*All critics and comments are welcome and can be sent to me at tearsdry66@gmail.com. I reply to all my mail so you will hear back from me if you write. *
The original version of Beautiful Tragedy I didn't really like, so I rewrote it, made it longer and am in the process of some fierce editing. I changed the character's names because I didn't like them much. So if you are familiar with Beautiful Tragedy look forward for updates!
Discloser - This is an original piece of fiction created by the author, any similarities in this story to any other work both fiction or in real life, including events and places is completely coincidental. The copy of this story in any other website must be approved by the author first via written consent.
Beautiful Tragedy
Chapter One
The scent of fresh flowers was intoxicating making it almost impossible to breathe as I sit in the last row of the funeral home with my head down, my hands resting firmly in my lap. It's hard to focus on the words the pastor is saying because I am so unfocused right now. I slowly force myself to look up at the pastor, he's standing in front of the oak colored casket, his fingers entwined, resting firmly on top of the wooden podium. The only light that is in the small some-what cluttered funeral home are a few dozen candles on either side of the casket. The light bounces off the fake gold statues of the Virgin Mary making the grey hairs in the Pastor's hair shine like when the sun reflects on a crystal. Behind him is what looks like over two dozen different flower arrangements, all in which are cascades of whites, reds and pinks. I take a deep breath and look around me; about half of the chairs are occupied with people in black. A depressing picture. I bring my attention back to the floor and try to swallow the large lump in my throat. I have no idea how I was suppose to feel. Am I supposed to cry like everyone else here? If so why aren't I? Why am I feeling so empty and ... Numb? Suddenly I feel something on my shoulder; I move my head slightly to see a hand resting firmly on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" asks the familiar voice of my best friend Allie. I open my mouth but nothing comes out, so I just nod. I don't even really know if I'm okay or not. "Rory, come with me." she says into my ear. I'm not really sure why, but I do as she says, following her outside.
Outside its cold, there's still snow on the ground from the storm we had a few days ago. I look at Allie; she looks really pretty despite the fact that her eyes are red from crying. She sits down on the bench out side and slowly begins smoothing out the wrinkles in her short black dress. "I never imagined something could be this hard." she said not making eye contact with me. I sit down beside her and take her hand in mine.
"I know..." I whisper softly as I gently move my index finger along the palm of her hand. "I feel so numb." I tell her as I look up at the dark clouds above us.
"I miss him already." she says taking a tissue from her purse and wiping her eyes. "It's never going to be the same again is it?" I don't say anything. I think about what she just said, that was something I didn't even realize. My life - or anyone else's in Easton was going to be the same again. I take a deep breath as I feel Allie's hand on my cheek. "We'll get through this." She says softly as she forces a smile. It's then that I realize it was a tear she had wiped from my cheek.
"What happens now?" I ask as I bite at the metal ring in my lip.
She takes in a deep breath. "I have to go back to Lenten, and... I was hoping you would come with me. You can transfer schools and go to UL with me." she answers fidgeting with a strand of her auburn colored hair.
"I don't know Allie." I say as I turn to look at her. I've never lived anywhere but Easton and I definitely couldn't leave now."
"Please Ror, it would mean so much to Me." she says squeezing my hand. "Chris and Janie will be there too."
"I don't think I can leave Easton." I answer staring down at the snow on the ground.
"You used to always say how you were going to get out of Easton. Here's your chance." I think for a moment before saying,
"But that was before." She gives me a sympathetic nod as she rubs her hand against the back of my neck.
"But if you come with us, you'll be around people who can support you. I don't want you by yourself at a time like this." she says as she places her purse in her lap.
"I'm sure I'll be fine. I mean, I'm at a funeral and I'm taking it okay aren't I?" I ask looking at her.
"You're taking it a lot better than what I thought, but that's probably because it hasn't hit you yet, Rory. I know you don't like to admit when you're upset, but honey, it's okay. It's okay to cry..."
I close my eyes tightly because I can feel the on coming rush of tears beginning to form. But then I realize, I've held them back long enough and the more I continue to hold back, the harder it's going to be. So I break down the walls of my emotional strength. I let go. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks and for the first time, I don't care that people can see me cry. Allie wraps her arms around me like any good friend would and holds me tight. "I-I can't..." I start to say but she hushes me.
"Just let it out." she whispers soothingly. And I do, I don't fight it, I don't try to be strong. I just cry. Because crying is all that I feel like doing.
~*~
One Year Ago...
The lights in the bathroom hanging over the sink shown dimly; occasionally flickering, as I stood their in front of the mirror, my hands resting firmly on either side of the sink, my body slightly bent over so the tips of my jaw length raven bangs slightly touch the bottom of the sink, getting wet from the water coming out of the faucet. Taking a deep breath I raise my head a little, making myself look into the mirror. My eyes glaring coldly back at me through the reflection as I wipe the blood from the side of my mouth with the back of my hand. I hate school. I hate the jerks who go there and how no matter how many times I get into fights nothing is ever done. I fill my hand up with the cold water, bend down more so that I'm closer to the sink and splash the water into my face. The water stings for a few moments as it hits the open cuts on my right cheek and busted pierced lip. I reach for the towel hanging on the towel ring near the bath tub and dry my face. I turn the faucet off once the sink is close to half full and place the towel into the water.
I move slowly to the bathroom door and shut it before unbuttoning the buttons on my red button-up collard shirt. I take it off and throw it aside, slowly returning to the sink and looking back at my reflection. The whole right side of my shoulder is bloody and covered in small cuts like I had been dragged across an unpaved road. I take the towel out of the water, ring it out gradually, then placing it on my shoulder. The touch of the wet cotton makes me wince at first, but then I adjust to the pain and start carefully cleaning away the blood. High school might not be so bad if I wasn't treated so badly on a daily bases on days that I'm not getting the crap beat out of me, I am being constantly tormented in class, or between passing periods. But that I've sort of taught myself to live with since it's been something I've been dealing with since the fifth grade.
It's still a mystery to me why I continue going to school when things have gotten as bad as they have. I know it's not because I'm good in school, I get average grades -- I'm normally really quiet and don't talk to anyone during class. There is only one person who I actually trust, and that's my best friend Allie. She's smart, funny, and friendly with everyone unless you give her reason to hate you. Although a majority of the school is on her hate list because of me. I might not say anything when people are giving me a hard time just because I deal with it and choose to ignore it but if Allie hears it, or hears about it she will not rest until she's let them have a piece of her mind.
Once all the blood on my shoulder is cleaned up, I put the towel back into the sink, and pull on a black wife-beater -- so my wound can actually breathe since I know the touch of cotton will most likely make it sting a lot. I let out a heavy sigh as I push my bangs out of face as I walk out of the bathroom and down the hall. The small two bedroom that I live in with my mother and her boyfriend is dark, mostly because I keep the lights off to save electricity, otherwise that's just more money that we really don't have to spend on bills. I make my way to the kitchen and take a glass out of the cupboard and fill it with water from the tap. The apartment has a tiny kitchen that you'd be lucky if you can fit two people in it at once, and a small living room that is taken up mostly by the couch and TV which is sitting on top of an upside down milk crate. I roll my eyes thinking about how I wish my mother would stop wasting her money on her alcohol and maybe take care of her home more. But I know that's something that is most likely to never happen. I take a sip of my water and head back down the hallway to my room.
My mother has never really been a mother to me; she has never congratulated me let alone acknowledged when I came home with good grades. She never supported me in anything I did or attempted to do, when I get sick I take care of myself -- what happened today would be a fair example of that. Once I'm in my room, I shut the door, set the glass on top of the dresser and turn on the radio. I sit on my bed and starts doing my homework -- might as well get a head start on it since I don't have anything else to do at the moment.
~*~
I glance over at the alarm clock on the bed side table; it says 7:30 in big read numbers that hurt your eyes if you stare at it for too long. I finish answering the last question to my history assignment then place all my school work back into my messenger bag as I hear the front door of the apartment open loudly, the door hitting the wall hard as if it was forced open. I roll my eyes because I know this means my mother is most likely in a bad mood. After putting my binder back in my bag I set everything on the floor, propping it up against the bed-side dresser. My room is small, but clean. The once white walls are covered with posters of bands ranging from Atreyu to Slipknot all neatly covering the walls in a collage of photographs. I get up and walk over to the door, opening it slowly and leaning against the door frame, slowly sticking my head outside the door to see what's going on.
My mother is standing in front of the open front door, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, her hands on her hips, a cigarette between her fingers as she taps her foot impatiently as her boyfriend Dave walks in holding a paper grocery bag. "What the hell took you so long to bring onebag inside?" she says taking a drag from the cigarette. He doesn't respond, he just takes the bag into the kitchen calmly. I can tell this pissing my mother off because she rolls her eyes at him and throws her arms down to her side as if she had asked him something that needed an answer. She glances down the hallway and I feel her eyes meet mine. My heart skip a beat as she takes a few steps towards the hallway and flicks the light on, the sudden burst of light fills the hallway and hurts my eyes since I had been sitting in the dark for the last few hours, it takes them a few minutes to adjust to the light. "What happened to you?" she sneers, crossing her arms leisurely.
"Nothing that you'd care to hear." I answer leaning against the door frame harder and crossing my arms over my chest like she is.
She shakes her head. "I told you." She says under her breath, but loud enough for me to hear. "I told you what the kids in school would do when they found out you were a fag."
The sound of that simple little three letter word hit me like a big yellow bus, making my heart beat increase. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself down but it doesn't help much since I can feel my fists clenching. "That has nothing to do with it." I say between gritted teeth.
She smiles, and I can tell by that smile that she knows that she's right. I bite down on the metal ring in my lip, keeping my eyes on her as she walks over to the counter which I can still see from the hallways. She grabs a small brown paper bag and pulls out a small bottle of vodka. "I'm sure your father would be so proud." She says sarcastically, unscrewing the cap of the bottle and taking a swig.
"Dad wouldn't have cared either way." I relax my palms, releasing my fists as I shake my head slowly. "Unlike you, he actually cared." I say going back into my room, slamming the door and locking it.
"You ungrateful little -" I hear her say before I turn up the volume on my radio to tune her out. I can still hear her yelling from behind the door as she pounds violently on it. Most of what she's saying is inaudible, but I can make out a few things, like that I should show respect towards her because she is my mother and she puts a roof over my head and that I should be grateful that she's allowing a "fag" to still live in her house.
I lay on my bed, my pillow held close to my chest my eyes squeezed closed trying hard not to focus on anything. Not my mother pounding and yelling at my door, or the pain in my arm. I just didn't want to feel anything or hear anything right now. I felt a tear break through my closed eyelids and make its way slowly down my face. Why couldn't things be the way they were before? Why couldn't my dad still be alive? Maybe then... Just maybe my life wouldn't be as shitty.
~*~
The blaring alarm clock startled me awake. I was still laying in bed fully dressed in the fetal position with the pillow against my chest. I got out of bed, my whole body felt like lead -- I was so sore from yesterday's beating. I somehow managed to make it over to my closet and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and some local band-trying-to-make-it-big band shirt. I stand in front of the mirror by my dresser, quickly rubbing the brush through my hair and spraying it with hairspray. I open the first drawer of the dresser and rustle through things -- I usually keep random things that I use in my first drawer like pens, papers, things that aren't clothing. Finally I find my eye liner. I lean closer to the mirror so I can try and put it on without having to try and do this multiple times. I hope the liner will make my black eye not so noticeable.
For a guy I think I'm pretty average. I'm 5'10, which I guess is an okay height. Short black hair except for my bangs, blue eyes. My only flaw in my opinion is that I'm really skinny. I take after my dad a lot, or at least that's what I hear from people. I remind them of my father.
When I finally get the eye liner on, I grab my messenger bag from the floor and slowly open my bedroom door. I know if I wake my mother up I'll never hear the end of it. So I tiptoe out of my room, closing the door quietly behind me then quicken my pace down the hallway to the front door and then out as fast as I can. When I'm around the corner of the apartment complex I can finally breathe again. I take a deep breath relax the muscles in my body. Two blocks away from my apartment complex there is a parked dark blue Ford Focus. I walk over to the passenger side of the car as the window rolls down.
Allie smiles at me from the passenger's side, her huge dark shaded sunglasses cover up half of her face but they make her look like a movie star. "Hey there, sexy." She says clicking a button to unlock the door. I open it and climb into the car.
"Hey Allie. What's up?" All my worry and pain slips away as soon as I see Allie. It's like she has this way of sucking all the negativity out of my life.
"Not much. Just picking your ass up to take to school." She says sliding the sun glasses on top off her head pushing back her strawberry blonde hair back and winking at me. I smile softly -- it feels like my muscles tense because I haven't smiled in so long. "So... Friday night, me Jordan and a few others are going to hang, you in?" Jordan is her football playing jock of a boyfriend who she's been on and off with for the past four years. They are currently on make-up number 10.
"Nah. I have other plans." I answer placing my messenger bag in my lap and she pulls the car away from the curb and back on to the street.
She raises an eyebrow as she rolls the windows on the car up and turns the air conditioner on. "Oh really? And you failed to mention this to me how?"
"Slipped my mind." I answer shrugging. "I don't know, I just forgot."
She laughs to herself and glances at me. "So who is more important than me that you'd rather hang out with?" she asked playingly.
I shake my head at her and laugh. "I have a date with Ayden."
"Ah lover boy. I see. Well I guess that is a little more important than hanging out with your best buds." She said hitting me playfully in the shoulder.
Ayden is this guy that I sort of have had a crush on and Allie knows it so when ever I mention his name around her she starts giving me a hard time about it. "He is not my boyfriend. He's just a friend." I answer quickly.
"Uh huh." She responds pulling into the student parking lot at Lincoln High. "A friend who you secretly want to make out with." She turns off the engine and gets out of the car.
I get out as well, throwing my bag over my shoulder. "I do not." I answer as I follow her towards the pain building of the school.
She stops in front of me and looks at me. "Right. "she says throwing one arm around my shoulder. "Anyways, he'd be crazy if he didn't like you sweetie, you are totally gorgeous. And that shiner makes you even more sexy." She says referring to my black eye.
"Haha." I say shaking my head at her.
She throws her purse over her right shoulder and walks ahead of me. "Well babe, I better get, or I will be late for geometry. Ciao baby." She says blowing a kiss to me, disappearing into the mass of students entering the building. I take a deep breath and I lean against the Lincoln High School sign out front. Two more day of school and then I have the weekend... Although I'm not quite sure if I'd rather be at school or home. But who knows, maybe my day with Ayden will make up for the rest of my crappy week.