Marbella Carlos



Untitled/Unfinished Story

"NO!" Roxanne screamed as she clutched Joal's dead blood soaked body in her quivering arms, "I'm not going to let you leave me! I love you..."

* * *

The year was 1999 and thirteen year old Roxanne Henderson, (her family had called her Roxy ever since she was a child) laid in the warm July sun on her front porch, strumming passionately on her guitar. She lived in the outskirts of Los Angeles in the comfortable suburb of Riverside. Roxy lived with her mother Caroline and her younger brother Elliott. Her father had passed away two years earlier and, rather than becoming a complete introvert, Roxy directed most of her attention toward music. Caroline was a full-time nurse, working two shifts just to provide for Roxy and her brother. Elliott, only three years old, spent most of his time in at daycare or at his grandparent's house. This was solely because Roxy's mother did not trust her with Elliott.

It was earlier that year that Roxy had an unsuccessful attempt to kill herself. Roxy, naturally, was a daddy's girl. The death of her father had affected her most directly. So, come the two-year anniversary of her father's death, Roxy was provoked to remove the high E-string from her guitar and wrap it tightly around her left wrist until blood began to appear. She contently watched the blood drip slowly to the floor until her mother discovered her four hours later. Since then Roxy had seen a psychiatrist and two psychologists. Caroline soon grew impatient with her impossible daughter and eventually gave up hope with Roxy.

It was July 17th 1999 and it was the typical summer day for Roxy Henderson. She woke up early. Never later than nine am. Although it seemed she had nothing left to live for she never wanted to waste a day. She walked groggily to the bathroom where she showered, brushed her teeth and groomed herself, walked to her room again to put on some semi-clean clothes and checked her email. She was never surprised when she never got emails. She always expected no one to care. She grabbed one of her five guitars, walked out to her front porch where she would play until the day's end. Once in a while she would stop for a meal but she rarely put food before music. This day was different though, during her daily playing of "I wanna be sedated" by the Ramones, she heard an unfamiliar noise. The sound of a moving truck announced itself as a huge orange U-haul pulled up in the driveway of the house across from hers. Roxy noticed in the past that the house was for sale but never really paid attention to whether it was sold or not. The license plate on the truck said Alberta on it.

"Alberta?" Roxy mumbled quietly to herself, " where the hell is that?" The thought almost immediately left her mind as she saw him emerge from the truck.

He stood about five-foot nine with hair so black it was obviously dyed and pale white skin. He wore black clothing head to toe except for his shoes that were bright red. Roxy couldn't see his eyes from where she was standing but she was sure they were beautiful.

Roxy quickly swung her guitar unto her back and walked across the street to introduce herself. Before she knew it she was face to face with him. His eyes were the deepest distinct green that she had ever seen a major contrast to hers, which were black. She couldn't help but notice the hoodie that he was wearing. "the Ramones" was plastered in huge pink letters across his chest. The Ramones were by far Roxy's favorite punk band of all time.

" I wanna be sedated." Was all that Roxy managed to say. She was so nervous her hands were trembling. She quickly shoved them into her pockets.

"Heh. Yeah I love that song. I'm Joal," the guy said outstretching his right hand, which eventually met Roxy's.

"Roxy. Henderson," she replied with a smile. "SO I see we're gonna be neighbors now. I live over at 1741. We are you guys moving from?" Casually attempting to disguise her nervousness she shoved her hands back into her pockets.

"Calgary, Alberta," Joal said, sensing that Roxy obviously had no idea what he was talking about. "Canada?"

"Oh! I get it," Roxy returned, trying her hardest not to look idiotic.

"Haha. Yeah. Sure." Joal said sarcastically. "Well, I have to go get settled in but maybe later you can show me around? Well. That is if you don't have plans..."

"Absolutely," Roxy said trying her hardest to hide a grin. "Just come over when you're ready."

* * *

It was a twenty one-hour drive from Calgary to riverside. By the fifth hour Joal was getting antsy. Joal Krist was a fifteen-year-old guy who grew up in downtown Calgary Alberta Canada. He lived most of his life with his mother Irene and stepfather Gerry. Joal's father had passed away when he was only three. Gerry had always had a volatile relationship with Joal. Joal was always an individual. A free spirit. A punk rocker. Gerry always needed control. Gerry was the least likely to know anything about control. He starting using drugs at the tender age of thirteen. He was now fourty-three and a full-blown addict. Along with his drug usage Gerry was abusive. Repeated beatings in the Krist house were no surprise. It was almost routine to have Gerry return from an all-night drug binge and beat the living daylights out of Joal's mother. Joal was helpless. He was a tall boy. Five foot nine but he was incredibly scrawny. He only weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. During the beatings Joal would usually leave the house to try and spare his own being, after attempting to save his mother. No matter how much Joal begged, his mother would always stay with Gerry. She loved him. Last week was the last straw though. Irene suffered such a severe beating that her shoulder was dislocated and her nose was broken in three places. Joal immediately (with his mother's permission) bought a house on e-bay and began packing their belongings. He promised her that she would never get hurt a gain, and he was a man of his word.

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Joal repeated like a four-year-old child in the front seat of the oversized orange U-haul. He felt so refreshed spending time with his mother. It had been twelve years since they had been together.

"No. No. No." Irene replied with her laughter filling the air. It was almost intoxicating for Joal to see his mother happy.

"How many hours until California?"

"Sixteen," Irene removed her right hand from the steering wheel and stroked Joal's hair gently. "Looking back on what we've been through though, I think we can make it."

It was the next morning that they finally arrived at their new house. Joal immediately noticed a petite girl playing her guitar across the street from his new house. She was so focused. Almost drunk with music. Joal had played guitar since he was ten but left most of his at home. He could only bring one with him. A Gibson 69' Les Paul gold top. His favourite. He jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped. In a few seconds he was greeted by a brown haired girl. She had the deepest, darkest eyes he had ever seen.

"I wanna be sedated"...