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Death Knight Challenge

Lady Asphyxia

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[size=1]Short piece, written as per a challenge given by Death Knight. No idea what to call it. Criticism much appreciated.

Back then, I?d wanted to be a racecar driver. I?d dreamt of zooming around the track, defying the laws of speed. I?d dreamt the dreams of little boys, ignoring the fact that the sport was male orientated. It was, after all, my dream, and dreams aren?t just for males.

I?ve given that dream up now, of course. Why give myself such grief? It?s too hard. Besides, definite plans aren?t advisable in my life, not right now.

I needed some time alone, so I came here. I haven?t been here in almost ten years, refusing to face my memories, and I?d expected it to feel different. To hurt more, instead of just a dull ache inside my chest.

Not much has changed. The park is still empty, still dilapidated. The only difference is the trees, right in front of me. They?re taller now. Larger. And the door we used to use a platform isn?t there any longer. I?m almost glad, in a melancholy way. It shows me that time hasn?t just stood stagnant, that all the years have passed, that, despite everything, this park is still my park.

Just this peacefulness was all I needed to see, but leaving means facing reprimands, and, in a while Joe will think to look here anyway. Joe cares about people, you see. He could know anything about a person without ever having met them. That?s just the way he is.

Times have certainly changed. Yes, I still miss Matt with every fiber of my being, but I?m no longer the lost 8-year-old I was then. I can accept his death. I can accept every misfortune that befalls me. I?ll begrudge it, certainly, but I will accept.

I?ve learnt to be adaptable. I can cook, I can clean. I can organize and write. I know how to take care of myself. The only thing I can?t do is play the piano with my toes, and I doubt there?s going to be a situation where I need to.

They don?t see that, though. All they see is Julie; weak, little, pathetic Julie. The girl who couldn?t accept her best friend?s death. The girl who blamed herself. Rightly.

I was young, yes, but it was my fault. We?d been playing in that tree. The door was there, still stable, after many years. Matt was yelling at me, screaming that it was my turn to go fetch the ball from the bottom. It took me two steps to reach him. He hit me. He?d never have hurt me, I know that now. But back then, I did the only thing I could at that point ? an instinctive, gut reaction; I punched him. Hard.

I can still feel my horror as I watched him stumble, his nose bloody. He started to fall out of the tree. I grabbed his arm, screaming for help. It didn?t come.

We both plummeted towards the ground.

I woke up in hospital. Matt didn?t.

?Julie!? Joe. I twist to look at him, smiling. He ran up, panting. ?You shouldn?t run off. You could get hurt.?

?Yes Joe.?

?Come on. I?ll go get the car started.?

He left quickly, and I sighed and wheeled after him. There was no rest for the wicked, or the disabled. [/size]
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