Entry point

Entry Point

Chapter 1


I look at the sunset and wish it would come back to me. It slowly fades, only to be repalced by the bleak, rainy weather we've been getting so often. Tipical Irish weather. Tipical world. The sun only goes in when i've made up my mind to go out, as if it purposely tries to ruin any social life i have. I'd go out in the rain if it wasn't for my hair. Every girl loves her hair, and the thought of getting it wet would drive me bonkers, insane even. It's our lives, the main part that we care about. We don't care if we've got millions of spots on our faces, as long as our hair is ok. If we were bald it would be a totally different story. Even the thought of getting my hair wet now scares me. I think it's the unkown we're all scared of, the fact that we never know when it's coming untill it gets here. Hell, i'll fairly admit that it scares me, not knowing what's going to happen next. If anything, i'll hold my hands up and admit that.

The sun is just about gone, and without any warning, it began to rain heavily. Usually you get some light drissle first, but this was heavy from the start. It made me think about the world, how destroyed the eco-system must really be. Either that or God just doesn't like us, trying to constantly find way's to rid the world of the race he made a mistake in making. I'm sure he's kicking himself, watching day after day as his loving children kill eachother for absolutely no reason. He's got it good up there, on his high horse watching the world develope and grow, while we get no notice of what's to come. But rightly so, he is God. He's meant to have some amount of power over the rest of the world, a certain amount that can help him give and take life whenever he wants. I'm not sure if anyone should have the power to choose when it's someones time. I can't pretend like i have those answers, but i know if i did i'd be the most wanted girl in Ireland.

It's late. Usually i go to bed earlier, but i spend an extra half hour watching re-runs of the same old programmes and cursing my parents for giving me a great life, where as others are on the streets begging for money, for a chance to be that snobby girl walking by, a chance to be me. I'm nothing to be admired. I'm fairly rich, i've been blessed with gorgeous looks and i'm number one in everyones phone, but that doesn't mean i'm a good person. I'd rather be begging on the streets then be this shallow girl, this complete stranger i don't even recognise. Who am i and what is my purpose? I really can't say anymore. I find myself tangled in a never-ending web of questions, but with no answers.

The alarm clock at my bedside say's it's 7:19 a.m. I beg to the God that probably can't hear me, that he let me off school today, that i don't have to face the embarrassment of being stared at because i was late. That's the way it is now-a-day's. It's a shark world. We pick on the weak and become friends with the strong, the popular and the rich. We're like birds praying off the dead carcasses of our own. We are at war with ourselves, with our own race of people, and they start all because of some powerful dictator wanting more than a desk and a small city to rule. They would rather the world in the palm of their hands, no matter how many sons and grandsons die trying to achieve it. How far must we go before we realise that the world is in the state it is today, because of us? How many ugly deeds must we do before we realise that we all posess an evil inside of us? All it takes is one bad situation to turn our bright sides a little darker, one moment where everything flashes before our eye's, and we do what we have to to save the ones we love, to give ourselves a future of knowing that somewhere along the line, we did one right thing to make up for all the bad things.

The rain had stopped. I decided to go into school as i hear my Mom and Dad shouting at eachother over electric bills and the costs of keeping a dog. Rich people always fight over spending too much money, that's how their rich, because they save so much of it. Their very careful with their money as less richer people would say. I frankly couldn't give a damn anymore. I'm fed up with being popular and rich, there's nothing in it but a dark future of lonlieness. That's not something i want. People like my parents could never understand, because they are so consumed with their wealth, that nothing else matters, not even their own daughter half the time.

The bus pulls in and i get on. The driver asks me where i'm going, then tells me it's thirty cent dearer than i thought. I don't argue though. You can't argue with a bus driver. I drop the money into the machine and sit down the back of the bus, secluded and away from everyone else. The person down the back of the bus is either always the strangest, or the one with the most problems. You can tell a lot from a persons facial expression, and right now there are six other people on this bus looking at me through the sides of their eye's, wondering what i'm thinking, what i'm going through. I'm going through a lot, but i doubt any of it would fall under the catagory of help. I would never ask even if i needed it. We can never show weakness, never admit when we're wrong, and most of all: We can never save the ones who deserve a good life, only the ones who don't. That's life, pure bad luck. I step down off the bus and look at the school building in front of me, admiring my guts to go into this place every day and put up with the rubbish teachers and pretending to like girls that i don't actually like. My life is a show. I'm a fake, fonie, pretending to be someone i'm not and never will be.

In class, i nearly fell asleep. Biology isn't meant to be boring, but my teacher could make a cup final boring. I think it's just the way she talks, using too many big, complicated words, forgetting that were not masters of science, we're just kids. Well, because some of us are fifteen and sixteen they expect us to act mature, but we're at our prime, and have absolutely no reason to not act like kids. Maybe because their old they don't understand what youth is like these day's. There's more people dying young now-a-days than there ever was, and that's what i fear, that i'll never make it to seventeen.

My ears are pierced by the morning bell that seems to get louder each day. I pull my bag onto my back with both arms, and walk out of the Science lab, strutting my body like i'm 'Queen of the manor'. I head up the stairs, hundreds of students pushing and shoving past me as they try to get to their next classes. I entered the door to my Business class with two others behind me, and heard my Business teacher say, "Come on girls, this is ridiculous". She went on about how we were about five seconds late after the bell had gone, which had made me laugh. Obviously, she had no idea the kind of caos there was trying to get up the stairs, let alone down the corridor with the mass of people blocking your entrance.

We got off half of the class as we had a ruetine fire drill. The teacher calmly said we should get in a straight line, and then she slowly led us to the yard below where hundreds of girls assembled in single files. It hadn't even accured to them that if there really was a fire no one would be talking calmly or lining up. We'd all be running for our lives. The yard wouldn't even be safe, as the glass from the windows above would probably shatter and tiny pieces would fall on us. There was little effort put into their attempt of showing us what a fire drill was actually like. I noticed that the principle wasn't even there, which showed how truely dedicated he was to his job. I'm sure he'd be escaping in his 2007 jeap, while we get lined up in the yard waiting for that fatal moment. We all pretend like we care, but in a real situation the only person we would save, is ourselves. I'm not proud of it, but i'd save my own life over everyone elses in the school. You might call me a coward just because i choose to save my own life, because i fear death. Can anyone honestly tell me that they wouldn't be tempted to save their own skin, in a situation where you know it's either you or the person you're about to rescue? I think firemen and the police are the bravest people alive, and not because they save lives and rebel against crime, but because they go out every morning, knowing that they could be killed by any one of the ordinary people driving by. They still go out though. That's real bravery. The things we see on tellevision are nothing compared to real life. We could never even begin to contimplate the differences between tellevision and reality, because we're so convinced that tellevision is reality.

There's a faintly annoying noise coming from behind me, and i notice it's the gob of Jayne Scanlan at work. She would be one of the most popular girls next to me, and from time to time she'd remind me of that simple fact, waiting for anything to happen that put her in first for most popular. Just looking at her across the yard and watching her selfish smile flap, made me want to punch her straight in the face. I'm not the fighting type, but i was just sick of being with people like her, pretending that i love being rich and that it's a gift to be me. In a way, i blamed Jayne for me being who i am today, this girl i can't describe anymore, or maybe i just had no one else to blame? Maybe i was afraid to blame my parents, because they brought me into this world. I walked over to her, shoved a girl who was talking to her to the side, and punched her straight in the nose. There was caos. She screamed out loud. A teacher was pulling me by the arm, but all i could do was smile. It felt good. I wanted to be a new person who rebelled against stuck up brats like Jayne Scanlan, like me.

Chapter 2


The next day i'm being blamed for bullying by the principle, and my parents just hold utter disgust in their gazes. I feel as if i've done something wrong, as if that snobby little cow didn't deserve it. In her world she probably didn't deserve it, but in mine she did, i did. I look in the mirror though, and i see a different explanation to why i did it, a light at the end of the tunnel. It was because i had grown up so much like Jayne Scanlan, that i wanted to feel like somebody else by hitting her and pretending i'm not rich or beautiful. I'm not big headed, i just say what's on my mind. I think if everyone did that the world would be a more understanding place, and we wouldn't have children expressing their feelings with guns, feelings that no one understands, or even cares to understand.

The dog runs around the back garden barking like mad, seeing things that i couldn't see if i tried. Their hearing is more sensitive than humans, and so they hear everything like it's up close and personal. I watch as he barks at the wind and the cat above him on the roof, sitting their staring at him, making it known that she can't be caught, but she yearns for the chase. I felt like i was that cat, isolated in a world where money solves problems, and people don't use words anymore. I have no idea why i continue to watch this cat and dog game, but it feels good, observing the world with my own eye's, the world in which i never knew existed. This world consisted of the clever animals, the sun that was now falling behind the clouds, and the breeze, the extremely cold breeze that i let nip at my neck. My hands felt numb with the cold, but at the same time i relished the feeling.

The sky was getting dark, and drops of rain began to trickle on my forehead. This time there was a warning. I went in and whistled for the dog to follow me. The heavy rain wouldn't be far off, but if we were lucky - and we never are in this country - then we'd just get some light drizzle. I'd love a job where i could find out the problems and the wierd explanations for how the sun works, how it rains and why so badly. In fact, i'd love a job where there's an explanation for everything.

It's time for bed as my eye's feel strained and my body feels unrested. My Parents are already in bed an hour and a half before me. They always go to bed early. They've no school, no homework, and they don't have to get up at six o' clock every morning. They just get other people to run their companys for them. It must be a great life having no stress of tests and bad teachers who you know are out to get you with an 'F'. Most of all, they don't have to go into school and have people staring at you, wondering why that girl hit Jayne Scanlan, and who she is anymore. It'll be interesting to see how i'm treated. Isn't it what i wanted though? To be recognised as someone other than a snobny whore who everyone looks up to? We'll have to wait and see. I get into bed and pull the covers up to my neck, the cold still finding a way into my room. All this money and i can't even get a new radiator.

A crash and a bang. I know those noises. One sounded like a glass breaking and the other was that stupid hoover that everyone trips over. I thought that maybe i hadn't closed the door properly and the dog might have got out into the front room, so i went down to investigate. I walked down the stairs slowly and carefully, so as not to wake my parents up. I was that generous, but would they do the same for me? Probably not. I heard more noises, like important stuff was being thrown around the place, and i knew then that it wasn't the dog. This was one of those opportunities that could prove i wasn't a stuck-up little coward, a girl who was protected by her fathers riches, but a girl who feared no one. I wanted to prove to my friends, and mostly to my parents, that i wasn't a whimp. I wanted something that could tell myself i wasn't a little rich girl who'd let her family be robbed, or worse. I took a detour into the front room and opened my fathers draw, where he kept a gun. I lifted it out of the draw with a lot of effort. It was heavier than i thought. I lifted it with two hands. I walked into the kitchen and seen a tall man shoving draws out of their places and drinking out of a bottle of our most expensive whine. He turned around when he heard me pull back the hammer on the gun, and i could see his young boyish face, no more than twenty-four. I noticed he had a gun too. It was in his belt. He looked at me, then the gun. I was shaking like mad, knowing that if i didn't fire, he'd take the gun from his belt and kill me without hesitation. I could see from his eye's that he had been on drugs, and was the type of person to kill a child just to escape a little jail time. I had no choice. The tears were dripping from my eye's now, but i had no choice. I seen him quickly reach for the gun, and i squeezed the trigger, hearing a loud bang and a gasp. I dropped it immediately and watched as he slumped to the ground, a round bloodied circle seeping through his t-shirt. His eye's were wide with shock. He closed them and i knew, i knew he was dead.

Chapter 3


There was pictures flashing behind me, men in white jackets dusting around the body. I told the police that i just wanted to get him to drop the gun and have him arrested, so that my parents would consider me a hero, but when i saw him and the look in his eye's, i knew he would have killed me had i not done something. My parents thought it was stupid that i would do that to earn their respect, their attention. The police praised me like a hero, said i was ok and that it was self-defence, but i couldn't help feeling sorry for the body laying meteres away from me, totally lifeless. They didn't even ask my father if he had a licence for the gun. I think they knew that there was one less criminal in the world, and that it made their job a lot easier. I ran past the two or three police officers, up to my room and slamned the door shut behind me. I had nothing to be proud of. Yes, i killed a man that would have killed me and maybe my parents if i hadn't shot first, but i would rather of been robbed and killed then feel this blank space inside of me. Hero's weren't meant to feel this way, were they?

Tears dripped from my eye's and onto my cheeks. I couldn't get his face out of my head, that stare and those eye's, those cruel eye's. How does someone so young get like that, become so... heartless? I won't pretend i knew him, but i am sure he would have killed me without hesitation. I never knew it would feel this way to choose someone elses life over your own, to let someone die only so you can live. Right now, i wanted to be that stuck-up little girl who had her problems sovled by her rich Daddy. I wanted to feel better by buying my fair share of clothes and shoes, then trying them on and realising they don't fit. Most of all: I wanted the parents that were never there for me, to save me from this darkness, this cloud that was beginning to loom over me, and that i feared would consume any good that was left within me. I was replaced by a side that used a gun to protect her family, to prove to them a simple fact: That she is no coward, and that she possesses more potential than they could ever imagine.

So, I'll ask the question again. How many ugly deeds must we do before we realise that we all possess an evil inside of us? All it takes is one bad situation to turn our bright sides a little darker, one moment where everything flashes before our eye's, and we do what we have to to save the ones we love, to give ourselves a future of knowing that somewhere along the line, we did one right thing to make up for all the bad things.