Prologue: Part One: The Punk

Darcy stared at the knife with gritted teeth, her right hand clenching it so hard it was shaking, and the sharp edges were making beads of blood show on her skin. She took a trembling breath, closing her eyes and raising the knife, ready to slash it across her wrist...

She had no reason left to live. There'd be no point. At all. She was nothing but an unnoticeable blemish on Earth. Born for nothing. No purpose. No luck. No fate. When she tried to reach her goals, no matter how much she tried, and tried...yür

She failed.

Darcy felt the knife meet her skin as the door opened with a slam, and her head snapped towards the door. Ethan looked pale. Paler than she had ever seen him. And they were a pretty pale family. Then his expression changed.

"Are. You. Insane?" He demanded.

But Darcy didn't respond. Her eyes, full of tears that had refused to fall, began to water, and a single tear crept out, soon followed by many more. Ethan looked horrified.  He walked over, and hugged Darcy, whose hand was trembling so badly that the knife clattered to the floor. She felt a dry son tear up within her.

"Oh...Darcy...damn it..." Her brother's words echoed in her brain, as the sadness and relief that she was feeling collided, breaking her into pieces.

              ****

Darcy woke up to the sound of a steady beeping, and felt groggy. She looked up to a bland ceiling, and saw that she was in a white, white room. A plain white bed with a side of buttons and she recognized it.

A hospital room.

That was where she was.

Darcy frowned, and a sigh alerted her someone else was in the room as well. She turned to see Ethan sitting next to her, in a seat, his fingers crossed together over his face, somewhat like how Christians prayed. He didn't know she was awake.

Darcy, feeling strangely detached from herself, studied her brother's features. His usually neatly groomed brown hair was a dishevelled mess. His skin looked paler than normal, and his clothes looked bent and wrinkled. He moved his hands, and opened his brown eyes,looking at her with an expression that quickly morphed into relief.

"You're awake."

He said, smiling faintly. Darcy nodded. She didn't feel like smiling. Not anymore. Ethan looked at her steadily. "Hey, Mom and Dad have been talking...They'll probably come to talk to you about it as soon as I tell them you're awake." He said, before pausing briefly. "They know how you're really into design and photograp-"

"Clothing designs, actually." Darcy corrected automatically, her fingers playing with the thin plain white sheet over her.

Ethan nodded. "Right. Clothing designs. Anyways...they want to get you to New York." Darcy froze, her fingers not touching the sheet. They wanted to send her away. They wanted to get rid of her. Of course they did. She'd only been a menace. No job, even at twenty-three. Just...trouble. "They want you to get a chance to learn as a student in NYADA." Darcy felt the rare urge to laugh. "NYADA is for the Arts. I want to get into the MiAmorez Academy of Graphics And Design. MAAGD." Ethan shrugged. "I guess they'll pay for that too?" He said, as though tired of the subject.

Darcy didn't respond. After a brief silence, he got up quietly, mumbling doe thing about getting their parents, and left hastily. The door opened again, in a minute. In an hour. She didn't know.

They wanted her to be as far away as possible. And to use her own dream as an excuse, well, at least they could sleep at night. And the furthest place -that was close enough to leave no chance of protests from her about them dropping her off nowhere- was New York.

The Big Apple.

It was a beautiful place. Somewhere she'd always wanted to see. But not like this. Never like this.

The creaking of the door made her straighten as much as she could lying down in a hospital bed, so that she looked wow what more . . . promising. Hopeful. Happy.

At least the thought was almost nice.

Her mum walked in first. She'd cut her hair short to a spiky, modern bob cut that had lengthened to her shoulders. The brown and dark brown shoots of hair were a big frizzy at the ends from constant days of straightening and curling. Even now, Katelyn Fields looked ready to take on a prosecutor. Or prosecute herself. She had powdered her face, paler than it was already, and had mascara on. She wore a professional fray vest over a white ironed and collared shirt, with a black pencil skirt and black heels.

Never a better time to dress up like when your daughter's at Death's door. Darcy observed.

Katelyn studied her carefully for a few minutes. Checking to make sure she was okay, or prying to find weak spots to prey on, Darcy had no idea. It could be either, with her mother.

Xavier Fields followed, his black, wild and curly hair let loose, like a silky and somewhat manageable small afro. He had the distinct olive complexion of the Mediterranean, and his steely brown eyes were not soft,not even now. He wore a black suit over a white collared shirt, and a black tie tucked in nearly.

When Katelyn and Xavier Fields stood together in front of her, Darcy wondered if they planned on celebrating banishing her to New York, the only blemish on their path to social revival gone. It made her throat close up uncomfortably.

Ethan sat down in the seat, his fingers interlocking and settling over his face,just like he'd been when she'd woken up.

"Listen sweethear-"

"Listen Darc-"

Her parents stopped, staring at one another awkwardly, as though trying to decide who should speak first. Her father cleared his throat and obviously took the lead.

"Listen, Darcy. We never thought you were so unhappy that you'd try to . . ." He trailed off. "Die? That I'd try to die?" She finished the sentence for him bluntly. Her parents both winced at the words,like they were frozen glass, ready to spring and shatter,cutting them all.

". . .Yes. We just want you to be happy again, Darcy. And maybe trying out that dream career of yours could help?" Her father tried for an easy smile, like the many he'd shown her before in fatherly moments. When he was tucking her in. When he'd been teaching her to throw a baseball so she could try out for the team.

But she didn't fall for it anymore.

Not since he'd spat on her dreams, ripped up her photo portfolio, and destroyed her studio. "You were also the one to crush that dream, Dad." She said indifferently. Her father's smile fell. "We will pay for it. We'll watch it. I've . . . realized I was mistaken."

Darcy laughed drily.

Her mother glared at her. "Look, we are giving you a chance. You can do what you've been preaching on and on for the past five years." She said. Darcy nodded. "I knew it. You guys want me away. Fine. It's better than living in this fucking hellhole anyways." She snapped.

A brief silence passed through the small room.

Katelyn stormed out, her heels clicking and clacking past the stairs and towards the elevator long after she was gone from sight. Her father ran after her. Ethan looked at her. "You just had to have the last word. Didn't you?" He asked, his tone almost weary. Darcy didn't care. "Yeah. I did."

She was fine with a sour ending.

She'd be leaving Selnade and heading to New York soon.

---

So right off the bat, you get an idea of how intense this book is going to be. Hopefully,you guys will become more aware about the issues people have that're hidden in plain sight. And hopefully we will stop assuming.

Anyways, Question? What do you think of Darcy? And what would you want her to be (pursue a career in) in New York? Should she stick to photography? Or do on you think her personality fits something else?

~Wolf