Behind My Eyes: A Story

[goldh31]

Alright, well, this is my first novel attempt, ever. I'm excited to see how it turns out as I normally write poetry.Just a warning, I am very fickle with my writing. This piece may or may not ever be finished. If it is, I do intend to publish it under my name and that means no stealing. If I catch anyone stealing ideas I will report you, you have been warned. To insure I write a story that is interesting to read and one that will hold an audience, I post the prologue. If I get 10 or more votes saying I should continue the story, I start writing it. I write my stories down on paper with a pen so every week or so I will type a new chapter I've written and post it. In order to write a good story, I need readers and those readers need to give critiques so I know what to improve to make the story more enjoyable to read. To keep this thread from getting cluttered, please PM me any comments you might have. I think that covers it all! Happy reading!

*All pictures belong to their rightful owners*'

New Notice:
Hi everyone! Sorry I haven't been posting as much as I promised, I've kind of hit a wall. So, to pull me out of my writer's block and give me some new character ideas, I'm holding character auditions! I want deep, interesting characters so if you feel you have one that has got what it takes, come on over here and fill out the form.
Thanks,
Goldh31

I've created a new thread for discussion about the book and critiques. It can be seen here.

[goldh31]

P R O L O G U E
"YOU ALWAYS MESS UP!" The screaming, the fighting. "You're fake." The cold hard tone of his voice.
"I HATE YOU!" The slap of his hand as it came in contact with her cheek. The shocked look on his face.
Her hand, reaching for the burning spot on her cheek, staring at him. The spinning room... her head dizzy.
The world imploding. Blues, blacks, whites. Blurry figures. Running out the door. The sound of the slamming door behind her.
Running, running. Just run. "Heather, I'm sorry." calling after. She didn't turn to look at him. She had to keep running, get away.
"Heather! Please, come back!" Running, senseless, one foot in front of another.
The pounding of her shoes on the pavement, the thrumming of her heart.
His voice echoing in her ears. "Always mess up...always mess up...always mess up." Escape. She had to escape.
The tears streaming down her face. The cold wind. Running. Past the elementary school. Running. Jump the stream.
Running. Into the woods. Running. The branches ripping and slashing against her arms. Turmoil.
"I HATE YOU...HATE YOU...HATE YOU." Running. Flying through the trees. Her cheek burning. Running.
The world whipping past her. Running. Jump the log, keep running. Just keep running. The smack of his hand.
Running. The look on his face. Running. Keep running fast enough. Keep running 'till all the memories are gone.
Keep running 'till the pain disappears. The fight, their first fight. Running. He hit her. Hit her. Running. Outrunning the betrayal.

[goldh31]

{Chapter One} A memory is what is left when something happens and does not completely unhappen.~Edward de Bono

Heather woke with a gasp, her whole body trembling. Her hair was plastered to her head with sticky sweat. “It’s just a dream.” She whispered to herself. “Just a dream.” But it wasn’t, not really. It wasn’t a dream, it was a memory. A horrid, painful, awful memory that Heather would rather forget. The feeling of her whole world falling to pieces, being torn apart still tormented her now. “Pull it together.” Heather told herself. “It happened over a year ago.” But when your world comes tumbling down, is ‘pulling it together’ even possible? Heather felt something warm and soft rub against her clammy hand and she smile slightly. “Hey Coco.” she whispered. The cat mewed in response and climbed onto Heather’s chest. Her soft weight comforted Heather and the girl’s racing heartbeat slowed down. Coco always seemed to know when Heather needed her; it was like the cat’s sixth sense. As she stroked the ragdoll cat softly, Heather stared up at the cracked ceiling, trying to clear her mind. She glanced over at the clock. It read “5:14 AM”. “Well, there was no point in trying to go to sleep now.” Heather thought to herself. “I have to be up at 6:00 AM for school anyways.” Heather sighed but didn’t get up. She lay in bed, absorbing the cat’s comforting warmth. She must have drifted off because it seemed like the next second her alarm was beeping loudly in her ear. Heather groaned and rolled out of bed, leaving a disgruntled Coco where she had lain. She stumbled into the bathroom, her eyes still bleary with sleep.

Heather mechanically went through the motions of preparing for the day, putting on her mascara in a dazed state and tugging a brush through her straight brown hair.

“Heather, breakfast is ready.” Audrey called up the stairs.

“Coming.” Heather shouted back, grabbing a hair band off her dresser and the notebook of poems she always carried around. As Heather entered the kitchen, her step-mom turned away from the skillet on the stove to greet her.

"Hi Heather. " As Heather sat down, her step-mom put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her.

"Umm...Audrey." Heather said, trying not to be rude. "I'm vegetarian."

"Oh, right." Audrey replied. "I forgot."

Heather sighed. "Give Dad my breakfast; I have to go to school anyways." She got up from the table without touching the food and slung her book bag over her shoulder. "Tell Dad I said bye and thanks for trying to make breakfast." As she walked down the street, Heather’s stomach grumbled. "Well, it isn't the first time I've skipped breakfast." Heather thought to herself. "And if course I can't count on Audrey to remember that I'm vegetarian, even if she has been married to Dad for three years." Since Heather was alone now, the forced smile fell from her face. There was no reason to pretend she was happy if no one was around.Her cheeks ached from the effort it took to look happy. ”No one must know, no one can ever know.” Heather thought to herself. Her hand unconsciously moved to trace the thin, raised scars concealed under the grey material of her shirt. Some of them were recent and the pink, irritated skin was sore to the touch. Wincing slightly, Heather removed her hand. A small frown permanent creased Heather's face now that the mask of a smile had been taken off. She let her hair fall over her shoulders, hiding her face from the view of anyone who happened to pass. Heather's shoulders slumped in a defeated slouch as she slowly made her way to school. It was weird sometimes, the desperate need to be alone and once she was by herself, the need to be with other people, just to feel that she wasn't alone. She hated being alone, the quiet pressing down on her, smothering her, suffocating her. She also hated being with other people, their loud, happy attitudes, the way it was always about them. It was almost to much to bear.

As Heather approached her school, she heard a voice cry out "Heather!"

Heather instinctively straightened up and braced herself, once again pulling the mask of a smile over her face, hiding her expression. "Sam!" she replied,trying to make her tone sound equally as enthusiastic. "I've missed you."

"It was only a week silly." Sam laughed. "I didn't move to Arkansas or anything."

Heather grinned, falling into the familiar rhythm. She asked Sam about her trip, the places she had gone, the people she had met, trying to seem interested. If Sam noticed Heather wasn't paying attention, she didn't show it. The girl chattered on, filling the air with noise. It was so loud, Heather felt like covering her ears with her hands just to block out the sound, to make the world go quiet again. But that would be rude and if there was one thing Heather almost never was, it was rude. She was known by her group of friends as the quiet girl, the one they could dump all of their problems on ad she would listen without interrupting. Heather would nod and make sympathetic noises at the right times and the girls would go away feeling like they had gained something.

"Um, Heather?" Sam's voice called Heather back to the present.

"hmmm?" Heather asked.

"You spaced out." Sam explained.

"Sorry, Monday morning syndrome." Heather said her excuse with forced laugh, hoping that Sam couldn't tell the sound wasn't real.

Sam giggled, a smile lighting up her almost always happy face. "Heather, what am I going to do with you?" she managed through her laughter.
Instead of answering Sam, Heather just grinned, her skin stretched tightly over her teeth. Her cheeks ached from the effort of holding the smile in place but she was used to it. Sam glanced down at her watch then swore under her breath.

"I'll be late to first period if I don't run. See you at lunch!"

Heather watched until her friend's departing figure was out of sight before continuing into the building. She had Physics first, her least favorite class. She hated it for two reasons, the fist one being her utter lack of aptitude for math and the second one being that he was in it. She yanked a couple books out of her locker and shut the door, hurriedly stuffing them in her bag. Heather slid into her desk at the back of the classroom just before the bell rang, sighing in relief. She hated calling attention to herself and walking in late was a sure way to do just that. As usual, he sauntered in a few seconds after the bell and Heather sunk lower in her seat, trying to avoid his gaze. In the light of day, it was hard to imagine that the same boy who came into class late wearing jeans and a t-shirt, his hair a mess and an apologetic smile on his face was the same guy who used his fists so freely when they were alone.

"Sorry I'm late Mrs. Galloway." The boy apologized, running his fingers through his already tousled hair. "I had to help my little sister."

"Sure you did." Heather thought to herself. "Everyone knows Tessa just adores you." More likely he had been stealing the kid's lunch money, if he was near her at all. "That's fine." The woman standing at the front of the classroom replied.

"You can take a seat next to Heather."

{No comments? Please PM me some, really. I need motivation.}

[goldh31]

{Chapter Two} Fear makes us feel our humanity.~Benjamin Disraeli

"No,no, this can not be happening." Heather thought to herself, panic rising in her chest. Her one safe time, classes, was disappearing before her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Hey," The guy said, tilting his chin up to acknowledge her.

"Hi." Heather muttered meekly, staring down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, the skin against her knuckles stretched white.

He gave her a look that clearly said "Look at me when I'm talking to you." Heather sank lower in her chair, wishing he would go sit somewhere else, anywhere else. Her boyfriend slid into the seat next to her and Heather stiffened. Under the table he grabbed the skin on her arm and pinched, hard. She felt his hot breath against her neck and shuttered lightly. "That's what you get for not looking at me when I'm talking, you good for nothing-."

Mrs. Galloway interrupted him by calling his name. "Caleb Jacobson?"

"Here mam', " He replied, raising his hand and letting go of Heather. She bit her lip to keep the pain that his pinch had caused from showing on her face.

"Heather Foxx?" The teacher called.

"Present," she replied, wishing she were anywhere else. Mrs. Galloway scribbled something on the blackboard and began explaining light spectrums and how the human eye saw. Normally studious, Heather couldn't focus. She was a nervous wreck, her body was stiff and her hands were shaking. The notes she took were illegible and the pen skittered over the paper. She would need to copy them again. The class took forever, seconds stretching on and on into eternity. Heather kept glancing at her watch, watching the seconds tick by. It seemed as if the metal hands were moving slower than usual just to spite her because they knew how unbearable sitting next to Caleb was. She was afraid she would mess up, do something to anger him. If Heather did, she would feel it later, he would make sure of that.

It had all begun so innocently. Caleb had stopped by her locker and asked her to go out with him and a few of their friends to see a movie and she had agreed. He was a perfect gentleman, opening the door for her and pulling out her seat. He even insisted that he pay for the ticket to see the movie even though Heather had enough money. He had driven her home and given her a kiss goodnight. Heather had danced around her room with a smile on her face. "He's the one." she thought to herself. "He's the one." The next date was the same and even with the two of them alone, Caleb was on his best behavior. They went to an Italian place called "Gigi's" and had shared a pizza. It was a wonderful evening. How did it all go so wrong?

The bell rang, pulling Heather out of her thoughts. She grabbed her notebook and pen and dashed out the door, trying to stuff them into her bag as she ran. As she exited the classroom, Heather let out a sigh of relief. She had English next, her favorite class and he wasn't in it. She hurried down the hallway without looking back over her shoulder. As she was switching books at her locker, Heather's phone buzzed. Pulling it out of her pocket, she checked the screen. "One new message: Caleb Jacobson" it read. Cursing, Heather closed her locker and hurried down the hall to English. When she was a few feet away from the classroom, she opened the message and read. "Meet me at lunch," he had written. "B209, don't be late."Well, there went her time with Sam. Heather turned the phone off and slipped it into her pocket, walking into her English class in slumped defeat. She took her seat in the back of the room, long hair spilling over her shoulders to hide her face.

“Heather, are you okay?” Mr. Cole, her English teacher asked.

“Yeah, just tired,” She replied. It was the same answer every time someone asked and yet no one seemed to notice. What could she say, “No, my boyfriend abuses me and I’m scared to death that I’ll do something wrong and he’ll hurt me?” When did anybody even listen to the answer anyways? They didn't want an answer; never even listened to if she said she was good or bad. It was just a pleasantry, just being polite.

"Go to sleep early tonight." Mr. Cole said absentmindedly, already walking towards his desk at the front of the classroom.

"Yeah, sure." Heather murmured. If only fixing her problems was as easy as going to sleep earlier. The bell rang and Mr. Cole started writing something on the blackboard in the front of the room. He blocked the text from view with his body, his thin wiry frame concealing the words. A few seconds later, he stepped away from the board, revealing what he had been writing. There was a title printed in bold, block letters on the green surface. Heather whispered it aloud to herself, her voice no more then a faint whisper. "The Eagle by Alfred, Lord Tennyson" Beneath it was a short poem that immediately drew Heather's attention.

In a loud, clear voice Mr. Cole began to read, the sound echoing through the silent room. Every student was watching and listening to him.

"He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls."


Heather inhaled and closed her eyes. The way the poet had captured so many strong emotions and images in just six lines was beyond her.

Mr. Cole stood quietly at the front of the room, letting the words he had spoken sink in. Finally, he spoke. " What do you think the poet was trying to say?" he asked, his level gaze surveying the room.

Heather instinctively dropped her gaze, avoiding eye contact.

"No one?" Mr. Cole asked, raising his white eyebrows questioningly. When still no response came, he asked a different question. "Why do you think the eagle fell?" This time, hands shot up. "Andrea?" Mr. Cole inclined his head to a slim girl sitting at the front of the class.

"The eagle didn't fall." the girl stated, running a hand through her silky black hair. "He dove, after prey."

"That could be." Mr. Cole replied, smiling. "Anyone else?"

Heather tentative raised her hand, afraid of having the wrong answer.

"Heather" Mr. Cole nodded to her and she spoke.

"The eagle is a metaphor, it stands for power falling." She looked up at the teacher, waiting to hear that she was wrong and the eagle was noting of the sort.

When Mr. Cole said nothing, she continued.

"The poet described the eagle as a he, not a she. An eagle is often used as a symbol for power and authority. During the Victorian era, men were also considered powerful and strong. I think the poet made a choice when he decided to have the eagle be a male and not a female as females are often considered soft and weak. When the poet writes 'Ring'd with the azure world, he stands' I thought of a large, powerful eagle with the blue sky as his backdrop, like it belonged to him. In the first stanza, the writer showcases the eagle as strong and magnificent, except for in the first line when he says 'He clasps the crag with crooked hands;' The crooked hands part made me think the eagle was old. When the poet continued by saying that the eagle watched the 'wrinkled sea' move beneath him, it made me think of someone watching something that they know is dangerous but they are so sure nothing can go wrong that they aren't afraid. It reminds me of someone who has been in power a long time, who is so self-confident that they believe nothing can go wrong. The final line with the eagle falling is so sudden, just like the fall of power, completely unexpected." Heather finished talking and folded her hands in her lap, nervous. What if she had said something wrong?

Mr. Cole just smiled and nodded, giving no clue as to what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke. "Very good Heather, I hadn't thought of it that way before but you make a valid claim."

She sighed, still having no idea to what her English teacher thought of her response. 'Valid claim' was just him saying that she supported her response well, it didn't mean she was right.

"Today, we are going to write a poem or poems based off of The Eagle. It can be anything as long as the poem embodies one or more aspects of the original poem. Any questions?" When no hands were raised, Mr. Cole nodded and went to his desk, pulling out a stack of papers.

Heather stared at her own blank notebook page. What was she going to right about? Mr. Cole had said to write anything as long as it embodies at least one of the elements of The Eagle so Heather decided to make a list of what had stood out to her in the poem. She wrote a heading and underlined it before staring at her paper blankly again. Where to start? Well, the vivid imagery had certainly pulled her in. On the left side of the paper, Heather made a bullet point and wrote 'imagery' next to it. Next was 'simplicity' then 'alliteration'. That would be enough, she decided. Heather was especially intrigued by the simplicity and imagery so she circled those two on her list. Next, a topic... immediately one phrase came to mind and without thinking, Heather wrote it down. She was in poetry mode now, her brain had no filters. In a few short minutes, a small poem was written on the once blank paper.

"Depression

A deep pit in which to fall,
A hole you can't climb out of
though your hands scrabble for purchase,
reaching, reaching up to the sky
but oozing black fingers of despair
clutch at you,
dragging you down into their deep, dark abyss. "

She read it over and tore it out of her notebook with a sigh, there was no way she could turn that it, it might get Mr. Cole suspicious. Again, she wrote.

"Masks

Easy to pull on,
hard to take off
they become you
sucking the soul out
and
replacing it with a cold
emotionless mask,
A heart of stone. "

It was no good, she couldn't turn that one in either. "Happy," Heather told herself, "think happy thoughts." Her hand automatically reached up to close around the locket hanging on a thin gold chain around her neck. She rubbed her thumb over the ridged, engraved surface and closed her eyes. Happy memories flooded her, sunlight, laughing, warmth. She smiled in spite of herself and opened her eyes. The locket worked its magic every time. Carefully, decisively, Heather placed her pen on the paper and started to write.

"Memories

What else has such a powerful influence on your life,
for your memory never leaves you.

It torments you,
showing mistakes and terrible experiences you would like to forget,
it comforts you with peaceful images and familiar sounds.

I've learn to take the good,the bad, just breath.
For things only have power over you if you give them that power.

Memories,
What else has such a powerful influence over your life?"

The bell rang just as Heather was finishing and she rushed up to the front of the room to give her paper to Mr. Cole, pulling her bag over her shoulder. The rest of the morning passed in a blur, Heather was unable to focus with the thought of meeting Caleb at lunch looming over her.

{Sorry, I know the poems aren't amazing but I wrote them myself. }

[goldh31]

{Chapter Three} Who do you run to, to stop the tears, when the only person who can, is the one who caused the hurt. ~Chas Yousey

Heather stood outside the door of B209, staring at it as she tried to gather the courage to knock. The thought of what would happen if she was late was the only thing that made her raise her hand and rap on the wood. The door swung open and there he stood, leaning against the frame.

"Come in." he commanded, unsmiling. That wasn't a good sign. Caleb closed the door behind her and turned the lock.

Heather shuttered at the click, hearing her only means of escape removed. She watched as Caleb pivoted to face her, her body tense with fear and anticipation.

Warning: Strong Language, Graphic Violence
The rest of Chapter Three can be found:
here

{Due to the nature of this chapter, the rest has to be posted off chicken smoothie. }