But you know what, my life is completely uneventful. All I can tell you about the past six(?) weeks is that there's this guy in the library that we officially named the hottest guy in school and the accounting class I was dreading on having is actually the best class of the day. Also, I miss sheet music and choir. And I realized that I only see about 2 or 3 hours of real sunlight during the week before I nap the day away.
But I don't see why you guys would want to know about my life anyway. It's not like it's fun and exciting and filled with adventures every day. It's always the same routine. Wake up late, go to school, hang around in the library for less than half an hour in the mornings, go to English or World History, go to Algebra 2 and say nothing at all during that amount of time, work on some stuff in CUP, go to lunch and sit at the same table with the same people while ignoring their conversations every day, go to biology and feel sorry for Ms. M who has to deal with the rowdiest freshman who never listen to her, go to accounting and fall asleep because the vent is freezing and my desk leans against a wall, either go on the bus where I have nowhere to sit because Maryan never saves me a seat anymore or go to Art Club where we make buildings for homecoming decorations then go home and sleep until seven or nine and procrastinate on my homework until around 10 then eating and making my lunch at midnight before going upstairs to my room where I watch What I Like About You until 2 am. I mean, for the world's longest run on sentence, that's pretty much my entire life. In a nutshell, it's just "school, (art club), nap, (procrastinating on) homework, eat, sleep." That just screams exciting.
What's sad is that I realize this and don't do anything about it. But hey, what can I do? I only really have like three friends, one of which makes me feel invisible most of the time, and I have no car or money or any spontaneity in my life. If I were rich and could drive and had more friends I'd totally do some awesome stuff.
Anyway, to cheer you up (actually, probably make you more mad at me), I've decided to show you the end of the second book in my very underdeveloped series I plan to actually finish one day.
I know I realize that I'm completely ruining what could possibly be the second worst cliffhanger in the history of the world (after Catching Fire but before Eleventh Grade Burns) but I will most likely re-edit everything later in life when I look back on it and realize how horrible my writing is now.
And to add on to that, for any of you who know what my former plot line is, I'm kind of mixing it up again. This is like the third time of me doing so, but this time I feel like it'll actually be a little less lame and might add on to the teenage appeal (especially if I decide to do what I'm thinking of doing should I ever officially decide to make my MCs a few years older).
So without further ado, part of the final chapter of the second book in my series (the title of which, is still being decided alongside other plot lines of the story).
(Marc)
I stare him down, a fire raging behind my eyes and in my chest. But my stomach is as heavy as lead. “What did you do to him?” I demand. It annoys me how this smirking bastard has the upper hand while I am left completely powerless. For once, I got my wish to be normal and now I am paying the price. Worst of all, he knows it. I should have just wished for world peace like every other Miss America contestant.
Cal leans forward and a devilish grin forms on his lips. It’s taking all of my strength to restrain myself from leaping across the table and ripping his throat out to feel his sweet pain and agony course through my veins, but I stay put. He raises an eyebrow and says, “You know exactly what I did with him, Marci.” He pronounces my name with such thick sweetness as poisonous as rattlesnake blood that my body involuntarily shudders before it dawns on me what he was implying. My heart skips to my throat, making it only possible for me to retort through clenched teeth, “My name is Marc.”
His eyes glitter. “But Marc is not a nice name for such a beautiful young lady.” This guy had to be a pedophile. He reaches his hand to touch my face, but I flinch away from him. Damn. There goes my cool exterior. He sits back, even more smug. “Oh, Marc. Darling Marc. Join me, and you will be unstoppable. You can control your powers so easily that you won’t need to wear a dirty hat to block out unwanted thoughts or cover your skin anymore so you can have contact with other people again. You don’t need this shell that you are hiding in that separates you from the world. You can turn on and off your powers at will. You don’t need Reese. He limited your powers – he distracted you. Made you lose focus. With me, you can even have powers that the son of a bitch telekinetic had, and more. With Reese out of the picture, there is nothing stopping you from re aching greatness. All you have to do is join me.”
A cold sweat breaks across my skin, coating my palms and moistening my upper lip. Reese is gone, and there is no reversing it. I feel like every system in my body is breaking down, crumbling to bits more and more until fissures split my skin and I shatter completely. But I keep my composure and stare him down. “You’re right,” I begin. “There is nothing to stop me anymore.”
He curls his lip more but says nothing. Suddenly, I can’t look at him anymore. His sneering face and malicious aura is too much for me. The blank white walls close in on me, pressing me to continue, as if it were daring me. I look past his head, focusing on the view of the grey Lake Michigan before looking back at him. “There is no stopping me,” I repeat. I raise my eyebrow a bit and flash him my own devilish grin. “From leaving.”
In an instant, I leap out of my char, knocking it over in the process. I step onto the table between us, using Cal’s head as a support as I leap frog over him. He yells out, calling for guards, but I’m already running towards the window headfirst. By the time the sound of the guards’ angry shouts reach my ears, the glass is already shattered on the floor, and I am plunging to the water watching the black expanse rushing towards me.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.
It was all a dream? A freaking dream? What kind of insane and twisted psychopath would hijack some guy’s brain? This Cal dude, whoever the hell his is, has some serious issues. I was just a pawn in his sick little game, and so was Marc. But not anymore.
I speed down the highway, feeling my adrenaline rush restore most of my strength. Marc is okay, I keep telling myself. They didn’t get to her. She’s waiting for me at her house. Repeat.
I grip the steering wheel, almost afraid it would break in my hands. Focusing on keeping the needle on the seventy so I won’t get pulled over by any highway cops, I swerve between cars with record speed and precision. In less than twenty minutes, I’m already on the exit that leads to Marc’s sleepy town.
I check the time. 11:29. I can feel my nerves knotting and jumbling up in my stomach, getting more and more tangled with every passing intersection. How long was I there for, anyway? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? A chill runs down my spine as I think of Marc being at the mercy of some deranged lunatic for months without my help. Marc is strong, but she’s dealing with a total whackjob.
A few streets away from Marc’s house, I park along the curb and make a quick check for any thoughts of lingering night crawlers nearby before ditching the car. I pound the sidewalk, trying to look like a usual teenager cutting curfew. As simple as my role is, I have trouble keeping myself from running all the way down the street and waking up sleeping neighbors. My heart beats loud in my ears, as low as a bass that surface above the wails of guitars and the clash of drums. Adrenaline floods through my veins, making my nerves knot even more at the pit of my stomach. My breathing comes in quick, short breaths.
Marc is okay. They didn’t get to her.
Suddenly, the world slows down. Every step is like walking through tar, and the road doubles in size with ever foot I walk. Forgetting my cover, I start running.
I am so focused on running that I almost miss her house once I get there. It hides behind two large trees that squat in the front yard. I have only ever seen a glimpse of it once when I first met Marc a week before I was captured. Then, it was sunny outside and the house looked warm and inviting, even if it was small and isolated. Now, it just looks lonely and empty. There is only one window full of light. All the rest are dark. But as I look closer, my breath catches. The window has a faint purple glow to it. Marc’s room.
I dash in, not even bothering to knock or ring the doorbell. I just let myself in, using my mind to unlock the door. I hurry to her room, all the while calling out for her. “Marc! Marc!” Relief starts to ebb my anxiousness. Until I reach her doorway.
“Marc, I’m so glad – ”
I stop dead in my tracks. There, sitting on Marc’s bed, is her mother holding a picture frame and weeping. She looks up when I enter, her eyes puffy and her nose running. Not good. “Reese,” she says breathlessly.
“Mrs. R.? What’s going on?”
She puts down the frame hastily to hide the picture from my eyes. But I see the smiling face captured and treasured forever within the tiny frame. Marc. “Nothing’s going on. I was just reminiscing on memories and got overwhelmed by emotions. That’s all.” She offers a strained smile.
I eye her warily. “I see where Marc gets her impeccable lying habit,” I start slowly. Mrs. Renegade’s shoulders slump. “Don’t lie to me, Mrs. R. She taught me how to read minds.” My voice wavers. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to say her name anymore.
“Oh Reese,” she says again. She stalls, and with every passing second panic rises in my throat. I bite my lip, not ready to hear what she has to say but expecting it all the same. I just don’t want to hear it being said out loud. In my head, it call still be a farfetched nightmare.
Marc’s mother looks up at me now with her eyes filled with tears. Looking down on her, she looks smaller than I remember, as if she were being weighed down by this truth she is trying so hard to let out. I wait for her with bated breath.
“Reese. Marc is dead.”
This looks a LOT shorter on the post editor. XD
Don't you all just hate me now? Most of you probably don't even know the history behind the characters, so if I actually wrote out the entire series and you followed it all, you'd be like, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT FOR? WHY ARE YOU SO HEARTLESS AND CRUEL AND EVIL?!"
Just chill, okay? It gets better in the next book (which I hope will be the last, since I want this to be a trilogy and all).
But maybe you guys have a different idea of what "better" is than I do...
Anyway, everything before this point is nearly nonexistent. I realized how horribly flimsy my former plot was and I was like, "Oh screw it. I'll just write it differently."
Book Two will be the biggest book for major plot twists though. Just saying ;)
So let's hope that once I finish the series maybe 10 or 15 years from now, you will all forget everything about this post. ^_^
If you don't, I'll just use reverse psychology with you like I did Stacy when I tried to convince her that she didn't remember me saying anything about the end of Fang.
And let me tell you, it WORKED.
TWGS ♥
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