Open Question: What do you think of my short story/story introduction?
I think I shall never forget Angelica Ingrid Sanford. Especially that fateful day when she was murdered. I still remembered her beautiful black and multi-coloured hair she always had cut in that beautiful style, her golden brown eyes and her smile that lit up the whole world and made you forget your worries. How she didn’t care what people thought of her ’scene’ style and that she found something beautiful in each person. She wasn’t judgmental and she loved people, the environment and her life. Angel was the most lovely person I had ever met and probably ever will meet. Her murder was one of misunderstanding, of a father who didn’t believe that Angel fit into this world just because of her views. The word ‘emo’ or ‘goth’ were forbidden in his life. When Angel came home one night with her once golden blonde hair dyed black with purple, pink and blonde tips and instead of calling herself Angie or Angelica she called herself Angel, she was a devil in his eyes. He let her go with this style for about six months, hoping she’d grow out of the phase. Angel didn’t. This style was something that let her finally speak for herself. From this day, I still don’t know why he killed her. Angel never went bad, she was still kind, funny and generous. She still cared about her family and loved everything. Angel never changed, but her father didn’t understand that.
The day Angel died, my life was torn apart. Angel was my rock, the one person who I truly could depend on. She didn’t care that I didn’t follow her style. She said she was happy I had my own style. Unlike some of the other ’scene’ people in our school, she didn’t mind hanging around with people of different ‘types’. She had friends that were ‘emo’, ‘goth’, ‘geeks’ and ‘norms’. The ‘preps’ often wouldn’t speak with her, so she didn’t like them much, but she would never judge a group of people, just the one mean person in it. Angel was a role model for so many. Angel also showed that it didn’t matter what you look like, it’s what’s inside. Adults were the main people that should of looked up to her, teachers often gave her low marks after she became ’scene’ as they didn’t like her looks. They never really read her work which was worth A+ in basically all subjects. She loved English as she loved to write and let her emotions run free. Art was also a subject she found fun, as like in English, she could express herself. Her Art teacher was the only teacher who really cared about her and gave her straight A’s. I loved English, but didn’t like art. Angel would always go out of her way to help me do my art homework.
Angel and I were best friends and would always help each other out if any need would arise.
The name Angel meant Angelic, and that suited her perfectly, she was an angel, a gift from above.
When she died, my world fell apart and I never thought I would get over it. Now, five years on I am 18 years old and in my last year of high school. It’s hard to believe that when Angel died, I was just starting high school. When Angel passed away, I spent six months in a rehabilitation center, after Mum found me half starved and laying in my own blood one night. I was suicidal at that point. I didn’t like it there and I ended up going back to school in year eight for a week, but it was to hard for me to be back where I was having fun with Angel and I ended up being re-admitted for half of year eight. I moved schools, but had no friends so ended up going back for two months, at least now I wasn’t suicidal. Gradually over the year I got better and made a few friends. By year nine, I had a really good friend, but she moved schools, so I ended up in the rehabilitation center for three months. I had gotten over my anorexia, and now just cut, had bulimia and had panic attacks. By year ten I was emerging out of my depression. I made two more new friends who stuck by me and seemed to understand what I was going through, I ended up only spending two weeks in rehabilitation, one week on Angel’s birthday and one week on the anniversary of her death.
In year eleven, I was all but cured. I just had to attend group therapy. I no longer cut or had bulimia, I just suffered from panic attacks.
In year twelve I was finally realized from the bad things of my life. I still had the occasional panic attack which I don’t think I will ever get over but I am happy finally.
I know that I was fixed because of Angel help.
Angel was and is my best friend forever.
So, what do you think?
Thanks!