| Fan Fiction |
by <3 Jae
I thought my life had ended. During the dead of night, my parents were driving home when a car slammed into the front of the car. I remember seeing the blood everywhere, the screams filling my 5 year old head; the sounds replaying over and over in my head throughout my life. Miraculously, I had survived the car crash that had brutally taken my mother and father from my life.
The ambulance had arrived and took me to the nearest hospital. I was wailing loudly, desperate to have my mother beside me and my father saying,” Everything will be alright”. But everything won’t be alright. My mother wasn’t there beside me. My father wasn’t holding my hand and muttering words in an attempt to calm me down.
That night, for the first time in my life, I was sleeping without my parent’s presence. My parent’s presence has always made me feel secure. Instead, the foul smell of the hospital haunted me that night. The doctors and nurses were walking around, while their life is content. That night, the car accident replayed over and over in my mind; my dreams, each one bloodier and more violent than the previous. Tossing and turning in my sleep, occasionally wailing, I attracted the attention of doctors and nurses alike.
Each one tried to calm me down, but I suspect none of them had been through what I’ve been through. True, they’ve probably seen numerous people die in this hospital but most of them were probably strangers who just had some major accident sporting some major injuries.
Through the entire night, I was wailing in my dreams, tears spilling from my eyes. I wanted my mother. I want my father. I wanted my life to be perfect, happy, and content. I wanted my life to be the way it was before the accident; just my mother, my father and me.
“Shut up!”
An old woman, who was in the ward next to me, arrived in my ward, dressed in a nightgown and slapped me across the face in an attempt to stop me from crying. It only made it worse. I wailed louder and louder and a nurse came to see what was going on. She held the old woman back and led her to her ward. Another nurse came in and I stopped crying at once. She looked like my mother; the face sporting the kind look that my mother always gave me. She picked me up and cradled me in her arms, softly singing a lullaby. Within minutes, I crept into my dreams; my dreams not my nightmares.
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“Dump her in some orphanage.”
Those words shattered me; as if I hadn’t been shattered already. My older brother, cold and frightful as he is, has never considered me part of the family but now that my mother and father was dead and I had survived, he hated me even more. Because no will was left, everything and I mean everything had been left in the grubby hands of my hating brother.
Everything, from their money, to their house, to their companies had been given to my brother. I would have been given to him as well, if he wanted me, but he didn’t, and so, he dumped me in some rotten orphanage where the staff treats you like dirt and the food wasn’t very appetizing at all.
I was pretty, and most of my adoptive parents wanted me because of that but I could never adapt to their lifestyle and accept me as their daughter. For 7 years, I had traveled from one house to another only to be dumped back in the orphanage a couple of months later, or even worse, a couple of weeks. The orphanage ladies were also filled with hatred. I didn’t know why they had taken this job if they couldn’t stand being around children.
From a house to the orphanage to other house back to the orphanage; my life seemed to revolve around like that, like a circle, never-ending, like Romeo and Juliet, depressing, except there was no Romeo. There was just Juliet; an abandoned Juliet with no parents and just one unloving brother.
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My first day of school was torture. The kids were all happy. Usually I would be taught at the orphanage but my brother wanted me to have a good education. I was surprised to see that he given cared about me that all. Nevertheless, I was thankful of him because going to school meant that I could make new friends. Oh, how I wished I stayed at the orphanage.
“How come your clothes are all black?”
“Are you a vampire?”
The kids at school teased me about wearing black; black dress; black headband; black bracelets. To them, I was a walking storm cloud; always dark and cold and it usually brought bad news. Worse still, kids were scared to come near me. Is it possible for the human mind to have some kind of physic power? Something like telekinesis where you can move things with your mind? Once, when I was younger, I had nearly killed someone by just commanding them to die in my mind. Shocked, I believed that dressing in black will help me control my power while, keeping the kids away from me.
At recess and lunchtimes, I sat alone, eating the rotten food that my orphanage had somehow cooked up for me. I wanted to move schools so much but the orphanage staff wouldn’t believe that someone could have physic powers.
“What a joke!”
They locked me in a small room for that, and every time I said it afterwards. Usually, I went without food. Occasionally, a bowl of water was passed through a small gap in the door. They had to keep me alive. Every time the door of the room opened, I would be suffering under the beatings of the staff people. Afterwards, I ran to my room and collapsed on the bed, my wounds stinging. There were no band-aids in this orphanage. It was more like survival of the fittest. Weren’t orphanages supposed to take care, I mean emphasise, TAKE CARE, of the children who has no parents?
High school was no different. The teenagers still taunted me. The teachers thought I was a bad girl due to the way I dressed. I rarely talked to anyone.
Everyone else had parents who were still living. Some had parents that had divorced but it wasn’t as bad as seeing your parents die before your very eyes. Isolated from the school, I was always the last to be picked for a team in P.E., always the one who was left out when everyone had partners for something. Couldn’t the world just open a hole and swallow me up?
But there was a word for all this and the kids at school called it; emo. Hey! I wasn’t emo; I didn’t go home and cut myself every time I got my hands on a knife or some other sharp object of the same kind. I was depressed, yes that was the word, depressed. Most people just think being depressed and being emo is the same thing.
“Show me your wrists, loser.”
People always wanted to see my wrists, expecting to see a thin red line across it but there never was any. They walked away.
“What happened? Your parents divorced or something?”
They said this in a taunting way but I had learned to shut out my emotions. Nothing that anyone said would make a difference in my life, because their opinions didn’t matter to me. If I hadn’t, I would’ve probably tried to kill the boy who taunted me to show everyone else a lesson. I could; and I would probably get away from it as well. No one would believe that he died because I commanded him to.
A new boy arrived at our school one day. His first impression was cold; like my brother. Before long, he was announced the kingka of the school, by his unofficial fan club.
You’ve read this far.
You’ve seen my life.
Now you know my name; Sae Bomi.
“You look good in black.”
The first compliment.
I met eyes with the boy.
A boy named Kim JaeJoong.
Kingka of the school.
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A/N
Ok...first of "kingka" is what they call the most popular boy in the school.
People familiar with the anime "Fruits Basket" will realise that her powers are similar to those of Saki Hanajima.