Dark fallen around the young girl, music blasting in her ears, not knowing where she was going. She made a soft noise, a whisper, of what song she was singing, the song that was going on her IPod. The song that way playing. The IPod had begun to shine in the moonlight. Her black hair had fallen along her face. Her make-up was messed up, from her crying only moments before. For now, crimson tears will spill on the inside of her, make her feel pain. She had cuts along her wrists, scars. She had been a mess up, a mistake, her mother even spat in her face about it when she was a child. For now she was only 16, she was on her own, she took care of herself. She kept herself calm when someone would pass her by with a strange stare, or a glare. She’d keep herself secretive, not letting herself get close to anyone. The closest she had ever gotten to someone was fake friends. She never trusted someone, figuring that she would end up in pain once again.
She did not think of a name for herself. She had a real name, but she never used it in front of people that she became “friends” with. Her name was Jaime Terr. She had always been caring around a small notebook. She took notes on people’s lives. Lives of the people she was hanging with for times. And once she would leave that specific area, she would not leave a trace behind that she had been there. Not one piece of evidence. She wanted to be forgotten as quickly as possible. Once she arrived at a new town, she would wear her same gothic looking clothes, go with her same attitude, get the same kind of friends, and then hang out there with a place to stay, fake happiness. It would happen over and over. She couldn’t keep herself in one place; she couldn’t trust the people around her. She might end up getting killed, after a while. She was too stubborn to admit it.
After her mother had left her, she had to make sure she could stay alive, one way or another. At first, she stole from people, food, drinks, and cigarettes. Everything that she could grab, she stole. Almost everything, anyways, some things she did not want to steal, because they were no use of her. That is how she got her gothic apparel. She stole from other girls, and pulled it off when they couldn’t. She had a major thin body, from not eating as much as she should, since she had to scavenge the place for food. She didn’t get food often, and when she did, she had to beg as much as she could for it. She knew she could live without it, because she does it for days on end, but she does the begging anyways. She wanted food; her ribs had shown to her, which frightened her, concerning her enough to eat. Sometimes the things she stole she sold, like the cigarettes, because people loved them. She would get money, and buy herself something she had needed.
Jaime had been watching herself for the longest time, she couldn’t adapt to living in a home again. Her “friends” would invite her over to stay the night, and when everyone in the home was asleep, she’d slip out the window and hang around the town. The next day, the girl or guy would ask where she went, and she would just simply answer that she had things to do. She didn’t want to give away that she didn’t have a home, or she was homeless for a while. No, that would just be stupid, to her, if she said that to anyone.
The next town she went into was a small town, like everyone knew each other. She wore a fluffy, black skirt, and her normal gothic shirt. Her black hair was in pigtails, with white bows holding them up. Her eyes were darkened with eye-liner and eye-shadow. She registered free in the school there, just to get a little bit of an education before she went to wander off again. She had built her walls again, her mind set on not getting close to anyone. Showing her self what would happen if she did get close to anyone. Mentally showing her, so that she learned not to do anything stupid, like getting close to someone, not even an animal. She wasn’t ready for a companion, in how long she had been alone, she may never be ready.
She was thinking all of this in her head, not even hearing the music that was blasting her ears anymore. It was a quiet time for her, a time for her to think, a time for her to know what’s going to happen like something usually does. Her music had contained Evanescence, and other singers. Mostly any time of singers, even if there are happy songs. It songs that she seemed to like over time that she had spent with people. If it clicked in her mind, then she definitely would listen to it in the future. As she does, like she didn’t even like Taylor Swift in the beginning, but she likes a couple of her songs. Or she didn’t even know about Paramore, but she found them out only a few towns ago.
She looked down to her IPod’s screen, messing with the buttons to change the songs. She looked up Evanescence’s “Tourniquet”. A song she was greatly happy by, because it sort of represented her, in a couple of ways. She had begun to sing it, softly, like she did before.
She found herself in the next town, the next victim to come across Jaime. She had notebook still in her hand, her eyes on the road in front of her. She walked in the middle of the street, not knowing or caring cares were flying past her, that the people were shouting cuss words in her direction, telling her to get out of the street, telling her she was stupid and incompetent. She walked the way she wanted to. She couldn’t hear anyone around her, the music still going on. Not even when a drunk driver almost ran her over. She just let the wind blow through her hair, and her mind flow with the music. She shoved her IPod back into her pocket, and begun to hum softly to herself. She had stopped her singing, of course, and she had begun to pay attention to the world around her. She had noticed the cars swerve around her, and begun to notice where she actually was, in the middle of the street. She sighed softly, and waited until she got to the next stop light, and walked along to a sidewalk.
It was early in the morning, that’s why people were driving everywhere. Early in the morning meant that it was like three or four o’clock in the morning, People around were drunk, or were working night jobs. She shrugged to herself gently. She looked around on the dark sidewalks; the sidewalks were dimmed with streetlights from down the way. Shadows of houses and trees crept into those lights. She showed a smirk and a dark look upon the place. Spoke of home to her. She loved the dark very well. She loved sleeping under the stars, but the hardest thing to do was to find a place she could do that. Straight away she went to the park, and looked around for any policemen to keep her from looking at the stars. She saw none, and lay on a park bench, looking straight away at the stars. Her mind had begun to flow with the wind again, thinking about how the stars and the moon were so alike, making lights in the night sky.
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And I love this story! Evanescence rocks domokun
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