Since the first chapter's long, I've split it up into two parts, and no I'm not going to be posting part two right away, so you'll just have to wait (if you even like it that is).
This story doesn't have a title yet, since I decided to rename it. It used to be Am I an Angel of Heaven or Hell?, but I don't like that, so I'm changing it. Okay, here you go.
The History of the Girl
::part one::
::part one::
In our world there is a confused concept of good and bad, heaven and hell, right and wrong, and between each there is a thin line. That's where you'll find me.
My name is Ayaka Elise Cordarion. I was born and raised in Carlisle, a small city in New Jersey. I can't really say I have any complaint about being raised there, good neighborhood for the most part, at least while I was living there.
Life for me was great. I went to Blair Academy, a co-ed boarding school about two and a half hours from my house in Carlisle, from freshman to senior year. For the first two years I made MVP of the junior varsity softball team and just carried on the tradition when I moved up to varsity. More than half of the students either loved me or wanted to be me, as stuck up as that sounds. You can only imagine that I was quite the happy little camper.
This is probably the point where you're asking, "What the hell was that about good and bad at the beginning then if you're just another one of those little school girls?" Truth be told, that's exactly what I was. Perfect, sweet, kind, caring; everything anyone would ever want in a daughter, student, friend, or girlfriend. Unfortunately, I must remind that I said 'was'.
Yes, this where my story really begins. Now I'm going to give you the background, just a quick run over to show you what led me to my fight in this little 'war' between what is my heaven and hell on Earth, playing the game on both sides.
*****
Hannah and I were jogging down the street towards my house after an awesome party that she had dragged me along to. Not like I knew much of anyone, being isolated from the town and all, but hey, it was fun. The only thing we had lighting our way was the dim streetlights that appeared every now and then along the edge of the sidewalk.
Boarding school was out on our Christmas break and my parents forced me to come home on an agreement that I would spend Christmas and an extra day or two with them in exchange for New Years with my friends at Blair Academy.
Hannah Morton was one of the few childhood friends I had left in Carlisle. She's always lived around the corner from me. We spent every waking moment in elementary school together, our little deeds getting us the title of Troublemaker by the third grade. Together we would bust out of the house after play hours, quite a daring task for a couple of five-year-olds wanting to see the big kids play basketball at the park after dinner.
"This is my stop," she said, stopping at the corner with a little wave, the faint, orange light from above shining off her pale skin and golden locks. "I hope your mom doesn't yell at you too much!"
I just laughed, knowing her hope was wasted. Like that would ever happen. My mom was never really calm and collected when it came to breaking curfew and an hour late was going to get me a lecture at the least.
I sprinted past the last three houses before I reach my own. Even though I lived in that big, old school, this boring, white house always felt like home to me. I always had to stand there for a minute and admire, just like every time I did when I stepped out of the car to go inside when I got home from school. It never changed, unlike everything else. It was nice.
Taking in a deep breath, I made my way up the three steps to big, faded red door, hoping that they might have been too excited for Christmas tomorrow and went to bed early. People say that being an only child is one of the best things ever, but it really just means you get the extra worry that was meant for the brothers and sisters you don't have.
Slowly, I opened the door, expecting to see my mother's angry face on the other side, brown curls muddled, face red with anger. Luckily, I only came face-to-face with a dark, empty hallway. Oh, what luck! They actually did go to bed.
Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, I pushed the door open all the way, kicking my shoes off onto the mat. There was a proud smile on my face as I turned the hallway light on. I took off my coat and put it on the coat rack in the corner then headed for the kitchen to get a class of water for company when I passed out watching TV in the living room.
I have to admit; one of the nice things about that house was the silence. It was the perfect getaway from the noisy dorm rooms I spent so much of my time in. The only sound that I could hear was the water rushing from the faucet and into my glass.
After taking a sip, I headed through the kitchen and back down the hall, hanging a left into my living room.
My glass slipped from my hand, water flying into the air in every direction as I looked at what was in front of me, all the color flushing from my face in horror. There, on the sofa, were both my mother and father, along with an unknown man dressed in black from head to toe between the two of them.
There probably should've been tears, but I was just too surprised by the sight before me. I just fell to my knees and continued staring, trying my best to try and look past it before I vomited all over the floor from the clenching in my stomach, but my eyes wouldn't seem to allow it. There was my mother, wearing her favorite, white blouse that she must have worn to dinner with my father, freshly dyed crimson from the blood that had spilled over from her newly slit throat, my father in no better of a position.
I couldn't see it, but I just knew that behind that black mask there was a smirk on that man's lips as he looked me up and down, his eyes brightening with the pain this had caused me.
That's when he started coming towards me.
"Get away from me!" I screamed, hoping one of my neighbors had heard me, as I tried to scramble to my feet so I could have some chance at running away, but it was no use. I couldn't. My mom. My dad. It was too much for me to take. I just froze, feeling the cold of death already starting to take its hold on me.
I was surprised by how hard he came down on top of me. It was hard, but I couldn't feel it. I couldn't feel anything. Not even when he pinned me slammed my back against the ground and pinned my arms above my head. The last of my air was wasted on a scream that was just muffled with a black cloth that he had hidden on his person.
My first thought was poison, especially when the world around me started to go black. The last thing I could remember seeing was that conceited fire in his gray-green eyes burning a hole through me. (To be continued...)
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