[veronicataz]

If you happened to live on Ridgecrest Rd, and you just happened to look out your window to the blustery street outside, you would have seen a small girl with hickory colored hair struggle to the bus stop.

The sleet blurred her vision, sending her footsteps astray. She tripped over her own sneakers, the armful of textbooks cascading to the ground. Staggering to her feet, Gloria Lockwillow scrambled around in a desperate attempt to save her textbooks from the puddles.

As the march continued, Gloria trudged through the endless sheets of hail and rain, cursing as she realized she would probably miss the bus. Why had she even bothered to get out of bed that morning? Why wake up at all? Hell, why was she alive?

Gloria continued to ask herself pointless questions that would never be answered. Her life had thrown her violently in the past few years, like some cruel roller coaster that you couldn't get off. She had moved eighteen times, been adopted by six different couples, watched her little brother die.

Her current home was in the middle of nowhere, with a killer walk to the bus stop. It was not the life she preferred, but it was better than her house in Virginia, which had been in the basement of a train station. She had been living with a drunk old man and his pale wife, and their nine pit bulls. That had been torture.

When Gloria was nine years old, she lived in a smelly basement with Mary and J.J. Haggerty. Mary had adopted her to have someone to look after the house. J.J. was a drunk, always slurring and laughing. When he was worse than usual, Mary and Gloria would have to leave the house. It was a cruel life, especially living under a train station and all. Every morning Gloria was rudely awoken by the rattling whistle of the frieghts leaving. After that, she would hear nothing but stampeding footsteps above her all day. Meanwhile, Mary's hoarse shouts and J.J.'s slurred childish giggling echoed in her ears all day while she tackled the floor with a mop and a pail.

Mary Haggerty was close to anorexic. She had a pale, thin face and stick-like arms and legs. A plain brown smock always hung on her wiry body, fashioned out of an old sack. They were poor. That was that.

J.J. had a tired face that was usually saggy and sick-looking. Matted gray hair fell around his face, greasy and unwashed.

Gloria herself was so filthy it made her cry. Her hair had gotten so greasy she left a slick on the mat every night. Dirt caked her face, and bugs crawled over her at night. It was a horrible life.

But she had been saved.

Once the public found out about J.J., the police sent a representative from the government to fetch Gloria. She got to shower in the First Lady's bathroom, and received a set of clean clothes with a hundred dollar bill folded in a pocket. It was all like a dream.

But then they sent her away.

Her next set of parents ran a catnip farm on the coast of Oregon. Tila and Maximus Odonna.

Yes, it seemed insane.

Gloria's new home was to be on the Maximus Odonna Catnip Farm. Now, the Haggerty's owned nine pitbulls and had seventeen cats. Not kidding. Crazy, right?

Gloria Lockwillow was nauseous. She knew they meant well. But...a catnip farm? That was a little too much for her to cope with. A smelly basement? Maybe. A catnip farm was going over the top. She'd had it with her life. Cold claws of icy doubt prickled their way up her spine; bloodied thoughts of her past whirled in her mind like carousel animals. A dizzy spell gripped her, and the teenaged girl felt her feet sway.

Her breathing became short and shallow, a struggle only one of them would win. Life or death? She remembered Mary Haggerty's whip, the switch in the orphanage, feeling her back bloody and raw. Gloria's skin would peel in long strips, and the cruel forms of punishment left her with deep pockmmarks in her back. She remembered J.J. Haggerty smashing her over the head with an empty beer bottle, and the world swaying around her.

Suddenly Gloria found herself reliving her worst memories. Her brother Jemm, lying pale and thin in the hospital bed, his voice straggly and weak.

"Gloria! Don't let them take you away! It'll destroy you, Gloria. Look what they did to me!"

And his eyes closed for the last time.

But Gloria had let them take her. J.J. and Mary Haggerty had killed her brother, the only person she had ever learned to rely on.

She remembered this one very clearly. Her brother lying shirtless, on his back, while Mary lashed at his skin with that horrible whip. Jemm was wallowing in a pool of his own blood, his skin sliced, warm sticky blood oozing slowly from every pockmark and puncture.

Gloria let out a screech of pure anguish and lunged at Mary, throttling her and vowing never to let go until that pallid, horsey face was locked in a coffin.

Then J.J. came. Roaring, he raised the beer bottle above his head and brought it down on his foster daughter's head. Gloria screamed in agony, writhing on the floor in a desperate struggle to end this skull splitting pain. Her screams echoed around the moldy basement, a pain like no other gripping her entire body. Mary's whip was lashing on her legs, J.J. brought the bottle down again and again...They're killing me,Gloria thought. They're killing me...

She awoke a week later in the hospital bed. A horrible, dizzy feeling enveloped her, and a sickness like no other as she recalled why she was there. It was all coming back to her. That damned woman! She had beaten Gloria into a coma! The first thought that came to mind was Jemm.

Turning to the first person she saw, she let out a scream. There was a man guarding the door in dressed in black. His face was so scarred she could barely make out the features. In one hand he held a 32-calliber pistol, in the other an empty beer bottle.

Gloria recognized that bottle. It was the same one that had come down on her head over and over again.

"If you're here to kill me, can you get it over with now?"

The man laughed.

"Don't worry, Dollface. I'm only here to ask you a couple questions. The Haggerty's are in Federal Prison. They are accused of child abuse and murder."

The truth washed over her like a wave.

"Murder? So does that mean that they...that Jemm..."

The man bowed his head.

"I'm sorry. The boy's injuries were severe. He lost too much blood in that basement. The folks you were living with- was this the bottle that man hit you with?"

Gloria nodded slowly, still dazed.

Jemm was dead. It couldn't be true. The one person she actually cared for-
hell, the one reason she was alive- was Jemm.

And now that he was gone?

She didn't give a damn if Mary killed her now. The only reason she hadn't tied herself down on the tracks was for Jemm. And now even that wasn't there. Her reason for living was getting smaller and smaller.

Rising to her feet, she walked lightly to the door of her room. As if in a dream, she found herself walking to the bathroom. The noise and usual hubbub of the hospital appeared not to be reaching her ears.

Gloria examined herself in the mirror. Her legs were red and raw; scars were visible all over. One of the doctors told her that she had suffered no brain damage, though for the rest of her life she would continue to feel dizzy spells and black outs.

Well, that didn't suck too bad. But all the same, a nagging on the corner of her heart continued to tell her that she would've been better off dead.

Is that really what I want? Gloria wondered. To die?


To Be Continued...

[Peppy]

Sorry for not posting a comment sooner. This one must have flew over my head.

I have to say this was categorized in the right place. This is truly dark. Your story has some stark realism to it. The depictions in the story was unflatteringly provocative. In other words, Gloria's life sucks. She should have been put in a better life but she was unfortunately placed in one that was horrid.

As I was reading, I noticed the line between her lives seemed to blur together, I wasn't sure if it was the past or present, this family or that family, but not so much because I'm a good reader . Look at the first paragraph, for example. Just the first one:

Her current home was in the middle of nowhere, with a killer walk to the bus stop. It was not the life she preferred, but it was better than her house in Virginia, which had been in the basement of a train station. She had been living with a drunk old man and his pale wife, and their nine pit bulls. That had been torture.

Gloria's new home was to be on the Maximus Odonna Catnip Farm. Now, the Haggerty's owned nine pitbulls and had seventeen cats. Not kidding. Crazy, right?

Now, look above, at the two paragraphs. Was it a coincidence that they both have the same number of pitbulls, or did you simply blur their lives by accident?

Aside from the "blur", I think the story is pretty good. You're pretty good at story telling. You have a strong, clear voice in the story, not afraid to get your hands dirty because, obliviously, you can wash them clean. You're saying what's needed to be said.

I had more to say, but I'm getting tired. Maybe someone will say what I forgot to say. Wait.... Your descriptions are are well done.

Good read, look forward to the other part(s).

----------------

Other stuff:

Every morning Gloria was rudely awoken by the rattling whistle of the frieghts leaving.

freights

Gloria's skin would peel in long strips, and the cruel forms of punishment left her with deep pockmmarks in her back.

It's mispelt.

In one hand he held a 32-calliber pistol, in the other an empty beer bottle.

I don't think he would be holding the gun, unless he was about to aattack but I doubt that.

[Ambrose]

In one hand he held a 32-calliber pistol, in the other an empty beer bottle.

I don't think he would be holding the gun, unless he was about to aattack but I doubt that.

I don't think he would be holding the beer bottle either. In fact, I don't think child services would be so dense as to turn a girl over to the hands of a flagrantly abusive woman and a drunk. Aside from the implausibility, here's some things that need fixin':

1) Your sentences aren't always logical:

If you happened to live on Ridgecrest Rd, and you just happened to look out your window to the blustery street outside, you would have seen a small girl with hickory colored hair struggle to the bus stop.

Unless a person can look out of their window any time of the day and see this girl, there needs to be some description of the time here. I also dislike this sentence because certainly whether you would see the girl outside your window would depend on which house she was presently walking by.

Gloria Lockwillow was nauseous. She knew they meant well. But...a catnip farm? That was a little too much for her to cope with. A smelly basement? Maybe. A catnip farm was going over the top. She'd had it with her life. Cold claws of icy doubt prickled their way up her spine; bloodied thoughts of her past whirled in her mind like carousel animals. A dizzy spell gripped her, and the teenaged girl felt her feet sway.

I don't understand where Gloria is and what is happening in this paragraph. Is she still recalling the memory of where she'd been, or is she back on the cold street?

2) "Don't worry, Dollface. I'm only here to ask you a couple questions."

Who the hell is this guy? And what's wrong with his face?

3) This is in dire need of better organizing. If you're going to be continuing this, think about focusing the chapters more: if you want to do more back story, dedicate that chapter largely to back story, if you want to have action or drama, focus on the action or drama rather than skipping around so much. Gloria's life is so bad that it's hard to believe, but it doesn't help things any the way it's told either. Pick an idea or image and stay with it!

[ea_blue]

Whew! This certainly is dark! You've composed some great ideas for making Gloria's life a living hell. Not only have her experiences been awful but she'll also be stuck with blackouts for the remainder of her life.

I agree with the other commenters that it skips around too much. The individual ideas are very good and just need to be strung together a little more simply. In one instance, you were comparing one family to another in the same paragraph. Under usual circumstances, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. Jumping around so much before that just makes it one more confusing instance.

Here are some specific dings I spotted:

...like some cruel roller coaster that you couldn't get off

Better to use "she" instead of "you". It keeps the reader in the story.

Not kidding. Crazy, right?

This disrupts the flow. If this story were first-person or we were reading a diary this would be okay, but in this circumstance it takes the reader out of the story again.

That damned woman! She had beaten Gloria into a coma!

Not sure who is thinking this...confusing

You definitely are getting a good emotional reaction with this story. I feel awful for Gloria. I'm already pulling for her and hoping something better happens for her. But your best bet (as a writer) would be to make it still worse, hehehe. I look forward to seeing the rest of the story!

[RENA HANDS]

Maybe describe the interior/exteriors of the location where at first your character seeks out to view the girl with hickory colored hair.

Possibly…If you (happen) to live on Ridgecrest (Rd.,) and peer out the large living room window, you might just see what I see before me now…a small girl with hickory colored hair struggling to the bus stop. (Or something a bit more detailed not only in vocabulary, also in imagery to enhance the action.)

Is it ‘happened,’ or ‘happen?’ Consult an editor.

How could you know that the ‘sleet blurs her vision?’ Does it ‘blur’ your view?
Maybe something like…She tripped over her own sneakers sending an armful of textbooks cascading to the ground.

For me (and possibly just to me) your sentences are too simple. You are not giving them a vitality of their own. Your paragraph they too are lacking.

The fifth and sixth paragraphs are repetitive when you could combine them. Or you could repeat yourself but in a different manner that extends into something more fluent.

Perhaps you could even relate a particular smell and or action of her surroundings that could be referring back to the memories of her once lived in basement home.

So Mary and Gloria are sisters? There relationship confuses me.

A question, how did the ‘public’ find out about the Gloria’s living conditions?

A second inquiry, who is the ‘First Lady,’ and why would such a woman of status allow for an orphan to bathe in her bathroom? Where is this establishment that cleansed Gloria?

I believe that you are rushing the actions of this story. And this ‘hastening,’ makes it very difficult to understand.

You are being extremely repetitive about living on a ‘cat nip farm.’ This is not necessary.

What is a ‘pockmark,’ and this word has only one ‘M,’ yes? The original write has two.

Possibly stop using the ‘parents’ full name. Refer one by their full name then follow by and distancing their ‘relationship’ with the labeling of their last name.
Example…She remembered Mrs. Haggerty’s whip,…She remembered Mr. Haggerty smashing her…

So are we to infer that Gloria was not the only child beaten by the Haggertys? If so then why not show it?

RUSHED! RUSHED! RUSHED! You are not giving the reader time to absorb the tale. And this impulsiveness distorts your timing.

For me this story is too vague and extremely quickening.

I give a rating of 1/5.