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To Live Life as a Broken Tool

Started by AllieKat
(2014-05-27 00:29:54)

AllieKat (2014-05-27 00:29:54)

Night was falling, but I didn't care. The sunset's beautiful, and there's not much beauty left in my life. The sky's blue, but due to the clouds that have been covering the sun all day, it looks purple, too. The purple and blue swirl together, fading to a light pink, to a soft shade of orange, and finally to yellow where the sun rests lazily on the horizon. As I check my phone for the time, people approached.

"Just move here, huh?" a tall girl with blonde hair asked as I stood up. I ignored her, of course. I was going to be late, and that wouldn't go over well.

"Ray asked you a question," said a bulky guy with dark brown hair. I kept walking. I had just made it to the edge of the park when I was suddenly floating above the ground. Looking around, I realized the guy had picked me up, and we were now on our way to the bench.

"Look," Ray said, "Mitch and I just want to have a nice conversation. So sit down, listen, and participate." Ray begins rambling on about some system of students and cliques, when I check my phone, which reads 10:00. Great. I'm supposed to be home right now. I'm in so much trouble, I thought.

"And what's with that blue hair?" She asked, saying blue like the word itself put a bad taste in her mouth. Mitch then decided to shoot a basket with the basketball that was next to the bench. Now. I jumped off the bench and I'm running. If I can run fast enough, and they don't catch me, I might still be able to beat him home. Ray's screaming in the background, but I don't care. As I vaulted over a fence, I stole a look behind me. Mitch was coming in fast. I dodged around the corner, jumped into a bush, and became silent. Hopefully, Mitch is as stupid as he looks. Through the leaves, I saw Mitch. He ran into the fence, jumped over it, and stopped. He looked around, but found no trace of me. As he returned to Ray, I snuck out of the bush, using a car as cover. He had just reached her, when I bolted.

Three blocks later, I reached my new house. No, I thought, house isn't right, more like shack. The house was small. It had a small 7' by 5' kitchen, an 8' by 8' living room, two 8' by 8' bedrooms, and a 5' by 5' bathroom with a toilet and a shower. It was in need of repair, too. The yellow paint was chipped, most of the windows had been broken and replaced by boards, even the mice had stayed away from it. The driveway was small and made of gravel. With horror, I realized the old truck was in the driveway. He's home.

I walked in the house quietly, hoping my dad's already asleep. Closing the door, I went into the kitchen. I had just crossed the threshold when I feel something heavy, thick, and hard hit my left cheekbone. I was wrong. He's awake. "You were supposed to be home 5 MINUTES AGO!" He screamed. Yup, I'm late. I slowly brought my hand up to my cheekbone, hoping not to startle him. My hand came away sticky and crimson. "Faye. Go. To. Your. Room. Before. I. Hit. You. Again," He growls. That's when I realize I'm on the floor, dazed, and he'd been yelling at me for a while. I got up and went to my room quickly and quietly.

Entering my room, I locked both locks. I'd brought the deadbolt from our old house, and installed it immediately after moving in, for reasons like this. Let's just hope he doesn't change his mind. I walked over to my desk and sat down in the chair, grabbing my compact mirror from my makeup bag. Grabbing my last box of things to unpack, I pulled out my first aid kit, setting it on the desk. Oh god. Faye, stay quiet, if you're loud, he'll just make it worse. I took out a wet wipe from the first aid kit, and gently wiped away the blood. Although it was still bleeding, I had cleaned the cut up enough to look at it. It was only a small cut, not being deep and only being an inch long, I concurred it was from the ring he always wore. Damn him, he's lucky. He knew I had to re-cut and re-dye my hair today. He knew I'd cover it up. He was going to hit me whether I was late or not. Just to spite me. My eyes filled with tears then. It was never like this before mom died. Mom, why did you have to leave? Why'd you leave and not take me with you, Mommy?

Wiping away my tears with the back of my hand, I began to clean and bandage the cut. Then, I took my scissors and trimmed my hair into its usual so-called 'scene' style. Sneaking to the bathroom, I re-dyed my hair its usual electric blue. After showering to get rid of the excess dye, I sneak back to my room and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke up at 6:00 am. It's Monday, also known as my first day of school. The new school started two months ago. Great. Ready to be another stranger again, Faye? No, I wasn't. Getting out of bed, I looked through my window. The truck was gone. Thank god. At least I can crank the volume this morning. I want to see how good the Sleeping with Sirens album Feel is. So, I put the CD in the radio, turned it on, and cranked the volume.

I then walked over to my small dresser. Opening the dresser, I pulled out some ripped up skinny jeans, my Sleeping with Sirens "Feel" t-shirt, and a grey beanie. After getting dressed, I did my makeup. Just my normal cat eye winged eyeliner, mascara, foundation, cover-up, blush, and lip gloss. I was extra careful around the cut- which was mostly healed. By now, the ninth of twelve songs came on, DÃ¨jÃ¡ Vu. I then put on my favorite Converse with galaxy print.

Just then, some lyrics from the third song of the album, Free Now, came to me. He wasn't there, so I sang it, but still quietly. You can never be too careful, and 5 years alone with him has to count for something. "~I wrote this song for my father. Sometimes I feel he never gave a damn about me. Though he raised me like he should. Did he understand me? No, no, I don't think so. I wrote this song for my mother. She had to leave me, when I was younger...~" Yeah, except He doesn't raise me like He should, and She left me when I was 10. So, I guess it fits. I then grabbed my PokÃ¨mon book bag, turned off the radio, grabbed my phone and keys, and went outside. After locking the door, I turned on music from my phone, and put in my earbuds. Sweet relief, I thought. I began walking to school.

Thankfully, I reached the school without conflict. Upon reaching the school, I walked into the office. The secretary was a short woman, looking to be about 50, with graying hair piled on top of her head. Her nameplate read 'Secretary- Mrs. Draycruw'. I approached her.

"Hello, I'm new here. I was told to report here first thing..?" I made it sound almost a statement. Mrs. Draycruw looked down at what I assumed to be a note.

"Ah, yes. Faye Darryn Royce, I presume?" She replied in a chirpy voice. I almost believed her smile was real.

"Yes," I replied, simply.

"You're to talk to the student adviser before receiving your schedule," She said. She then walked away, expecting me to follow her. I did. She stopped in front of a thick wooden door that was wide open.

"Faye Darryn Royce is here, Mr. Ryler," She announced, ushering me in and closing the door. What's with this school and using full names? The office was large and painted eggshell. The desk was large and oak, which matched the picture frames. The chairs were large brown armchairs. This office actually looked quite cozy. Mr. Ryler gestured for me to sit, so I did.

"Faye, the teachers all call me Mr. Ryler, but I'm going to let you call me Matthew," he said. His voice was deep, yet gentle. Completely unlike my dad's voice, which was rough, scary, and always loud.

'Faye, I have come to understand, from reading your file that you have problems communicating, rarely interact with students, have been expelled from two schools, transferred from the last three, and this has all happened within the last five years. Why is this?" Matthew asked me.

"My mom died five years ago, I guess. Things have been... different since she left us," I replied. Might as well not hold back. It'd be brought up anyway.

"I see you like to take the easy way through this. Good," He looked back down at my file, "Ah, so you"re 15, and have already taken, and passed, every mechanics shop available. Is this because of the experience you have from working with your dad? He is a mechanic, correct?" He asked me.

"Yes, he"s a mechanic, but it's not because of experience. I stopped being able to work with him when I was 10. After mom died, he changed. I've taken and passed every class because it comes easily to me, and I enjoy mechanics," I explained. How long is this going to take?

"Faye, we know your father has changed. Every school you've been to has had suspicions. We know he strikes you. We wanted to tell you before we reported it. Also, we know what you used to do, and that you quit. All you have is scars. Faye, I think I understand how you see people. I believe you see them as machinery, correct?" Matthew asked me. Matthew Ryler was a smart man. No wonder his office was so nice.

"Yes, I-I've never been able to understand why, but it's true," I replied. I couldn't help it. This man surprised me.

"Before I give you your schedule and send you to class, I'd like to give you some advice," He told me, "The way you see people as machines. Happy people are like properly working machines, correct?" I nodded, incapable of speech.

"Ah, yes, as I thought. Anyway," He continued, "You see yourself as a broken machine, because you aren't happy." I nodded, although it wasn't a question. "You aren't completely broken, your family is. Mostly your father, but you may be more broken than I think, but you aren't unfixable. You can fix a broken machine. You live life as a broken tool, but even a broken tool has its uses. Do you understand?"

"I think so. So, like, even though I've been broken, I can still be happy. I can be fixed. Right?" This was the first time in my life an adult had taught me something.

Matthew smiled, "Yes, you've got it. Now, here's your schedule. Go make some friends, and find out what it is to no longer be broken. To be happy," He handed me my schedule and nodded. I took it and left. Walking to homeroom, I thought over what he told me and smiled. A real smile, the first one in years. I was still broken, but I still had my uses. I could really be happy.