Margo Greene's Story

The streets were dark and empty filled with tears and trash. The blonde haired girl walked swiftly among the baffle stiffs clutching her bag tightly as she passed. They begged for money and food. "I'm sorry, I don't have any!" she told them frightened. "Eh, what's in that purse of yours girlie." one griped. "Nothing..." she lied. Run for it! Mo go right now! The man started moving closer to her. The foul stench of him gave her head a throbbing pain. "Give it here girlie!" the old man yelled to her. She started sweating and felt the blood rush to her finger tips. Her head filled with a dark haze. "The only thing I'm going to give to you is a fist to your damn mouth!" She yelled to him in a dark voice. His eyes widened and he ran away. That's what I thought. She smirked and whistled as she walked towards te dark alleys.

She slammed closed the door and belted up the stairs crying. The door to her so called room was open. Tear streaked and red nosed she walked into the dark and grey room. One of her shitty brothers was going through her closet. "Get outta here you little shitty brat!" she yelled at him. He flipped her off and left with a bunch of her clothes. I hate my damn life. She thought. Her foster mother came in high. "Quit yelling Mo! Or do you want me to cut you!" she said sternly. Margo stayed silent and looked at the ground knowing it was rude to backtalk to her foster mother. The last time she tried she was locked in the basement with the neighbors pitbull. After her foster mother left she climbed out on the roof and watched the cars down the street.

Looking down at the street she saw two figures standing. One was a female, blonde small and skinny. The other was male tall, brownish blonde hair and a black jacket. Something flashed and then she saw the blood. "Shit!" she cursed as she ran into her room and grabbed her bag. She stumbled out the door, and fell on the road. Faint voices were coming closer. "Urgg!!" she yelled as she got up and started running down the street towards the two figures. Panting she dodged some furniture movers and made it down the hill safely. She yelled and waved her arms at the two. "Hey! do you need help?!" she asked. Her eyes went down the girls cheek and saw the blood pooling on her arm as she was laying on the ground. Images flashed inside her mind and then the black smoke came back and stared her down. Screaming Margo held her eyes and fell to her knees, crying and whispering I see it. Her other side was coming out. Slowly she rose up stacking each and every vertebra on top of each other. Her blonde wet hair hung over her face. "I see it!!! Now its coming to get me!!!"she screamed in a terrifying voice and lunged at the girl. "You want to die?!?! I can make that happen!!!" She yelled again.

Holy fuck. DAMN, his mind listed off just about every swear word he knew how to say. What the hell had he done? How could he be such a fucking idiot? How had he gone from running around in the rain to somehow causing the suicide of a girl? All he could do was stare at her as she held the gun up to her head. It was all he had the mental capacity to do, beside pale to the hue of a freshly bleached sheet.

Listening to her troubles made him feel like an asshole. Even more than usual. There was a random thought thrown in with his panic, the fact it was really cute how she said she wasn't a child yet threw a little stomping tantrum, but the thought disappeared. Now was NOT the time.

She said she hoped it made him feel guilty, and it did. Like the burning flames of hell it did. He would probably get chewed out by god now and sent to hell for murder. Then all the demons would hate him just like everyone on earth, and he’d be even more alone. He’d be alone because he was a worthless piece of shit that nobody liked. Understandably, too… he wasn't worthy of anyone’s love. It hurt him so bad—because no matter what, he knew he’d never be good enough. And this, this, proved it. He should be the one with a gun to his head. He held a hand out to her,

“Hannah sto—“

It was too late. Or, it would have been, had she not passed out. Oh, god, he dodged a bullet there. Well, she did, technically. Though, he did too. Lord knows he probably would've killed himself if she had lost her because of him. Hyperventilating, he ran a hand through his hair and prepared to stoop down and get the gun and pick her up. However, he was stopped when another girl came out screaming like a lunatic. She was saying something about seeing something and it coming to get her. Then, much to his increased horror, she threatened to kill Hannah and lunged towards her.

He immediately put his own self in her path, wrapping his strong arms around her in an odd hug with an ulterior motive of restraining her. “Shh,” he said, not really knowing what else to do. He needed to call for help for Hannah, but there was this crazy chick. What do you say to a crazy chick? That was a hard enough question to answer as it was, but now he had to talk and be nice like a normal person. No more teasing, if he could help it. He made a silent promise to try not to harass Hannah anymore. “It’s… It’s okay, nothing is coming to get you. Um...I promise… okay? I’ll, um, protect you…?” It was a long shot, he thought… but, still worth a shot, right?

“She doesn’t want to die,” he lied, “It was a...mistake. She wasn’t thinking properly, but, uh, thank you for offering to help her… er… die. That was, um, kind of you…” Nodding purposefully, as though he meant every word, he continued on to bite his lip and cautiously release her. “Hey, uh, you asked if we needed help a minute ago, right?” Swiftly, before the crazy girl could do anything if she planned to, he picked up Hannah before scanning for the nearest dry place. “Can you call 911? I don’t have a phone on me. She needs an ambulance—now.”

Finally settling on a slightly covered place, Jason moved forward to get her out of the rain. Hopefully it would help with the bleeding a little. Key word—hopefully. God—she better not die. He’ll never be able to live with himself if she dies. Having literally nothing else to do with his panic, he started a chant in his mind as the other girl fiddled with her—apparently shitty—phone. Please, please, please, god. Please. Don’t let her die. I swear—I’ll lay off her. I’ll never even look at her again—just, please, let her live… Oh, god, please… I’m sorry… I never wanted her to… please…. His thoughts became slower and slower as she became colder in his arms. The sirens were off in the distance, but they were closing in fast. He wanted to pass out. This was dizzying. Terrifying. Why was he such an asshole?

The ambulance came pretty quickly, and they took Hannah from him and put her on the stretcher in the back of the blaring vehicle and they buzzed all around her and took off. It was almost as though he were only half aware of everything. Part of him wanted to get in the ambulance and go with her. But he knew he didn’t have any right. No right at all. Oh, but her mom wouldn’t be there for her—would she? No. Hannah said her mom wanted to kill her.

The other girl asked about the gun. OH—SHIT. The gun. Distract her, or she’ll fucking murder you and Hannah. “A gun? Oh, yeah. Hey—Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you… I’m, um, Jason. What’s your name? You know, you… you seem like a very nice person. We should be friends. Is that a British accent? Are you an exchange student or did you just move here or what?” He managed a weak smile.

His mind went on this seemingly long tangent, though in reality it lasted only thirty or so seconds. Well, he should call CPS on her mother; get Hannah to a safe place. But that could be traumatic for her. Hey—she already hate him, so what does it matter? It would be for the best. Oh, but the Kelly’s were looking for another teenager, weren’t they? She could end up living with him. Oh, god. She would hate that. He wouldn’t, but it would be awkward, and she would hate it. Oh, screw it. He’d figure it out later if she didn’t die.

As the ambulance sped off, he stood there in the rain with the other girl. Crap—he’d been tuning her out. Becoming aware again, he listened to what she had left to say, then—suddenly, he interjected. “She could die,” he said, more to himself. That trumped any right he did or didn’t have. “I’m going to the hospital. She doesn’t have anyone else… Would you like to come with me? I can give you a ride on my motorcycle, since you’re already wet… You did help her, so… yeah.”

“A gun? Oh, yeah. Hey—Thank you so much for your help. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you… I’m, um, Jason. What’s your name? You know, you… you seem like a very nice person. We should be friends. Is that a British accent? Are you an exchange student or did you just move here or what?” The boy said.

She stood there in the rain studying him as he spoke this. Listening to the pitch in his voice go higher and lower. He was doing what all the others did...

It was back in her childhood. At the park she was alone unwanted and didn't care. A little boy came up to her and asked if she wanted to play. "Okay..." She told the little boy. He brought her to a bunch of other kids. They started playing hide and seek when she went crazy. She told them that if they found her she would kill them. The voices in her head told her to not to hide. The other children became scared of her as she talked to the voices. As she was growing up the others would tease her, but later on as they all started growing up they would taunt her and bully her. Soon they would start bullying her violently. By high school she was not safe. They all started whispering and trying to distract her from what she was asking and trying to calm her down.

She came back to the real world and glared at Jason. "Stop it! Quit trying to calm me down and distract me! Like the others!" Tears started to form in her eyes. "You can't help me, no one can and no one ever will!" She yelled over the rain and fell to her knees.

“She could die,” He interrupted. She looked up at him and bit her lip. “I’m going to the hospital. She doesn’t have anyone else… Would you like to come with me? I can give you a ride on my motorcycle, since you’re already wet… You did help her, so… yeah.” Jason told her.

"Okay..." She said wiping away at her tear streaked face. It didn't matter because it was already raining. The blonde haired girl looked up at him and nodded. "I'm Margo."

Honestly, he was only doing what instinct told him to do. You see someone freak out, you try and calm them down—right? Admittedly. He did do it primarily because he deduced her as a psychopath, but that was beside the point. She didn’t know that. So, it was okay.

Or that’s what he thought.

As she fell to her knees and glared at him, going of in a miniature speech in the rain, he realized just how wrong he was. Believe it or not, she did know what he thought. It kind of made sense… everyone probably DID treat her like that. They probably all acted in their prejudice and everything, just like he did. Man, he just couldn’t win—could he? No matter what, he just upset people. That’s all the bastard could do. Resolving to somehow do better, he extended a hand to the psyc—er, he extended a hand to help Margo.

“Well, um. That’s a really interesting name. Margo? It kind of reminds me of mango, which puts me in mind of warm places and beeches and summer and stuff… paradise, I guess? Yeah…I like it. It’s really unique,” carefully helping her up, he managed a somewhat guilty smile. “I’m…really sorry. For treating you like that and bein’ insincere, I mean… That wasn’t cool… I’m just, um, honestly not the best talker and everything. I’ll try my best to let you freak out if you need to, and treat you like a normal person, okay? But you’re probably right about me not being able to help you… Like I said, I’m a pretty lame person. So, anyway… we should get going. Follow me.”

Gesturing her along, he started back to the Kelly’s to his ride. It didn’t take that long, though it seemed to take forever. Hannah was dying, he was feeling bad about that and for upsetting Margo, and it was just a crappy day. He had been upset about something before.. what was it? What had made him take off running? Huh. Jason couldn’t really remember. Every once and a while, he’d look back at Margo to be sure she was keeping pace, even though he was just speed walking with hands shoved in his pockets. Really, it was only speed walking because he was nervous and—let’s face it—he had long strides.

Finally, they came to his house and motorcycle. Taking a helmet from the garage, he handed it to the blonde dame. “Here, put this on. And make sure you hold on tight, okay? I don’t want you fallin’ off and hurting yourself. One girl in the hospital is enough for one day.” With the aid of a neurotic sigh, It didn’t take long at all for him to hop on and turn the key, listening to the engine mix with the storm as he waited for Margo to get on behind him. “You all set?” He asked, getting ready to push off and roll to the hospital. Someone had to be there for Hannah, even if she just chucked shit at him and shooed him out later. He’d be okay with that—really—as it would mean she’d be okay. “Okay—remember to hold on.”

"I have a nickname too, if you prefer that over Margo...it's Mo." She said. The blonde accepted his apology and followed him to his motorcycle. He walked fast with long striking strides. While hers were small and slow.

They passed houses and houses in her neighborhood, until they reached his home. A bit better then mine. She thought, as she waited for him to wheel it out of the garage. He handed her a helmet, it was black and shiny. She slipped it on and adjusted to her head. She watched as he started it up. The engine rumbled to life like a wild beast. He sat down and she did too. She nodded at him, and listened to his instructions. The rain still falling lighted up just as about they were going to take off. She looked up in the sky and watched as the dark grey clouds started moving.