Backwards Thinking by Jeanette Miller (easy novels to read .txt) 📖

Chapter 1
Mr. Harvington

Blood. Blood. All I can see, smell, touch is blood. I’m covered in it, It’s dripping down my arms, all over my clothes. I can’t get it off. The smell is horrible. I feel dizzy, my eyes start to black out but I can still see fire, It consumes everything in it’s hellish path, I can hear children screaming, crying. I can hear mothers yelling for their lost child. One in particular stood out to me. One mother shouting, “Save her. Someone help me and save her! She’s still inside! Please!” I could hear the pain and sorrow in her voice as she screamed and broke down into tears. I tried to get up and help but my body just wouldn’t listen to me. It wouldn’t move. I could feel hot tears rolling from my eyes down my cheeks but nothing would help. The house fell before anyone could save the baby. I tried screaming but nothing came out. I couldn’t make a noise. Then it all went black.

The sound of my alarm clock ringing woke me up with a start. I sighed and looked at the time. “Oh shit! I’m late!” I yelled as I put on my school uniform, grabbed a piece of bread and ran out the door. It was a warm sunny day in Inglewood, California.
I walked as fast as I could, not noticing that I had even left my front door open to my apartment, or that I didn’t even have my school bag with me. The second I walked into those front doors, Mrs. Longbow was waiting for me
“Late again Miss Woods,” She adjusted her thick rimmed glasses on her long, horse shaped face. “Well, well, well…what punishment shall I give you this time? How about 2 hours, after school with me? That sounds like fun.”
I started to think of an excuse to get out of this one but Mrs. Longbow’s eagle eyes had already caught another unsuspecting prey. Someone who was late but tried to sneak past while she had been occupied with me. That may not have been their best plan. Longbows eye’s flashed red with excitement as she started to walk towards the other late student. I laughed in pity of him, but snuck off myself. I a chuckle at the though that the Devil teacher actually thought that I would go.
I walked down the economics corridor and through into the art hall. I went into my classroom, Room A5. Our classroom desperately needed a new paint job. The faded yellow paint was peeling off the walls. Our paintings hanging sideways off the walls, looking lost and in great need of some care. Everyone had already gotten their canvases and paints out. I quietly sat in my seat waiting for the teacher to shout at me again for being late. Thankfully, my teacher, Mr. Lemon, wasn’t there. His wife had her baby and he was going to be off for a few weeks. Our sub teacher was new to the school. He was tall and had straight, chestnut coloured hair. He didn’t actually look any older than 23. He turned around and introduced himself. He said that his name was Mr. Harlington. We all said hello to him and started our work. He scribbled on the old chalkboard, ‘Today’s theme for your painting is nightmare.’ The only creepy bit about that was when he wrote nightmare Mr. Harlington turned to stare at me. I felt a shudder run down my spine at the remembrance of my dream, rather nightmare, from last night.

After spending 2 hours of sketching and painting, it was almost finished. The picture was of course based on my dream. I had a girl covered in blood lying on the floor. Fire surrounds her. The mother crying her eyes out near her to the fallen house. Everyone is running. I couldn’t stop until I had finished. I had to get the image out of my head. Mr. Harlington was walking around the classroom at the end of the lesson and walked up to mine. He took a long look at it and asked to see me in my next break.
“I don’t have another lesson for an hour so I’m free now.” I told him.
He nodded and waited until the rest of the class had left the room. He told me to sit down. Mr. Harlington didn’t say anything for about a minute or two so I just told him,
“Look. If this is about me being late, I’m sorry okay. But get used to it. I haven’t been on time for years so…” He cut me off in the middle of my sentence saying,
“Help me! You must come and save her. She didn’t deserve to die.” I just had a blank expression on my face. He looked so forlorn and lost that I couldn’t say anything, but I had learned not to trust anyone or help them, I just laughed.
“Look. I’m not your therapist but if you need one, go get one. Leave me alone.” I stormed out of the classroom, but shrugged of this annoying feeling that if I had helped him I would’ve been feeling a lot better.

When I had finally finished my long day, I slowly trudged home. The door was still open and everything as a mess as always. The only difference was that my sub art teacher was sitting in my living room. There wasn’t just one readable expression on his face, it was full of them. Confusion, anger, sadness, sorrow, but I could read every one of them like an open book. I guess what’s what comes with not being born normal. But coming back to reality from the back of my mind I screamed,
“Your freak! Go home! What the hell are you doing in my house much less how your following me around like a stalker. I’ll calling the police if you don’t leave in 10 seconds you mental person! Leave now!”
But he just sat there, staring into space. Not moving an inch, for a second I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. Mr. Harlington sighed a very long sigh and got up. He pleaded with me to let him explain but by them I was furious. I threw anything I could get my hands on at him. Shouting, hitting, I tried to get him out of my place. He finally got angry, walked up to me and pinned me down.
“Look, listen to me now or I will get angry!” His eyes were filled with rage. My teacher looked directly into my eyes, not a single sign of fear was readable on his face.
“You’re not scared of me then? ” I sneered and spit in his face.
“Listen up, I don’t even know your stupid little name, all I know that you’re the only one who could help me. Your painting gave you away.” He got off of me and we both sat down in on my couches. Neither of us said anything for a good while. The whole time I was just thinking off what the heck he was talking about.
“Look, all I was told to do was find someone who could paint that painting. That that person could help me. But I don’t have much hope if it’s you…I shouldn’t have listened to that damned old hag anyway! But since you did paint the it exactly the way that she said you would your going to have to come with me.” I laughed,
“Oh this is funny. So really why are you here you freaking stalking pervert. Get out of my house please before I get really mad. I won’t loose this time.”
“Can’t you ever keep your mouth shut just for once?” he asked,
“Nope, so if it bothers you that much there is the door.” I pointed towards my front door, which I still needed to close. Mr. Harlington stood up and turned towards the door.
“On second thought, I might just listen to that old hag for once.” he turned around, grabbed my waist and threw me over his shoulders. He pulled something small, metal looking round ball out of his pocket and threw it to the ground. Everything around us started to fade out and go blurry. I tried to struggle but nothing worked. His hold was like an iron rod, nothing could budge his grip on me. I saw my apartment disappear. All the colours and everything around me started to mix together to make one colourful blob around us. It would have been wonderful to look at if I hadn’t been kidnapped by my teacher. This all seemed like it lasted for hours, but in reality it only lasted about 10 seconds according to my watch. Afterwards I looked around just to see black all around me. Like I was inside a dark tunnel. Mr. Harlington had let go, but I couldn’t see where he was much less anything else. I started to run straight, I didn’t care where I was going or what I would run into but I just needed to get away. But everywhere I looked were images. They were my memories of course, but then again, I never had any good ones so there was no reason for me to remember any of this. The first one I saw was me sitting down at a table in my old house that I used to live in with my parents. They were both standing next to me, smiling and laughing. But I could see behind their fake smiles now. They despised me to the core. The mere sight of me wanted them to puke. I turned away from the image but just to see another appearing to my right. It was me again, but this time I was 10 years old.
“Adrienne, don’t move from here. Mom and dad will come to pick you up soon. We just have to do something first. We’ll be back, I promise. Be a good girl and wait for us.” She kissed me on the forehead and hurried off into the car along with dad. I stood there, with my suitcase and hat on. Happy and waiting for them to come back. The last thing I saw of them was our old silver car driving down the dirt path, leaving a large trail of dust behind them. I remember waiting for hours and hours, just reminding myself that they would come back. They promised. When the sun started to go down I realised they weren’t coming back. The feeling of being abandoned in a small cabin in the middle of nowhere with little food and barely any water, that feeling can never be forgotten in a life time. I remembered crying myself to sleep that night, it was so hot that night I couldn’t sleep well. I waited for 3 days before leaving the cabin. Since then I was never the same again. I screamed for these images to go away, and they did.
I broke down crying. Then the dark was broken by little spots, like stars appearing. More and more came, and the more there was the bigger the light. Eventually the lights covered everything and attached themselves to me. I tried to pick them off but they were stuck fast. I didn’t remember anything after that.

I woke up, but my eyes were still adjusting to the sudden light flooding the room. I could hear people talking in the room but I paid no attention to this. Putting my hand over my eyes and sighed. “She woke up!” said I voice who I couldn’t recognise said. “Are you alright now Adrienne? Can