5So yeah, I've had about three fourths of this written for... what? 4 months? And I just finished it. Let's call it a sudden burst of inspiration. Or boredom. Your pick. This, my friends, actually has no plot yet. This is actually kind of a starter for me, and I'm seeing what I can do with it. I have a few things in mind, so I'll update as soon as I get it all straightened out. For now, I'll just throw this out there for you to read :) Hope ya like.
My worst fear ever: getting stuck in a small place with no way out. That's claustrophobia, right? No, I don't have trouble being in small spaces, but the thought of being trapped in one makes me shudder. Just the idea of it makes me break out into a cold sweat. My nightmares are usually filled with this torture. Me being stuffed into a crate and locked in. I'd start to hyperventilate, my heart would race. It wouldn't take long for me to go into a full on panic attack, clawing at the walls of my prison, screaming bloody murder: "Let me out! Let me out, please!"
The traumatizing dream would always end the same way: I die.
So of course, when some very nice girls (sarcasm) decided to stuff me into my own locker, it was a complete disaster. I kicked the unrelenting metal door over and over to try to force it open. The hyperventilating had started and my knuckles were bleeding from banging on the locker door so hard (hence the kicking). Oh my God, Oh my God. Please let me get out of here, please, please, please...
Sweat poured from my brow and I could feel the panic rising. That bitch. Why can't Rachel and her sycophants leave me the hell alone? I never did anything to those- those- ugh! I pounded the locker with my right hand as hard as I could – and I heard a crack. "Owwwww, oh my gosh – ow!"
I just broke my pinky. I totally just broke my pinky. Poor little pinky. I need to get out of here. I really, really need to get out of here. Oh, God; Please let me out!
And there it is. The panic attack. First, my heart felt like it was going a hundred beats per second. Second, I started crying. I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die. Just like in my dreams! Third, and probably the worst: I started screaming.
"Help! Help me! Someone please get me out of here! Help!" Yes, this is kind of embarrassing, screaming like hell about being stuffed into a harmless ol' locker. I hope whoever finds me won't make fun of me.
And hopefully someone will find me. Considering my lockers outside. Not that close to any classrooms either. Oh jeez. Please let them hear me. "Someone help me!" I yelled. My voice reverberated around the tiny enclosed space hurting my ears. Oh great, I broke my pinky, my knuckles are cut up and now my ears are gonna start bleeding, too. My life sucks. A vacuum sucks less than my life. Yeah, that's how bad it is.
My back started cramping and my legs and arms began to ache from unsuccessfully beating up the locker door. "Please, please, please, please, please, let-"
"Um, hello?"
Oh my God! My savior!
"Help me! I'm stuck in this damn locker!" And I'm about to have a freaking heart attack!
"Well... how do I get you out?"
"I don't care," I stressed dramatically. "A crowbar, a chainsaw, a freaking ax. Anything – just get me out."
"I would definitely go get one – totally – but, y'know, I doubt I'd get past that 300 lb security guard beast with a chainsaw..."
His sarcasm hurts. And yes, it's a he. He has a nice voice, too. Hell, anyone saving me from this would be heavenly to me.
"Oh! I can just.. give you my locker combo." Curse my slow thinking.
"That could possibly work." I heard the guy pick up the lock hanging from my locker door, "And it would be?"
"25, 43, 39," I said quickly, eager to escape this hell hole.
A couple of mess ups and a few seconds later I launched myself out of the locker and onto my hero. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
My head was buried in the boy's chest (I'm not even acknowledging how embarrassing this is) so I felt the vibration when he laughed. "Uh, you're welcome."
I smiled widely and unlatched myself from him – and then my smile disappeared when I accidentally hit my broken pinky on his chest. "Shit!"
I cradled my smallest finger in my other hand and the dude – who I've yet to look at – asked if I was okay. "I broke my pinky," I whimpered pathetically.
"Just now on my chest? Wow, I know I work out a lot, but..." He laughed jokingly.
"Pshh. The locker of metal broke my pinky, not your abs of steel." I tried to straighten the broken pinky out and winced.
"Oh, so I have abs have steel?"
I blushed slightly (well, he did actually have some pretty hard abs) and looked up at him. Which pretty much stopped my thought process. Completely. What's my name again?
He. Is. Gorgeous. He has jet black hair with long bangs that swept across his forehead perfectly while the rest of his hair looked like Oh-I-Just-Got-Out-Of-Bed but it totally worked for him. His eyes were a shocking blue – light aqua with darker flecks and a little green around the edges of his irises. Awesomest eyes ever. And just like I said, he was built. The blue button up shirt with rolled up sleeves revealed a nice set of biceps and even though I couldn't see his abs, I knew he had them.
"I was just kidding," he said after a few seconds of my silence.
"Oh, I knew that. Heh." Oh, God.
"So. What's your name?"
"My name?"
He gave me an odd, slightly amused, look. "Y'know, that thing people call you by all the time."
"Oh! My name!" Stupid, stupid, stupid. "It's, uh... Kelsey. Kelsey Walker."
My knight in shining armor held out his hand and flashed a million dollar smile. "They call me Jayke," he paused, "Jayke Kaine."
And this is the part where I stand here smiling like a jackass for a whole 30 seconds before I realize that, yes, I am supposed to take his hand and shake it. I laughed awkwardly and grabbed his surprisingly smooth hand and gave it a couple of wimpy shakes, hoping my hand wasn't sweaty or anything embarrassing like that. He smiled again and this time I was able to stop my heart from melting. Come on, Kelsey. Don't let some spoiled, rich hottie break down your walls with his amazing smile he probably perfected in front of a mirror every night.
"Well, uh, this sure has been fun, but, unfortunately, I have to run." I turned on my heel with a quick smile and a peace sign before speed-walking down the hall. "Thanks!"
And I didn't look back.
But, trust me, that would definitely not be last time I'd run into Jayke Kaine.
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