No One Ever Does, Short-Story Options

[Sa-Chan]

It's been awhile. This is my latest short- story. Enjoy.


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I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the soft, leather car-seat. I was letting myself get lost while judging how fast my friend was driving by the strength of the wind whipping against my face. Hardening it. Why my friend drove a convertible, I'd never know. Why my friend drove so fast...I could ponder upon for hours, and never know. Maybe it was just the fact I didn't care to ask, didn't want to understand. Because maybe...just maybe...if I understood, I'd like it.

"Whiplash, anyone?" I whispered softly, my lips barely parting as the wind continued to sting against my face. I was talking to myself, and the boy sitting beside me with the bright blue eyes, and curly brown hair knew that. He always knew.

Then again, everyone always knew when it came to me. I was predictable. I lacked the wrinkle in my surprisingly large brain to conjure up spontaneous ideas. Everyone knew this. I'd never stepped out of line, never betrayed my parents, never lied, never failed a test, never been mean to a person, never kissed a boy, never smiled out of context, never laughed at another's expense, never done drugs, never smoked, never been daring, never broken the rules, never even lived.

I was plain, well-mannered, the perfect child, the perfect subject, the perfect student. The. Perfect. Lie. At least to myself, that is.

Everything caught my eye, everything had such allure. Everything was so dangerous, and beautiful. I wanted to explore the danger, and beauty. I wanted to know it. But I couldn't; I wouldn't; I didn't want to. I would tell myself this over and over again. Whether I fully believed it or not, I don't know, but it didn't really matter...it was the perfect lie for the perfect little girl.

I opened my eyes, and chanced a look in the passenger side mirror. Not such a little girl anymore, I thought. I stared at my strong jaw, and high-cheekbones, the soft gray eyes, and brown-blonde hair that was cut off at my chin. I was verging on seventeen, but I looked more adult. Funny, I'd never noticed it before.

Maybe I'd never noticed it, because I'd been taught not to notice it. Or maybe I'd just always had a poor self-image. I didn't really know.

"This is pretty spontaneous for you." my friend stated blandly. I looked over at him, his posture, his attitude, even his tone was asking me...'why'. I didn't have an answer, or maybe I just didn't think he'd understand.

"I guess."

"You've changed," he looked away from the road for an instant, his eyes taking in my face. I wonder if I looked 'changed'.

"I hadn't noticed."

"No one ever does."

And that triggered it all.

---

I walked into my room with a sigh. Exhausted. Exhausted. The word ran through my mind at full speed. I needed to rest, to sleep. Exhausted. Exhausted. School was to much, the parents were to much, the people were to much. Exhausted. Exhausted. Let me sleep.

I threw my bag down on the ground, and kicked off my shoes. Now what corner was my bed in? I couldn't concentrate, I was half asleep already. I was the living dead, and the only thing that could fix it was a couple of hours of rest. Hopefully the nightmares wouldn't come for me.

I looked to the clock on my bedside table, it told me I had two hours to rest before going to work. It was a remnant of my childhood, shaped like a castle, with towers and a drawbridge. As a child, I had been fixated with castles and princes, and princesses. I wondered briefly if (depending on whether I could locate it or not) I'd be able to fit into the princess dress I'd worn trick-or-treating at the age of seven. Probably not.

I was just about to flop onto my bed when I noticed something peculiar. Someone was already flopped on my bed, reading something in a notebook. That someone was my boyfriend. That notebook was my notebook of poetry and feelings. I felt mentally violated. Partly, because I was. Partly, because I should be laying on my bed, closing in on dream world.

He looked up, and we simply stared at each other for a moment. He looked angry, bewildered, disgusted. I wondered if maybe I should be the one looking that way, but I didn't question it. The look scared me, made me genuinely afraid. What was he doing here?

"Why do you write this way?" he asked, his voice genuinely trembling.

"It's my diary. My poems. I'll write how I want to."

"Even in this damn book you don't let on how you really feel!" he practically screamed, and threw the book across the room. I wished it had been glass, I wanted to hear it shatter.

"What do you mean?" I was always to collected, to calm.

"You write by the book. The norm. I wanted to know how you felt, what was in your head. But you don't have any feelings of your own, do you? You're a doll. A puppet." he was rambling, and I honestly couldn't come to terms with it.

"I have feelings."

"Then why don't you tell someone them! Why don't you show me you're really alive?" he continued rambling, and then stopped, glaring violently at me, "Actually. I don't care."

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to offend you, if I have in anyway."

What a meaningless reply. I was such a child back then.

"No one ever does." he continued, "But you, you're a special case. You're just so predictable."

He walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. We never talked again. I never once tried to talk to him. It was the predictable thing to do. I'd failed in whatever test it was he had given me that day, and so he forgot that I even existed.

---

"You okay?" my friend, Adrik, asked.

He slowed the car, and then came to a complete stop before I could even answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You just seemed kind of zoned out," he looked worried still, giving me a quick look of concern.

"Don't worry about it. I was thinking. Why'd you stop the car?"

"We're here." was his monotone reply.

I got out without another word, and looked at the dingy store that would change my life forever. I walked in, not even thinking about it. Adrik was right, I had changed. I purchased what I needed to purchase, and walked back out. The item was concealed in a plain, brown bag and I hopped back into the passenger side of the car.

"Why did you need to come to an out of the way place like this?" Adrik asked, questioningly.

"I just...needed to get something."

He didn't press me for an answer beyond that, and we drove back to my house in relative silence, as I bowed my head to keep the wind from blinding me. I got out of the car without so much as a thank you, and walked to my front door. I turned around briefly to wave, but Adrik had driven away in silence. Or maybe the screaming in my mind had just drowned the noise of the engine out.

I unlocked the door, and walked in. My legs took me to my room without thought, I had walked this path thousands of times before. I could have done it blind-folded, with my hands behind my back, hopping on one foot. I might have had some trouble, but I could have done it.

I reached my room, and locked myself in. Collapsing on my floor, I simply sat there for...well, a long time. My hand never let go of the brown bag, I could faintly make out the shape through it. I sat there, prolonging the inevitable. Finally, with shaking hands I took what I had bought from the bag. A weapon. A pistol. A machine of death, something I had never believed in.

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked myself.

"Something unpredictable."

It was obvious, I had changed.