CupOfCoffee
May 31, 2005, 02:04 AM
Would anyone be interested in reading more of this story that I'm writing as backstory for another story I already wrote and didn't post here? http://pso-world.com/images/phpbb/icons/smiles/icon_razz.gif If so, then I'll post my chapters on PSOw as I write them. Here's the prologue and first chapter as a sample. Oh, and yes, this is a PSO fanfiction. I don't think there's anything PSO-related in these first two parts, but there's more later as it does take place in the PSO universe, so fear not.
---
Prologue
---
She lifted the glass to her bruised lips with trembling hands and took a deliberate, cautious sip. A wispy strand of red left her mouth and drifted lazily about the glass, seeming almost to dance when she set the drink down on the table in front of her.
The exhausted woman raised her bloodshot gaze to meet that of her dark haired rescuer. The person staring back at her with worried eyes could not have been much older than 18. He had thick brown hair which came down over his ears and most of his forehead, pushed to the side to cover one eyebrow. He watched her wince as she set the glass down and quickly pull the hand back to guard her collarbone.
"Still thirsty?" he asked the battered girl.
She pressed her tongue against an aching group of front teeth and tasted blood. It was surprising, she thought, the taste of blood. It tasted like copper. Or was it the other way around? She closed her eyes tightly, trying to force the strange thought from her mind.
"No," she replied softly.
Her throbbing jaw would not have permitted more even had she wanted some.
"Okay," the dark haired boy replied after a moment, taking the half-empty glass from the table and returning through the door from which he had brought it.
The hurting girl lay back slowly on the filthy old couch, being careful not to jar her shoulder. She decided that her collarbone was probably broken. She had never felt pain quite like what was currently radiating in great, sporadic bursts from the top of her left shoulder.
She felt pathetic, but at the same time, stronger and braver than she ever had in her entire life. She had just accomplished a feat that no one would have suspected was possible, and had reached the halfway mark in avenging her only sister's brutal murder.
Her work for today was done.
She gingerly tested her leg, trying to tell if it were really broken or just deeply bruised. She flexed it at the knee, slowly at first, and then with less reluctance as she discovered that the bones beneath her skin were probably intact after all. Her thigh and shin were ablaze with a deep, pounding pain, but luckily, her knee seemed to be alright. The chances of success with joint reconstruction were always spotty, so a bad knee injury could prove permanently crippling.
She breathed deeply, wincing as the angry burning in her collarbone was renewed with the attempted expansion of her ribcage.
It suddenly dawned on her that in spite of all her pain, all she wanted to do was sleep. The thought of drifting off consumed her, and before she knew it, her eyes were closed. Her breathing and heart rate slowed, and as her strained muscles relaxed themselves, she slipped away over the edge of consciousness...
Away...
That night, her dreams were about a teenaged girl with sandy brown hair and a melancholy smile.
---
Part One
Age 16
---
- Chapter One -
The year I turned 16 was the year my life began to fall apart.
Alexa Cassandra Hale, no longer soft, sweet, nor innocent, took a seat at the unoccupied half of the closest lunch table.
I lost everyone I had.
She carefully unwrapped her brown paper bag lunch, extracting a limp turkey sandwich and a thermos of lukewarm coffee. Next she produced a half-smashed bag of pretzels manufactured by a generic local grocery store. She placed each item gently on the table before her, aligning them horizontally so that they created a straight angle. The sandwich, the thermos, and the pretzels. One, two, three.
I learned what it means to be afraid.
She decided the pretzels would be first. As her new etiquette teacher would've reminded her had the woman been present, it is never a good idea to begin with the main course. Start out with something light. If you jump into the sandwich first, you'll look like you're hungry, and you never want to make it apparent that your biological urges are getting the best of you.
I learned what it means to be strong.
Just as she was about to open the bag of pretzels, something hit her in the ear. Something hot and just a little wet. It didn't feel big or heavy, though. She automatically looked down to the ground where the projectile had fallen and discovered that she had been assaulted with an airborne slice of pepperoni. Next she looked to who'd thrown it.
I learned that life's a fucking bitch, and sometimes all you can do is tread water until it's safe to start swimming again.
Her attacker didn't look like much at first glance. Kind of mousy, even, but it was clear that the plethora of friends sitting behind her would prove to be a decent challenge, should an actual fight arise. The mousy girl had straight brown hair that fell about to her shoulders, a pointed nose, and cold, grey eyes. Those eyes said it all, in fact. I threw the pepperoni because I fear what I don't understand, and right now, sister, you are what I don't understand.
"You dropped your food," Alexa said emotionlessly, her expression completely blank.
The two girls maintained unblinking eye contact, neither willing to concede the spur-of-the-moment staring contest. The mousy girl's friends stared in wordless awe, anxious to see what would become of this act of food war.
"You'd better come and pick it up," she informed the girl's eyes.
Still, the girl said nothing.
Finally, the match ended when Alexa looked away first. She absentmindedly wiped her ear where the pepperoni had hit her and dropped her eyes to the table, once again focusing her attention on the bag of pretzels.
But it wasn't over yet.
As soon as Alexa's peripheral vision registered the mousy girl returning to her lunch and resuming talk with the people she was sitting next to, she struck. At what would've seemed to be the speed of light to the common observer, she reached down, yoinked the pepperoni slice off the ground with her thumb and index finger, and flicked it to her left, back at the mousy girl and her friends.
It sailed beautifully, like a tiny organic Frisbee, and found it's mark with impeccable accuracy. The slice of meat flew, flew, and came to a sudden stop as it smacked against the girl's cheek, leaving a greasy, half dollar-sized semicircle of visual evidence.
At once, the whole group was on their feet, shouting and making a terrible racket. The flock of girls surrounded Alexa and began with their insults and curses.
Alexa just laughed.
It was then that a random teacher entered the equation. She tried to bust through the human barricade that was the Mousy Girl Guardian Squad in the same way that people play that game "Red Rover." She pushed and shoved and tried to pry two of the girls far enough apart to allow her space enough to get inside, and finally succeeded. She grabbed Mousy Girl by the collar of her standard issue school uniform (which all the girls in attendance were wearing, by the way) and dragged her to the outside of the circle. Once that was done, the group quickly dissolved and dispersed, their proverbial flag captured. The conflict was over for now.
"Sydney! This is your... no, not just yours, it's for all of you! Your whole pack! This is your final warning, Sydney!" the teacher bellowed, her double chin quivering in Mousy Girl's face.
"We can and will make your life a living hell if you do not learn to get along with the other girls here!"
Mousy Girl, whose apparent actual name was Sydney, turned her head to Alexa and grinned slyly.
"Apologize!" the teacher howled, a throbbing vein on her temple bulging outward. She released her prisoner and then quickly turned her by the shoulders to face Alexa.
Sydney straightened her collar and wiggled her mousy nose.
"I'm terribly sorry to have interrupted your lunch, ah..."
Alexa stood up and stepped toward Sydney, taking the girl's hand in her own for a firm shake.
"Alexa Hale," she said with a sarcastic smile.
"Alexa Hale," Sydney repeated slowly as her sly, mousy smile quickly changed into a confused, mousy frown.
But most importantly, above all else, I learned this:
Payback's a bitch.
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: CupOfCoffee on 2005-05-31 00:12 ]</font>
---
Prologue
---
She lifted the glass to her bruised lips with trembling hands and took a deliberate, cautious sip. A wispy strand of red left her mouth and drifted lazily about the glass, seeming almost to dance when she set the drink down on the table in front of her.
The exhausted woman raised her bloodshot gaze to meet that of her dark haired rescuer. The person staring back at her with worried eyes could not have been much older than 18. He had thick brown hair which came down over his ears and most of his forehead, pushed to the side to cover one eyebrow. He watched her wince as she set the glass down and quickly pull the hand back to guard her collarbone.
"Still thirsty?" he asked the battered girl.
She pressed her tongue against an aching group of front teeth and tasted blood. It was surprising, she thought, the taste of blood. It tasted like copper. Or was it the other way around? She closed her eyes tightly, trying to force the strange thought from her mind.
"No," she replied softly.
Her throbbing jaw would not have permitted more even had she wanted some.
"Okay," the dark haired boy replied after a moment, taking the half-empty glass from the table and returning through the door from which he had brought it.
The hurting girl lay back slowly on the filthy old couch, being careful not to jar her shoulder. She decided that her collarbone was probably broken. She had never felt pain quite like what was currently radiating in great, sporadic bursts from the top of her left shoulder.
She felt pathetic, but at the same time, stronger and braver than she ever had in her entire life. She had just accomplished a feat that no one would have suspected was possible, and had reached the halfway mark in avenging her only sister's brutal murder.
Her work for today was done.
She gingerly tested her leg, trying to tell if it were really broken or just deeply bruised. She flexed it at the knee, slowly at first, and then with less reluctance as she discovered that the bones beneath her skin were probably intact after all. Her thigh and shin were ablaze with a deep, pounding pain, but luckily, her knee seemed to be alright. The chances of success with joint reconstruction were always spotty, so a bad knee injury could prove permanently crippling.
She breathed deeply, wincing as the angry burning in her collarbone was renewed with the attempted expansion of her ribcage.
It suddenly dawned on her that in spite of all her pain, all she wanted to do was sleep. The thought of drifting off consumed her, and before she knew it, her eyes were closed. Her breathing and heart rate slowed, and as her strained muscles relaxed themselves, she slipped away over the edge of consciousness...
Away...
That night, her dreams were about a teenaged girl with sandy brown hair and a melancholy smile.
---
Part One
Age 16
---
- Chapter One -
The year I turned 16 was the year my life began to fall apart.
Alexa Cassandra Hale, no longer soft, sweet, nor innocent, took a seat at the unoccupied half of the closest lunch table.
I lost everyone I had.
She carefully unwrapped her brown paper bag lunch, extracting a limp turkey sandwich and a thermos of lukewarm coffee. Next she produced a half-smashed bag of pretzels manufactured by a generic local grocery store. She placed each item gently on the table before her, aligning them horizontally so that they created a straight angle. The sandwich, the thermos, and the pretzels. One, two, three.
I learned what it means to be afraid.
She decided the pretzels would be first. As her new etiquette teacher would've reminded her had the woman been present, it is never a good idea to begin with the main course. Start out with something light. If you jump into the sandwich first, you'll look like you're hungry, and you never want to make it apparent that your biological urges are getting the best of you.
I learned what it means to be strong.
Just as she was about to open the bag of pretzels, something hit her in the ear. Something hot and just a little wet. It didn't feel big or heavy, though. She automatically looked down to the ground where the projectile had fallen and discovered that she had been assaulted with an airborne slice of pepperoni. Next she looked to who'd thrown it.
I learned that life's a fucking bitch, and sometimes all you can do is tread water until it's safe to start swimming again.
Her attacker didn't look like much at first glance. Kind of mousy, even, but it was clear that the plethora of friends sitting behind her would prove to be a decent challenge, should an actual fight arise. The mousy girl had straight brown hair that fell about to her shoulders, a pointed nose, and cold, grey eyes. Those eyes said it all, in fact. I threw the pepperoni because I fear what I don't understand, and right now, sister, you are what I don't understand.
"You dropped your food," Alexa said emotionlessly, her expression completely blank.
The two girls maintained unblinking eye contact, neither willing to concede the spur-of-the-moment staring contest. The mousy girl's friends stared in wordless awe, anxious to see what would become of this act of food war.
"You'd better come and pick it up," she informed the girl's eyes.
Still, the girl said nothing.
Finally, the match ended when Alexa looked away first. She absentmindedly wiped her ear where the pepperoni had hit her and dropped her eyes to the table, once again focusing her attention on the bag of pretzels.
But it wasn't over yet.
As soon as Alexa's peripheral vision registered the mousy girl returning to her lunch and resuming talk with the people she was sitting next to, she struck. At what would've seemed to be the speed of light to the common observer, she reached down, yoinked the pepperoni slice off the ground with her thumb and index finger, and flicked it to her left, back at the mousy girl and her friends.
It sailed beautifully, like a tiny organic Frisbee, and found it's mark with impeccable accuracy. The slice of meat flew, flew, and came to a sudden stop as it smacked against the girl's cheek, leaving a greasy, half dollar-sized semicircle of visual evidence.
At once, the whole group was on their feet, shouting and making a terrible racket. The flock of girls surrounded Alexa and began with their insults and curses.
Alexa just laughed.
It was then that a random teacher entered the equation. She tried to bust through the human barricade that was the Mousy Girl Guardian Squad in the same way that people play that game "Red Rover." She pushed and shoved and tried to pry two of the girls far enough apart to allow her space enough to get inside, and finally succeeded. She grabbed Mousy Girl by the collar of her standard issue school uniform (which all the girls in attendance were wearing, by the way) and dragged her to the outside of the circle. Once that was done, the group quickly dissolved and dispersed, their proverbial flag captured. The conflict was over for now.
"Sydney! This is your... no, not just yours, it's for all of you! Your whole pack! This is your final warning, Sydney!" the teacher bellowed, her double chin quivering in Mousy Girl's face.
"We can and will make your life a living hell if you do not learn to get along with the other girls here!"
Mousy Girl, whose apparent actual name was Sydney, turned her head to Alexa and grinned slyly.
"Apologize!" the teacher howled, a throbbing vein on her temple bulging outward. She released her prisoner and then quickly turned her by the shoulders to face Alexa.
Sydney straightened her collar and wiggled her mousy nose.
"I'm terribly sorry to have interrupted your lunch, ah..."
Alexa stood up and stepped toward Sydney, taking the girl's hand in her own for a firm shake.
"Alexa Hale," she said with a sarcastic smile.
"Alexa Hale," Sydney repeated slowly as her sly, mousy smile quickly changed into a confused, mousy frown.
But most importantly, above all else, I learned this:
Payback's a bitch.
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: CupOfCoffee on 2005-05-31 00:12 ]</font>