I love being in my room, no one can hear me cry.
I love being in my room, through the windows I gaze at the sky.
Ms Rouke stared down at the page, frowning slightly. She had expected somewhat better of her best pupil than a poem with such a simple, childish rhyme scheme.
I love being in my room, so pink and fluffy like strawberry pie.
I love being in my room, no one can hear me die...
Ms Rouke stared down at the paper before her, unsure of where the work was headed.
No one knows me, not the real me.
That is somewhat my fault, for I never let them see.
They see my outside, who I choose to be,
But never do they see inside, to get a peek at the real me.
Ms Rouke felt a strange twinge in her heart. She shook her head to clear it, dismissing the work as an outlet of teenage angst.
But now, never will they have that chance.
Because tonight, tonight I will use the lance,
Formed from all their taunts and that stolen glance,
And behold, I shall dance my final dance.
Ms Rouke inhaled sharply as she took it all in. This wasn't an expression of feeling this was a note, a plea for help.
So here, on this first night of advent,
I choose to ascend, or to begin my descent,
With my back unbent, I speak my final lament;
That was truly the summer of my discontent.
She froze. This had been handed to her not two hours ago, before she had dismissed her students to their homes. That meant she still had time.
She ran out into the dark night and didn't even pause until she was turning the key in the ignition. She was awarded for her hard work with a splutter from the engine.
"Not now, not now," she muttered. She turned the key again and again and still all she got was a groan. Swearing under her breath she moved like a whirlwind, getting out the car and hitting the bonnet hard before getting back in quick.
Once safely inside with the door as closed as it could be, she turned the key again and let a satisfied smile play on her lips as she shifted the gears and pressed her foot to the accelerator.
Today is the day.
The final day.
My last night.
I know it sounds corny and like I'm trying to sound overdramatic but I'm really not. I wrote that poem as a final cry for help and no one did anything... so I suppose no one cares if I die...
It just proves that they fooled me into caring for them. They fooled me into thinking they cared about me when they so obviously don't, no one does...
I can't believe I fell for it and brought all their lies. They were all in on it weren't they? Right from the start. And I bet this was all her idea to begin with.
But to get me to love her and then to take it all away from me like that? It's like something out of a bad teen movie.
I know I should be angry, but I'm not...
I just feel... empty.
Sharpay stood up from her desk, not even bothering to close the diary. She looked around her room and smiled.
Truth was, she had felt something angry... but she had worked out that anger.
She stared at the remnants of her room. Shreds of pink wallpaper littered the floor. She stared at the pieces of plaster that were scattered amongst the scraps of wallpaper before looking at her bloodied knuckles. A piece of plaster jutted out of the soft flesh between the knuckle of her index and pointer finger. She raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised that she hadn't noticed its presence earlier. Without even flinching or making any outward acknowledgment of pain, she ripped it from where it rested, and then dropped it without giving the thing a second thought.
She emerged from the dark room full of destruction into the bright harsh lights of the upstairs hallway. She was glad that the day this all came to a head fell in the night that Ryan was at 'dance practise', her mother was at 'Pilates' and her father was 'working' late at the office.
They all thought she didn't know but she did. They were all disgusting. She hated having to call herself an Evans, to be associated with them... the mere thought was enough to turn her stomach, making it churn. She couldn't stand to be in the same room as them all, to have to breathe the same air as them... they all repulsed her.
But now was her chance to get the ultimate revenge on them.
Turning into her brother's room she tore it apart, searching for the tool she needed. Having found it, she clutched it tightly to her and moved back to the top of the stairs. She raised the BB gun, aiming it carefully. She smirked as she squeezed the trigger again and again and again until all that could be heard was a click.
Time seemed to slow as the massive, expensive light piece fell to the ground. It had never been used for actual lighting purposes so there were no cables to slow its descent, meaning there was nothing to impair its destruction. She leaned over the banister and watched as it hit the floor, smiling to herself as she remembered how her brother had insisted on having the gold plated pellets, silently thanking him.
She let herself revel for a moment in the noise of the surprisingly satisfying crash, the colours that were thrown on the walls as the various jewels and crystals smashed and the mess of shards that scattered themselves on the floor.
Ms Rouke was in near tears as she felt her car die.
She wasted no time in getting out the car and lifting the bonnet to stare at what looked to her like just a complicated mess of wires and metal.
Scrunching up her face in anger, she set herself to finding out what she should hit to make the car work again.
Sharpay reached the bottom of the stairs but never broke her stride, stepping off the stairs onto the cold marble floor. The shards of crystal crunched beneath her bare feet but she felt no pain, she barely even felt the cold. She was numb, the reality of the situation and what she was about to do finally sinking in. She thought she had prepared herself for this, but all that she had done seemed not enough now.
She entered the kitchen, debris from the chandelier stuck into the pampered flesh of the sole of her foot, soft from all the foot massages that her parent's material wealth afforded her. With every step she took it dug deeper and deeper, making blood flow from the wounds until she left bloody footprints behind her.
She didn't notice, running through her plan over and over again in her head.
Ms Rouke brought her head out from under the bonnet as the most wondrous sound reached her ears.
Adrenaline started and she let herself go crazy, running out into the road, waving her hands like a madman. She watched as the lights got closer and closer to her. They didn't seem to be slowing but she just dismissed that as the lack of depth perception in the black night. Still the lights came closer and closer.
Sharpay plucked the steak knife from the rack and turned back, walking until her feet stained the soft carpet of the living room.
This was it.
Only now could it happen.
She thought of how she would be found, either by her parents, reunited through her father collecting her mother from her Pilates, or Ryan. Or possibly both.
She really hoped it was both.
She could see it all now, the tension as they unlocked the door, the panic when they saw the chandelier. The fear when they called out for her and she didn't answer. She could see her mother walking into the front room, giving a little sob of joy as she saw her little blonde princess 'unconscious' on the sofa, could almost hear her yell to both her brother and father who would rush upstairs to search. Then one of them would look closer...and the family would be united in their grief.
So in a way she was doing them a favour.
She was giving them a way to reconnect and be a proper family again.
She smirked at her own pathetic reasoning.
Ms Rouke collapsed to the road on her knees...that was it, her only hope. She didn't have a mobile, and who was she trying to kid when she tried to figure her car out. She watched as the red lights drew further and further away from her.
Her pupil had sought her help, wasted their final plea on her...and she had let her down.
The tears that she had been holding back this whole time came flooding out and at that point, at that one moment in time, two women separated by twenty years and a singular mile shared the exact same thought.
This is it.
This is the end.
Only one of them had it in them to articulate a word in that moment though...one last word, so full of meaning it would unravel the entire mystery surrounding these events, but with no one there to hear it.
What so you think? Reviews are more than welcome.
This is a rewrite of one of my earlier stories I Love Being In My Room, I think a lot of my stuff might turn out to be rewrites from now on :/ though I do have some new ideas I'm dying to write
Thank you for reading and take care