this is the revised version of Chasing Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

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okay i hope that this is more emotional.

He didn't do anything wrong; he was the hero, not the enemy. Deep down, he knew this was true. But she could not afford to praise him, that would have shown weakness. So she hit him, worse than the last time; trowing everything and anything at him, watching as each item cut through his skin, blood trickling down his arms. She told him that he should have stayed out of it, that it was none of his business. He pleaded with her, begging to for her to let him explain. This made her angrier and she screamed at him how he was worthless, nothing but scum. Hot tears swelled in his eyes. He closed them tight to stop the tears from falling, for he knows that will provoke more from her. Every blow to the face, gut and arms make him hate the world more. The last blow knocked him off his feet onto his knees. She laughs and kicks him in the side, screaming at him to get off the ground and take it like a man. She kicked him again; this knocks him on his side and he hits his head on the coffee table, hard. He feels the blood rush to his temple. He becomes dizzy. He attempt to get to his feet. She grabs his arm, tearing a scab off an old cut that she had made, causing it to bleed, staining his shirt. When he yells out from the pain, she punches him in the face and screams that she had not hurt him. He could feel blood start to build up around his left eye where she had hit him. It would be black and blue by morning. It already hurt to shut it but he dealt with it, knowing the consequences for shedding a tear would be far worse than the pain of his black eye. He knew would have to come up with a good story to tell at school to cover it up. It would have to go along with the fat lip that had already started. Before he knew it, she pushed. He stumbled backward, tripping over the coffee table. He falls, hitting his head again, this time on the glass in the middle. He heard her long-necked bottle hit the floor as her footsteps faded away down the hall and into her bedroom.

Her tried to open his eyes and lift his head but failed. His head was pounding and his chest burned. Every cut and bruise pulsed. Part of him thought that it had been worth it; coming to his mother, being punished. But the other part told him that the little girl in the parking lot could have taken care of herself. Somehow. That some one else could have come to her rescue if he had not. He disregarded this thought. He knew that he was right to save her; to stop that guy; to get off the bus and get her away. He just knew it. The school had said so. They had praised him for his doing. But maybe his mother had been right. He did not even know anymore. Did not care. Maybe Bugs would know what to do. Maybe she would be able to help. He slowly slipped away and lost consciousness against the coffee table.

The next morning he walked into school and saw her; Bugs. The only one in the whole world who he trusted with this topic. The one person who knew how to make him feel better. The only one he had ever told. Now, they were not together. They had been there and done that and it had not worked because he put her in a bad place; so they were strictly friends although the feelings that each had for the other was not possibly hidden.

He hoped she would not notice right away. He had tried to get the swelling in his lip and even though it had gone down a small bit, it had not disappeared. But she did notice, of course, she always did. She came running to him and narrowed her striking green eyes. Here it comes...

\"Oh my God, Jamie!\" She whispered, \"What did she do to you?\" She gently reached up to touch the spot on his face, letting her fingers trace around to touch his lip. She looked deep into his eyes and recognized the worn light that shown in them. A look that let her know he had seen too much. More than anyone ever should have to see... have to be burdened with.

He shivered under her touch.

\"Bugs, I don’t know what to do. I really can't take it anymore. I've gotta get outta there.\" He explained everything to her. Reliving every detail as each word rolled off his tongue. She listened to every would without comment. When he had finished, she hugged him, holding him close to her as she did her best not to cry, for his sake. She let go of him, but only a little, and looked directly into his deep, hurting eyes.

\"Okay, do you want me to make some calls? Are you ready to get out of there?\" she said with a sigh. He nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, touching her palm to his cheek, “I’ll get you out, I promise. You can come home with me for tonight; they’ll have some good people picked out by morning.” She turn, taking her cell phone from her sweatshirt pocket, punching in a few numbers, and placing it to her ears. She turned her head quickly blew him a kiss, smiled at him and wishing that she could really be touching his lips. She waved before ducking into the lady’s room.

He was ready to really let Bugs do what she did best. Save people. He smiled softly back at her, lifting his large hand to catch her kiss, and turned, breathing a sigh of relief. By the following morning, he was informed that his mother had been arrested for child abuse, and without realizing it, he laughed, almost unable to believe that Bugs had just saved his life. Bugs and her family took him in as fast as possible, treating him like an automatic member of the family; giving him a feeling that he had never felt in his entire life . In a matter of days he would be coming face-to-face with a family that wanted a sixteen year old boy in desperate need of loving. A family that would love him. A family that would not beat him half to death. A family-aside from Bugs'-that cared and was ready to help him get on with his life. He looked forward to being able to hold Bugs again.

Thanking Bugs, for some reason, was not exactly at the top of his to do list; not letting her down, however, was number one. He stood in the living room of Bugs’ house, holding her close to him as they say goodbye, for now. He whispers a thank you and in return she answers with an “I love you”.

-What a perfect way to end a dream, right? To bad it may not end this way in real life. I can only hope that someday, he let’s me do what I do best... save people.

Submitted: March 03, 2010

© Copyright 2022 Marcedes. All rights reserved.

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Broken Katana

wow...long...but good

Wed, March 3rd, 2010 7:15pm


thanks, i got a comment saying it wasn't emotional enough so i figured i needed to add some to it.

Thu, March 4th, 2010 8:13am

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