You need people. So you can be happier. Name-calling is stupid in itself. I do not disagree. You do need other people. For survival. Use them. Take advantage. If you have friends, don't rid of them. Take advantage of the situation. That's a terrible way of thinking!

I sit up. I can't handle it. I can't bare it. I hide my face in my hands. I try to block my thoughts. Tears form in my eyes. They fall from my face. They fall faster. More and more. I can't stop them. I can't stop these voices. I can stop the arguing. I can't stand it. I can't stand it. I can't stand it!

My phone is now at ten missed calls. Most from my mother. A few from my uncaring friends. My texts have gone up. Fifty unread messages. My phone dings. There goes another one. And another and another. My phone rings. I'm at the corner of my bed. I'm balling. I can't stop. It hurts. I hate it.

My left hemisphere and right brain are at war. And I can't stop it.

[writersstuckinabox]

I sat back in my chair while Lotor flew through space on our way to earth. I gave a small smile as I gazed at the stars. "You always did enjoy looking at the stars," Lotor said. I nodded in response. We soon arrived to earth and I gave a big smile. I rushed out of the ship and waited for Lotor to come out as well. I was bouncing up and down excitedly. "Hurry!" I yelled at him, excitedly. He came out with a smile, feigning annoyance. I smiled wider and pulled him to the Undertaker's shop in a hurry.

Once we got there, I rushed up to the Undertaker and hugged him. The undertaker hugged me back and looked up at Lotor who walked up to us and kissed the both of us on the head.

"As soon as I mentioned we were coming back to earth, he's been really excited," Lotor explained. I nodded excitedly in confirmation. The Undertaker smiled back to us and petted my head. I habit he had since we started dating. I soon let go of him and latched onto Lotor and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you," I said in a sing song voice. He chuckled and nodded. "Of course." He rubbed my head. Suddenly, a gun shot was heard. Lotor turned his head to the sound and made me let him go. "I'll be back," he assured. I nodded, trusting him. After all, we've been through more dangerous situations. "You stay here," Undertaker said, following Lotor. I did as told. I sat there and waited for the two of them to come back. After thirty minutes, my curiosity got the best of me. I walked outside and stood there, frozen. I didn't move. I just stared and allowed tears to fall. Undertaker had a stab wound and Lotor had a gunshot wound. My tears fell. Both of my boyfriends were dead. The two men I loved most were gone. They made their mistakes, but they didn't deserve this. I fell to my knees and sobbed, staring at them. Who would do this to them?

[writersstuckinabox]

Lost you

   Logan and Roman walked down the highway from the movie theatre, talking. It was mainly Logan listening to Roman's drama.

 "I can't believe he did that!" Roman exclaimed, then paused. "Do you thing he cheated on me?" He asked. Logan looked down at Roman from his gaze at the stars. He watched Roman's face, seemingly fine, but he knew it was a facade.

 "Do you want blunt or comfort?" Logan asked.

 "I come to you for blunt," Roman responded. Logan nodded, sharing his own opinion of how he thought Roman's ex did, in fact, cheat on him. Roman gave out a short sigh and nodded. He didn't want that answer, but he knew that was the one coming. They continued to walk to Logan's house as Roman continued to update Logan on the drama in his life, not that Logan minded. They were so close, they could call each other brothers.

 When they got to Logan's house, Logan attempted apologized for being so late back home only to be cut off by his mother telling him that Roman's dad was on his way and he was far from pleased. The boys waited in silence in Logan's room until Roman's dad arrived. Roman walked out of the room followed with Logan telling the taller boy to update him on what happens. After mere seconds of Roman exiting the house, though, Logan was told to follow him outside. Roman's father wished to speak with him. Logan sighed, planning what to say and bracing himself. What happened was not expected. Yes, he expected to be lectured, but he didn't think it to be so horrid. It may not have lasted long, but it was filled with anger. No. It was far past anger. Through the entire question and answer scenario, Logan kept his cool. He feigned confidence and provided reasonable answers, only to be shut down with better logic. Right as Roman's father was about to leave, taking Roman with him, he said something Logan would never imagine happening.

 "And don't call him, again," he had said. Logan merely nodded, seemingly unaffected. But he was far from. He held back tears he wish were non-existent. He held back the emotions he wished to never have. He held it all back until he got to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed for a few moments, letting the tears fall. Not long after, though, He stood up and started pacing. Thoughts were racing through his mind. 'It's all my fault. I'm a bad influence. I did this.' Tears started to poor down his face.

 "I don't like this," he started. "I don't like any of this. I don't like the wet of my face. The saltiness that falls past my mouth. The headache it brings. The redness when it ends. The sore feeling in my jaw afterwards. I don't like this. I don't like any of this," Logan said to no one. He fell to the ground, crying harder.

 "I don't like the feeling it brings. I don't like the fact it exists. I don't like how the after effects are proof this happened and it does exist. That it isn't a dream." He wiped his tears, but more and more came. 'The family I had. The only one I had is gone. They left. I lost him. The only happiness in my life. My dear brother. I lost him because of my stupid actions. My stupid ideas. I'm so stupid,' is all Logan could think before finally going to his bed and attempting sleep.