NOTICE: This is an original short story by me, but you cannot copy or plagiarize it. Too many people related to me know of this story - and, lets face it, no body likes a copy-cat. I'm going to further-develop this in the future, so this is a rough draft and this is one part and a one-shot of a novel I'm working on. So read it, enjoy it, favor it, review it, BUT DO NOT COPY IT! This is a work of fiction by no one other than me.

Other than that, I hope you like one edited short-part of my book! :)

Not Exist

By TheBiteOfFrost

"Get out!" I scream, slamming my door in his face. Judd, my now ex-boyfriend, was on the other side, banging on the door and trying to get in.

"Marjie, let me in!" Judd calls from the other side, the thick wood not giving me as much protection from him as I would have liked. I ignore him and press my body against the door although it was already locked. I put my entire body weight against the wood and gravity took its toll as I slid down toward the floor. No, no, this cannot be happening, I refuse for this to be real, this isn't reality, I'm dreaming, I have to be dreaming… I wiped the tears that were pouring down my face. I want to be anywhere but here. I wish there was a remote control, or a spare pair of red ruby shoes to click, to go somewhere quiet and peaceful for a few days. Or years.

Judd, as usual, was a jerk. It wasn't like he pointedly ignored me exactly, but he would flaunt everything he had with other girls right in front of me, flirting beyond what was supposedly reasonable. Yet what tore a hole in my heart was opening a door, attempting to find a bathroom in an unfamiliar house during the party I'd just ran from, and walked in on Judd, my boyfriend, playing tonsil hockey with some unknown face.

It's not like I'm exactly ugly or whatever. I think I'm pretty decent for an ordinary girl-next-door. I may be a little socially awkward, but I get over it when I get in a comfortable position. I'm kind of funny when I'm not trying to be invisible, and a lot of people like me when I grab the courage to even talk. So what does this girl have that I don't? Experience. D-cup boobs. Skinny butt. Designer clothes. Just because I enjoy a good piece of chocolate cake once in a while—while having serious metabolism issues that make me look like a taller, older version of a twelve-year-old—and wear comfortable clothes, doesn't make people gravitate away from me or anything. People just normally don't talk to me, except for only my closest friends—and I was fine with that. Until Judd, that is.

I would sometimes wish I were like that: Experienced, confident, beautiful. But I was just your normal average Jane, with the exception of a strange name, pure so-black-it's-blue curly hair, and a looking like a twig with two poles as legs. The only real reason why I'm even named Marjorie is because every other girl in our family would always be named after our grandmothers. I can't really say the same for my dad's side of the family, but I'm pretty sure no one would re-use that boring name of Joe.

My curly blue-black hair I would rather not discuss. My not particularly fond blue hair is odd in itself, and I'm not even going to talk about my bottom-less black eyes, framed by square glasses. But my love and passion for music is something I am proud to talk about. Music is my life, like my wrist bands or my yellow nail polish; it's something apart of me, something that, if I didn't have it, I wouldn't be Marjie. I wouldn't be me.

A loud bang hard enough to shake the door behind my back forced me from my memory-fogged daydream. "Let me in!" Judd's voice strained, a point at which I learned was on the brink, going from annoyed to seriously pissed off. It's amazing how much you can find out about a person by how long you spend with them. "I'm sorry, okay? God, Mars, it wasn't my fault! She came onto me!"

You're a liar, and we both know it. When do you ever say the truth, at least once, with me—you're supposed "girlfriend"? Why do you do these kinds of things? For kicks, for making girls like me squirm into thinking about how good you are for your looks and money? I sometimes really hate you, Judd. And now, I don't think I'll be changing my mind anytime soon.

I couldn't move, even if I wanted to. My legs were stiff from being in the same crouched position in front of the door while the blood was still pumping in my legs from the run all the way home. Judd ran after me, not surprising considering he was the linebacker on our crappy excuse for a football team, even though he was one of the better players.

The reason why, from what I can guess, I'm so hurt by Judd cheating on me was mostly because I've never had a boyfriend before—never mind an ex-boyfriend. The guys in high school avoid me because I'm shy—at least around them, and the reason why I am is because they're all so…intimidating. Almost as if they have power over me, with their broad shoulders and looming height and stance. Add to the fact that most high school boys were horny jerks that thought farts were still funny. Obviously, girls really do mature faster than boys, and high school's proof of that.

Then, Judd came along, at random, as most Prince Charmings do. We met in Music Theory, me playing the cello and him playing trumpet, although we had classes at different periods, our group of friends met in the MT room during lunch, which was odd because Judd is extremely popular and well-liked. And he's way beyond my league—and I am far even beyond left field. He had brown hair with blond high-lights from the summer sun, and beautiful hazel eyes. When he discovered how much we had in common and how many things we both liked, we clicked. And it was good—great, even—but now…

The shouting had long ago stopped from the other side of the door. It was quiet. I could hear the pulse from my heart beat gradually slow from its rapid pace as it hammered in my chest. I curiously press my ear against the door, wondering if I would hear anything. Nothing. I scrambled up and peaked out of the hole in the door. He was still there, hanging his head so low, his chin could touch his collar bone. I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling fidgety, and took a deep breath, opening the door.

Judd's head snapped up and our gazes met. He once said that I had the most intense eyes, ones that could hold a gaze steady for so long, no one would dare ever hold a staring contest with me. I try to speak to him with my eyes, wanting him to read my thoughts and hurt. I'm not going to wait around for you to get your head out of your butt, I seethe quietly. I'm not going to wait until you suddenly become Prince Charming. If you aren't ready for a commitment, I just can't wait, all the time wondering if you'll ever come around.

Out of all the things I wanted to spew and to swear out at him, I decided against it. It just wasn't worth it. I wished I could have said Judd wasn't worth it, but I felt a huge wave of betrayal go through me like a sonic wave. I swallow down another chocking sob before speaking.

"Just leave me alone, Judd," I hiss, narrowing my eye brows. "I don't know what happened back there, but—"

"What you saw isn't what happened, Marjie," he said intensely, attempting to step around me and go in my house. I block his way and glare at him, daring him to try again. He backed off, frowning. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It didn't mean anything, alright? So I'm sorry I'm not the perfect little boyfriend, but a guy has needs, Mars—"

"That is so not the point!" I snap, but feel myself on the verge of tears, thinking about all of those late night football games making out underneath the stands and those moments in the backseat of his pick-up truck, how suddenly—because he has "needs"—it meant nothing now. I felt the cracks in my heart wedge deeper, cutting me straight through as I struggle to hold myself upright.

"The point is," I tried again to point out, "you kissed her! And having needs isn't an excuse. I'm a teen, too, you know. It's not like I'm a freaking nun or something." He fisted his hands and the intimidation of how much more powerful he is than me started being extremely obvious. I gulped, but forced myself to stand my ground.

"If you're not ready for a serious relationship, then say it now," I said, but on the inside I was a nervous wreck. Please, say sorry again, and mean it. Say you were wrong; say you drank too much—anything. Keep fighting for me, for us. Because the way I saw it was that if he wouldn't fight to keep our relationship now—whether it be hanging on thin strings or not—what made me think he would fight to keep us together in the future, when other serious things happened?

"Whatever," Judd said, turning his fierce hazel eyes from me—ones I've seen give me intense passionate looks, or when he's focused intensely on something he cared about, like football. As soon as his eyes disconnected from mine, I knew this was it. All that time spending with him and building a strong relationship with him was gone, as if it never was. And it was then that I understood that love and relationships such as these must not exist.

"See you, Marjie," he mumbled under his breath and he turned around, walking down the stone steps of my cobblestoned house. I took a step out my door, but paused just as quickly, as if all the energy on my body left and I was rooted and grounded to the spot. I couldn't move. I understood and I tried not to care. I understood that we were over, and didn't want to care that we were. I watched him walk through the rain as it settled to a light sprinkle as he walked down the sidewalk. Judd didn't look back once as he turned the corner, leaving my residential neighborhood.

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