Status: I have been editting but I'm not completely good at it so if you find any mistakes, please point them out, thank you :)
Station De Coeur
Chapter One
The thought of ripping my hair out from stress felt like a rather brutal and painful experience so instead, I left the thought inside my mind and resorted to constantly banging my head against the wall. Why did I bother with University? I would ponder sometimes. I had to finish this essay in one night because I had completely forgotten about it and now I was suffering the consequences.
After a short while, my head began to hurt so I left my forehead leaning against the wall as I pulled out my rather dated Windows phone from my pocket and checked my messages. I finally found signal at my favourite spot in the University. It was hard to find signal with my phone but as I sat down, I noted I had full signal.
There was a message from my friend who lived all the way in Devon called Elliot- he originally lived out in Asia until he moved at age 15, some years ago. We had never met, Skyped, or even phoned but I had a few blurry pictures of his face from when he was fourteen when we had first started talking which was arranged by a strange misunderstanding with adding friend requests on Facebook on my side. We’ve been talking for nearly five years now and you could say that we mostly acted like a married couple.
Hey, babe, since I’m moving London to live with a friend, would you like to meet up? Xx
I could feel my heart pound faster and a smile grow broader on my pale face. All those years of dreaming that we would meet and now we finally were; however my friend Rhea wouldn’t be too happy about this- she, like everyone else, had said that he seemed too suspicious and that he might have been a rapist or a pedo. To be honest, if he were one, why wait five years?
I finally got up and decided I was going to end this horrid feeling that was clouding my happiness and was going to finish that damn essay once and for all.
Around six o’clock, I was falling asleep and had barely written a page. Why was I so hopeless at this rubbish? Rhea had gone to a ‘Weed Fest’- as she called it- down at some place I had no idea existed since London was too big for me to explore. She had left behind lunch for me which I had to repay her for but I hadn’t ate it at lunch so it sat in front of me looking sad. I finally ate the lunch and attempted to write more of the essay.
I failed miserably…
The next morning, I had come in late after staying up all night trying to write the essay and my Lecturer wasn’t very happy with me that I could see the fire burning in his eyes. I gave him more bad news when I handed in my half done Essay. I don’t want to bore you with his lecture on life but let me tell you this, it was so boring that I managed to sleep whilst standing up with my eyes open because I couldn’t remember a word he said when I woke up.
I was forced to go and re-do the essay and have it done and handed in before four of the same day. I was glad to go home back to my Aunt’s house but I dreaded doing the essay which was like a tormenting little child. I just wanted stick my middle finger up at the essay and walk off into the distance, giving no fuck about it. Sadly, it wasn’t a person, nor was it alive, and it had to be done otherwise I would be shot alive and my corpse would be put into a blender and my meat would be sold to McDonalds…. Joking! I would be kicked off the course once and for all.
Oh and I happened to be going to the London College of Fashion which I had found quite easy to get into with my CV. If my parents found out about me attending to a fashion college, they would have had a fit. The main reason why I was here with no contact with them was that they wanted me to become something more ‘professional’ like a lawyer or something else I really hated. I hadn’t spoken to them for nearly a year or so.
As I was walking towards the multi-storey car park which was just down the road, I phoned up Rhea to see if she was still alive and all I got was a murmur from her and a few words which sounded like to me ‘piss on a monkey, Cracks!’ or maybe that was just my failed hearing. I was just about to put the flip phone back into my pocket when it began to ring, vibrating at the same time.
It was my Aunt, and I say that with a fearful tone. She never phones me. I and my Aunt did get along when she was sober but when she was completely drunk, I hated her more than CHAVs, death, and the Extreme Believers- as I call them. She was abusive when she was drunk and she had slapped me, given me black eyes and happened to break my ribs a few times.
I flipped open my phone and answered: “’ello?”
“Hiya…there’s a weird message here for you on the answer machine.”
“Oh, ok. Does it say who from?”
“I think you should just come and listen to it.”
“Ok, I’m coming home now anyway. Bye.”
I slotted my closed phone into the pocket of my tight striped jeans. I stopped at the edge of the road and I stared across the street, trying to think who the message was from. It wouldn’t be Elliot because he doesn’t have the flat number. I eventually crossed the street with the lights red and the green man said walk.
I walked into the car park and luckily it wasn’t a long walk to my old Audi which was on the first floor. Once I had gotten to my car, I unlocked it and yanked it open, stumbling inside. I felt like I was going to throw up and die of a heart attack; I rummaged through all of the compartments until I found my ginger biscuits and began to nibble on them as my head leaned against the wheel.
Apparently I always overreact, according to my family, but my only solution was to eat Ginger biscuits to calm myself. Strange, but effective.
After a short while, my head began to hurt so I left my forehead leaning against the wall as I pulled out my rather dated Windows phone from my pocket and checked my messages. I finally found signal at my favourite spot in the University. It was hard to find signal with my phone but as I sat down, I noted I had full signal.
There was a message from my friend who lived all the way in Devon called Elliot- he originally lived out in Asia until he moved at age 15, some years ago. We had never met, Skyped, or even phoned but I had a few blurry pictures of his face from when he was fourteen when we had first started talking which was arranged by a strange misunderstanding with adding friend requests on Facebook on my side. We’ve been talking for nearly five years now and you could say that we mostly acted like a married couple.
Hey, babe, since I’m moving London to live with a friend, would you like to meet up? Xx
I could feel my heart pound faster and a smile grow broader on my pale face. All those years of dreaming that we would meet and now we finally were; however my friend Rhea wouldn’t be too happy about this- she, like everyone else, had said that he seemed too suspicious and that he might have been a rapist or a pedo. To be honest, if he were one, why wait five years?
I finally got up and decided I was going to end this horrid feeling that was clouding my happiness and was going to finish that damn essay once and for all.
Around six o’clock, I was falling asleep and had barely written a page. Why was I so hopeless at this rubbish? Rhea had gone to a ‘Weed Fest’- as she called it- down at some place I had no idea existed since London was too big for me to explore. She had left behind lunch for me which I had to repay her for but I hadn’t ate it at lunch so it sat in front of me looking sad. I finally ate the lunch and attempted to write more of the essay.
I failed miserably…
****
The next morning, I had come in late after staying up all night trying to write the essay and my Lecturer wasn’t very happy with me that I could see the fire burning in his eyes. I gave him more bad news when I handed in my half done Essay. I don’t want to bore you with his lecture on life but let me tell you this, it was so boring that I managed to sleep whilst standing up with my eyes open because I couldn’t remember a word he said when I woke up.
I was forced to go and re-do the essay and have it done and handed in before four of the same day. I was glad to go home back to my Aunt’s house but I dreaded doing the essay which was like a tormenting little child. I just wanted stick my middle finger up at the essay and walk off into the distance, giving no fuck about it. Sadly, it wasn’t a person, nor was it alive, and it had to be done otherwise I would be shot alive and my corpse would be put into a blender and my meat would be sold to McDonalds…. Joking! I would be kicked off the course once and for all.
Oh and I happened to be going to the London College of Fashion which I had found quite easy to get into with my CV. If my parents found out about me attending to a fashion college, they would have had a fit. The main reason why I was here with no contact with them was that they wanted me to become something more ‘professional’ like a lawyer or something else I really hated. I hadn’t spoken to them for nearly a year or so.
As I was walking towards the multi-storey car park which was just down the road, I phoned up Rhea to see if she was still alive and all I got was a murmur from her and a few words which sounded like to me ‘piss on a monkey, Cracks!’ or maybe that was just my failed hearing. I was just about to put the flip phone back into my pocket when it began to ring, vibrating at the same time.
It was my Aunt, and I say that with a fearful tone. She never phones me. I and my Aunt did get along when she was sober but when she was completely drunk, I hated her more than CHAVs, death, and the Extreme Believers- as I call them. She was abusive when she was drunk and she had slapped me, given me black eyes and happened to break my ribs a few times.
I flipped open my phone and answered: “’ello?”
“Hiya…there’s a weird message here for you on the answer machine.”
“Oh, ok. Does it say who from?”
“I think you should just come and listen to it.”
“Ok, I’m coming home now anyway. Bye.”
I slotted my closed phone into the pocket of my tight striped jeans. I stopped at the edge of the road and I stared across the street, trying to think who the message was from. It wouldn’t be Elliot because he doesn’t have the flat number. I eventually crossed the street with the lights red and the green man said walk.
I walked into the car park and luckily it wasn’t a long walk to my old Audi which was on the first floor. Once I had gotten to my car, I unlocked it and yanked it open, stumbling inside. I felt like I was going to throw up and die of a heart attack; I rummaged through all of the compartments until I found my ginger biscuits and began to nibble on them as my head leaned against the wheel.
Apparently I always overreact, according to my family, but my only solution was to eat Ginger biscuits to calm myself. Strange, but effective.