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… Yeah, that.


“I’m here during the summer, just so that the court can give him some sort of visitation rights, or whatever. My dad, that is. But I’m going to stay for senior year,” Renee explained. “I guess Mom thought that she was too busy to give a damn about my life. Not that I needed her to,” she assured him. She was rambling, and they both knew it. Monroe bumped her shoulder softly once more.

“Oh well. Her loss,” Monroe told her, still smiling. “If it makes you feel better, I saw my parents die.”

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say to a girl that you’ve just met at a party, but then again… It showed that the boy had guts. She’d give that to him.

At first, she was taken aback. She had twisted a bit farther from him unconsciously. “How?” she asked, suspiciously. “And I swear to God, if you’re pulling my leg, I’ll break yours,” she said, her eyes narrowed. “Because that is so not funny.”

“I wish I was just kidding,” he told her. “Trust me, I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

“What happened?” she asked, her interest aroused.

“Well… Do you want me to tell it like a story?” he asked, smiling goofily.

She shrugged. “Go ahead.”

That was fine. He could do this.

He hadn’t told anyone about it in a long time… But this girl… she seemed so real. And he had to keep her talking, had to keep her by his side, for as long as possible.

“It was just about seven years ago. A little under. I was… I was ten, I guess. I was just a little kid, you know. And I was in the car with my parents when they were driving. They were driving too fast, anyway, even I knew that, and I knew that something was wrong, I just don’t know how I knew.

“And they weren’t wearing their seat belts. I wasn’t either. We’d always been really bad about that kind of stuff. They weren’t safe drivers, they never had been.

“It wasn’t night, they weren’t drunk, it was autumn, so it wasn’t raining, and I mean, it was just like… maybe it was bad luck. Bad luck, or pure laziness, or whatever. It wasn’t something that we expected, I guess, is what I’m trying to get at.

“And they turned a corner and we collided with some kind of car. Something big. Something really big. And our car was crushed. I mean, it was just… It was just completely totaled.

“The first thing that my dad did was reached for my mother’s hand. The crash only lasted a few seconds, but it must have been long enough to kill her. He reached for her hand, and he squeezed it, and it was just… Gosh, I don’t know. She didn’t squeeze back.

“And my dad cried and didn’t check on me. it was okay, though, because I knew that she was dead and that he didn’t have time for me at the moment. He probably didn’t even realize that I was even still in the car. I mean, it was like, sudden.

“He reached for one of the broken shards of glass and cut himself open. His wrists, I mean. They bled and bled, and I knew that I couldn’t ignore it. He only realized once I had leaned forward to touch him that I was there. I tried to stop the bleeding. He didn’t say a word as he bled out, but before he lost consciousness, he said ‘watch over him’ , but I didn’t think it was to me.  In fact, I’m pretty sure, even now, that it wasn’t to me, but I didn’t know who he could have been talking to.”

That part was a bit of a lie. Monroe knew exactly who he was talking to, and the person that his father was addressing couldn’t hear him. He continued on with his story.

“And I stayed with him as he bled out, and sooner or later, the ambulances arrived. I was poked and prodded for a solid two weeks, and then I was released into the care of the State. Who, it turns out, didn’t care much.”

Monroe had zoned out as he was telling this story. Hazel had sat, enraptured, even though all of the “likes” and “ums” and “I means”. There was something beautiful about that story, even if it was disgusting. What kind of father could do that right in front of his own son?

Without even realizing it, Monroe had just spilled one of the secrets he hadn’t told many people at all to a girl that he’d just met.

He gave a shaky half laugh, and then smiled at Hazel, bumping her on the shoulder once more. “Cheer up,” he said. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yes it is.”

He laughed, louder this time. “Yeah, it is. But that’s okay, right? I mean, I still dream about it sometimes. But it’s fine. I just wanted… I don’t know what I wanted. Just uh…”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just wanted to say something, I guess.”

“Glad you did,” she said, slipping her hand into his like been friends for years.

Now, my loves, keep in mind that this excret from my 2011 NaNo, (Entitled “A Safe Place to Fall”, or “Without Jenna”- haven’t decided yet, take your pick), has not been edited, and this is me writing with low energy and a diminishing tea stash.

And oh yeah. I hit 21k last night. :D

Anyways! What do you think?? ^-^

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4 comments on “… Yeah, that.

  1. Ooh… creepy! It’s very good, though. Being who I am, I would’ve put it a few funny lines that would completely ruin the moment. Great!

  2. It works. It’s an interesting story, not something that you would really expect to find out. That your male character is so very well adjusted in the telling of the story leads to believe that there is definitely more going on with him. The dialogue doesn’t sound overly forced between the teens, and even though the male projects a persona of being unflappably ok with his history, there are still cracks there.

    Well written characters, easy to follow thought process, and an intriguing section of the story that makes me want to know more.

    One note, it was unclear in the beginning of this small section just which one was Monroe. In the first paragraph, to be honest, I thought that Monroe was a 3rd character, a female friend of the first girl who was bumping her shoulder as a way of saying ‘stop rambling!’. It wasn’t until a bit later on after the car crash that it became clear that Monroe was the male telling the story. Also, I know that the scene is not fully set up for the reader, but pulling it out of context, I have no idea who the female is, her name, or why she is there. I mean, obviously she is there for the summer but who is ‘she’. perhaps instead of calling her ‘her’ so often, at least insert her name once into this excerpt, it will help avoid confusion for the reader, and will also help with a bit of diversity of pronouns and identification of subjects.

    Overall, very very good. Hope you don’t mind the conscrit. keep up the good work!

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