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TEOSB: One
The eyes of someone blue: One"Untangle me." My life is like a piece of string. So easily, I let it go as it gracefully flows with the wind. It wonders of to nowhere, and I am lost. A stranger once told me to keep moving forward instead of falling behind. I search high and low but my effort went to waste. In the dark, I suffer from fear and pain. The beauty of the moon heals me and lights up a path. I run towards the bright light ahead of me. That pretty much sums up everything. How days of life were similar to a walk in a burning fire pit. Until today, I discovered that the odds of our encounter were little, but it was enough to keep me happy. Welcome to my life, this is my story. - - - Good morning, Mrs Green. I stopped typing out the lines of lies derived from my not-so huge brain. Well-mannered, extroverted and dedicated? I'm describing God's profile, aren't I? May Mrs Green be the chump to fall for it. My life is like a light of shining armor? I couldn't help it. My thunderous laugh was earthshaking. Believe me, it's the falsity that makes it so darn funny. I really hope she won't detect any insincerity in those attractive words. I only use them to distract her from reasoning my results list. They're not as horrid as you think, you know. Although it's obvious that I won't be talking this nicely if I scored aces, why not give flattery a try? It could boost my life status up. Okay, listen up. My life is more or less similar to a hangover. Well, ain't that a bitch. Imagine a clock. It ticks and ticks and ticks until the battery life's span wears off. But mine's the total opposite. Now, picture an alarm clock and how blatant the rings can get. It's one hell of a torture den, if you ask me. Put yourself in my shoes, and you'll see. Okay, enough talk. I've gotta go. - - - What am I doing here? I thought, refusing to believe that I agreed to come to a party. Fact says Marie Belle doesn't do parties. And the facts never lie, but this is an exceptional case. This party involves Sarah Gabriels, my on again and off again best friend forever (Last week, Sarah demanded me to swear on my mother's grave that we will be together always. That sounds awful and ridiculously absurd. Well, what can I do? I made a solemn promise I can't break!) What I'm trying to say here is, Sarah is similar to a banana peel - always sticking next to you no matter rain or shine. And this sucks because I am the flesh of the fruit. This is bad news. Why? I'm the one being devoured. And by devoured, I mean, tortured. At least the peel gets to be thrown away and not get chewed. Forget about bananas and their peels. You must agree that people can change. But she doesn't belong to the category of people, because she is not likely to fall under a place where there is peace and shimmers of light. I wouldn't even be surprised if she ends up working for the Devil himself. I may sound monstrous to you, but trust me, her dark side will appear soon. Enough about Sarah. I rambled around the balloons and slacked beside the coco machine. You must be wondering . . . coco machine? I parroted to myself. Yes, the large fountain-like creature which spurts out instant coco on top of your hot vanilla. Sounds delicious, huh? Well, too bad, this kind of stuff doesn’t exist in my world where allergies are born to kill. Time is of the essence, so, let's not waste anymore of it. Dad said I should meet up with my friends since our last trimester is arriving. But the thing is, I don't have any friends. Well, that's not entirely true. I have Sarah... but she doesn't count. I dug in for my keys and drove off in my new car. And the new car happens to be a decade year old which had grimy tires in abysmal condition. Go figure. Ah, the sarcasm - not everyone sees the beauty of it like I do. - - - Hey, nothing bad has happened yet. This is when I go, "Think again." Since two thirds of my life were . . . miserable. Do you think I should wait till that moment comes so I won’t have to bury myself in disappointment if it actually happened? This is among my famous catch phrases, “Why am I still on earth when I could be flying along with Jesus right now?” If suicide wasn’t a sin, I would have threw myself out the window a long time ago. But it is, so I’m just gonna wait till my battery runs out. This is why. “I hate you!” I barked fiercely and smashed the glass of water. Dad got hurt too, and I was happy he did. “I fucking hate you!” I repeated, but slightly more vigorous. I scampered upstairs loudly, and slammed the door with my face all messed up with tear-washed mascara. While leaning my stiff back onto the door, I squeezed my hand tightly to lessen the pain from the shattered glass. Biting my lip because it hurts inside and out badly, doesn’t solve the heart ache, my head swirl, and the burn on my hands, because what I feel inside was incurable. Just five minutes ago, he acted all awkward and stiff when he told me to sit down. Dad said calmly and inhaled deeply, “Marie, we need to talk. It’s about . . . your mother.” His eyes were watery as he spoke the words which he tried hard not to choke on. Mom hasn’t been around lately. She probably grew tired facing Dad’s overprotective boundaries. Even when I was at a younger age, I had to hurdle over a couch and close my ears to block those sound waves of evil, which were, of course – the violent arguments they had. I didn’t like that at all. In fact, they had to drag me to the psychiatrist, Dr. Hawkins one day because I was somewhat unusual. They thought I was crazy. I thought I was crazy. What five year old kid doesn’t talk, eat, and think about rainbows? Well, there’s just one. I knew I wasn’t happy. I knew I wasn’t any ordinary kid who bounces around and begs for candy. I sit when I’m told to, I talk when I want to, I laugh when I’m forced to; maybe I am crazy. Dad pursed his lips and held his hands together tightly. He was so nervous I could feel mine trembling too. I splinted at my watch. It was half past 7. Not good. Sarah would slash me if I made her miss this movie she's been dying to watch. “Spit it out, Dad. I can’t wait any longer, Sarah’s waiting.” Tap, tap, tap – getting frustrated with his agitation. “She’s not coming back,” he frowned. His eyes droopy and full of sadness. “What did you just say?” I wheezed. “Mom isn’t going to come back,” Dad restated, with a louder tune this time. He was angry, and his eyes grew more fiery. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked again, making sure I heard correctly. And I did. The whole thing was entirely overwhelming, and my heartache forced me to smash the glass of water in my hands. Though repeating ‘it’s a lie, it’s a lie’ in my head made me feel better, I was just fooling myself. Mom isn’t going to come back. MOM ISN’T GOING TO COME BACK, DAMMIT. SHE HATES ME. SHE HATES THIS FAMILY. AND SHE WOULD WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH ME, BECAUSE I’M NOTHING BUT A SAD, LIFELESS HUMAN BEING. I battled my own stubborn, mendacious mind. I screamed the ugly truth in my head. While my hands grip onto my lap, blood emerged out of the wound in which my fingernails punctured. That was simply satisfying – the pain, I mean. Well, if you just figured out I’m a masochist, you’re an idiot. His eyes shut tight as he wrangled, “Your mother and I had talked. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. We just can’t see each other anymore. Time won’t solve anything, so your mom thought it would be best if we lived in separate places,” Dad tried to meet my eyes, but the tears that flushed my face troubled them. “I’m so sorry, dear. And no part of this divorce was ever your fault.” It seemed so easy for him to say it, as if he’s been rehearsing all day long - just to tell me that he was sorry. “Sorry? How could you be sorry? Have you even thought about me – how I would feel?” I brawled, “Oh, don’t worry Dad. I know it isn’t my fault. It’s yours. I’m surprised Mom didn’t leave years ago. She’s one tough lady. So might as well you drop the selfish act, and go destroy yourself. Just don’t include me in it.” Dad deserved every word. At least I made him shut up at the end of it. He was no excuse - he made pain hurt so bad, not even Superman can fight it. - - - Present time, fifteen minutes past eight. I felt like screaming. So I did. Besides trashing my clothes all over, I paced over to the shelves for book-slaying. Throwing my lamp to the concrete walls caused my hand to hurt even more as the cuts got deeper. But it wasn’t enough; I wanted pain, more pain, so that it would hurt more on the outside. Everyone knows I’m a fixer, but there’s one thing I cannot fix: me, and that tends to make me think that if I make everyone happy and I would be too. But it's not that easy. Everyone could try and love me, but sooner or later, one after another, they would simply give it all up. Why? 'Cause it's simply impossible to do so. After there was nothing left to harm in my room, I shut my eyes and reopened them. Therefore I reached the point where I wasn’t afraid of dying. Before I could carry my legs out the bedside window, arms grabbed me. Who knew such a timid man had the grip of an anaconda. “Stop, Marie, I said STOP!” he yelled over and over again to make sure he was heard loud and clear - to make sure I stopped punching him, but that didn’t do me any good either, so why bother. “Let me go, please . . . let me go.” I felt useless. I felt there was no reason for me to live. I felt there was no one out there who would tell me what love is. I knelt and hugged my knees as I lay myself on the cold wooden floor helplessly. Dad helped me across the room and onto my bed. He kept on caressing my cheeks and shushing me gently like he used to when it was his shift to make me fall asleep. When I was a minor . . . Dr. Charles told me I had insomnia. “Ah, open wide,” he looked dumb. After another round of inspection, he smiled, “Ah, I see, there’s nothing to worry about, Madam, Sir. Looks like your daughter has a minor case of insomnia.” Well, he was clearly wrong. I lied that I couldn’t sleep at night because of the monsters lurking around the house. I remember Dad staying awake all night with the torchlight in his arms after I made him check every closet in the house. Mom would massage his back and whisper how much she loved him in his ear. And he would laugh when it tickles; flashing the wide grin she loves. Then, she would flow gracefully to my bed and kiss my forehead. She would say my name, “Marie,” as if I was the most precious thing in the world. But the colour of the dream, the streaks of the stars and the glorious moon I glance from my window - they fade to nothing but sheer darkness. I ended up partners with the dark, alone, shivering, unwanted, and unloved. Wasn’t scary, wasn’t dreadful, it was so much worst than that. - - - Sunshine showered through the curtains in the early rise when it smelt of fresh vivid lilies, and bird poop. Yes, after being mesmerized by the morning mists and dewdrops, I was disgusted by the bird poop dripping down my glass window. Shit! I didn’t say that out loud, because Dad was enjoying his snooze; my arms around him like a teddy bear. His eyes opened dozily as I accidentally gave a slight shake in my hands. My eyes widen when I spot my sore hands perfectly wrapped in first-aid bandages. Dad must have done that while I was crying to sleep. I couldn’t remember much, after waking up with a headache. Fault goes to my overdosed mind. And then, school's another trouble – I was merely okay at everything. Not good, neither bad. It’s the way I like things to be. I didn’t want to stand out, because I knew I wouldn’t last a day with popularity. I didn’t want to be clever, because I don’t want to drown in books all my life. I didn’t need romance, because all I needed was Dad’s I love yous. So, now you know why I adopted a lethargic life – so that I can quell my dolor to rest. That brings my head back to Sarah. I don’t even know where to start. I have no clue why she hangs out with me, why she wants me to be happy. And the only reason why Dad thinks Sarah has potential of being my best friend forever is because she declared herself as Mr. Belle’s minion. She obeyed all his orders, and never once rejected them. Unlike me, Sarah makes a way better daughter for Mr. Belle. She’s bubbly to the extreme, always in the mood of having her auburn hair resting on her shoulders. She’s paired with sparkling brown eyes, and an eye candy smile to go with it. - - - There was an angry knock my door. She stormed downtown so quickly and into my house, she bashed and I had to sit there and listen to her how-dare-you-leave-my-party-without-my-consent. And another series of why-didn't-you-accompany-me-to-our-movie-date. “I said I was sorry, Sarah. I had to deal with something,” I tried to make it seem real. Dad was brewing coffee in the kitchen and I knew he was listening to every word she said. He pretended to cough. It was such a fake, no one bothered to look at him for it. “Come on girls, stop fighting,” he soothed. “Okay, fine. Just promise me no boys are included,” she gave a half-smile. That was fast. Well, that’s Sarah to begin with. She’s too positive to hold hatred. “I promise. Absolutely no boys.” “Wait, I have to take that back. Because . . .” she smiled blissfully, and started bouncing. I waited for her to finish the sentence, fearing of what she might say and she continued, “– I have two tickets to Amplified!” “So, am I forgiven then?” I asked childishly. Ignoring the fact Amplified is currently is highest rated show on television, where the contestants are to flaunt their vocal abilities. Did I mention there are lots of gorgeous guys toddling around the place? She might have arranged the seats so that she can sit with one. Oh, you know Sarah. How desperate she can be to get the things she want. “Yes, silly. Do you even know what day it is today?” she urged me to think, but I had no idea whatsoever. I kept thinking . . . Friendship day, maybe? Our friendship anniversary? I closed my eyes and tried to think very hard. “Uh . . .” two minutes of thought and nothing. I reopened them and she was gone. There were only colours - lots of them. A bright yellow clouted my face. It was cake - cheese cake, all over me. I guess someone thought it was brilliant idea to smash cake on my face because it was my damn birthday. And who’s that someone? C’mon, it’s not hard to guess at all. I had my fingers smearing it off and having them licked. It tasted good. Once my face was finger-washed, a five meter stretch of a banner was stretched towards me, reading out in big bold letters.
They expected a tear, or a laugh, and a smile. Instead, I stood there feeling entwined. It was pleasing yet there was guilt to surpass. They looked depressed, I look depressed. I didn’t know how to respond. All I needed was someone to untangle me. I was speechless when I read the note below it, and it was of Mom's. ‘With so much more love not written, not given, I need you to know that I love you, forever, in the depths of memories and hopes, there lies you and me. From your mother. I'm sorry, dear.’ More buckets of tears. Here comes the highest rainfall of the year. But I didn’t want to make that record. Mom wouldn’t want me to. Dad and Sarah would be torn. Here it goes again; a time where I’d rather please every else but me. I said in a higher tune of a ‘Thank you’ but I was sure Dad heard the cry in my voice. He frowned, while Sarah gave me an instant squeeze. “Really, thank you, for everything.” He put down his cup of coffee and the banner in his left hand. I knew I ruined it - all of it. Dad walked emotionless to his room and closed the door softly. I didn’t want to go in, because I wasn’t strong enough to deal with anything when all I could think of was Mom. I felt so entangled, as if my body was stuck to the ground with super glue. I just stood there, staring at the door he closed at me . . . Labels: The eyes of someone blue |
About the Author
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended © 2009. Plagiarism is outlawed.I am Sandra Lau (blogger of sandralautzelin.blogspot.com). And I've been charged for passionately writing too many emotional and suspensive dramas. I live by my tacky metaphors and deep quotes, but hell yeah, I love 'em! Reviews means a lot to me, and criticism are most welcomed as well. About the Story
The Eyes of Someone BlueWho says darkness can't be lit up again? The prequel: Marie Belle goes through living hell daily and when she was delivered the worst news of her life - her mother's death, she finds it impossible to regain such a thing called happiness. Hence, her dad set her up on a television broadcast competition and therefore, she also won. Her prize? A stranger, and another who appears later - both likely to fall in love with her. But whoever said 'Don't talk to strangers' doesn't want you to make new friends. But they are only unknowns to her, but to the world, they are the kings of the music industry. Was it worth the fight? Maybe, maybe not. Starring: 1. Charles Belle (Joaquin Phoenix) 2. Chase Anderson 3. Clara Belle (Julianna Margulies) 4. Damon Anderson 5. David Anderson 6. Emma Rose (Katie Holmes/Cruise) 7. Lennea Parkers (Shantel VanSanten) 8. Lily Anderson (Cate Blanchet) 9. Marie Belle 10. Sarah Gabriels (Leighton Meester) 11. Trevor Parkman (Hayden Christensen) Click here to read: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Reviews
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