Remaining Unbroken (Breaking Series #1), p.1Jaclyn Lewis
By Jaclyn Lewis
By Jaclyn Lewis
Copyright 2013 Jaclyn Lewis
I told you I’d dedicate it to you!
Table of Contents
Chapter 11: Zane
Chapter 12: Amy
Chapter 13: Zane
Chapter 14: Amy
Chapter 15: Zane
Chapter 16: Amy
Chapter 17: Zane
Chapter 18: Amy
Chapter 19: Zane
Extra Scenes from Zane's POV
I ignored the other kids as they whispered and laughed at me, even though I’d done nothing to deserve it. I’d hardly said three words to anyone in the four years I’d been there, so why did they talk about me?
I looked at the clock—we were only five minutes into the hour. I sighed and took my empty notebook from my backpack.
I stared at the blank first page.
I wanted to be a writer in a few years, and I was pretty good. The only problem was I didn’t have anything to write about. I needed to find more emotional things to say in my stories, but I didn’t have anything good. If I wrote about something emotional, it would be the dreary, dark emotions that could overcome people.
Then I thought, What if I wrote about my life?
As I said, dreary and dark, but it was better than making up something completely random, like most people did.
I smiled slyly and looked down at the paper again with new eyes. I really could see it now.
I could write about my life, my boring, rejected life... or I could write about my fake life, where I could control everything about it. It sounded like a better option. I could make things the same but add a character or two, and I could change the ending so it would turn out more exciting.
In my sloppy handwriting, I wrote: My Life Story
Then I wrote anything and everything, and this was what I wrote:
Okay, I’m just going to get through this introduction stuff—I don’t like this part of a story very much. My name is Amy Saunders. Where I live is pretty irrelevant to the story, so… the United States of America is all I’ll say on the subject. I have no life, I haven’t experienced any adventures, and I have no boyfriends or even friends my age.
I know; I’m a social reject. I’m not proud of it, but I haven’t ever tried to change it, but…
I’d take the title as social reject any day, keeping the lonely, depressing life that went along with it for the remainder of my days, instead of taking what really happened to me.
It all started the day Andrew Ellen came into my life, which, under the circumstances, wasn’t exactly a good thing.
This is the story of the social reject (me), and it starts in the beginning of April in my senior year in high school.
The classroom was packed with teenagers. Most of them were the more popular kids, dressed in the fancier, newer clothes and shoes that disguised the hollowness of their skulls.
I could hear the whispers. I could see them out of the corner of my eye; they were watching me. They were laughing at me and whispering about me—I could hear them, what they were saying. They didn’t even know me, and they judged me like it was nothing, even though it was wrong. They knew they were better than me, and they were never going to pass up a chance to tell me that or talk to each other about it. Even though I’d never spoken a word to them, they judged me.
They judged me because I wasn’t like them. I was smarter and not as fashion-crazy.
Mostly though, it was because I didn’t talk, like, ever.
I could talk—I just didn’t. When I was around four, my mom started working like crazy and would never be home, and Dad had always been distant… meaning he ignored my very existence until he could find some reason or another to scream at me, and it was also because he was jobless and had nothing better to do, which was also the reason Mom worked more. Every time I tried to talk, people would cut me off or just not care enough to listen, so I just figured... why waste the breath? No one cared; I didn’t see anyone ever notice when I quit talking. My parents didn’t ever talk to me, so they never noticed that I never talked to anyone around me, not even really them. I really only talked to them when they said something that I had to answer.
At this point in my life, you had to say I could talk to you, or that you’d listen, for me to even say a word to you. When you finally said that, it helped me begin to trust you. Even then, I would wait for you to stop listening. I only trusted Mo, and I barely even trusted him enough to speak, and I’d known him for four years.
It wasn’t that I was just being an overdramatic teenage girl; I’d just never been listened to, ever. If you hadn’t ever had anyone listen to you, you’d be the same way. When someone spoke to someone else, you expected them to reply or at least say something. No one ever did to me, and it messed me up pretty badly.
On the rare occasions that someone actually would hear the words coming out of my mouth, they would be just plain cruel, saying I had stupid opinions or my facts needed straightened out. I was sick of it all, so I quit talking altogether.
Don’t judge me too.
Class had just started when someone burst into the room, interrupting my thoughts, even though they weren’t important thoughts; they were just thoughts, but I was annoyed at whoever it was. I liked thinking, but only when it distracted me from my cold, harsh reality.
All of the girls in the room were probably going gaga right now, with me as an exception… mostly. I was still a girl, after all, so you really couldn’t blame me, or any of the other girls in this particular matter.
He had dark hair that fell into his eyes. His skin was tan, and he was really tall, around six-two or something. He wore normal jeans and a t-shirt, but he was still the best-looking guy in the school. His face had a familiar look to it… but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
He handed the teacher a note and said a quick hello. Then I saw him scanning the room. I thought I saw his gaze linger on me for an extra second, but it was probably my imagination.
I had a weird imagination—it was another thing about me that turned into gossip when I moved here. I’d had to have therapy as a child because I’d heard actual voices in the wind. They’d say, “Don’t close your eyes,” and, “Watch your back, or you’ll be six feet under.”
That could really scare the crap out of a five year old.
There was also the voice that always reassured me that nothing was going to happen as long as it was there, watching over me.
Back to the new guy…
He walked to the back of the room and sat in the vacant seat next to mine. As he got closer I could see his eyes, which were as black as midnight. It was freaky; you couldn’t tell where his pupils were. Those eyes…
He looked at me for a second; I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He shook his head slightly and looked at the front of the room again. I thought I saw a small smile on his lips.
It wasn’t a nice smile; it was one that promised trouble and vengeance… and something a little more evil.
His eyes were really… I didn’t know how to say it. There was something off a
“That was Andrew Ellen,” the teacher said to the class, “the new addition to your senior class.”
Andrew Ellen, a new senior here. I wondered where he moved from… or how he even found out about this place. Why did he even bother to come this close to the end of the year? We only had six or so weeks left.
I forgot all about it as I focused on the lesson. I didn’t think about the popular crowd, Andrew, or my troubles—that was why I liked schoolwork. I didn’t particularly like school itself, just the studying and learning that let my mind get distracted.
As I walked out the door, I heard something behind me.
“Don’t listen to them.” an unfamiliar voice whispered into my ear. It sounded off, more like wind blowing instead of a person talking.
I turned around, but there were only kids that had been ignoring me. No one appeared to have spoken. No one would dare to speak to me; it did wonders to reputations.
It reminded me of what happened all those years ago.
I’d heard voices then, and it had sounded just like wind. This voice sounded exactly the same as the nice voice.
I shook off all of my worries that I was mentally collapsing for the second time since I was seven.
As I’d said, I had a weird imagination, and that wasn’t even the worst thing I’d imagined or thought I’d heard. I was sure it probably wouldn’t happen again.
But that wasn’t the only incident where my psychological stability was tested. It happened three or four more times throughout the day. Each time “Don’t listen” was said. I was really freaked, but most of my worries were centered around the fact that...
The voices were coming back.
By lunch, I was tired of it all. I went outside to eat my lunch in peace, hoping I wouldn’t hear a voice or see a strange, new student that may or may not have the intentions to do random people harm.
I circled the building and ate out of sight from everyone. They wouldn’t notice, so it didn’t matter. At least I couldn’t hear their whispers from where I was. They never ran out of stuff to talk about when it had to do with me.
All of the sudden, I heard, “Listen carefully to me. Don’t listen to Andrew. He’s going to be the death of you.” I could feel the wind roaring into my ears, saying things only I could hear.
My heart jumped before it sped up with fear. My blood turned cold, and I could feel the strange things in the air again, trying to scare me.
I looked around, but there was no one around.
I closed my eyes, willing myself not to keep this up at school. I could have a mental breakdown when I got home. I would have a mental breakdown at home, just as long as it didn’t happen at school.
He was there when I opened my eyes: Andrew.
I squealed, startled and scared. It wasn’t possible to move that quickly and quietly. My eyes had only been closed for a second.
He was standing in front of me. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was concentrating really hard on something. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he looked like he was in pain.
Then he opened his green eyes.
Something was wrong… Andrew had black eyes. I remembered only because he’d looked at me with those eerily dark eyes in class, eyes that had scared me half to death. These eyes were bright and friendly, which was the total opposite.
The confusion probably showed on my face, but I didn’t care. If he was going to make an entrance like that I had a right to be confused.
He held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Zane Ellen,” he introduced. “I’m Andrew’s twin brother.”
Twin… Is he a new student too? What is going on!? I thought angrily. I haven’t seen him. Then I looked at him again. He was Andrew’s exact copy except for the eyes. Even if I’d seen him, I would have thought he was Andrew, and I’d been avoiding him all day, so I couldn’t have seen him.
Zane… there was a memory linked to that name, but I couldn’t recall what it was…
I shook his hand, mine trembling. He pretended not to notice.
“Do you have a name?” he asked after a minute.
I didn’t trust him yet, and I was not going to just talk to a random stranger all willy-nilly! If I spoke and he wasn’t trustworthy, it would be all over the school.
I couldn’t say anything in front of people who would just announce that I’d finally spoken. Everyone would be talking about it for a week, and they’d stare at me endlessly. Well… more than usual.
I just wanted to be invisible.
So I just shrugged and sat down in the grass. I leaned my back against the building, munching on a small bag of chips that I had brought from home.
Zane sat down next to me, leaning his back against the wall, mimicking my posture.
He sighed. “Stay away from Andrew,” he said finally.
I raised my eyebrows; a question was in my eyes that I knew he saw. What are you talking about? Why did he keep saying stuff with no explanation whatsoever? It just made me mad and feel crazy… well, crazier.
Then, finally, he began to explain, even though it really made no sense.
“He used to be good, but then he turned dark and evil. He’ll use you, and it will probably kill you. No, it will kill you, no probably included.” He shook his head. “He used to be a whole different person. He was nice, smart, and actually cared about people other than himself. Now, he’s just selfish, power-hungry, and angry all the time. It’s brainwashed him, and he’ll never be the same.”
I finished my chips and stood up. If he couldn’t make any sense, I wasn’t going to listen and continue to be confused. I was done.
I was about to walk away when he spoke again.
“You know, Amy, you can talk to me. I’m not like them. I’ll listen.” I looked back at him, but he was gone. It was as if he’d disappeared into thin air.
Those words would never leave me. You can talk to me. No one but Mo had ever said that to me, and it was just an accident when he’d said it. He hadn’t known, not like Zane seemed to, that that was what helped me.
Another thing that didn’t escape my notice: I never did tell him my name.
I shivered, but not from the weather. Something strange was going on; I could feel it. Something strange was happening, and it had something to do with me.
Everything strange always had something to do with me.
I walked back inside and saw Andrew leaning against the wall, searching the crowd for someone, reminding me of how his brother had looked outside.
When Andrew spotted me, he headed my way. I just pretended not to see him there.
“Hey,” he said, walking up beside me. “I’m Andrew, but you already know that.” He smiled that evil smile, not acting friendly at all. The words had an undercoating of malice and disdain.
I nodded in recognition, trying to hide my trembling hands. I didn’t trust him or Zane, not yet, but Zane was more likely to start getting a little bit of trust, since he’d said the words. Andrew, on the other hand, had not, and I added that to the fact that he thoroughly freaked me out.
“Can I walk you to your next class?” he asked. Then he laughed. “Actually, could you walk me to my next class, since I’m completely lost?” His eyes dared me to do it, but I could tell he expected me to refuse.
That was why I nodded. He looked slightly surprised as he told me his next class. Then we walked. I didn’t really want to walk with him, but I couldn’t tell him that, since I was not going to speak to a dude that someone else told me would kill me. I also didn’t have anything better to do, and I didn’t want to get on his more psychotic side, so I showed him his next class without a single word from either of us.
Zane was different than Andrew—I just cou
We were silent in the chaotic hallway. It was the uncomfortable kind of silence that made me just want to run away in the other direction, but it didn’t matter. I’d said I would walk with him and I would.
When we reached the door, he turned to me, grinning.
“Thanks, Amy.” I heard as I walked away.
I stopped and looked at him. Now, I was really, really, really scared. Zane had done the same thing, but it wasn’t as bad coming from him. Andrew acted like it was war now he knew me. His dark look told me to be prepared to lose that before-mentioned war; I would lose.
Then he just grinned at me. It was his evil grin; it was probably his signature grin. By the look in his eyes, I knew I should stay away and watch out for him. He would hurt me irreparably.
I spent the rest of the day staying away from Andrew and trying to forget about the fact that I was losing my sanity.
And when I walked out of the building again, I was ready to be home. I was tired and just wanted to sit down and read and not lose my sanity any more than I already had over the course of the day.
I quickly got on my bus and sat in the front seat, relaxing into it.
“Hey,” Mo said from the driver’s seat.
Mo was my only friend… and he was also the school bus driver. He was only, like, twenty four, in my defense, and only took the job because he needed something to do when his parents died a few years ago. They’d left him with more than enough money to live on for the rest of his life, but he wanted something to do. Who would want to be a bored billionaire?
His hair was really short and as dark as a new moon. His skin was tannish, and his eyes were dark brown. He was extremely tall, but at least he fit in the driver’s seat. His facial features were sharp, and oddly, familiar-looking. I’d seen him a million times, but now I saw there was something about his face…
I waved at him, happy to see him. He hadn’t been there that morning, and he was the person I talked to. I was used to not talking, but with Mo it was different. I still wasn’t normal, but I didn’t have to hide as many things. I wasn’t bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders.
Remaining Unbroken (Breaking Series #1) by Jaclyn Lewis / Fantasy / Thrillers & Crime have rating 3 out of 5 / Based on18 votes