Everlasting Love Note: Sorry, I had a change in title! The real title is the one in this post, not the name of the thread. Sorry again! >w<;; ☆Prologue- Final Update January 3, 2012☆ Spoiler Soft, shallow words pass his through his lips as we stand by the corner. His eyes shift in all directions, his anxiety clearly showing. I see sorrow build in his eyes that escape through the illusion of tears. I feel them building up as well as I try to suppress them, keeping them bottled inside me. Pure emotion falls to the ground, forever lost in the crevasses of the once white tile. He gulps, his eyes locked with mine, and says â€œI-Iâ€™m sorry,â€ as he turns and walks away. ☆Chapter 1- Final Update January 3, 2012☆ Spoiler I walk at a slow pace, not eager for my next class. I glanced at the walls lined with multi color lockers, each with a unique touch as if the user had made it their home. Each one different in one way or another, unlike me. Iâ€™m just your average â€œPlain Janeâ€, as Mom calls me jokingly. But I know on the inside that she means every word that she says, just like everyone else in this cursed school. I peer ahead to see the football players talking and laughing and I cringe as I lower my head, praying none of them notice me. Assuring I donâ€™t crash into one of them, I quickly look up from my â€œturtle stateâ€. I notice one of them pause and look down on me, our eyes meeting. His gaze is cold, yet somehow lively. I jerk myself from his piercing stare; but just before I turn away, I see him shed a delicate smile and walk away. I feel my face flush red as I hasten my pace and run into Calculus. Being in Calculus when youâ€™re a mere sophomore can be a challenge. The work itself is simple; homework is done in a matter of minutes and tests are done effortlessly and neatly. Itâ€™s the senior students, the stern Mrs. Briggs, and the fearsome looks I get when I take my seat that sends shivers down my spine every time I enter room 304. Sometimes I am even afraid to enter the classroom, a room where youâ€™re supposed to feel secure, not knowing what kind of torture Iâ€™ll be subject to. I always sit in the back in every class; away from the taunts, the gossip, and the usual high school chatter. In the back, I can be isolated and alone. In the back, where I feel safe from horrid jeers and terrible actions. In the back, I can be myself and be free. The doodles in my notebook scream who I truly am, the person Iâ€™ve learned to keep locked away in the cage of my heart. But even then, I can still feel the endless pairs of eyes burn my pale skin and hear the murmurs pass from one ear to the next. Calculus drags on as usual; shouts that can be heard from miles away and jokes being said that throw the fifty student class into a frenzy. Finally, for what feels like a century, the class comes to an abrupt end when Mrs. Briggs says harshly, â€œHomework is page 527, questions 4-52.â€ The usual moans echo throughout the pale blue walls, each one clinging to another and causing a loud uproar. â€œSettle down!â€ she snaps, and everyone immediately falls silent. Good â€˜ol Calculus. ☆Chapter 2- Final Update January 7, 2012☆ Spoiler Physical education is next as I feel my feet drag against the tile floor. The auditorium is right between History III and English II, two more classes I canâ€™t stand. A part of me wants to run out the creaky school doors, never coming back to this hellhole as I pass the office. I gave a soft smile to Ms. Hope, the secretary and my head guidance counsellor, who replies with a slight wave and cheerful grin. I return to my sluggish pace as I see her step out of the office and approach me. I pause and sigh as she asks, â€œHow was Calculus?â€ I give her a faint look of disapproval. â€œYou know what my answer is going to be. Itâ€™s just like any other day,â€ I replied coldly. She takes a small step back, as if the negative energy is radiating from my body. â€œMagen, you know I care about you,â€ she says in an almost depressed tone. Her eyes are aiming at the floor, further expressing her sudden sadness. Sadness that I caused. â€œMs. Hope, Iâ€™m sorry. Iâ€™m just a little grouchy,â€ I assure her. She looks up to see my mask of a smile, and I see her eyes brighten. I glance at the clock, 9:43. â€œI only have two minutes to get to PE, I have to go.â€ She nods as I begin walking toward the auditorium. I look back, but she disappeared into the office. I sigh, realizing I was blunt and rude to such a sweetheart. Self-doubt seeps into my mind but quickly disperses as I hear the shrieking bell. My mind and heart race in sync as I sprint for the auditorium. As my body weakens from exhaustion, my head is throbbing. I come to the realization that I am out of shape, and yet I laugh at myself for being tired. A good quality to have, Mom says to me. Sure, then how come no one else see it? The saddening, yet enraging, thought leaves my mind as I slow my pace. I gasp for air as I approach the room filled with exercising students. I gulp and lower my head, my usual trademark position, as I make my way into the girlâ€™s locker room. I see Missy Sullivan with her posse, probably gossiping about the hottest guy in school or something stupid like that. When I overhear them talking about the football quarterback, I began to eavesdrop ever so carefully. â€œI heard that he likes this loser girl.â€ I hear Missy spurt in disgust. â€œI think thatâ€™s really pathetic. I mean, how can I guy as hot as Brain Domino like a... a loser?â€ She scoffs as her â€œfriendsâ€ chuckle lightly. â€œI donâ€™t know Missy,â€ Miranda Kat replies. â€œMaybe heâ€™s losing his touch!â€ More laughing. I heard soft footsteps glide across the wooden floor. I turn my back to the source of the noise, quickly putting on my gym shorts. Stephanie Myters, one of Missyâ€™s posse girls, approached me. â€œWe know you were listening in on us,â€ she spits sharply. I crack my neck slightly, and sigh. I face Stephanie and give her a look of confusion. â€œWhat do you mean? Iâ€™ve been getting ready in the whole time,â€ I replied nonchalantly. â€œDonâ€™t play dumb, Magen. You canâ€™t fool us,â€ she rolls her eyes as she pops her gum. With a flip of her golden locks, she goes back to Missyâ€™s crowd. I notice Missyâ€™s head appear from the corner of the lockers that separates us as she growls, â€œBetter watch out, Magen. You donâ€™t want to be on my bad side.â€ My annoyed expression fades to a look of shame as I stuff my school bag into my locker, and run for the door. I aim for the bleachers. My momentum carries my body as if I were a feather. I am abruptly interrupted by Mr. Bing, a bulky and muscular man. â€œWhere do you think youâ€™re going, Miss. Walts?â€ he asks me. I stare into his stern eyes, returning his harsh gaze with a pitiful one. â€œI was just- um... going to take a rest on the bleachers,â€ I say incoherently. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously, and I can tell he sees through my rogue. â€œOh, is that so?â€ he replies. â€œBut why would you need to rest when you havenâ€™t even exercised yet?â€ I grunt as I see him with a smug smirk on his face and head to the exercise stations. Sweat drips from my forehead like a broken faucet as I finish my set of sit-ups. â€œGood job Magen, now only four out of five to go!â€ I hear Mr. Bing shriek across the auditorium. I rest my arm on my upright knee as I notice Missyâ€™s posse giggle and point at me. I squint through my green-tinted glasses and see one of them, Adrian Moses, whisper into Missyâ€™s ear. Missy returns her mouth agate and a serious look on her face. Our eyes meet. The rest of PE was so quiet you could hear a pin drop in the massive room, and have it echo for centuries. I walk out of the auditorium silently as Missyâ€™s body brushes past mine. She looks back, gives a malicious smirk, and walks away quickly. Her magenta high heels match her light pink skirt and top. The whole outfit is topped with a pretty pink bow, tied carefully around her wavy, auburn hair. Much unlike myself. Her eyes shoot bullets through my psyche as she turns around and talks to her posse. ☆Chapter 3- Final Update January 17, 2012☆ Spoiler My sense of style is as minimal as my as sense of humor. Mom says Iâ€™m as flat as a billboard, and that my humor is nonexistent. She says things like that all the time. It happens much more often, ever since Dad left. Mom and Dad argued about taxes, or something like that. I couldnâ€™t really hear them through my locked bedroom door. I squeezed Gwen, my albino dolphin plush, every time I heard glass break or Momâ€™s shrieks. I never cried so much in the long fifteen years Iâ€™ve been alive. I held Gwen by her fin and made my way down the stairs. I saw the red-tinted glass watering tube I made in first grade in shattered pieces on the marble floor. I crept around the mess and followed the trail of broken glass sneakily. It came to an end when I entered the game room. My other stuffed animals were pushed off the shelves and ripped apart. Mr. and Mrs. Wiggles, multi colored worms, were only inches apart from each other. It was as if they wanted to be together, but they were separated by fate. Mom and Dad were far from this. They separated of their own free will. Dad said so before he left. The last words that passed through his lips were, â€œYour mother always hated you. You were a mistake, something that was never meant to be.â€ Mom cried that night; she always seemed so strong, like she was made of steel. Nothing could surpass her strength. I was eight at the time. I tried being strong for her when she was weak, like she had been all those times before. I choked back sniffles and tears as I cradled her delicate head in my arms. We fell asleep together that night, the final time it happened. Those were hard times. I shake the troubling thoughts away. My hands are trembling, shaking the History III books vigorously. Thank goodness I only have to walk a few steps to get there. My legs can only manage to carry me that far before I collapse, my books scattering across the floor. I attempt to get up, but the exhaustion of PE combined with the memory of Dad makes me queasy. I hold my stomach and close my eyes, as if I were a feeble child again. I hate that feeling- the feeling of being weak, of being helpless. The thought that makes me sick is when I experience this feeling everyday. I feel strong, yet gentle, hands grasp my arm and gingerly pull me up. I am placed on my feet, and look to my rescuer. My mouth opens wide as my eyes expand in surprise. I canâ€™t believe itâ€™s- itâ€™s him, the one who I blushed over; the only one Iâ€™ve ever blushed over. The rosy complexion returns to my ivory face. Itâ€™s- itâ€™s Brian Domino. My heart skips a beat. â€œWatch out now,â€ he says sweetly with a wink. Suddenly, he bends down, picks up my fallen books, and returns them to my open arms. Our hands brush by each other as he hands me the books and I see him blush slightly. â€œTh-thanks,â€ I saw nervously in a low tone as I avert my eyes from him and onto the floor quickly. I hear him chuckle as he picks my chin up lightly. â€œSomething the matter?â€ he asks curiously. I shake my head no, staring into his deep blue eyes. He squints, as if trying to understand what Iâ€™m feeling. â€œYou sure?â€ I nod yes. He pauses. â€œMaybe we could hang out sometime. You know, grab a coffee or some lunch one day.â€ â€œY-yeah, that would be nice,â€ I say sheepishly, but louder than my previous tone. He smiles. â€œGreat! How about today then, right after school? I can drive us there.â€ â€œSounds fun!â€ I shout, almost with a hint of excitement. He smiles at me again as we walk into the classroom. Maybe History III wonâ€™t be so bad this time around. ☆Chapter 4- Final Update April 6, 2012☆ Spoiler Throughout the whole class, all we do is stare at each other. He tries to communicate from across the room using â€œsign languageâ€, but itâ€™s hard to understand. His arms are practically flailing while his lips are moving rapidly. Every time I shrug in confusion, he laughs silently and I follow suit. Brian Domino is mesmerizing. Everything about him seems so perfect; messy dirty blond hair, a few freckles on his cheeks, and his golden skin are only some attributes to describe him. His accomplishments are unlimited and never ending; the star quarterback, a chess club brainiac, an avid participator in school plays, skilled clarinet player, senior class president candidate, the list could literally go on and on. Heâ€™s perfect in every aspect, and Iâ€™m falling for him. I canâ€™t even hear the taunts being thrown my way anymore. Itâ€™s like Brian Domino has given me a new hidden strength, like a force field surrounding my body to prevent the awful words from reaching me. I feel strong, almost powerful, without the insults interrupting my daily activities. Iâ€™ve even smiled, something that hasnâ€™t been seen ever since I entered Thyme High, and people have apparently noticed. More and more people have begun speaking with me, and I feel less and less socially awkward... all because of Brian. A few weeks have passed since the first time we began talking in History III. I feel like I know Brian better than myself. Heâ€™s so charismatic and sweet, he even bought me a bouquet of violet tulips from the school store. We were walking, our hands intertwined, towards the cafeteria when he pulled out the bouquet from behind his back. I was shocked, this was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. The hallway is bustling with teenage youth. Almost everyone pauses and releases a short â€œAw!â€ as we embrace each other. I look up to Brian and smile as he brushes my hair behind my ear. He closes his eyes and leans forward, his lips puckered slightly. â€˜Oh my God, this is really happening.â€™ I close my eyes and lean in until I feel his tender lips press against mine. I feel a slight tingle when we finally make contact. I am overjoyed. We finally detach after kissing for almost a minute. We continue to walk as I wrap my arms around his left arm, the bouquet grasped tightly in my hand. Missy hisses in disgust as we walk away, my head resting on his muscular shoulder. I can vaguely hear her attempting to whisper. Sheâ€™s chattering like a monkey to her posse, her lips flapping at an unimaginable pace. I hear them laugh, gasp, and, for once, utterly silent. I peer behind me, and their eyes lock onto me dramatically. Missy practically shoots me a death stare, and I quickly turn my head back to my boyfriend. The one and only, Brian Domino. ☆Chapter 5- Final Update April 6, 2012☆ Spoiler It almost feels like a dream, a fantasy that requires no pinching to awake. Even if this is an elaborate dream, I never want to wake up. Life has really picked up since Brian entered it through the passage in my heart. Homelife has improved, Mom has begun speaking to me more and more each day. Iâ€™m glad sheâ€™s finally beginning to recover from the... incident all those years ago. No person should suffer for that long, especially something as saddening as your husband leaving you and your baby girl. â€œHey baby girl, want some bacon and eggs?â€ Mom asks me as I ease my way down the wooden stairs. I rub my eyes. â€œUh, sure.â€ I say, then pause, trying to swallow the simple words my mother had said. â€œThanks.â€ â€œNo problem honey. Here, take a seat.â€ She pulls out the chair where Dad always used to sit, whether it was doing taxes, playing a board game, reading the Sunday paper, or eating. Now I really look like a fool, the expression on my face must be ridiculous. Iâ€™m guessing itâ€™s a combination of astonishment and amazement. â€œMom, are you sure?â€ I say cautiously with a long pause. â€œAre you okay?â€ Her eyes beam at me. â€œOf course. Iâ€™m doing great.â€ Her eyes then stray from me and wander around the room, as if she suddenly forgot where she was. â€œOh, let me get started on those bacon and eggs.â€ â€œHere you go sweetie.â€ Mom motions for me to join her at the stove. I grab a plate and look at the delicious bacon in the pan, the eggs next to them. She places an oven mitt on her hand and grabs the steaming pan. Using her other hands, she grabs the tongs and places the bacon on my plate. I smile, and she smiles back. This is the first time Mom has genuinely smiled. She slowly places the pot back on the stove. I blow on the bacon and take a nibble out of a strip. â€œVery tasty Mom. I havenâ€™t bacon this tasty since-â€ I am abruptly stopped by the sound of Momâ€™s shrieks. Before I know it, Mom is on the floor, crying. The pan crashes onto the wooden floor, causing me to jump. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. I bend down and glance at her clenched arm. There is burning oil on her skin, peeling it off by the chunks. I stare into her eyes as herâ€™s begin to close and she falls into my extended arms. â€œMom? Mom!â€ I scramble to the phone on the kitchen wall and dial 911 quickly. â€œHello, 911 operator speaking. What is the emergency?â€ The woman at the other end of the phone asks me. I gasp, trying to find something, anything, to say. â€œM-my mom, she was cooking bacon and she slipped and the pot with oil in it fell on her. Her arm is covered in oil, and her skin is coming off. Please, help her!â€ â€œTake a breath, sweetie. Where is your location?â€ â€œ97 Woodland Avenue, Rose Valley.â€ â€œOkay, Iâ€™ve notified the emergency medical team. They will be there shortly.â€ â€œHurry! Please!â€ Looking back at Mom, I drop the phone and hurry back to her. I clutch her head to my chest, rocking back and forth slowly... just like all those years ago. When Dad left us. The ambulance was at my home in a matter of minutes. I hear the wooden door slam open as paramedics flood into the relatively small abode. Their cold eyes pierce through me as they carry Mom away. I grasp onto one of the paramedicâ€™s white lab coats, desperate to reach her. I am pulling, clawing, screaming at them. â€œMom! Come back! Donâ€™t you dare leave me, like Dad did!â€ I blurt out as they push the gurney with her now unconscious body. I collapse to my knees, feeling weak and faint. When I open my eyes, I am in Momâ€™s hospital room. Holding my head, disoriented, I slowly make my way to her body. I gingerly grasp her hand, then squeeze with all my force. Maybe I feel that sheâ€™ll wake up if I squeeze hard enough, but so many thoughts and emotions are racing through my mind, I canâ€™t focus on one thing at a time. Someone knocks on the door, and a man enters the room quietly. â€œHi there, Iâ€™m Dr. Kurtz. I am the head adviser looking over Miss. Anastasia Walts. And Iâ€™m assuming youâ€™re...â€ he stops and opens to a page on his clipboard. â€œHer daughter, Magen.â€ I nod quickly. â€œHere, I got you a glass of soda.â€ I smile slightly and take the glass. He gulps as his eyes shift from me to the window behind me. â€œCree, thereâ€™s something important I need to tell you.â€ I nod for him to go on. â€œYour mother... sheâ€™s in a coma.â€ My glass drops and shatters as it makes contact with the floor. ☆Chapter 6- Final Update April 6, 2012☆ Spoiler â€œW-what?â€ I ask. â€œIâ€™m sorry. The oil burned its way to her hypodermis and completely destroyed the nerve cells. Weâ€™re guessing that the pain was too severe and her body shut down,â€ he answers. â€œNo, no. This canâ€™t be.â€ I pause and stare into his sincere eyes. â€œWhen will she... wake up?â€ â€œWeâ€™re not sure, whenever her body is ready to function again.â€ â€œBut what will I do?â€ I squeeze Momâ€™s hand even harder. â€œWhat about the house? Whatâ€™s going to happen?â€ â€œWeâ€™ll handle the finances for your house and car. Weâ€™ve already hired someone to be your... housemaid, if you will. Angela Kcrabb will cook for you, clean for you, and care for you in general. Is that okay?â€ â€œI-I guess so.â€ He pats my back and looks to Mom, then back to me. â€œDonâ€™t worry, everything will be normal in no time,â€ he gives a weak smile, but itâ€™s comforting. I leave the room and see a woman who looks like sheâ€™s in her mid-twenties. She stands up and approaches me slowly. â€œYouâ€™re Magen Walts?â€ she asks. â€œYes. Iâ€™m guessing youâ€™re Angela.â€ I reply bluntly. She nods. â€œIndeed I am. Want me to drive you home?â€ â€œPlease. I canâ€™t stay here anymore.â€ I look through the partially opened blinds into Momâ€™s room and whisper a goodbye to her as Angela puts her arm around me and guides me outside, to her silver 2007 Toyota Avalon. She begins to drive. â€œMagen, Iâ€™m sorry about your mom. Sheâ€™ll pull through. I heard sheâ€™s a very strong woman.â€ â€œThatâ€™s a lie,â€ I whisper. â€œWhat?â€ â€œWhat you said, itâ€™s a complete lie.â€ â€œI donâ€™t understand.â€ My fingernails dig into my holey jeans as tears drop from my eyes. â€œMy mother is a coward! When my father left us, when I was eight, she completely broke down! I had to feed her, care for her! She wouldnâ€™t do anything!â€ â€œMagen, understand. Having your husband leave you is a very emot-â€ I cut her off. â€œWe almost lost our house to foreclosure. The state luckily decided to pay for our bills until she got better, but she never did! I had to manage the simplified taxes, I had to bathe her, I had to stop her from hurting herself!â€ â€œMagen, please sto-â€ â€œDo you know how hard it was to do all that when youâ€™re eight and being bullied at a hellhole of a school!?â€ I roll up my sleeve to reveal several scars on my wrist, palm, and forearm. â€œNow imagine doing all that for four years!â€ Iâ€™m pounding my fist on my leg. â€œMagen!â€ She pulls over into a nearby Macyâ€™s parking lot. â€œCalm down! I know your life has been a living hell... mine has been too!â€ She pushes me onto her in a forceful hug, a few tears running down her cheek. We sit there, crying in her car, until she detaches. She looks at me, an expression I donâ€™t understand on her face. I choke on my withheld tears and she continues to drive. As we turn onto my street, I say, â€œSorry about before.â€ It takes a while before she replies as we pull into the driveway. â€œItâ€™s fine, and understandable.â€ We approach the door and Angela pulls out a set of keys. She unlocks the door and we make our way into the house. The pot is still on the floor, the oil surrounding it- a permanent reminder of the incident. Angela looks at me, concerned. â€œIâ€™ll, uh, clean that up for you.â€ She hurriedly heads to the kitchen, puts the phone back on the hook, and begins to clean up the mess. I sprint upstairs, and wouldâ€™ve fallen if it werenâ€™t for the wooden handrail supporting me. I pull open my bedroom door and jump on my bed. I reach for my phone on the end table, grab it, and see a few text messages, two missed calls, and a voicemail from Brian. I open my phone to portrait view and read the text messages to myself: â€˜Hey Magen! <3â€™ â€˜Magen? Is something the matter?â€™ â€˜Are you okay? Did something happen? Are you upset?â€™ I immediately text him back, saying, â€˜Iâ€™m fine Brian. I was just at the hospital.â€™ Waiting for him to reply, I erase the two missed calls and listen to the voicemail: â€˜Hey Magen, are you mad at me or something? Was it about that thing that happened with Missy? Because I swear it was all her, she came onto me. I told her to stop, but she wouldnâ€™t! Pleeeeease tell me this is all a misunderstanding and youâ€™re not upset about that.... okay then, bye I guess...â€™ My mouth is agate as my phone vibrates. Itâ€™s Brain calling. ☆Chapter 7- Last Update April 6, 2012 (Incomplete)☆ Spoiler I am hesitant in whether I should answer the phone or not. I close my eyes and think about what Iâ€™d say if I picked up. The phone stops vibrating, then begins a few seconds later. I sigh and answer, â€œWhat do you want Brian?â€ He sighs as well. â€œI knew youâ€™d be upset about it. I swear it was all Missy!â€ â€œOh yeah right. I knew you always had something for her. Why would you date a loser like me when you couldâ€™ve dated the amazingly popular Missy Sullivan!? Oh and just so you know, I had no idea until you told me.â€ I scold him. I hear him almost gasp through the phone. He stutters, â€œN-no, Magen. It was all Missy! I swear, my heart belongs to you Magen! Not her!â€ â€œOf course it does. Goodbye Brian.â€ â€œNo, Magen, donâ€™t you dare han-â€ I press the END button and toss my phone to the other side of my bed as I scream into my pillow.