Note: Thank you so much all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement! The votes for last week are as follow:
- IIII votes
- 0 votes
- IIII votes
We have a draw! I do agree with the voters that these are the most likely and relevant options for the current generation, a take I aim to portray. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with as seen in the novel’s overview.
However, option c seems to have an interesting and relevant take, portraying the character to have the typical attitude of a teenager suffering from FOMA (fear of missing out) and attending a party she was made aware of through Facebook, the consequence not worth the negligence in popularity. Since the vote was a tie, I decided to run with option one, however incorporate aspects of option 3! Enjoy!
Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl watchu doin?
NinjaGirl: Sleepin. Sittin. Livin.
Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl. Ma gut is cryin! U got 1 sad life.
NinjaGirl: …thx “bestay”
Anatashia Lockwood: Imma gonna help u get. a. life. Nathan hostiin a partay 9.00 at northstreeet pub. U need to come gurl! Do it 4 u. and me. Don’t wanna be seen with u when u don’t even come to Nathan – the most popula guy in school’s partay. Plz galpal. Say YES!!!!
NinjaGirl: Um… I can’t… res…ist…don’t…do this…to me!!! Fine. I’ll come – 9.00. How could I miss out? 1 word is wat that would be: embarrassing… ;D
My eyes flicker between the breaches of reality and my digital paradise, abbreviated slang appearing on the screen as my nimble fingers glide across the keyboard. I watch as they type an automated response – the reaction any “usual” teenager would expect to such an invitation. An invitation that cannot – should not be overlooked, without the person jeopardizing what is labelled as their “social rating.” I shouldn’t care about my “popularity”. But I do.
The disappointment formed within me evolves into the convergence of various hormonal emotions. I should not have agreed to attend “Nathan’s” party – I’m above that, above the usual teenage influences and attractions…
The iridescence my eyes usually possess dulls as I stare at the predetermined words. Shortly after an agonizing flight, my head begins to throb rhythmically as a tedious mauve vastness suddenly threatens to scald my retinas.I have departed for the day, the motion sickness extreme, unbearable.
Fresh morning air is what I need. The clammy warmth of my room lingers as I thrust my shutters open, a crisp wind sweeping and incinerating any humidity. A golden haze seems as though it has been respired throughout the atmosphere, resting and illuminating the street with an ochre glow. My world is ethereal for 27 seconds, before I am awoken from the temporary stupor by my mother’s squeal.
A series of profanities precedes the attention-seeking explanation for my mother’s anger.
“Quinoa! How on earth could I have forgotten QUINOA!” I flinch as what sounds like a plate is thrust to the floor, the result of her temperament. I manage to recover the names of my sister and I amongst the babble.
“Audrey! Daphne – quinoa from Aldi. Now. Every packet in stock.” I stare at the porcelain shards scattered hazardously across the tiles of our kitchen, my mother’s cheeks flushed with frustration.
Little did she know the consequence her impatience would bring.
I watch mockingly as Daphne draws a misshaped silver coin from her pocket. My mother fumes with rage as her daughter’s intentions are revealed.
“Heads.” She ejaculates as the coin is tossed through the air…
I slump into the comforting fabric of my sister’s Mini as she spins the key, jerking the motor to life. The imprint of my mother’s victory fades as I glance at Daphne, barely clothed by a threadbare jersey and tight-fitting jeans. Her hair lies in a bundled mess, twisted messily into a bun. Nothing unusual… is my assumption, until our eyes encounter one another’s.
Concaving circles penetrate her eye contour, sinking miserably and allowing her low cheekbones prominence. Her eyelids droop, little resistance barely exposing the cloudy hazel pigment of her eyes, dappled with red veins that surge through the whiteness. I feel my brow furrow as concern for my sister intensifies. I will purchase the quinoa, we shall drive home and she will sleep. Rest. Rejuvenate.
That’s what would have been, had my sister not taken her daily sedatives not ten minutes prior. The sedatives that should have only taken effect an hour later, but didn’t… Flickering shut for not 5 seconds, my sister’s eyes lose sight of their surroundings, her brain powerless over her actions. I notice this too late. My reaction is delayed and I simply watch as the car swerves towards an oak.
Daphne crashed the car. All because we picked heads.
I do hope you enjoyed this week’s installment of Saving Audrey! Here are this week’s options!
- Daphne crashes the car (as in Chapter 2) and emergency services surround the Mini. As Daphne and Audrey are hauled to safety, Audrey wakes up to discover her sister has died from severe head trauma.
2. Subsequent to crashing the car (as in Chapter 2) Audrey and Daphne are rushed to hospital, Daphne remaining comatose for several weeks.
3. After the crash, Daphne and Audrey are dashed to the nearest hospital, Audrey awakening to her sister lying in the bed beside her, one million machines connected to her body. She comes to learn that her sister is suffering from severe amnesia.
Thanks for your support and let me know what you would like to happen below!
Olivia, writing on a whim…