I just don’t know what to do with myself
Prologue
Hello. My name is (something). I’m as plain as plain can be without being called Jane. I couldn’t even start my introduction with anything more exciting than “Hello”. It’s amazing when every 24 hours you live seem exactly the same as the previous and the 24 before and before. Even my lunches are close to the same: plain sandwich, plain green apple, plain yoghurt and plain box of raisins.
Wake up and lie in bed staring at the ceiling for 10 minutes before changing into my uniform and heading to the bathroom.
Toothpaste – Plain (Not even whitening or 12 hour protection)
I look at my plain flat black hair in my plain rectangular mirror, stare into my dull brown eyes and sigh.
My basic wooden apartment door closes behind me as I leave to attend school. Walking down the cold stone gray steps of the subway, head down, watching the ground in front of me as I walk. Grimy silver doors open allowing entrance to the long vehicle equipped with dirty green seats and dim white lights. The clash of the wheels on the tracks synchronized with my heart beat.

My eyes pan over the passengers in the carriage, out of the 15 people on the train: 11 of them were wearing shades instead of colours, 5 were reading newspaper and 1 was smiling. A little girl dressed to her toes in pink sparking material, grinning at her mother. The two of them share a wide smile as they take turns passing gummy candy between them. She carefully fed her mother a soft candy, laughed and clapped her hands together.

I hoped to myself that when she grew up that she would treasure her mother.

Chapter one: Seven
Ever since I was seven I’ve been alone in this world. My mother couldn’t stand having to see the face of an unwanted daughter every day. One day she just disappeared, I sat watching through the kitchen window waiting for her to come through the door and say “Sorry I’ve been away!” then hold me to her chest and promise to never leave me alone again but that day never came.  As I waited I got colder and sadder, I refused to take a shower as if being away from that window would mean that I would miss my mother if she came home.
Day after day my hope diminished and so did the food in our house. After 13 days there was a knock at the door, two men dressed in grey suits were standing at the doorstep holding hard looking leather briefcases. One of them asked me where my parents were but when they saw that I was alone they forced me to go with them to the police station where I was made to wait. Several hours later I was told to go with a man in blue uniform to a house where they said I would be staying, I was too scared to question about my mother so I just followed mindlessly.
The car pulled up outside a medium sized white house, there was a path to the front door and thin bare trees lined the fences. Abstractly shaped figures stood by the door but I was too tired to focus.
I later came to know those figures as Gabriel and Michelle, I always use to think that they were either oblivious to the world around them or just so happy together that they don’t frown. They weren’t horrible to me but I never felt truly connected to them, Michelle wasn’t about to have kids thus adoption seemed to be the only option for her.
They sent me to a school close to the house, it was fairly small and a few blocks down from the house so I walked to school and walked back home. The teacher obviously knew of my situation at the time, she would often check on me and encourage other kids to play with me. I didn’t want the other kids, I wanted my mother. I sat alone at lunch and drew pictures of flowers during play time. Soon the teacher began to accept the fact I didn’t want to read books with the other kids or paint with them. I was coping by myself and was more than happy on my own.
A few months after I moved in with my foster parents I learnt the meaning of the word fear, Gabriel’s office was closing down and he had trouble finding a new job. Often he would come home late at night, of course I didn’t know what alcohol and intoxication was at the time but Gabriel taught me.
One night he came home holding a bottle and yelling loudly, Michelle had locked herself in the bathroom while screaming at him to calm down. Woken by the yelling I made my way to the living room where Gabriel was standing, His eyes were bloodshot with fury, I could smell the sharp alcohol scent while he spat out his words.
“What are you looking at?
He held my face with his large rough hands and forced me to look him in the eyes. I didn’t know how to respond, I was cold and scared that Gabriel was going to hurt me at any minute.
“ANSWER ME!”
He shook me back and forward like a rag doll, then forced my mouth open and poured some whiskey into my mouth. The alcohol burned my mouth and I gaged and spluttered but he wouldn’t let go of me.
“No wonder your mother ditched you.”
He threw me to a side with minimal effort and I laid there dead still hoping that he wouldn’t touch me again. Michelle came an hour later explaining that Gabriel was asleep in bed and helped clean the vile odor off my clothes and told me to go back to bed. For the rest of that night the memory looped inside my head, Every time I tried to close my eyes I only see Gabriel’s face hovering over mine, staring me down with his burning eyes.
Chapter Two: Sixteen
When I turned sixteen my life began to turn into more of a routine and hiding away from Gabriel became a main strategy of survival. I watched as Michelle slowly began to break down and my heart became colder. Gabriel came home less and less at night and eventually on that one day we were visited by police men instead of Gabriel.
I didn’t cry at Gabriel’s funeral even though Michelle had been brawling for days, She was frail but if you looked close enough you could see the genuine sadness and loneliness behind her eyes. After the funeral Michelle came to me holding a large manila folder which she revealed to be emancipation papers.
“You’re more mature than any sixteen year old and I cannot look after you any longer.”
She told me that she was going to move to Africa to do volunteer work there to try regaining herself after the abuse Gabriel put her through and that she was able to convince the court to allow me to be emancipated. She used the last of her savings to buy a small apartment for me and said that the government would provide for my school fees.
The papers took a week to process and during that time I helped Michelle pack and she helped me pack. Gabriel’s pictures and memorable items were all put in a box and buried with him, for that week it felt as if I woke up from a bad nightmare, I’m sure Michelle felt the same.
The apartment was located in a very abandoned part of town, Michelle had apologized for not being able to afford a bigger place but I told her it was fine, seeing as I didn’t own many possessions it was easier to unpack everything. Michelle and I ordered pizza that night and in the morning she left leaving me with a half empty room and a parcel on the kitchen bench.
That was the last time I saw Michelle, a day before my birthday and she had remembered enough to leave me a present.
Chapter three: Seventeen
When you’re seventeen people say it’s the best year of your life. You’re young and have plenty of mistakes to make but for me life just drags on and it seems like being seventeen lasts for longer than a year. School takes up more than two thirds of my whole year which is a lot of time spent on daydreaming while looking out the window.
At school because I didn’t have any close friends, I ate lunch in a small secluded corner on the grass fields next to the rubbish bins. Sometimes I wish that life went faster, 365 days shortened to just a few days. I could do all the things one person does in a lifetime in under a year’s length, and then die leaving behind only an empty apartment which will no doubt be bought by some young couple who have their whole lives ahead of them. The wind tickles the grass softly as it sweeps over the ground; far away I can hear people talking but cannot hear the words they are saying.
Why is it that humans can have such long years compared to animals, do we deserve to life longer than most? The bell rings a harsh sharp awakening, talking turns to rushing voices. Life was so dull, boring, and useless and yet one may never be able to accomplish everything they want in one life time.  I picked up my black backpack and headed towards class, why couldn’t I speed up my own life?
But I knew in my heart that I could. I just needed the idea.
 Today was going to be my last day as a seventeen year old, because starting tomorrow I am going to be eighteen and a week after that I will be nineteen and so on. My life will be complete before I turn twenty years old If I intend to die when I’m a hundred years old which seems to be the most popular choice age for death, I fill fit everything that a person would do in a year into one week.
On the train back I watched the blurs of people, trees and buildings pass through the window before a heard a static scratch over the intercom.
“The train will reach the end stop in five minutes. Please collect your belongings.”
I jumped at the word “End”, if I was to age every week that means that today is my last day as a seventeen year old. I rushed off the train and ran to the bus to the local mall, I was going to go out tonight and be a real rebellious teenager and to do that I would need new clothes.
Malls are quite deceiving, outside it is dirty littered with teenagers loitering around but on the inside the floors sparkled and the glossy shop windows reflected light everywhere. I stroll into the nearest youth clothing store casually glancing at the clothes, one of the walls were lined with skirts all approximately about 25 centimeters long. I picked out a red and black checked skirt which featured a shiny red ribbon bow and walked over to tops rack hands skimming the soft material as I walk.
“Do you need some help?”
A perky looking shop assistant smiled at me as she finished her question, I shook my head and looked back to the clothes but out of the corner of my eye I watched as she walked back to the cashier counter. I stole a quick glance at her clothing and found that the colours of the top and pants were matching, although she probably had learnt that skill from her mother.
A few more people came into the shop and the assistant girl became busy, I picked up a red top with what seems like black buckles around the abdomen area and hurried to a changing room. The top fitted well but I wasn’t so sure about the skirt, it seemed a bit too short and only barely covered my lower regions but I had no time to waste. I carefully folded the clothes and grabbed my wallet for money.
Crap. I only had less than enough to buy the top which was already on sale, I opened the changing room door slightly and looked around the store and saw that the shop assistant was busy running around helping other customers. I carefully placed the clothes in my bag and put my clothes back on how there were before and exited the changing room not looking behind me.
My heart raced with every step I took it felt like I was going to explode, I tried to keep calm and look still but my hands didn’t stop shaking and neither did my legs. My eyes darted from side to side incase security were called already, flinching at every person who came close to me. Invisible sweat drops slid down from my forehead, adrenaline pumping through my veins like blue flames burning inside my stomach. My cheeks puffed as I marched, only a few more meters until I am out of the store I have to keep going. Determination driving me to walk faster, guilt clawing at me is making me feel extremely nauseous.
“Hey!”
I winced at the voice of the shop assistant calling to me, scared that I had been discovered. I was paralyzed and couldn’t move or even blink, I felt my lunch slowly creep up my esophagus. With the material of the skirt scratching at my skin under my top and my heart in my throat, I turned to look back at the assistant while trying hard not to look nervous.
“Thank you for shopping here today!”
I swore I could have killed her on the spot for making me feel so panicky, I nodded at her and stormed out of the store pissed at the way she tricked me, completely forgetting that I had just stolen $70 worth of clothes. It wasn’t till I was on the bus home that I realized that I just stole from a store but by that time the guilt had already stopped.
I unlocked my same basic door when I got home but with a bit more flare, dropping my school bag on the floor beside my bed and pulling out the bundle of stolen material from under my clothes and dropped them onto my bed. Some reason the clothes brightened up my room a bit as it lay on my ash coloured sheets reminding me of the thrill I had felt only about an hour ago which still gripped on to the back of my mind.
Anxious to rid myself of the clinging guilt I took an ordinary white towel from my closet and proceeded to the shower. The hot water bullets pelted me as I stepped in, Steam quickly spread around the bathroom while I continued to stand under warm raindrops of the shower head.
The water had burned off any regrets that I had as well as any worries, I closed my eyes and mentally planned my next move. I would need many fake ids for my ages which could prove to be a problem but I’m sure that I’ve heard some of the neighbors talking about a guy who deals in dodgy underground activities.
I found the leftovers of the money I had and headed down to see the man, Room 66 was what I heard. The door was painted sickly green and rubbish casually sat in front of the door polluting the air in the corridor, I knocked quietly once and stepped back waiting for the door to open, but it didn’t. I knocked again a bit harder and heard soft rustles coming from the other side of the door, I stepped back just in time before the door was flung open.
A scruffy looking young man stood in the doorway, He looked about mid twenty with messy brown hair, and baggy clothes hanging off his seemingly lanky body. He looked down at me dark circles below his sea green eyes, unshaven but it suited him somewhat. He took one look at the money in my hands and stepped back into the room motioning for me to enter, I edged my way into the entrance of darkness clutching onto the notes in my hand.
“So you want a fake Id aye?”
He scratched his head and looked back at me with bored eyes, I nodded in the direction of his voice as his room was too dark to distinguish the furniture in his room. I heard more rustling and a few soft crashes of metal falling onto carpet then light came to my savior as a tall lamp in the right corner of the room illuminated suddenly.
His room contained more heavy electronic equipment than any room I’ve seen although I haven’t seen many, Computers which were connected to printers were also connected to a number of other bits of equipment that I couldn’t identify. Obviously he made quite a living out of making these ID cards although it seemed like he lived alone, there were no family photos or pictures only some sinister looking posters of bands. He walked over to a chair behind the desk covered in machinery and pressed some buttons on a keyboard, he looked at me up and down as if he was analyzing me carefully.
“I think you can pass for 25, 26 if you’re lucky but it will cost you $120.”
I nodded at him and carefully dropped the money on the desk and pushed it towards him bit by bit, He pulled a camera out from a draw under the desk and told me to tie my hair up so that the hair was all off my face. He positioned me in front of a glossy blue screen and told me to look forward into the lens of the camera, the light flashed filling my vision with bright white burning light.
“It will take an hour or so to finish so why don’t you go for a while.”
His eyes were concentrated on the computer screen, his hands clicking furiously with his mouse. I roughly pulled the rubber band out of my hair and walked back to my own apartment, as soon as I got through the door I went to my closet and rummaged through it attempting to find that parcel Michelle had left me for my birthday. She told me to only open it in times of emergency so I stored it away, I managed to find it in an old shoe box neatly packed which was typical of Michelle.
I peeled off the aged tape and ripped the bag open, inside laid a bundle of hundred dollar notes and a white envelope. The envelope felt slightly heavy and it was folded instead of sealed, there was a small card and a thin silver bangle.
Neat tiny writing on the card said:
Dear (Someone):
I’m sorry I wasn’t able to protect you.
You may not have felt as if I was like your mother but I have always thought of you as my daughter.
I was scared when Gabriel changed, we were in love and I was so happy at the time that I couldn’t accept reality.
I regret letting him scare you all those times, you didn’t deserve it after the ordeal you had been through so early in your life.
My mother left this bangle for me when she died and asked me to pass it to my daughter, when I found out that I couldn’t have kids I was devastated.
Thank you (Someone) for letting me pretend at least that I had a child to live for in this life, so I pass this burden onto you hoping that you will have a more successful life than the lie I’ve tried to live for the last decade.
I hope you could forgive me for making you live through this with me then leaving you alone after all you’ve done for me, wear this bangle and remember my good qualities.
I’ve left you all my savings here in this brown bag and I hope you put it to good use, I know that money cannot repair emotional damage but I am a helpless old woman now.
Happy birthday (someone) and goodbye
Love always,
Michelle

I read over the letter again then set the bundle of money down on the table to count, she had left me just over $5000 dollars in cash. I took a couple of notes then hid the rest under my bed, of course I was going to find a better hiding place when I got home but at the moment I couldn’t think.

I put my new clothes on in the bathroom and posed a bit in the mirror, I was surprised to see that I looked a bit more grown up than I had before when wearing my school shirts and skirts. My clock told me that an hour had almost past even though I haven’t realized, I never knew getting dressed could take up more than ten minutes.

I drew softly on my eyes with a black eyeliner pencil like I had seen on TV once, and finished with a swipe of lip gloss. Michele bought me a set of makeup a few years ago when she took me shopping, she said I was growing up and needed to know how to use makeup without over doing it. She even bought me a tiny vial of perfume which we specially picked out, the little glass bottle was beautiful and the scent was intoxicating.

I put on my best pair of sneakers then head down back to room 66, as soon as I reached the door I saw another envelope taped to the wall beside the numbers with the letter “S” on it. It was a driver’s license with my picture on it slightly edited because my face looked a bit older than I had remembered.

The bar the gossiping girls mentioned was just down the street of the train station, from about 50 metres you could hear music blasting into the cool night air. When I stood in front of the bar I was somewhat disappointed, the street was filthy and people crowded the entrance like mice. There were many obnoxiously loud voices polluting the air, large muscular looking men stood at the entrance wearing tacky black sunglasses and crisp suits.

I joined the line of people impatiently waiting outside the doors clutching my ID, girls at my school liked to stuff money into their bra when they don’t have wallets or pockets which I found to be a useful skill. The closer I got to the front of the line the higher my internal organs felt in my body, the fact that sunglasses allowed a person to look and even watch someone without them knowing made me more nervous. Before I knew it I was at the front of a line with a giant like bouncer looking down at me.

“ID please.”

I passed over my newly printed driver’s license which had been carefully warmed by my hot guilty hands, I looked forward directly at the card in the large man’s hands as he examined my age and photo. Ten seconds turned into what felt like ten minutes of careful examination before his large arm moved aside allowing me to walk through the graffiti covered doors and into what teenagers call “Adulthood”.

Nightclubs are masters of deception. The outside is crusty and sick but the inside is like an escape away from the black and white, Colours lit up every corner of the room bouncing off the black glimmering dance floor. It was like paradise on a cold winter’s night, music pumping through large mammoth speakers mounted on every wall of the club. Blinding beams flashed, danced and shone particularly on one side of the building and the bar featured on the other side.

People were moving from side to side with flow and grace but some were just jumping up and down throwing their use-to-be-perfect hair around, bartenders poured the most memorizing shades of drinks into every glass shape imaginable.

I slid my ID into my bra hoping that when I attempt to dance like the people on the floor and some platforms my ID wouldn’t get lost. I moved closer to the dance floor bit by bit dodging the sweaty people that pushed pass me to use the bathroom to fix makeup and to eject the contents of their stomach into a bacteria ridden toilet bowl.

Suddenly I’m surrounded by people, all strangers of different shapes and sizes moving around me. I slowly began to move my hips like the way that the dancers I observed were doing, the music began to carry me and my blood began to pump harder. Soon I was swaying, jumping, shaking and other movements I didn’t even understand or can describe, a guy with a face I couldn’t even see properly maneuvered his arms around my hips and began to move with me.

I had never felt so alive, the beat of the song influenced the bass line which sent me over the edge. The ground was shaking with excitement, I felt so lifted as if I was rising off the floor and into the sky but then I felt the burn in my legs which brought me back to the ground.

I patted the still dancing guy on the shoulder and gave him my best kind smile before leaving him to go find a seat at the bar, the long polished bench was full of eager customers waiting for a shaken or stirred drink. I watched in amazement as each different ingredient was poured into a large silver vessel then capped, men and women shook the containers fast and with style, tossing them in the air then catching them or spinning them in their hands.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder causing me to snap out of my trance, it was the boy from the dance floor. He smiled at me and for once I could see him better thanks to the still lights surrounding the bar. He had light auburn eyes and sandy blonde hair like a surfer only he wasn’t as well built although he was tall and fit.

“Lemme buy you a drink? As thanks…you know… for dancing with me.”

I pondered the offer for a second before replying:
“Sure.”

I watched him slide into the stool beside me and stared as he waved his strong looking arm for a bartender.

“What drink.” He said turning back to smile at me.
The question caught me off guard, most kids at school only talk about getting and being drunk but never about the names of drinks that were being drunk. I replied with the most mysterious thing I could think of at that moment.

“Surprise me.”

His eyes widened for a second then he turned to the bartender and did a “peace” sign, although he could have meant two but either way the bartender got to work filling up two tall glasses with a bright orange crushed ice mixture.

“That’s my friend working the bar, his parents are quite rich so they let him start his own business and it’s all good because I get free drinks here. But this drink right here would have to be his specialty.”

He pushed one of the tall glasses towards me, I was almost definite that attempting to smell the contents would make the situation awkward. I held my breath and sucked on the straw.
Sweetness covered my taste buds, spikes of ice melted against my tongue. Smooth orange flavours masked the strong taste of alcohol, I could feel the drug entering my body, my skin began to tingle and a ball of heat arose in my chest.

“My name is (Someone) by the way, Nice to meet you.”

Should I tell him my real name?

“(Something)”

He repeated my name a few times, saying it in different tones and for different amount of time. Finally telling me that my name was interesting, this is better than being called weird I suppose. He took my hand and led me to a seating area away from the loud music with slightly brighter lights, from there I learnt about his moderately average life and his hobbies.

I was wrong. He wasn’t a surfer, in fact he was a skateboarder who likes to listen to mostly metal music. He was surprised when I told him that I didn’t own any mp3 players of my own and offered to lend me one of his old ones to listen to some songs he highly recommended.

We danced some more but the alcohol was getting to me, my head started to spin and I couldn’t make sense of what was happening. I could barely hear (Someone) asking me if I was ok, I didn’t say anything I just nodded my head. He put his and on my cheek and leaned in moving my face towards his, it was going to be the dreaded first kiss, I’ve heard girls complain about their experiences often shrieking at points. I didn’t know how to kiss someone, I just closed my eyes and waited for his lips to touch mine.

I never knew what it felt like to melt, after (someone)’s lips pressed against mine I froze on the spot. My nerve system was acting mental and I couldn’t feel my limbs, I didn’t know how long had passed before we parted looking back at each other and smiling shyly at each other.

I needed to go home. The alcohol was making me feel drowsy and i was sure that i would be booted from the club if i threw up on the floor. Not to mention it would be terribly embarrassing especially if i was sick in front of (Someone), but i had to get out.

"I have to go."

I began to make my way to the exit before (someone) stopped me again, in his hand held a piece of paper with scribbley writing on it.

"I wanna see you again sometime... If thats ok with you."

He handed me his phone number and i left the club with my fake ID, A cute guy's number and the memories of my first kiss.

Chapter four: Eighteen
Right after i reached home and right before I puked up stomach acid into my surprisingly clean looking toilet, I saw the clock and it was past midnight. I’m eighteen now. I must do what an eighteen year old would do, and that was sex.

Of course I knew what sex was, health classes paid off somewhat after being plagued with plastic covered bananas. The lecturers handed out small packs of condoms to us each time we had a class, I stored them in the bottom drawer of my desk obviously thinking that I wasn’t in need of them.

The corners of the packets pricked my fingers, I hoped that they weren’t too old to function properly. Pregnancy was not on the list for eighteen years old, but it was important in life so I moved it down to 23 years old. Too tired to deal with anything I emptied my brain of my sweet eighteen list and drifted off to sleep.

I woke up at exactly 11am, obviously I wasn’t planning on going to school today. I had money to spend and things to buy, especially a phone. I looked on the table for the money and a small piece of paper, (Someone) had written down his number for me and asked to see me again soon. Suddenly I had an idea but firstly I needed to make a stop to the pay to use phone downstairs.

I called (someone) and asked if he was free, he told me he had work for a while in the morning but could meet me in a few hours, I think I surprised him because I rang him so quickly after we met. I asked him if he knew any good malls around town and if there were train stations near them, he responded by telling me that he would come pick me up and not to worry about trains. I knew i couldnt risk going to the same mall as before just in case the same shop attendant was working there again, i chose to visit a clothing market, unlike most eighteen year olds i wasnt afraid to wear vintage clothes.


After I hung up the phone I went to go tidy myself up from last night seeing as I had left my makeup on while I slept and hadn’t bothered to brush my hair this morning. The mirror greeted my now eighteen year old face, my eyes looked bigger and my makeup was barely smudged.

I decided to keep my new top on but find some jeans to wear instead of the skirt although it would be easier to change in and out of new clothes when wearing the skirt. I put on my newest pair of light blue jeans and went to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

My fridge had bread, eggs and all basic foods which seemed perfect for someone who was settled with kids, I mentally wrote another activity on my list.

Eighteen:
Try drugs
Try Smoking
Get a job
Have sex
Have beer or some form of alcohol in the fridge
Visit a R18 store
Go out all night and don’t come home in the morning

I looked over my list again, a lot of the things on my list I could do in one day but getting a job would be a tad harder than the other ideas on my list. I might have to ask (Someone) if he knew any people who were looking for someone to work.

(Someone) has been in my thoughts many times lately for some reason, I enjoy having him around me because it made me feel less alone and more determined.