I’m working on a new writing project and figured it might be fun (and helpful) to actually write a few scenes from the main character’s past — to get down on paper why she’s so fucked up in the first place. Abbie Emmons has some good advice on this topic and other areas of character development. I’ve gone through a lot of her videos and definitely recommend them.

Note that none of these scenes are going to be in the actual story. This one is about Elizabeth “Ellie” Fletcher and takes place six or seven years before the actual story begins. In it, she’s still a freshman in high school.

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It’s not like they say. Time doesn’t heal wounds. It just buries them under whatever comes next. And honestly, that’s how it’s supposed to be: Something bad happens, and you grieve. Then life goes on. Those wounds still hurt, especially if you think about them hard enough, but other parts of life take precedence, and soon you’re looking at those wounds through a faded lens where they’re no longer quite as sharp. And that’s how you move on.

But it’s not so for Ellie Fletcher. Everyday there are reminders of the night her dad died. It’s in the whispers she hears behind her back; it’s in the looks other kids give her in the halls when they don’t think she’s paying attention. She knows what they’re thinking, what they’re all dying to ask her: “What’s it feel like to be the daughter of a killer?”

Ellie pushes through the school doors and out into open air. The wind is cold on her cheeks where the tears haven’t quite dried. She just hopes her eyes aren’t still puffy. She’d ask Jill, but Jill doesn’t walk with her to the buses anymore. No one does, and though the sidewalk is packed with students, Ellie’s walking alone. It makes her not just sad but angry — not angry at Jill or the other kids so much, but at her dad. She wants to hate him, is so close to hating him, but she can’t despite the guilt and betrayal she feels. He used to be her favorite person in the world, her hero, the guy who could do no wrong. And now? Now, even the thought of him sickens her.

The kid he killed went to Ellie’s high school. She didn’t know him personally, but she’d seen him in the halls. His name was Josh Martlin. Of course after he died, she read up on him through the numerous newspaper articles and scoured over past yearbooks. Josh was a senior and was slated to finish school with top honors. He had an older brother and a very pretty girlfriend, and ‘man, oh man’ was he popular. It seemed like everybody loved him. He was an Eagle Scout, played varsity football and was a member of the student council. Josh also worked at Lowe’s Home Improvement about two miles outside town, and it was after a late-night-shift in November that everything changed.

The temperature outside that night was actually pleasant for late November, the weather fair. It was for those reasons that Josh had decided to do what he did. Since his car was stuck at home with a bad starter, his dad had dropped him off for work. His mom was supposed to pick him up when he was done at eleven, but Josh called her just before his shift ended.

“I’m just going to walk,” he said. “I don’t want you to have to come out so late. Besides, it’s actually nice out.”

Of course she argued, telling him it was no problem to pick him up. Also, she worried about the roads — particularly the mile-and-a-half stretch that connected Lowe’s to their town. “There’s not one single street light the entire way.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “the shoulder’s extra wide. I’ll make sure I stay over as far as I can.”

When she still argued, he promised to wear his neon reflective vest that he used during work. That made her laugh, but he wasn’t kidding. Reluctantly she finally agreed. It was the last time she’d ever talk to her son. At about eleven-forty, on that same stretch of road, Ellie’s dad lost control of his car. He swerved to the right and hit a fat oak tree head on. If he saw Josh or his vest as the car veered across the shoulder, it was too late to matter. Ellie and her mom got the news later that night. They got the toxicology report a few days after that. Ellie’s dad’s blood alcohol level was more than twice the legal limit.

Ellie took a few weeks off from school. During that time, her mom started her in therapy. Doctor Kelly would try to help her process what happened, but rarely could they get through a session without Ellie shutting down. Her best friend Jill would call or come visit, and that seemed to help more than all the therapy sessions put together.

Ellie was scared to start school again. She was afraid of facing the other kids, and when she did — despite the principal’s assurances — she was still bullied. In fact, something happened her first day back. She was in the lunch line when she caught the stare of a red-haired boy in front of her. She didn’t know him. He was definitely older — maybe a junior or senior — and built like a football player. One look at the hurt and hate in his eyes confirmed to Ellie that he was a friend of Josh’s. He kept on staring, even after she looked away. When the line moved up, he didn’t budge.

“How can you even show your face after what your drunk, asshole-of-a-father did?” he finally said, his voice cracking. The room went silent, at least it seemed that way to Ellie. “How can you even live with yourself, you fucking bitch?”

Ellie’s insides went heavy. It took all her effort to break free and run out of there. She headed straight for the bathroom and managed to keep from bursting into tears until she reached the furthest stall. There she stayed until the school nurse came looking for her a short time later. That boy got suspended, but that didn’t stop others from tormenting her. Sometimes things were taped to the front of her locker — insults or stickers that had some clever (usually stinging) slogan against drunk driving. Someone even taped up a picture of Josh. More than once, garbage bags full of smashed beer cans were dumped on her lawn. And almost a month after she returned to school — just before Christmas break — Josh’s girlfriend jumped her during gym class. It happened so fast that all Ellie could do was crouch into a ball and cover her head while everyone cheered. “Better give her a beer,” someone snarled, “the bitch probably hits better when she’s drunk, just like her dad.”

It hurt. All of it. But what hurt worst of all was what happened with her friends. They weren’t immune to the abuse Ellie faced. They faced it too, and over the period of weeks and months following the accident, they started to find ways to avoid her. It’d be small things. Plans with Ellie would get canceled on a more and more frequent basis. “Sorry, can’t hang out today .. a lot of homework; Sorry I couldn’t meet you at your locker today, its just… I had to get to class early.” Ellie wasn’t stupid. She knew what was happening, and she knew she was powerless to stop it. Could she even blame them? Sadly, she didn’t think so.

Jill, her best friend, had still hung on, but even that was coming to an end. If there was any proof needed, Ellie got it today. It was the reason she spent most of last period crying in the bathroom. The period before, in study hall, Ellie overheard someone talking about a sleepover party this weekend — the one Jill was having. Surprise, surprise… Ellie never got an invite.

Ellie climbs into the school bus. It’s not her imagination that the loud, after-school banter gets a few decibels quieter the moment she steps into view. She pretends to not notice and starts towards an empty seat near the back. There’s a closer one available, but it’s next to Jill. She can feel Jill’s eyes tracking her as she walks past, but Ellie doesn’t meet them. She’s decided that it’s better this way, that in the end the only person she can count on is herself.

Ellie sits and rests her head back against the seat. When Jill takes a quick glance in her direction, Ellie closes her eyes. The bus starts moving after a minute or two, and the conversations pick up again. Eventually everyone forgets that Ellie exists, and it actually feels good to not exist, if only for a little while.