Awash Chapter one

[SIZE=14px][B]First ever story!

Thoughts would be most welcome![/B][/SIZE] Awash Chapter One

[SIZE=14px]She sat on the bed, clutching her stuffed animal. She was alone and afraid. The lights were off and strange shadows would pass by under her door as people, strangers, moved through the night. Echoed steps would mutter through the locked door. There was silence except these strange intruders.

She knew that she was going to be okay. It was just a hotel. Yet her world had been ripped from her. She did not know where to turn. Upon her moving her to the big city, her mother had stopped talking to her. She was not sure what her friends thought of her, they had been silent too. She had truly fucked it all up.

Silent tears would pass down her check, falling on one of her last possessions as they came. Her stuffed animal had been a gift from her dad, right before his last Christmas. She never went anywhere without it, at least not too far.

She pulled her phone out again and starred at the screen. It was getting later and later. It was long past midnight and she still had nowhere to go. She could afford 2, maybe 3 more days before she would run out of money.

Deep inside, she wrestled with blame and fault and where her part lay within her imaginary map. She ran it over and over like a tired movie that no one wanted to see anymore. Except she was held captive by it. Afraid to be alone with her thoughts, she opened her phone to the one refuge she had found. It was new but… seemed a place where she might not be alone. She had rushed into this hell of a predicament. She wasn’t about to do it again.

And yet… it seemed right. If only her mom could see her now, could see what she was contemplating. She really was out of options and this seemed the only way.

She began to type, to respond, to open herself to it. She was going to be honest and real with this. She had a friend after all. Her friend had advised her to come this far but only after she herself had said it was the right thing to do. Her friend had made her say the truth.

Could she believe? Could she spread her arms and let go?

She had to try. It all came rushing out of her. When she pressed send, her heart fluttered. He was gone. She would not say his name or speak of him. But her friend? She would sing to all who would hear.
Sadly, that remained to be just her. She was in a strange city and a strange place and knew no one. 3 months it had taken her life to fall apart. She had to not despair. She allowed herself to get lost amongst the digital world, her mind flowing from place to place all the while.
When her phone buzzed, she dropped it on the bed. She was so lost her in her thoughts it scared her. She laughed silently at herself and took a deep breath before pulling up the message. She saw the words and read and reread them. It was so hard to see straight, to know what to believe. Her heart was open but wounded, and she was afraid it might shatter. She had lost trust in people. When she had the need to not be alone, all had left her. None had stuck by her. She reflected that this was telling of the people she chose as friends.

The message demanded an answer. She sat the phone down, laid back on the bed and hugged the stuffed friend. She turned her head and looked out at the night sky, filled with office lights instead of stars. Lit up empty rooms. The loneliness crept back in and she felt resolve fill her. She grabbed her phone and typed.

“I’m in.”

Her thumb hovered over the send button but only slightly. It was sent. It was done. The morning would bring change. She took another deep breath, looked back out at the night sky and got up. She had work to do.

The morning sun was upon her face. She had left the blinds open so as to wake at sunrise. She stretched and took in the morning. She sleepily realized she felt better. She had gone deep head over heels on this guy but she was just as quickly over it, as she realized how foolish it had been. She was fresh and clean. She had manicured herself to a level she had never done before. She felt new. She was heading to the haircutter first. She needed something new to present herself to the world in a new way.

Just as she was feeling the high of the moment, memories crashed in. They overtook her and she covered her eyes.

“Liar! You stupid little girl!” The words stung like slaps and unbidden tears came tumbling after, like Jack and Jill. “What fucking stupid little girl would be like you?” Slaps and tears, the scenes replaying till her eyes felt like they would actually bleed. She groggily got herself up and into the shower.

When she came out, she felt like a new person. She took her time packing and getting ready. She dressed in clothes that were new to her, a different style than ever before. She looked herself over in the mirror.
She took it in. She still was her own worst critic but something inside swelled. Newness crept in. She took her bags with her and left the room behind. She stopped at the counter to pay for the three nights she had been there. She left her bags at the bag check and headed for the hair cutter. She glanced at her watch, new too, and surmised she still had 2 hours. Plenty of time!

The suspense of the haircut, the snips of each strand had felt like pieces of her were dying and the upcoming major life change she was about to embark got to her. She looked at the “new” her in the mirror and felt shaky.

The words came back.

Each insult was fresh, yet mired in blurry memory. She was in public, sitting on the city street outside her busy hotel and she felt the tears come. Sunlight shone down, mixing the beauty of the day with the melancholy pain. She blinked and looked around. Even though sadness was upon her, a sea of business suits and the press of the masses parted around her without noticing. She felt utterly alone. Her new watch beeped and she looked at it, suddenly aware. She was late. She felt panic creep up, start to take over. It filled each of her pores and she was paralyzed. She felt like she should do a million different conflicting things.

Then, the sun broke from the clouds and a ray of sunlight lit at her feet. At the same moment, a hand lightly touched her shoulder and a spark cleared all of these past and present thoughts away.

Her friend had found her.[/SIZE]

Not bad for a first story. It felt like it was trying too hard to be vague/ambiguous, rather than letting the unasked questions linger in the audience the story keeps running back around them. Beginning too many sentences with “she (verbed)” too close to each other makes everything sound repetitive and harder to follow mentally.

This has plenty of potential. Regarding the overuse of “she” mentioned by TheOneWhoSees, I think it’s because she doesn’t have a name. Very rarely in third person writing is the main character unnamed, so many of the instances of she would otherwise be a name. In any case, I’m looking forward to seeing where this one might go.

My problem has less to do with overuse of “she” and more to do with too many sentences starting with the same format. There are other ways to convey actions and emotions without using “she (verbed)” all the time.