Hello World Read online

  Hello World

  By Joanna Sellick

  Copyright © Joanna Sellick 2013

  No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 1

  The snow continues to fall thick, covering my hoodie as I stand frozen in place, my hands shoved deep into my pockets. Shaky breaths puff like smoke in the chill.

  My feet are stone cold but I stay planted where I am, like I do every month. I would visit more often if the very thought of being here didn’t turn me upside down and flip me over so fiercely. It feels like being trapped in an open oblivion.

  Alex Mason.

  The name stares back at me, burning into every fibre of my being, my skin itching as the words crawl under it. I close my eyes, icy tears rolling down my frost-covered cheeks.

  That one name will stick with me until the day I die. My best friend. The only person I have left in the world. The person who died because of my own stupidity.

  The only movement I make is the involuntary shivering of my body as I stand in the cemetery. Today is the 8th December. Every month since the 8th September I have visited here, alone.

  Alone because the one person I would have ever asked to come with me is already before me, the only sign of his presence, the shiny black gravestone. Underneath it reads ‘In loving memory of our beloved son. You will always be in our hearts.’

  It may sound insensitive, but the line always makes me smile, ever so slightly. Purely because Alex never cared much for mourning. He would have much rather preferred ‘buried alive’ or ‘I’ll be back’.

  Alex refused to live in the past and if he could see me now he would tease me or just yell until I snapped out of whatever this was. That’s what I want; for him to tease or yell but all my prayers are met with silence. Cold, stony silence.

  But it wasn’t me who’d had the stone engraved, it had been his parents. His loving family who I haven’t been able to face since that day. I can’t face anyone.

  As for my own parents, they had died before I can even remember. Sometimes snippets of their faces or voices appear in my mind, but I know they are fiction, tricks of my cruel imagination. I was too young for any part of them to have really stuck with me.

  Yet Alex is a completely different story. I can picture him so perfectly, as if he is standing right beside me. I can hear his voice, clear as day as he strums over his old, hand-me-down guitar, trying to persuade me to sing along with him. I can still feel his warm arms around me, holding me tight and telling me it’s going to be okay.

  Now though, all I feel is numbness. All I hear is silence. All I can see is a long stretch of fog that drapes over everything and everyone my eyes fall upon.

  My phone buzzes and I pull myself out of my thoughts, yanking the thing out of my pocket. Clasping the phone tightly until my knuckles turn white, my stomach turns at the sight of the all too familiar number. Much like my best friend’s name, the digits had burned into my mind long ago. Feeling violently sick, I reluctantly press down hard on the open button and read the newest text.

  I know your secret, you stupid little whore.

  The words have been written down so many times, in so many ways, some more threatening than others, some almost casually. But all of them mean the same thing. I choke on a sob and pocket my phone deep inside my jeans, fat tears streaking down my cheeks now.

  My breathing races and becomes heavy as I try to push down my emotions but I just end up drowning in them. Gasping for air, I turn on my heels and run out of the cemetery.

  My feet pound against the pavement, taking me God knows where.

  Eventually I’m forced to stop, the cold air burning my lungs, burning me from the inside out.

  I realise I’m on a bridge just outside of town. It over looks a small river that runs through it and is completely abandoned, especially at this time of night. A measly street lamp is the only thing showing any sort of life here.

  I tilt my head to the side and in a sort of trance I pull myself up onto the unsteady railing, holding onto the street light next to it. The metal is frosty and sticks to my skin but my focus isn’t on that, it’s on the water rushing fiercely below me.

  In an odd way, it’s sort of calming.

  I gently move my foot backwards and forwards against the railing, testing to see if the rubber of my shoe provides any friction. It doesn’t. My foot slips around easily but that thought doesn’t encourage me to get down like it should do.

  The phone in my pocket seems to weigh heavily, about as heavily as the message I received does in my heart.

  I know your secret, you stupid little whore.

  I don’t know how my tormentor knows things. No one knows, because I haven’t told a soul. No one is supposed to know.

  For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to step over the edge, to take one step and be done with everything, with this torment.

  Only ever on my darkest days have I even toyed with the idea, never have I come this close before. Yet now I can practically taste death on my lips, and it doesn’t seem all that bad.

  In a past life, I’ve criticised suicides; labelled them as selfish because of the pain they leave behind. Yet I have no one to cause pain to, except maybe Charlie. Would that be selfish? If I left my uncle? Or maybe it would be a blessing to him. He wouldn’t have to be stuck with a kid in care. He could get a girlfriend, maybe start a family of his own.

  I would go so quietly no one would notice. I’d just be taken away with the current.

  One step. That’s all it would take.

  Yet I don’t get time to think about anything else because someone suddenly wraps an arm around my torso and yanks me down, the tips of my fingers stinging as they are torn away from their icy prison.

  I land harshly on my back, falling against the stranger’s arm and swearing loudly. I quickly roll over and brush myself down angrily, my cheeks burning crimson red.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ the stranger shouts, pulling himself up. ‘You could have been killed!’

  My cheeks turn even darker as a furious pit in my stomach bubbles. Who the hell is this guy?

  ‘Who do you think you are?’ I snap back. ‘Mind your own damn business, you stupid son-of-a-bitch.’

  ‘I just saved your life and you’re giving me crap?’ The stranger points at himself disbelieving.

  ‘Well no one asked you to play the hero!’ I scream, pulling up my hood and turning my back on whoever he is.

  ‘Wait, where are you going?’ the guy calls after me.

  ‘None of your damn business!’ I give the stranger one last look
of disgust and force myself to start running again.

  I don’t look back.

  CHAPTER 2

  ‘Charlie tells me you didn’t get home until late last night. Where were you?’

  I take a moment’s pause from scratching at my black, chipped nail varnish to peer up at my counsellor.

  Nadine Hemsworth sits with her legs folded neatly, not a strand of blonde hair escaping from the tight bun on top of her head. Her black skirt and blouse set-up is spotless and there isn’t a trace of a single crease. She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow when I don’t answer the question.

  ‘I needed a walk,’ I shrug, going back to my nails. Nadine sighs and jots the notes down in her book, tapping against the clipboard impatiently.

  As far as counsellors go, I don’t mind Nadine. She’s okay, apart from times like this. Times when she knows exactly where I was but wants me to state the obvious anyway, just for her stupid notes. I let out an agitated sigh and stand up, pulling my hoodie tighter around me and wandering over to the window in her office.

  The view isn’t the nicest, it just looks over an alleyway, various bins scattered around. I hate my counsellor’s room. It feels so cold and empty, and the walls are starting to peel in places. I can’t even count the number of times I have been tempted to just throw around a few pots of paint.

  ‘Fine, I went to visit Alex,’ I say quietly, yet stubbornly.

  ‘Was anyone else with you?’ she asks, even though she knows perfectly well that I have no friends, let alone someone who would come with me to visit a dead guy.

  Well no one except some stranger, who just happened to be milling around last night and stopped me from falling head first into oblivion.

  I frown. Just exactly what had that boy been doing, wandering around the streets at three in the morning?

  ‘Neve, it’s been months,’ she says softly. ‘Don’t you think its time to start-’

  ‘Moving on?’ I snort, whipping around. ‘Make new friends, forget all about him, right? That’s what you want me to do, just so it makes your life easier, right?’ I snap.

  ‘That’s not what I mean-’

  ‘But that’s what you want!’ I scream. ‘Just leave me alone, I’m seventeen for Christ’s sake. I don’t need you, or Charlie or anyone else on my back. You can all go to hell!’ I yell before storming out of Nadine’s office.

  ‘Neve!’ I hear her shout after me but I pull my headphones up and over my ears and crank up the volume to drown out the noise around me. I stalk out of the building and grab my bike before heading off down the busy streets.

  People around here know that I don’t stop for anyone, so although I get the odd swear word tossed my way, people still make sure a path is cleared for me as I speed away.

  I take the road into town and down towards Charlie’s house, making sure I avoid the idiots that go to my school. I’m cruising away when a car suddenly pulls out from one of the tiny, normally deserted streets and I swerve my bike too heavily to the left, so it skids and then buckles underneath me.

  With a bit of a scream, I manage to jump off just in time before it falls to the ground and screeches along the pavement. I curse and spin around to face the idiot who has just pulled out.

  ‘Watch where you’re going!’ The boy who hops out yells, barely sparing me a glance before crouching down beside the bonnet to inspect his precious car.

  I stand there, blinking in disbelief.

  ‘What? You almost- You knocked over my bike! Who drives like that?’

  The boy jumps up and spins around, anger plastered on his face.

  ‘Maybe if you didn’t have your music up so loud you’d be able to hear me coming,’ he argues, pointing to my giant headphones now resting around my neck before pausing, as if seeing my face for the first time. ‘Hey, it’s you!’

  ‘What?’ I ask with confusion.

  ‘Last night, you were the girl on the bridge!’ he says, a little too loudly.

  My mouth drops into a little ‘o’ shape and, without thinking, I slap him.

  ‘How dare you?’ I hiss, frantically looking around to see if anyone from school is lurking around in the shadows. I’ve had my fair share of the rumour-mill these past few months, the last thing I need is something like this popping up.

  He touches his cheek in obvious shock and blinks again.

  ‘You slapped me!’

  ‘Yeah well… mind your own business,’ I remind him, the situation causing my insides to flip inside and out. I just need to get out of here.

  Oh God, what must he think about me? Do I just seem like a desperate schoolgirl in need of attention? How long until this gets around school?

  Panicking, I feel my cheeks redden and I step back until I reach my bike, erratically reaching down to pull it up. It doesn’t look busted at least.

  ‘Hey, what were you doing there anyway?’ he asks, still cradling his red cheek.

  ‘I dropped something and wanted to see if I could find it,’ I tell him over my shoulder before mounting my bike. ‘Just leave me alone, you creep!’ I add before riding off.

  ‘This isn’t over, Red!’ I just manage to hear him say. At first I think he’s commenting on my blushing cheeks but then I realise that my shoulder length, coloured hair must stand out like a sore thumb against the dull, grey landscape and snow on the ground. That must have been how he’d recognised me, since I hadn’t stayed around long enough last night for him to remember my face.

  I’d dyed my hair from a natural auburn colour to a bright red a few weeks before Alex had died. He had decided I would be too chicken to touch it, so I proved him wrong, determining after that it looked pretty damn good after all. I honestly thought Charlie was having a heart attack the first time I’d emerged from my room, holding the bottle of dye triumphantly in my hand.

  It had only meant to be a temporary thing, but now I can’t go without it. Getting rid of its vibrant edge would be scrubbing away yet another piece of Alex and enough of him was already slipping away as it was.

  By the time I reach home my hands are shaking and tears are already staining my cheeks but I dump my bike outside clumsily anyway and let myself in, heading straight for the stairs.

  ‘Neve?’ I hear Charlie shout from the kitchen. I shout a greeting, but stay intent on reaching my goal. He pops his head around the doorway. ‘I just wanted to introduce you to Lisa, we’re going for a movie and then dinner so-’

  I slam my bedroom door shut and fall backwards onto my bed, squinting my eyes shut and digging my nails into my palms to stop them shaking.

  A moment later I hear a knock on my door.

  ‘Neve, honey,’ Charlie says softly through the barrier I put up every night. ‘Are you okay? I can stay home if you need me to.’

  I bite my lip and shake my head, annoyance at myself overriding the anger of the strange boy who had not only saved my life, but also tried to run it over too.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Charlie,’ I reply through the wood in my lightest voice. ‘Go have fun, I’ll be fine. You know what I’m like with the counsellor. It’s nothing, honest.’

  I hear Charlie sigh from the other side of the door, torn over what to do.

  ‘Go, Charlie.’ I roll my eyes and turn over onto my stomach, burying my head in my pillow.

  ‘Okay. There’s dinner in the fridge, or money-’

  ‘-on the counter for take-out. I’ll call you if I need anything and you’ll be home before eleven,’ I finish for him, recapping the very words that come out of his mouth every time he goes out at night and leaves me alone. Charlie sighs again and I can just imagine him rolling his own eyes.

  I wait until I hear his footsteps fade and the front door click shut before getting up and plodding into the bathroom. I stand over the sink, gripping the basin so tightly that my knuckles whiten as I stare at myself in the mirror.

  I don’t deal with depression like most girls in books or on TV do. I don’t take a blade and slide it across my wrist. I don’t find the si
ght of the blood fascinating or want to counteract the emotional pain with physical. Cutting myself won’t keep me sane, it won’t make the pain go away or give me something else to focus on.

  Mostly, I’m too scared. I’m scared of the physical pain. If I can’t handle the emotional side of it then I would simply end up drowning in it, unable to claw my way out of that dark place.

  But then again I don’t even know if what this is, this thing that haunts me and clings to my bones, even is depression. Maybe its just grief, or could it be that I’m just lost? Lost to a world I was never meant to be in.

  ‘You stupid little girl! You stupid little whore!’ I scream at myself, curling up a fist and slamming it against the mirror, against myself.

  I hate the person looking so helplessly back at me. I hate her with every core of my being. But I am her. And I hate that even more.

  ‘Why did this have to happen to us, Alex?’ I sob, my fist still clenched but throbbing slightly as I lean my forehead against the cool glass in defeat. ‘Why?’

  My mind drifts back to Charlie. He’s in his early thirties, but despite this he always makes sure he’s back by eleven at night. Because of me.

  He hadn’t chosen this life, but he’s my Dad’s younger brother so when he died, Charlie was handed this toddler who came without a handbook but plenty of baggage instead.

  Not that I hate Charlie. I love him and I know he’s trying the best he can. He just wasn’t ready for parenthood at the age of twenty.

  I take a deep breath and unclench my fingers, wiping away my runny make-up and combing through my messy hair with my fingers. Then I walk back into my room and stuff my sketchbook and a few pencils from my drawer into my backpack before heading out again, grabbing my bike.

  I bike everywhere. I don’t trust myself driving and I can’t be bothered to walk.

  Heading back into town, I pull up in front of my favourite coffee shop and head in, smiling slightly. The local coffee shop always feels like home and sells some of the best coffee money can buy.

  ‘Afternoon Neve,’ the manager Albert calls as I enter, the rich smell of freshly ground coffee reeling me into an affectionate hug. I force myself to wave cheerily. ‘Some couple tried to take the window seat a few minutes ago but I had a feeling you would be popping over so I moved them off,’ he winks, speaking in a low voice so that the couple can’t hear. ‘Can I get you the usual?’