I Left

Just a short story I wrote.

            It begins to blare red on the edge of my dark and warm vision.

            No, no, no, no, no. It can’t be the alarm. It can’t be.

            Why must my peaceful slumber always be interrupted by these loud and shaky rectangles?

            I reach blindly to the table, and turn off the alarm. Much better.

            I’ll sleep for just a couple more minutes. Just a few minutes. I hear Violet’s footsteps. No.

            The lights come on, flooding my head with bright white all at once.

            “Violet don’t do that it’s too bright,” I mumble. It’s too bright.

            “Get up, sunshine,” she deadpans. I hear her grab her clothes and march out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

            The light’s still on. I can’t see.

            I much prefer the darkness, where everything blends together like paint, and I can see the sounds so much better. But this, this is just awful. I can’t open my eyes.

            I sit up, and even just the light through my closed eyelids is too much. I find the light-switch, and turn down the ceiling lights to a much more tolerable level.

            I finally open my eyes, and look in the mirror that Violet hung on the back of our door.

            I’m shorter than her, and thinner, but less . . . developed. She could be three years older than me, not five minutes younger.

            And then there’s the other thing I don’t want to think about.

            What have I done to deserve this? What?

            Nothing. I’ve done nothing but what the adults say: Be yourself, and the world will accept you.

            Be Violet, and the world will accept you. Be Friday, and the world will ignore you.

            I walk down the stairs to take a shower, but, upon hearing it running already, I turn to the kitchen.

            I grab a slice of cake and some caffeinated soda. That’s the one advantage I can always hold over Violet’s head. She plans her diet meticulously to keep her image, whereas I can gorge myself on junk food as often as I please and never gain a pound.

            After finishing my breakfast, I throw out the plate and empty soda can, then proceed to kick the bathroom door.

            “Get out.” I kick the door again.

            “I’ve only just gotten out of the shower.” Her voice comes muffled through the door and the bathroom fan.

            “Then get out.”

            “In about fifteen minutes, Friday.” She sighs in exasperation. I hate it when she does this, acts like she’s older than me or something.

            “You can do your makeup and stuff in our room. I need to take a shower.”

            “Use mother and dad’s.”

            “No, they’re sleeping.”

            “Just wait like fifteen minutes, okay?”

            Without a word, I walk upstairs to grab a paper clip. I find one on the dresser, and then rush back downstairs.

            Unbending it, I slide it into the door’s lock, and turn. It opens, and I rush inside.

            Violet’s applying mascara, a habit she has always failed to rationalize. I slam the door behind me and turn on the shower.

            “Get out!” She actually finishes up her mascara before lunging at me, giving me the time to take off my clothes.

            “Get off me.” I pry her fingers from my arm, and quickly jump into the shower.

            “Get out of here! You’re going to fog up the bathroom!”

            “Turn the fan back on!” I’m done with this. All of this. I’ve got to leave. I can’t stand them anymore.

            “You know what, I have friends, so I have to look reasonably presentable, so you get out!” That stings. I have a feeling it was supposed to.

            I rub shampoo into my hair and try to tune out her screaming. She’s screaming over such trivial things that don’t require screaming at all.

            If you zoom out, none of these things matter at all. Not friends, not privacy, not even mascara. Then, good grades matter. Getting into college matters. Having a good job matters.

            But if you zoom out some more, the individual people start to blend together and lose their names and their individuality itself. Then, human issues matter. It matters who wins the wars, whether laws are passed, whether government.

            You zoom out some more, and you see that all of the countries mix together like watercolors, and that humanity is only one species on this planet. Extinction and endangerment matter, animal rights matter. Humanity has become the triviality.

            Then you zoom out even more, and you realize that our planet is a dot among infinitely many. Just an infinitely small dot in an infinitely huge space, infinitely trivial.

            Then you conclude that in the end, nothing matters.

            But if nothing matters, everything matters, so you lower your expectation of the word “matters,” and it almost makes sense again.

            You’ve come back to the start, where friends and privacy and mascara matter, but you have to keep zooming out on yourself. You always do.

            And it keeps going in infinite spirals, outwards and inwards all around our unfathomable universe.

            I don’t understand it fully, not really. Just, my brain is running in circles, and I’ve got to chase it.

            I turn off the water and wrap up in a towel, finding that Violet has left. I brush my teeth, then go upstairs and get dressed.

            I wear an old t-shirt and sweatpants, because I just don’t care anymore.

            “Friday, Violet says you barged into the bathroom and jumped in the shower while she was still in there,” I hear mother say through the door.

            “She was being ridiculous. You need to get her to give me an equal turn.”

            “She was there first, lovey.” It occurs to me that I really hate them both.

            “I know!”

            “I don’t want to argue with you. I’m going to work; Dad will drive you to school.”

            Without waiting for a goodbye, she walks off. I hate her.

            I’m done with this place, this awful place. I’m leaving today.

            Dad drives us to school, which is just about the most useful thing he’s done this week. He doesn’t have a job, but he says he’s going to get one soon. It’s been four years, and this “soon” hasn’t come yet.

            I don’t hate him as much as the rest of the family, I mostly just feel sorry for him. He’s pathetic.

            We walk into the school, where Violet immediately distances herself from me. Like always.

            My days seem to have ups and downs: every few days, someone will actually deign to have a conversation with me, which is always a pleasant surprise. Most days, however, I find that I go through all my classes without saying a word.

            At lunch, I sit alone. Violet’s friends used to let me sit with them, but they don’t anymore.

            I’ll leave after school. For good.

            In Spanish, I turn in my quiz blank. Grades won’t matter after today.

            I’ll go in the dead of night.

            I leave the building when the bell rings; walk outside in the bitter cold. I look across the parking lot, searching for Dad’s car, but to no avail. He’s forgotten.

            I don’t even bother looking for Violet and her friends. They don’t want to talk to me.

            I walk along icy sidewalks, a maze of waist-high snowbanks. The sky is in gray and white turmoil, telling tales of the storm to come.

            There’s nothing in this place for me anymore. The only one I’ll miss is Leaf, my cat. She’s so sweet.

            I’ll have to email someone, say that they can keep Leaf.

            Another reason to hate my family: they hate cats, and an enemy of a cat is an enemy of mine.

            “Hi, Friday,” someone says. I turn around. It’s Nadia. She’s in the grade below me, and is the closest thing I have to a friend, but only by way of circumstance. She hasn’t got any friends, either.

            “Hi, Nadia.” There isn’t really much else to say. We don’t have much in common, other than a love for cats. She hasn’t ever met Leaf, though.

            I should give Leaf to her, when I leave. I will.

            “Goodbye,” she says when she turns onto a side street. Her voice is light blue and translucent.

            “Bye,” I say. That’s us, having conversations of six words total.

            I arrive at home, and immediately go to my room and fall asleep. Violet’s having a friend over, and I don’t want to have to talk to them.

            I wake up around six-thirty, having somehow slept three-and-a-half hours. I go downstairs and make myself a microwavable burrito, which disintegrates in the microwave and becomes more of a soup-like substance.

            Violet’s friend has left, and she’s sitting across from me, doing her homework. I’m not going to do mine, as I’ll never get the chance to turn it in.

            “What are you eating, cat puke?” she says, smirking.

            I look at her. “Yes, Violet, I’m eating cat puke.”

            When I finish my burrito, I go upstairs to compose an email. I think about exactly what I’m about to do, and explain it very thoroughly, adding the part about Leaf to the end. When I’m finished, I minimize the email and go looking for Leaf.

            I find him underneath my parents’ bed, his eyes glowing in the reflected light. At the sight of me, he slinks out. He is such a beautiful cat, all shiny black except for his orange paws.

            I pick him up and carry him to the bedroom I share with Violet, being careful not to lock the door so she won’t be suspicious. I grab a good book I’ve read many times, and sit curled up in the corner with Leaf, reading.

            “I’m going to miss you, Mister Leaf,” I whisper, stroking his small head. He looks at me adoringly. I am the only one he loves, and he is the only one I love. I could never take him with me.

            I watch the book, but I’m not reading. I’m just looking at it. I’m really leaving, this time. I’ll never see Leaf again. Never.

            I start to cry, and my tears are silent at first, but they grow to small whimpers. I press my face to Leaf’s, feel the little bones of his cheeks and nose and jaw. His little face. “I hope that Nadia loves you and you love Nadia and you forget all about me,” I say, and it hurts. Half of me wishes he’ll never forget me, think of me in everything he does, from eating to sleeping to using the litter-box. But the rest of me wants him to be happy. I want him to be a happy cat, like always.

            “I love you, Leaf.” I cry for him and myself and this unfair situation until there are no more tears, and then I just whimper, my face dry.

            I kiss his tiny cat face. I love him. His innocent little cat face. I love you.

            At ten, I climb in bed with Leaf, and face the wall to hide my distraught expression of dried-up tears from Violet.

            When Violet comes, she turns out the light and climbs into bed without a word.

            I pet Leaf more, and try to keep quiet. I need everyone else to fall asleep before I can leave.

            I love you, Leaf. I don’t love anyone else. You beautiful cat. I love you.

            At eleven fifteen, I pick up Leaf and carry him downstairs to his special cardboard box where he always sleeps. I kiss him on the head.

            “Goodbye, Leaf. I love you more than anything and forever.” It feels like an insufficient goodbye, but every goodbye is. I wave to him on my way upstairs.

            I open the hall closet soundlessly, and take a layer of comforters and pillows off the top shelf, exposing my father’s case of guns from when he used to shoot targets.

            He should probably have kept this thing locked, but I’m thankful he didn’t.

            I open it up, and take the gun the internet said would be best. I put the case back, and replace the bedding.

            I open the door of my parents’ room, and stand there in silence until I can see their sleeping forms. I’ve practiced so much in video games; I’ve got to get this right.

            These awful people can’t stay here in a place where I’m not welcome.

            I aim at what must be Mother’s head, and pull the trigger. It hits the wall beside her, and she screams, but on the next shot, she is silent.

            Dad rolls over in his sleep, and rubs his eyes groggily. How does he sleep through this? I aim at his head, only a few feet from me, and I do not miss.

            I go out to the hallway, and see the light seeping in under my bedroom door. Violet’s up. Before she can lock it, I dash inside and lock it behind me, finding her standing in the middle of the room.

            “Friday! No!” she screams.

            I aim at her head, but she’s far away from me, and I miss. What if I run out of bullets?

            I back her into a corner, and her face is pure terror when the bullet hits it. In those last seconds, she knew: she shouldn’t have shunned me; she should have been my friend, because I am a person, just like everyone else, and I have a limit.

            I jiggle the computer mouse to wake it up, and open up the minimized email. I click send. Nadia will call the police.

            I’m not sure exactly how to do this, but I press the gun to my left eye, looking into the barrel.

            I’m a scaredy-cat, so I close my eyes when I pull the trigger.

            It is all gone.

Reviews

[Prime]

This is well written. Not really grotesque but very brutal and heartless. I just thought it would be better if you had explained thoroughly through the scenes what Friday has been harshly going through. Many would say Friday is irrational, but it's real. It's a monster within ourselves that awaits our call.

I can relate to Friday's situation. Her coldness and irrational perception of the world. That's what I think when my murderous intent takes over, and I succumb to my hatred sometimes. But over the years I have learned to control those thoughts and prevent myself from going down to committing suicide which I had numerous failed attempts.

Overall, great story! I like the intro, anyway :D

[Turquoise Unicorn]

Thanks so much for the review!
As you said, I probably should have included a better explanation of what Friday went through, but I wanted to keep the story short, and I hate having to explain things.
I tried to make Friday cold and heartless, but I included Leaf in the story to show that she is not just an insane monster who hates everything, but a person whose emotional needs have been severely neglected, so she turns to her cat for emotional support.
At school today, my iPod kept telling me that my story had been reviewed, and all day I've been waiting impatiently for school to end so I could read it. Thanks so much!

[Prime]

You're welcome. ^^

Yup, there is still good even in the most among devils. But people just fail to notice because they're busy judging themselves by all bad deeds. Tsk2 !

[Turquoise Unicorn]

This is probably a silly question, but what does "Tsk2" mean?

[Prime]

Oh, sorry. That's one of my mannerisms...