In this world of miracles there's nothing wrong we can't make right.

Omg. So today I was thinking how I really wish I had my NaNoWriMo novel. National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo for short, is a challenge where you write a novel consisting of 50,000 words during the month of November. I participated in this, but did not make it to 50k. But I still wrote a hell of a lot of words in the time I had. And I went looking for it in my old sentbox and found a copy of it! I thought it was gone for good because it was on a jumpdrive and that stopped working.
So I read it over, enjoyed it, and now am gonna post it. YEY. I'm posting in parts because it's so long, probably post once a day. (:
Oh, and it's still a WIP. I never finished it. x.x

Title: Untitled NaNoWriMo piece Part 1
Author: Cassidy
Summary: Um..it starts as realfic but delves into fantasy. :D
Rating: Probably pg-13 for the whole thing.
Warnings: Depictions of suicide, homosexuality, mild language, girlkissing, mentally insane people :P
A/N: FEEDBACK IS S♥ MUCH L♥VE. Rlynao. Bad or good, just tell me stuff. xD And this is unbeta'd, unedited, taken straight from when I wrote it in November.

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I swear, sometimes I think I’m the only sane one in my house. I lay on my bed on the soft, fluffy navy blue comforter, lounging lazily while absentmindedly flipping through an old issue of Seventeen, stopping once in a while to chuckle at the superficiality of some of the magazine’s articles. Suddenly an all-too familiar voice rang out.
“Gemma! Gemma-Leigh!! Come downstairs! Now!”
It was my mother’s voice, something I dread to hear every day. She was probably going to take one look at me before shrieking in her shrill, annoying voice that I looked like a delinquent, a miscreant, or something of the sort. Or maybe my favorite: “I rue the day I ever bought you that black eyeliner!” I groaned. I seriously couldn’t wait until I was old enough to move out of this hellhole and go live on my own; be independent. “I’m coming, mother...”
I choked out the word ‘mother’. I heard the shrill voice once again. “Gemma-Leigh now means now! You get down here this instant!” I sat up and got myself out of bed lazily. “I said I’m coming. God!” I yelled. I got up, pulling down my black Sex Pistols tank. I grudgingly walked over to my mirror in my purple socks and stuck my tongue out. I then inserted a smooth, silver barbell through the hole and screwed on the spherical top on. I had gotten my tongue pierced when I was 15 to be ‘rebellious’, but over time I had gotten quite fond of it.
My silver peace sign necklace swung as I walked, and there were chunks of my multicolored hair cut in a side fringe, covering one of my eyes. It was mostly black, but with a little bit of red and blonde in there too. I had on baggy red sweat pants, rolled up to my calves. I slowly walked downstairs to where my mother was waiting for me.
“Gemma, I know you are capable of coming downstairs much faster than you did.”
“But mom, I only took like five minutes!”
“I don’t know what kind of internal clock you have, but I know for a fact you certainly did not take five minutes. Ten, at least!”
This is my mother, Leslie. Mousy brown hair cut short in an attempt to look neat but still made her look tired and old. Typical middle-age clothes; high pants and everything. ”Look, mom. I’m sorry I took five minutes more getting downstairs than you expected. What do you want anyways?” I was too tired of putting up with an argument. “I wanted to tell you that I’d like you to help me unload the dishwasher.” I groaned. “Mom, don’t you remember? I already did it once today. I’m going over to Charity’s house. Bye.” I barely finished my sentence before walking out of the house and closing the door in a huff.
I got into my car, a red Camaro. My purse was in there. It was covered with overlapping Playbills from assorted Broadway musicals, and on it were about ten pins that I had put on, with cool designs or bands on them. I reached in and grabbed my phone, flipping it open to send a fast text message to Charity to tell her I was coming to her house.
She was one of the first friends I had made when I came to New York. I had previously lived in Oregon. Boring place, but it had its share of interesting people. Like Condra, my best friend when I lived there. She was a real party girl, going to as many raves as she could fit into her schedule, moshing at concerts and shooting up when time allowed. She was crazy, but I loved her. But one day I heard she OD’d and had almost died. When I came to visit her in the hospital, she wasn’t the same. Her brain was seriously affected, and she could hardly remember who I was, let alone string together words to make a sentence that made sense. It was heart-wrenching to hear the doctor tell me she’ll never be the same again. But moving away helped me put all the grief behind me. I met new people, and was back to my normal self soon.
Then came Charity. I hadn’t really known anyone in my school, so I decided to visit a Gay-Straight Alliance one day, just because I had nothing better to do. Charity was one of the bi ones, like me. She told me she had been horribly harassed and this was the only place she wouldn’t be called a fag or a dyke. We ended up talking, and in a short time we exchanged phone numbers and then we were talking almost constantly, it seemed. I guess you could say we were kind of inseparable. Sure, I had a crush on her a few times, but we both agreed at the beginning of our friendship that getting into a relationship together would be too weird, and if we broke up we might never talk to each other again.
I pulled up to Charity’s house and parked. She was already waiting for me outside. As always, the first thing I notice is her fire engine red hair, as wild as her personality. She was wearing ripped fishnets and a baggy Rolling Stones shirt with a dark washed jean skirt. She had on while kitten heels with a cherry print, and her hair was pulled into three messy ponytails. Her eye shadow was striped red and black, and her mascara was black on top, red on the bottom. “I see you stuck with a color theme today,” I laughed and hugged her. She hugged me back and kissed my cheek.
“Does that mean you don’t like it?” Charity looked at me with big light blue eyes. “Of course not! I fricken adore it, Charity.” She responded with a wide grin. “Thanks. Now come in.” She began pulling me by the sleeve into her house. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“Well, I happen to have chocolate chip cookie dough waiting for us.” She said in a singsong voice, still dragging me by my sleeve, which was merely a tank top strap. “Awesome. Glad I could come to your house. I couldn’t stand being in that house with my mom for another second. You are so damn lucky you have your own house.”
“Aww, I’m sorry, Gem. Is your mom really all that horrible? And I don’t have my own house; it’s just a studio, that’s all. Hardly a house. But it’s amazing living on my own.” She twirled around, her baggy shirt puffing up as she spun. “My mom won’t let me move out of the house till I’m at least 19. It sucks. I’m still 17, but you’re special enough that your 18th birthday comes early.” I stuck my tongue out at her playfully. She poked the barbell. “You know, I saw the cutest tongue ring at this store earlier. It was a little flower! I was gonna get it for you, but I forgot my wallet…” She explained sadly. “It’s fine, Chari! You don’t have to buy me things. Where did you see it?” Charity was about the sweetest girl on the planet. “At a store called The Ace of Hearts. I’ll be sure to give you the directions later.” “Cool. Maybe I’ll find a matching eyebrow stud for you and we can wear them together.” Currently adorning Charity’s eyebrow was a stud with lips on it.
“Speaking of eyebrow studs, I am completely loving yours.” Charity reached over into a bowl on the counter and brought up a finger full of cookie dough. She shoved it into my mouth. “Thanks. Gemma, you should really get your eyebrow done, you know. It’ll look so cute.”
I swallowed the sweet, thick dough. “I don’t know. I already have a double lobe piercing, cartilage piercing, and tongue piercing. I think I’m done.”
“Aw, come on, Gem! You know you want to! At least, I want you to.” Charity poked me with a sharp heel. “Ow! You suck. I came here in my socks, so I don’t have anything to poke you with...” I whined. “Did you forget your shoes again? This is the third time, Gem!”
“Err, maybe... Or maybe I’m just starting a new trend!” I said defensively, stifling laughter. “Yes, Gemma. Of course. No shoes. That’ll catch on in a flash!” She said sarcastically. “Well, anyways, speaking of more serious things, do you know Juliette Speare?”
“No. I’ve heard of her once or twice. Who is she?”
“She happens to be the cutest girl I’ve ever seen! I can’t believe you haven’t heard of her! I so, so, so need to introduce you to tomorrow.”
“The cutest girl you’ve ever seen? I thought I was the cutest girl you’ve ever seen...” I winked at her teasingly.
“Haha, you can be in second place. You’ll understand why when you see her. Also, she is the best guitar player I’ve ever seen. I heard her garage band once. It pretty much sucked except for her.” Charity laughed as she recalled hearing them.
“Super cute and super good guitarist? Now I really want to meet her!” I’ve seemed to always have a certain thing for guitarists. I don’t know why, I just do.
“Hey Charity, do you have a yearbook from last year? Then I could see a picture of her!” Now the first thing I wanted to do tomorrow was meet, or at least look at, Juliette Speare.
“She’s not in last year’s yearbook. She’s new this year. Sorry, Gemma.”
Charity fiddled with her red tipped, square acrylic nails. From the moment I saw Charity, I loved her unique, indie style of clothes, jewelry, makeup, and everything else. She has introduced me to some of my favorite bands that I wouldn’t have ever heard of if she hadn’t told me about them. She also bought me my Playbill purse for my birthday, and now it’s one of my favorite things. I love her genuine, caring personality and her wild outlook on life. She lived every day to its fullest and I valued her for that. The thing is, sometimes I wished we had never agreed to never be in a relationship together because lately that’s exactly what I’ve been wanting. I know I’ll just have to get over it and move on, much like Condra and Suzanne, my sister.
Suzanne seemed to be the family favorite, golden angelic hair, a straight A student, always living up to her parent’s expectations. Until her senior year, her life seemed just about perfect. After her senior prom and homecoming queen crowning, Suzanne and about 5 of her friends went out partying. They all either got really drunk or really high, maybe both, including Suzanne. With that being unexpected enough, something even more unexpected happened. That night she had gotten with about three guys in an alley, unprotected.
The next day she got screened for any STDs, and she came up HIV positive. I remember, she came home a mess, eyes all red and puffy with tears streaming down her face. She ran sobbing up to the bathroom, and she locked herself in. I heard her wailing and screaming, and then it sounded like she was being tortured. I knew she must be upset, but I had gotten worried. After 20 minutes spent unsuccessfully picking the bathroom door lock with a paper clip, I kicked the door out of sheer anger and frustration. Then to my surprise the door swung open. I got in. What I saw I’ll never forget. In the bathroom, sitting on the toilet seat, was Suzanne. Covered in blood. So much blood. On the floor were her HIV test results. I had picked them up, and they were red and sticky from her blood. Still in shock, I shakily stepped over to my sister and touched her, saying in a nervous voice, “Su-Suzanne? Hello? Suze?” Tears had started to well up, as my voice got even shakier and started break. “Are you…Are you…alive?” The last word came out in barely a whisper; I was almost unable to say it because more than anything I didn’t want it to be true. “Please, oh please, say something. Say anything. Just breathe, at least... Oh, God, no...”
Tears steamed down my face and onto the floor mixing with the deep crimson already pooled on the floor. I grabbed her wrist, but instantly recoiled, whimpering. Her wrists had been violently slashed. Deep vertical lines were carved in to the smooth, ivory skin of her inner wrist, crusted with the rust color of dried blood. It still oozed fresh blood, bright red blood. Her other wrist was dripping as well. My mouth was open, wide with shock. I was unable to say anything, or do anything. It was like a bad dream where something horrible happens and you try to scream, you try to run away, but your throat closes up and your legs feels like concrete, glued to the ground. I felt the contents of my stomach slowly creeping its way back up my throat, the acidic taste burning my throat. I tried to swallow, but instead gagged and retched as the bile dripped down my chin, mixing with whatever was on the floor already. The smell was almost unbearable and I tried to move but I couldn’t, I was still frozen. My sister was dead. The second I thought that I immediately blocked it out, ruling out that fact it could be true. She could never be dead. Why her? Oh hell, why her? Coughing and violently sobbing at the same time, I was able to choke out a few words. “Please….no...” As if she could hear me and suddenly wake up. Like she had a pulse, like she had a beating heart. I could barely speak; the words came out almost inaudible, I was so choked with sobs. More tears were now coming down my face than I ever thought possible. My body was involuntarily shaking, and time seemed frozen. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I had seen movies, read books, and watched TV shows about people committing suicide. Some people from my school had even done it. But never in my wildest nightmares did I ever think it would ever happen to someone I knew this well. Someone who had known me ever since I was born, who showed compassion and understanding, who immediately accepted me when I came out to her. Suzanne lay there, cold and lifeless with dark circles under her closed eyes, and blood on her everywhere. Why hadn’t I come up here sooner? I could have stopped this. It’s my fault. I could have talked her out of it. How could I?! Self-accusatory thoughts racked my mind. I was blaming myself for my sister’s choices, but I was too much in shock to even notice.
That was a life-changing experience for me. It was also a life threatening experience. For six months I felt suicidal, routinely cutting myself at least twice a day. I became withdrawn, and at time even violent or abusive. My mom was an emotional wreck also, and at time we would get into such huge arguments that she would storm out of the house and leave for a motel, leaving me alone in my house. I never talked to my friends, even though they tried very hard to make me feel at least a little bit better. I would end up screaming at them that I didn’t need anyone’s help, from then on they didn’t try quite as hard to cheer me up. It took an extremely long time for me to return back to my normal state, and it took a lot of people’s time, effort and help. I returned to normal, but my actions before had destroyed me and my mom’s relationship. We never treated each other the same again, getting into heated arguments over the simplest and smallest of things. I also wasn’t as open with my friends as I was. Even when I felt normal again I still cut myself from time to time, drifting in and out of depression. I still have a drawer full of suicide notes. I’ve learned to put Suzanne’s death behind me, and stopped blaming myself for it. I haven’t forgotten her, and I never will. It’s still a very emotional subject I hardly talk to anyone about, except maybe Charity and my current boyfriend or girlfriend, if I trust them enough to not accidentally flare up my old emotional wounds. I’m just so glad I never went through with my suicide, or I could have caused as much emotional damage to other as Suzanne did to me.
“Hey Gem, what do you say we go to that store, The Ace of Hearts, and go body jewelry shopping? Um, Gem? Gemma? Earth to Gemma?” Charity waved a red acrylic nailed hand in front of my face in an effort to get a response from me. “What…” I guess I was so caught up in my thoughts that I drifted off I some sort of daze or something. “Oh! Yeah, yeah, shopping seems fun.”
“Gem, are you ok? You seemed lost..” Charity looked at me worriedly, with her beautiful blue eyes and striking red and black eyelashes staring at me.
“I’m sorry. I was…thinking. Sorry. I’m ok, don’t worry.” I assured her I was ok.
“Are you sure, Gem? No problems, no issues, just thinking?” I didn’t really like Charity prying into my thoughts, but I knew that she was just trying to make sure I was okay, because she went through Suzanne’s death with me, and that was just a little over a year ago.
“Yes, Charity. I’m completely and utterly sure that I’m fine. Now let’s go.” I began walking towards the door.
“Okay, just as long as you’re sure.” Charity skipped over to me and put her arm around me, walking with me. We got out the door and got in my car. I was driving; she was in the passenger’s seat. I started the car and began driving.
“Wait, where is this store? You’re the one who knows where it is, so why am I driving?”
“You just keep going straight. I’ll tell you where to go, don’t worry.”
With Charity acting as a backseat driver, we got to The Ace Of Hearts in about 10 minutes.
We parked, got out of the car, and walked up to the sore. It looked very cool and very indie
“So this is it. It looks very rad, Charity. Good store choice, as always.”
“Thanks. Now let’s go in!” Charity grabbed my hand and excitedly pulled me into the store. Adorning many of the walls was amazing looking displays of assorted body jewelry you wouldn’t find anywhere else. After Charity carefully studied the walls for a few minutes, she ran over to one and beckoned me over. There was the flower tongue ring she had raved to me about. She eagerly picked it up.
“See, this is it! Don’t you just absolutely love it?”
It was made of the same metal my current barbell was made of, but some of the metal had rhinestones on it, giving color to the flower.
“Yeah Charity, I do love it. Now let’s go try and find a matching eyebrow stud for you. We can match for school tomorrow!”
“Yeah, let’s try and find one, Gem. Good idea!”
Charity began looking around for the eyebrow section of the store. I knew when she found it, because she did an adorable little jump for joy. Then she began studying the rows and rows of jewelry for a flower one. It took her a few minutes, but she eventually found it.
“Oh my god, they actually have it, Gemma! Come look, it’s exactly like the one you just found!”
Charity seemed ecstatic on finding the jewelry. She ran up to the cashier after grabbing my item, and paid as fast as she could.
After paying for the jewelry, we got back into my car, and I took Charity back to her house. Then I drove drearily back to my house. I didn’t want to go back to the hellhole. When I got home I found my mother waiting for me. Not a good sign.
“Gemma-Leigh Wyle, you do not just leave without asking me for 3 hours. Who knows where you could’ve been? I bet you were snorting coke and making out with that disaster Charity like the delinquent you look like!”
I was shocked and offended by my mother’s harsh accusatory words.
“Mom. One, why the hell would I ever do something as stupid as snort coke? I learned that fricken lesson about drugs from Condra! And two, why would I be making out with Charity? She is not a disaster! Only you with you one-track stereotypical mind would ever think things so horribly wrong. And no matter how many times you tell me, I do not look like a delinquent!” I just went over to Charity’s house and went shopping! God, mother. You suck!”
I angrily stormed upstairs. I couldn’t believe her. I felt hot, angry tears welling up in my eyes and threatening to spill out any second. Soon they were running down my face. I wiped my eyes, smudging my eye makeup. I got on my bed, softly crying. I pulled out the covers and threw them over myself, closed my eyes, and tried to go to sleep.
It was foggy. So foggy I could barely see anything. I could hardly even see my hand in front of my face.
“Hello? Um, wh-where am I?”
~~~

OH LOOK CLIFFHANGER 8D