Finally I got a little bit more of Invincible done. I've had the beginning part for a while, but the ending I wrote last night. Finally!
Even though I'm on my March Break (which is almost over) I've hardly gotten
anything done! It's horrible - I had lists and lists of things to do.. but none of them were done. Time flies, but seems to be going slowly... ahh!!!
Anyways, on of the things I
did do was
buy a grad dress. AHH!!!!!! (And a warning, this is a bit more personal). I'm super freaked out because all the girls in my class are like, superstar
model quality, and I seem so.. normal - or even below that. Sometimes I feel like I'm missing some sort of natural human instinct that would make me normal - and I'd know how to make my hair look nice and I'd know the right things and be more like the other people. But it never seems to work out the first time for me, and something is
always wrong. But anyways, my main point is now that I have a dress that looks pretty okay, I'm worried that other people will find thiers and look
so much better, and I'll feel left out and abnormal and somehow behind, again, as always. I mean, I just wish I could truely feel and
be beautiful for one day, right? I wonder if thats ever going to happen...
But oh well, I guess some people just aren't meant for the spotlight (which I'm pretty okay with). If you want to see the dress, go here:
http://i44.tinypic.com/33yp4kn.jpg (and yes, I did go crazy editing it.. but seriously, editing stuff is superdooperly fun! (And anyways, there's always the chance that some freako-stalker dude will be looking here... (although probably not, seeing as I only have 2.5 readers). But still!
Back to the normal
writing stuff...
Invincible
“You’re not invincible, you know.” Wings said earnestly. I could hardly hear her over the rain, and frantic beat of my heart. Thunder seemed to rumble in approved. Nowadays, Wings seemed to know everything.
I was about to say something, about to contradict her, when she held up her hand and continued. Cool, moist air washed across the room. We were seated on the windowsill, staring out into the grey, foggy day.
“No one is, Jamie.” Wings whispered. I winced at the use of my other name. I still hadn’t totally recovered from meeting my parents. It was like the discovery had ripped a hole in my heart - one that had been previously covered by a stretch of fine fabric. Now, that was gone and could never come back. It was all or nothing. I couldn’t choose.
“I’m no one.” I told her. All my life, I’d believed myself to be invincible. It made me overcome problems - high self-esteem was better than low, I thought. The amazing things in life just seemed to compliment the fact; escaping the Bishop, the authorities, heartache and break… I’d been invincible to them all. Vince.
“No, your someone. Just not an invincible someone.” Wings said. I stayed silent, hoping she would realize that this conversation was over. She didn’t understand. Invincible was me, it was who I’d grown into. It was my world. My pride… it was like my clothing. Without clothes, well, you’re naked. If I wasn’t invincible, what was I?
But Wings didn’t take the hint to stop talking. “I know you used to be unbeatable, but that was when your world was of, what, a few thousand?” She asked. I gave a small nod. “Well there’s five billion people on this earth. We’re all equals, put in these lives for reasons. No one is invincible here.”
“But I want to be.” I said. “I need to be.” This was the first time I was actually speaking my thoughts, to anyone. It felt weird. Safe, but dangerous. I’d grown up learning not to trust anyone, taking myself as my only confident. But throughout all those times, I’d wanted more. Someone with a different perspective.. someone like Wings.
“It’s better if you’re not invincible, Jamie.” Her hand squeezed mine. “If you are, it means your perfect. Life is about learning, and becoming perfect moments before death. That’s why you die moments after perfection - if your perfect, there’s nothing left to learn, and nothing to do. If your invincible, there’s not point in living your life any more.” She said, slow and quiet.
I frowned, beginning to see her logic… but it was against all of mine. A car rolled on a gravel road in the distance. Fatigue was beginning set in with the lulling rain, dulling my senses. A kiss in the rain brought them alive again.
We sat there in silence for a little longer. The car from earlier seemed to be closer. Suddenly, the sound of a gun shot ran out, and a single bullet whistled through the air.
“Oh.” Wings cried, quiet over the pouring rain. It started to fall faster as she fell, my heart matching the pace of the rain.
Wings fell backwards, back into the top floor of the tower. A dark, red stain appeared over her heart, and inside my own chest I felt mine shatter.
“Wings…” I knelt beside her, horrified. A moments negligence, and now my friend was dying. Because of me. “I’m so sorry.” The words were so hard to get out, crowded between tears hardly held back.
“It’s fine. Meant to be… you’ll find a way.” She looked at me, eyes fluttering almost closed. “Vince…”
“What is it?” I brushed the hair out of her face.
“Vince, my name isn’t… Wings…” I could hardly hear her, “I’m Sylvia Browning.”
“What? Sylvia?” I whispered. I leaned closer, trying to hear her last words. But nothing more came, and her last breath brushed across my face and was carried off into the wind.
I felt like capturing the air, preserving everything and anything to do with Wings - or Sylvia, for that matter. She couldn’t be gone. I wouldn’t let her.
But she was.
* * *
Gradually, the pain seemed to fade. But never was it fully gone. I left Wings where she was, the falling leaves on the floor of her final resting place a blanket, and the old earthy wood her mattress. I couldn’t bare to bury her - if I did, there was no way to see her face again, and it was a closure that she was dead.
In my mind, she was not fully dead. I lived for the thought her coming back - how could my life go on? For almost all of it, I’d been alone, half living. I’d needed someone, anyone to talk to. Another being, someone else. Wings had taken that position, but now, the hole in my heart she’d filled had transformed into a gaping, black ugly one, twisted in spite and hatred towards her killers, and still hurting day by day.
“Yo, Vince! Get over here.” Peter called. He waved me over to some tracks. A boot mark in soft, squishy mud.
“That looks deliberate.” I said. With Wings gone, the strive to be normal had ceased and I’d fallen more into my shell of a being; the army being.
“Maybe. I was thinking a trap.”
“Or detour. They could be walking backwards.”
“True, but that always leads to some sort of mistake.” Peter countered.
“Not for the pros.”
“Guess not. How about you run along that way, and Harry and I go this one? The other guys can do a perimeter check.” Peter, as leader, decided most of everything. There was no saying no to his direct orders, but he still loved to argue over smaller facts.
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