Without A Goodbye

 

Finally! I wrote this one a couple of days ago, and I’ve been grounded/out of town from when I finished to today. So I can’t be all like, oh no! not another one that’s been months! (though I do have other ones) It’s still 9-6-04, but I’ve been typing and stuff for 3 ½ hours. See what I do for you people? JK, I luv this sort of thing. Although I will be very, very tired and have a muffin of a headache when I finally get off the computer.

This is a very depressed story. It’s very unlike my usual fluff. And sadly, it’s based a bit off of my life.

I really hope no one gets mad at me…

Well, anyway, they’re in high school right now.

 

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Ash kicked at the dirt sadly. Misty and him had had another fight. It was his fault, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. It wasn’t his fault they were fighting! Now he was even starting to contradict himself.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed back his unruly black hair and gazed at the ocean. Misty loved the ocean, but he had never seen anything special about it. Respect was demanded by the ocean of everyone who saw it, and he gave it, but he wasn’t in the awe of the powerful waves like Misty always was.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hard on her. Calling her first boyfriend a jerk and a loser… maybe that was a bit harsh. Spurred by jealousy, he had put the other boy down, but even as he knew that it had been the main reason, he also knew that there was more.

One of his other friends, May, had been hurt badly. She had really loved her boyfriend. When he broke up with her, saying that he “couldn’t trust” her, it sent her over the edge. She blacked out, and when she had woken up, her arms and legs were covered with cuts, blood pouring out of them. A knife was in her hand, and all she could remember was an itching feeling, one that she was trying to get rid of. Ash had known she was a bit depressed, known sometimes cut herself, though not seriously, and hadn’t told. Her haunted face the day after the storm would stay with him for a long time, as would the guilt. And the worst part about the whole affair was that he didn’t know what to say, what to do. All he could do was be a shoulder to lean on, and it hadn’t been enough.

After May had swallowed a bottle of pills in a suicide attempt and her ex-boyfriend didn’t even care, Ash had pounded his face in. So had Brock, Gary, and Misty. But it hadn’t helped, and May didn’t make it through the night.

He didn’t want that happening to Misty.

Then there was the matter of trust. He didn’t trust Troy. Neither did Pikachu, and he had good instincts, another reason. Troy seemed so crude. He had asked Misty to be his girlfriend after knowing her for only two weeks. Ash wasn’t sure if he really liked her, or was just using her to get what he wanted. At the same time, he wondered whether or not Misty really liked Troy, or was just desperate for a boyfriend. Ash wasn’t sure if Misty knew herself.

It had been sickening earlier, watching him hug her and call her his teddy bear. And some of the jokes Troy and his friends made seemed to make Misty a bit uneasy, but she shrugged it off quickly. That worried him.

Pikachu bounded up the hill, chattering excitedly, though it wasn’t a happy excited. The mouse pokemon seemed scared and upset.

“Stop talking so fast! I can’t understand you!” Ash ordered, causing Pikachu to take a deep breath and begin again. As he listened, Ash’s face grew pale.

“It’s Troy? And he did WHAT!?” Ash saw red flash before his eyes and clenched his fists. Angrily, he called out Charizard and jumped on, spurring him towards Misty’s house. Charizard sensed his master’s urgency and flew faster than usual in an attempt to reach his destination in time.

Ash returned Charizard as his feet touched the ground and ran into the house. Thankfully, the beach wasn’t so far away from her house, but a feeling of dread overcame him as he walked inside. Not a sound could be heard, though Ash knew Misty was definitely home.

He dreaded what he would find as he ran into her room, but the scene in front of him was worse than expected. Troy was slumped in a chair, baseball bat hanging loosely from his hand, eyes glazed in shock. Misty lay crumpled in a heap on the floor, without a pulse, a wound from a blunt object visible on the back of her head.

Troy stood up, trembling, to face Ash. Though Ash was only fourteen, as Misty had been, and Troy was sixteen, Ash fairly radiated with an energy that made Troy cower with fear. He was obviously drunk, but Ash didn’t care.

“Pikachu. Zap Cannon,” he said flatly, pointing at Troy. Pikachu, blinded with his own anger, readily obeyed. And he didn’t miss.

 

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“Sadly, we are gathered here today to honor the passing of Miss Misty Kasumi Waterflower,” the pastor began solemnly. Ash bowed his head, along with the other people around him. It was a private funeral, open only to her closest friends and family. He struggled against the tears threatening to emerge, but it was made even harder by her sisters standing next to him, sobbing. All around him, people were either struggling not to cry or had lost the fight.

As her casket was lowered into the ground, even the strongest of people had broken down. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place, including the pastor’s; he was her uncle.

Slowly, everybody filtered out, leaving two lone figures standing by the freshly dug grave. Ash pulled his favorite old had and a heart shaped locket out of his pocket and placed them on the earth.

“I meant to give you this locket one day,” Ash said hoarsely, tears clouding his vision, “But I guess I waited too long.” The salty teardrops fell from his eyes and landed on her grave. His pokemon and hers walked up beside him and placed gifts on her grave as well. For Bulbasaur, it was a willow branch, Cyndaquil, a glass teardrop, made from sand and melted by himself, Chickorita, an aster, the flower of her birth month, Butterfree, a white rose, Totodile, a crudely hewn Misty head, Starmie, a red jewel, Corsola, a charm bracelet, made from it’s horns, Noctowl, a cluster of cherry blossoms, Politoad, a red ribbon, Psyduck, a pretty rock he had found that turned out to be a sapphire, her birthstone, Kingler, a shell, Phanpy, a shard of Amberite, Squirtle, a staff of ash, Charizard, a volcanic rock, Pidgeot, bark from an oak tree, Heracross, a jar of sap from his favorite tree, Togepi, a spoon, Staryu, a strand of seaweed, and Pikachu, holding more gifts than his own, and ink drawing from Horsea, a rare lily from Lapras, a chunk of coral from Goldeen, a cascade badge fro Dewgong, a bottle of sludge from Muk, and a picture of all of them together from himself. Even the ones that now lived far away had come to pay their respects, and all of the pokemon cried, their tears sparkling in the sunlight as they landed on Misty’s grave. Slowly, all of the pokemon left, and Ash placed a single gardenia blossom* on her grave, then turned away and followed the pokemon, wishing for a miracle.

 

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“In the latest news, suspect Troy Michaels has been found guilty of murdering his young girlfriend, Misty Waterflower,” the reported announced. Ash switched the television set off. That was old news, to him. He had been there, testified, and waited in agonizing anticipation as the jury made their decision. Troy was sentenced to forty-five years in prison, with parole to be offered after fifteen years.

Ash could hardly believe it was really over. Almost half a year had passed, but it seemed like weeks. The wound still hadn’t healed, but he tried to live as best he could. A few times, he had contemplated killing himself, but he didn’t want to do that to his friends. First May, then Misty, and they didn’t need to lose him too. He knew Brock was already close enough to the edge as it was.

Ash headed out to her grave, like he did almost every night, just to talk to her. As before, the graveyard was empty of human life.

“Hey Misty,” he said quietly as he knelt down, “It’s official. Troy’s getting what he deserves. We all rally miss you. None of us ever could have imagined how hard this had been. I… I came down here to say something I’ve needed to say for a long time. I’ll never forget you, but it’s time for me to get on with life.  So goodbye, Misty.”

As he stood up, he noticed a small sprout growing that he hadn’t noticed before. He gave a halfhearted smile as he realized that it was a gardenia.

He walked out the gate sadly. He would live his life… for Misty.

 

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*gardenias symbolize hidden love.

 

Done! It’s now 9-19-04, cause I got grounded, AGAIN, but at least it’s done!

Oh yeah, just in case you’re wondering…

Yes I had a friend who cut herself after her boyfriend had broken up with her and yes he did say he couldn’t trust her but no she did not commit suicide.

And yes my friend did start going out with a pervert after she had known him for only two weeks but they broke up a week later and none of that stuff happened. Though the teddy bear thing was true… (and very scary to watch) And I did call him a jerk and a loser.

I only wrote this because I was feeling kinda depressed and dark and I don’t like people talking about the sort of stuff my friend’s ex-boyfriend talked about and yes, I admit it, I was kinda jealous that she had a boyfriend and I never have(thus the jerk/loser comment) (though that was only temporary. I don’t really mind most of the time) so I automatically didn’t trust him, especially cause the only one of my friends to have had a boyfriend yet was the one who cut herself… (not an experience that makes you trusting.)

Course, I don’t have tons of friends either…

But I’m happy like that. And my friends are good friends, not the kind that’ll talk behind your back one second and smile sweetly to your face the next. (sixth grade. scary to watch.)

Anyway, I’m babbling. 

 

magicg