Holding A Heart <3 (On-Hold) by Chloe Knox (i read book txt) 📕

Many people, intellectual and inspiring people, have told me ‘You shouldn’t fear death; you should fear the unlived life'.

This, I guess, makes sense…to them

! Sure, everyone has problems. Everyone faces pain and loss…but not everyone lives a life overwhelmed with it.

I am trying to live life, but it’s hard!

Not everyone can afford vacations or experience miracles. Not everyone has a life worth living...I sometimes wonder if mine even is...

* * *

My father pulled his truck up to the 'scene of the crime'.
Red and blue and white lights flashed incessantly, as the cop cars came into view. Through a mist of fog, I could vaguely make out my mother's car. It was a crappy, little, thing, coated with rust. It looked even worse now that it had massive dents on the driver's side, it almost looked like a crunched up piece of aluminum. The tires were bulging from under the car, as if the weight of the vehicle itself was too much for the itty-bitty worn down tires to handle. The hood of the car was bent, the head light on the driver’s side was completely shatter as well as the driver's window. Glass surrounded my mother's car and the other car, a green jeep, which had hit my mom.

One look at this and my body heated with anger. The jeep had a few scratches and a broken headlight. My mother's car was completely ruined, cracked, smashed, dented, bent--you name it!

'Katt!' my father called after me, but I ignored him.

I opened the passenger door to my father's truck and hopped out, stomping my way over to the first police officer I saw.

'Excuse me, miss, but can you stand back?"

'Fuck you!'

'Pardon me?'

'What happened? Where's my mom?'

'Miss, please stand back and let us do our jobs.'

'Just tell me where my mom is and you can go back to flashing your pretty little badge around in everyone's face! Where's my mom?'

'Miss, please remain calm! You're mother is probably be examined.'

'Examined? What the hell for?’

And that’s when I saw it…on my mother’s cracked windshield was a small but visible splatter of crimson red…blood.

‘Miss, please! Stay back, take a deep breath, and contain yourself.’

‘Mom! Mom, where are you? Mom?’ I yelled, suddenly wanting to—no! Needing to find her. I had to make sure she was okay and safe, but for some unknown reason there was a sour knot in my stomach that told me something bad was happening.

'MOVE! Out of the way!' A woman yelled, not angrily, just seeming worried and desperate and rushed.

Me and the police officer quickly stepped out of the way and turned to watch two paramedics, one male, one female, push a gurney toward the ambulance. On it was a very familiar looking woman.

Long locks of brown hair flowed over the woman's shoulders sticking to her sweaty neck and cheeks. Her skin was a little on the pale side, but didn't look sickly. Her cheeks were the slightest bit flushed, lips a faded pink. If it weren't for the huge gash coated with dried and fresh blood, on her forehead she'd seem like an innocent woman, sleeping, dreaming...living...

‘Mom? MOM! Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!’

* * *

My life could be worse, I know that, but that doesn’t take away the fact that I was dealt a shitty hand. Knowing that while I’m complaining about my life other girls are being kidnapped and killed doesn’t take away the pain I feel every

morning I wake up. It doesn’t make me feel lucky or appreciative for what I still have, which is pretty much only my sanity and I’m not even sure I still have that anymore.

Every day I wake up and realize that I’m withering away, slowly but surely. Everyday a part of me, of my heart, disappears taking away my best qualities and the things I used to like about myself.

No longer am I giddy, outgoing, or even the slightest bit fun to hang out with. I’m sad, lonely…I’m fading into nothing…just waiting for the day, that'll probably never come, when I can feel like myself and not have to hold my own wounded heart in the palm of my own shaking, clammy, hands.

Fulchiner County!

Population; 782.

Exciting Town Events; diddly-squat!

Fulchiner is one of those crappy, prehistoric, southern towns; the type of clichéd town, where everyone knows everything about everyone, and I mean everything

. Well, actually…no! Not everything! But once someone in town finds out something about you, something you didn't want anyone to know or something you weren’t proud of, you’re screwed! That one person tells someone, and that someone tells another person, and before you know it everywhere you go, around every corner, someone is watching you. Glaring at you, as if they know you…

Me and my father moved to Fulchiner, literally, less then forty-eight hours ago, and already am I experiencing all of this first hand.

For a whole day, I walked around clueless as to why my ‘peers’ where glaring and whispering as I walked down the halls. I knew there were rumors; I’m new, an outsider. I expected that! But what I didn’t expect was to be sitting on the toilet in the girl’s restroom and see in black sharpie on the bathroom stall: Katherine McNeil is a WHORE!

“Wonderful,” I mutter, rolling my eyes, and walking out of the bathroom.

I walk out of the bathroom stall, and over to the sink to wash my hands, when in walks in Marcella Marko, also known as Marcie, the gossip queen and most popular girl at Fulchiner High.

Marcie and her wanna-bees looked from me, to the lettering on the open bathroom stall, and then back to me.

“What’s up, slut!?” Marcie spat with a half smile. Her two blonde disciples suppressed a giggle, as if what Marcie had said was the funniest thing on earth.

Cocking my head to the side, I smile and say, “Your boyfriend’s dick.”

All three blondes jaw dropped, making my forged smile turn out to be genuine, “Tell him to keep up the good work!” I say, flashing Marcie a quick wink and then shouldering through the girls to get toward the exit.

Now before you start whispering to your friend sitting next to you about how whorish I am, let me say that I definitely am NOT

a whore. I’ve only ever slept with two different people in my life, and when I finally did

give away my virginity it was to my boyfriend of three years—now ex-boyfriend.

So, no, I’m not a whore and am not even really that experienced when it comes to that

…but that doesn’t mean I'm a goody-two-shows. It doesn't mean that I don't like to fool around or have fun.

* * *

I stumbled out of the van the moment the smell overwhelmed me. Everything seemed to be in slow-motion. Every light seemed brighter, every noise seemed louder. And that smell...the sweet but very peculiar aroma of the pot that was being passed around seemed stronger then when Reece first opened up the little plastic baggy.

I knew what I was doing was wrong, that I'd be in a hell whole of a lot of trouble if my father ever found out...but I didn't care at the moment. I was in an obliviously euphoric state. I couldn't stop smiling and my stomach felt extremely tight making me feel anxious and excited for no real reason in particular...but I hadn't even smoked anything.

Everyone else did, I just sat there in the car watching as they inhaled and then exhaled, the van quickly filling up with a grey mist.

But I was high, I could feel it, I knew it. It was almost like the smoke was a contagious disease or gas.

My mouth was dry, barely any spittle in the back of my throat.

I had been hungry just moments ago. Now, I just feel extremely giddy and carefree.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, inside knowing that I was confused and somewhat annoyed, but my body fooled me into believing I was happy. I spoke, wanting to show my frustration, but all I could do was stare blankly at Reece with the biggest goofy smile on my face.

Reece jerked his head to the side, his dirty blonde bed head flipping out of the way of his brown eyes. His pupils were huge and darker then usual, the slightest bit of red on the whites of his eyes. On his lips was the same goofy grin I had flashed him, "Dude! You are so contact high!"

"What? But I didn't smoke anything," I said with a giggle, my cheeks actually stinging the slightest bit, tired of smiling but unable to stop.

"That's what contact high is, dumb-ass. You were clam-baked."

I giggled, running my hands through my own locks of black hair, pushing the strands out of my eyes. But deep, deep

, deep down, I knew I would be in deep shit if my father caught me...but

...at the same time...it was nice...

It was nice to no longer feel the hurt and loneliness I felt every day. It was nice to feel happy and joyful. In a weird way, being contact high even made me feel confident, like nothing could hold me back.

Keeley, the only girl in the group--besides me that is--stepped out of the van only moments later. She, out of all the guys, was the most messed up. She apparently had a lot of shit in her life and like me turned to all this--the alcohol and drugs--to relieve the pain. And right now, I'm pretty sure she couldn't feel anything

. She looked completely out of it!

Keeley's yellow-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose bun, some strands of dyed hair--hot pink and neon green--fell in the way of her blue eyes. But even her extremely colorful hair couldn't hide how completely bloodshot her big pretty eyes were.

She slowly slid out of the van and threw her arm over my shoulders, the stench of beer rolling off her tongue as she giggled.

"Hey, girly girl! Having fun?"

"Yeah...seems like you're having a blast?"

She exuberantly nodded, thrashing her head up and done, popping the 'p' in , "Yup!"

Carter and Carson, the red-headed twins, walked out of the van holding a portable radio.