Writing Prompt

pressure metal edge pressing into my skin my blood is like a currency ten cuts pays off the shame

my veins are a gold mine

i want to dig until i see my bone pinch the pad of my thumb watch it drip down and pull out a bandaid

red strings cut cross my arms my wrists my legs

tying thread one stitch, two stitches one cut, two cuts

bloody stains in between my fingernails pepper coals stinging my wounds stick that needle in my eye hope to die

red pooling onto my palm while I'm sitting on the bathroom floor ankles sprawled out on the tiles about to snap in half

embroidered scars needles or knives or scissors whatever makes my skin rip apart crying into my towel

i pretend they're papercuts

i pretend they're blemishes from sewing excuses into my throat

the debt is paid once i bleed enough

(wrote this for my friend who struggles with self harm. So glad they're doing better <3)

Red, blood red. It soaks through her white dress like spilled ink. She sends me a wild look, eyes bloodshot as a dying doe, "Help me."

She huals Bret up, her small frame dragging his dead weight like a hay bale. The red solo cup in my hand crunches beneath my grip.

"Now, help me right now, Blake." She loses grip on him as I lose my cup, stale beer splashing on my clay mud boots, "I can't carry him by myself."

Miranda is pretty, blonde, petite. Tinker bell come to life. Her lips are smeared from kissing, bold red. I gave it to her as a birthday present last year, when we were a little younger and a lot less stained.

White Innocence, stained red. Miranda's white dress, stained with Bret's blood.

Bret's eyes stare up at me, slightly amused. Funny, he's still in on a joke, even when he's dead. Dead. My stomach twists like a knife. Oh god, I'm gonna' be sick.

"Really, Blake? Man up." Miranda's sharp little accent cuts at me, her sharp stained nails clawing at Bret's chest for purchase.

My puke glints in the faint house lights, tinted red with the fruit punch that tastes like gasoline.

"We have to call someone, Miranda."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. We can't just-"

She comes at me like a tornado, fast and hard and full of destruction. Her open palm hits me clean across the face, the sound of impact ringing out in the silence of the woods.

Funnily enough, the sky didn't turn green when I met Miranda, it was as clear and blue as her eyes. All she's ever been was a natural disaster disguised as a girl. I should've heard the alarm bells blaring... but all I heard was my pounding heart.

The lights from the house cut through the trees in jagged lines, slicing her pretty face into black and red slashes. She looks as dangerous as her tone.

"Be quiet and move the body."

The body. Not Bret, not 'our friend', not even the human decency to call him 'Slob'. She always called him Slob.

He's heavier than I remember. He was always hoping on my back and wrestling me. He was lighter then. Maybe death adds a few pounds. All those skinny party girls in that house would hate to know the grim reaper is equivalent to a full thanksgiving plate.

Red Oak Lake, that's where she wants me to take him. Bret and I would throw firecrackers at each other every Fourth of July on Red Oak Lake. I still have a scar on my right eyebrow. Is that all I'll have left of Bret? A scar from a poorly timed throw?

"Go, go, go," Miranda stumbles on her own feet, hurrying deeper into the shadows of the forest, "you're doing great, Blake. So good, baby."

My chin wobbles, fat hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Bret is still warm. He'll be cold soon. Red hot to icy blue in twenty minutes flat. Alive and then dead. Like that, in a flash.

"... Blake, are you listening? Focus, for godsake." Miranda breaks past the thicket, into the clearing leading to the lake. "Go faster, we're right there."

Bret's eyes reflect the moon. He always pefered the night. Miranda stands at the edge of the lake, arms crossed. Her eyes don't reflect the moon. A void, more lifeless than Bret's eyes.

"Are you crying?" Her lip curls in disgust. She's never looked so hideous before, like a monster, "Jesus Christ, get a grip, Blake. Pathetic."

She killed him. We were kissing in the woods, warm lips and wandering hands. Bret jumped out of the dark, wearing a werewolf mask. Miranda screamed. Bret was drunk, teasing and laughing and she... she lost it. Took the beer bottle from his loose hand. Broke it against a red wood. Stuck it in his chest.

Bret looked at her, than at me, back to her. Uttered one word, one name, and then dropped dead.

Miranda stares up at me now, clutching at my hand as it tightens on her throat. Her face is turning red, red like her nails, red like the burning hot agony in my chest.

I blink away my tears. She claws at my cheek, snarling. I whimper, coughing up sobs. Miranda utters one word, one name... and the she goes limp.

She falls into the water with a splash. Bret floats in gently. They both sink the same. The water turns red in the wake of their bodies.

I sit down, jeans soaked in the cold mud. I sniffle, staring up at the moon. Red and blue lights glint off the lake's surface. Red, blue, red, blue, red red red.

I close my eyes. Their voices recochet off the walls of my skull. Bret's watery voice, full of blood. Miranda's voice, a choking rasp.

All I can hear is 'Blake, Blake, Blake.'

But all I see is red, red red...

Green is the colour of envy. It is not an innocent colour. Envy is a desire to be to be somebody or have something that you are not. when you are envious you are sick in the stomach and you’re just in your face turns green. Green is not Greta Thunberg it is not about environmentally friendly but it is the feeling of all of self pity inner hopelessness of longing belongs silent torment of anger beneath the surface

What was that little something that changed your life for the better? Was it a sudden realisation or a single event or a seed that grew within? The catalyst itself might have been quite shocking, traumatic even, but had it not existed, you would not be the person you are today.

It is ironic, yet fitting, To paint sorrow inshades of blue. Blue for the countless tears that I’ve cried, And for the sky that you flew off to.

But would it be appropriate, To paint my heart pitch black? Black for the night that swallows the sky, For the moments we’ll never get back.

Black and blue, that rings a bell… The old familiar hues. The shades of a bruised and beaten heart, The colors of me without you.

_Chapter 9 _Davian __ __ __

All I can see as I walk is Maisie. The way she stares at her shoes, the way she’s always is holding her left wrist. Like she’s hiding something, it makes me wonder: How many of us really go through life without keeping a secret? Maisie stops in the middle of the sidewalk, a house behind her. Her house. “This is it,” she whispers, her blue eyes meeting mine. I give her a gentle smile, my eyes flicking over her shoulder. It’s white, one floor, a huge willow tree covers everything, a few of it’s branches almost touching the green grass. She grew up here. I think my eyes falling back to Maisie. _This is where she’s known comfort, where she’s come home everyday after school. _ __ __ “I’ll remember that,” I say. And I will, because I still need to tell her the truth. Looking at this place, all her memories good and bad. I see me—us sharing a moment here. The moment where everything is out in the open, the truth. “Good,” Maisie pulls me back. I fight to keep my smile from fading. If only you knew.

Without thinking I reach my hand out to hers. Her left hand, the hand she’s been grabbing at all night. As soon as our fingers brush past each other I feel something. But it’s not butterflies of gooey, happiness or whatever people always say, it’s guilt. I did this to her, I crushed all her hope. And hope is something you can’t ever repair, when it’s gone . . . It’s just gone.

“Night,” I whisper. Pulling my hand back before Maisie can grab hold of it. It feels wrong, to hold her hand, comfort her when I’m the one who gave her the pain. Maisie doesn’t say anything, she just looks into my eyes. A small smile growing on her lips. “Thank you.” I suck in a deep breath. Please, I beg. Don’t. “I’m sorry,” I mutter, forcing my eyes to the sidewalk. Maisie shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. You did nothing.”

Is it wrong that I wanna laugh at that? Literally in every story when someone says that ‘it’s not you’re fault’ they really, truly mean it. And most importantly it’s true. This isn’t one of those stories, I’m beginning to think Maisie thinks it is. She can’t.

“Night,” I repeat, then I walk away. Is it rude? Maybe, but if I stood there any longer I would have told her. Then why didn’t you stay there! A voice says, a voice I wish I could argue with.

                               .  .  . 

I sleep for the last few hours of the night. When I wake up the next morning Tommy is there. Standing in my doorway, the early morning sun glinting off the tips of his blonde hair. If he saw this, he’d think he looked like a god. I bet he feels that way now. He’s the perfect son, the one who always has to clean up after his brother. And while doing all of this he keeps a smile on his face. Which to me seems like the hardest thing to do.

I lift my head a little off my pillow my eyes begging for me to close them again. I let my head fall back to my pillow, turning to my side. “How long have you been there?” I grumble as Tommy comes in the room. I can see the smile on his face, even though my eyes are closed. “I don’t know,” he says. “Little while.” I swallow, does he know I left last night? Does he know where I went? I told him and Allie about Maisie. How she’s basically recovered, how we talked and it felt so, I don’t know, natural? Right? They weren’t mad exactly, they said it was good. But they also thought that I shouldn’t talk to her anymore. I mean maybe it’s because I didn’t tell her the truth, or maybe it’s because I’m sure the whole time I was talking about her, my face was hotter than fire.
“Why?” I ask, keeping my eyes closed as my heart begins to race. _Please, please tell me you don’t know. _ __ Tommy lowers onto my bed, he sighs. I force my eye lids to stay closed, if he does know. I don’t want to see the disappointment on his face. “I was waiting for you to wake up.” I can’t help it, I let my eyes open. “‘Cause?” “I need to talk to you.” Tommy? Tommy needs to talk to me? Normal brothers must talk because he says this like it’s not weird. Of course normal brothers talk, brothers who have their parents and have things to talk about. Things that aren’t like killing someone’s mom. So . . . What are we doing here? Trying to be normal?

I sit up, leaning against my pillows. Whoa. Tommy’s face is the most serious and nervous I’ve ever seen him. His eyes are locked on mine, he’s playing with his hands in his lap. What’s going on? “Okay,” I tell him. “I’m listening.” Tommy takes a long deep breath before he fishes around in his pocket. I hold my breath, what does he have in there that could make him stand in my doorway waiting for me to wake up?

Then he pulls it out. The reason he’s so nervous, the reason he was waiting for me. A reason that brings a smile to my face, a real smile. A big smile.

“You know we’re brothers, right?” I ask, my smile growing as I stare at the black velvet box that Tommy has in his hands. His eyes drop to his hands. “Oh, I guess I forgot . . . Well maybe this will change your mind.” Tommy climbs off my bed and drops to his knee, opening the black lid to revel a small, simple diamond ring. It sparkles gently in the sunlight. My smile grows bigger as I think about him and Allie. I was so focused on teasing him that the fact that this is for Allie, hasn’t even sunken in yet.

“Will you marry me?” Tommy asks, a smile on his face. He’s so happy, is it me or Allie that makes him feel this way? I put my hand to my chest. “Tommy . . .” I do my best to gasp like those shocked girls on TV. I fail but it gets a laugh out of Tommy so it’s a win in my world. “Brothers are family by blood,” Tommy scoots closer. “But I want us to be family by proclaiming it to the whole world.” Tommy looks down, and when he meets my eyes again, its a look he’s never given me before. A look of— “I love you.”

I can’t hold it in anymore. I start laughing, I raise a hand to my eyes as Tommy laughs too. “Say . . . Sa . . . Say it back,” Tommy says in between laughs as he climbs back onto my bed. He’s still in character, and it makes me laugh even more.

There’s a small knock on the door frame that silences everything. We both know who it is. Tommy shoves the ring into his pocket as he rises to his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “What’s going on in here?” Allie asks with a smile. Tommy shakes his head. “Just guy . . . Stuff.” Allie brushes a loose strand of her hair behind her ear as she tilts her head. “Guy stuff?” Tommy nods, turning to me. “Guy stuff.” He flicks his head toward Allie. Tell her. He mouths, his eyes a mix of nervous, shocked and exactly what I’m sure Allie will see when he pulls the ring out for her. Happiness.

I meet Allie’s eyes, expecting the butterflies that have always come with those green eyes. But they don’t. I don’t feel anything towards her, anything above what I’d feel to a sister. Love, but not that kind of love. “You know,” I lift a hand to my eye rubbing my fingers down my face. “Like how you girls talk about boys and makeup or whatever.” Allie holds back a laugh. “I didn’t know guys liked makeup.” She’s joking, I can tell. Is it weird that at this moment I want to reach into Tommy’s pocket and pull the ring out? I’d ruin Tommy’s big plan, but every time I look at the future I feel Allie slipping away. Although maybe it’s just her slipping away from me, from my feelings. Or maybe I just want to be the one to ask her, make her love me like how she loves Tommy._ I miss those butterflies._

“What if we do?” Tommy breaks my thoughts apart. Allie shrugs, still in the frame of my bedroom door. “All I’d ask is for you not to wear lipstick when kiss.” Tommy lets out a small laugh. And I feel the tiny fluttering wings at the pit of my stomach. Allie wouldn’t care if we liked makeup or all the girl stuff. She’d still stick around, still be here.

“You’re something else,” Tommy smiles as he walks over to Allie. “Did you know that?” Allie laughs as she puts her hands on his face. I imagine it’s me she’s laughing with, me she’s touching, me she’s staring at like there are a million stars in the black sky. But when I look at that picture, it’s not Allie’s face I see. It’s just a black shadow, the other piece of my messed up heart I haven’t found yet.

“I know,” Allie tells Tommy as they both lean in for a kiss. Allie rising on her toes as Tommy brushes her his fingers over her cheek. It’s a nice moment for them, I don’t feel weird. Kinda like a third wheel, but kinda like I’m watching a movie.

Allie leaves after and Tommy stays where she leaves him. He’s in love with her. Isn’t he?

“When are you going to do it?” I ask as Tommy twists around to face me, a smile on his face. “I don’t know.” He replies as we walks over to me, sitting on the end of my bed like he was before. “Soon?” I smile, my heart racing in my chest at the thought of having Allie as a part of the family. She already is in both me and Tommy’s mind. Hopefully in hers too.

Tommy sighs. “I don’t know, D.” He looks to the ground, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not scared she’ll say no. I’m just scared that we’d be rushing into it.” Rushing? After dating through all of high school, after never leaving each others sides since Mom and Dad died. They practically already are married, Allie lives here, Tommy makes dinner with her, they come home to each other. Putting a ring on wouldn’t make anything change. Would it?

“You don’t think that,” I tell Tommy as he plays with his hands in his lap. “You know it wouldn’t be rushing, rushing is after two months, maybe even a year. Not after nine years.” “I guess. It’s just Mom and Dad, I always pictured them sitting in the front row. Crying or whatever.”

So he’s waiting for them to come back. I never thought about it, that Mom and Dad won’t be here for all my big moments. I won’t have anyone to for my future girlfriends to meet, if there even are any. I doubt after everything I’ve done that anyone would date me, let alone love me.

“They’ll be there,” I say it with so much confidence. The question spinning around my mind is: Do I actually believe it? Tommy puts a hand on my leg. “They’re gone, D. When you’re gone there’s no coming back.”

He’s talking to me like I’m a little kid who doesn’t understand that dying means gone. _Maybe he’s talking to himself. _

“We’ll save two seats,” I hold back tears. “In the front row.” Tommy gives my leg a small squeeze. “I haven’t even asked her yet. Don’t go hoping.” “She’ll say yes before you even get to ask.” Tommy smiles, looking down. “She’s already said yes,” I continue. “She picked you Tommy. Go pick her.”

Tommy lets out a slow breath. “When did you become such a love expert? You haven’t even dated.” “I pick stuff up. Off the streets.” I joke. Tommy laughs as he lifts himself off my bed. “I’m not putting a date on it.” He says as he walks out. “I just wanted you to know what I was thinking.”

I nod even though he’s already out my door and down the hallway. I fall back into my pillows, letting out a breath as I stare at my ceiling. All the little stars that don’t even glow anymore still shine down at me. Tommy and Allie are perfect for each other. And perfect doesn’t even exist, that’s how right they are. _Maisie. I should tell her. _ No! It’s not something for her to know, we just met. Plus I’m not sure Tommy will even let me bring her to the wedding. Davian! Shut up! _ _I slowly drag my hands down my face. I can’t think like this. I shouldn’t have talked to Maisie because now I know that I won’t be able to stop. __ __

_Chapter 8 _Maisie __ __ __ __ __ __ I never imagined my life could take this turn. Not just the fact that I got into an accident, not just that I lost my mother. But it’s him. My dad. The dad I used to dream up every night, the dad I always asked about. The dad I grew up thinking was dead. And now he’s standing right there. Right next to me, talking to the doctor. His mouth moving, his chest rising, and I’m sure somewhere his heart beating. Alive. He’s alive.

“Thank you,” he says to the doctor as he turns to me. A smile on his lips, a smile I can’t return. “Well Maisie . . . What do you say about going home?” Home? To my house, or is he kidnapping me, taking me away. I shrug, avoiding his pale, pale blue eyes. Nothing like Mom’s, but terrifyingly close to mine. He puts his arm around my shoulder, it takes every ounce of my being not to shove him away. I know he means to be comforting, but he’s not Mom, he’s a stranger. And there’s nothing comforting about a stranger to someone like me. To someone who struggles just to look another human in the eye, who can’t even be herself around her family. We leave the hospital, his arm still draped around me. I keep searching for a way to draw us apart. There’s the hand sanitizer pole in the center of the hallway, but there’s still plenty of room for us both to fit on one side. I give up after one attempt. It’s not like it’s worth trying when I’m just gonna end up failing anyways. “My car’s parked pretty far out,” he tells me as we exist the building. “Couldn’t find any open spots.” And yet all I see out in front of me is empty, white lines. I know I shouldn’t take this as something personal, like he didn’t want to see me. So I don’t, I could care less any ways, I don’t even know him. I let him guide me to his car, normally I would just naturally know what I’m looking for. I would be on auto pilot, and now I’m putting all my trust into a man who left me. “Maisie,” he says as he pulls his arm back. We stop in front of a small white car that looks pretty worn down. I feel bad that I see a resemblance between the two. “I just want you to know . . .” I wait for him to find his words. I don’t encourage him, which isn’t weird for me. It’s the whole reason I’m in therapy, because I can’t seem to get a sentence out to another human being. Even if the world depended on me, if we were going to explode and saying one word was the key. I would just find a safe place to hide, I’d rather be safe in my mind, then safe in my physical self. At least that’s what my mind tells me. I’ve never questioned if it was true or not. I just assumed it was. “I want you to know that I’m sorry.” He finishes, his pale eyes searching mine. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect anything.” I nod slowly. I don’t understand why he’s apologizing, I’m not mad. “You haven’t done anything.” My words surprise me, my voice soft but still confident. “You don’t even know me . . . So you couldn’t have done anything.” His eyes soften into disappointment. My heart breaks as I take in his look. I hate that I’ve hurt him, but maybe I am mad. Maybe he does need to apologize, because now I have to live with a stranger. When he could have just been in my life, when I could have a dad to comfort me. “I know,” he says. “I know I haven’t been there for you in the past. But I’m here now.” Words. I hear them echoing around in my head. Words . . . Words I want . . . Need to say. “I don’t need you.” I whisper. “You’re only here because Mom isn’t. Not because you want to be.”

His silence is my answer. Mom always told me I could read silence like it was words on a page. He feels bad, he wishes he thought more about his words, although there was nothing wrong with them. It was his audience. We climb into the car, me in the back seat, and him behind the wheel. It’s a weird image, to see short hair and strong arms and a tall frame sitting there. It’s always been Mom, and it always should be.

“Maisie,” he says again after what feels like hours of silence. “I’m here, and while I’m here. I’m here.” We pull into the driveway of my house. I didn’t even know this man knew how to get here. His words replay in my mind. He’s here. I look over as he gets out of the car. Check. But is he staying . . . That’s something the future will check off. Not me.

I watch as he opens the front door while I’m shutting mine. I can see the dark hallway from here. Our hallway. Mom’s and mine. He stays in the door way until I come a few feet behind him. Then he turns around, motioning for me to enter first. I do.

Even after the front door is shut he still stands in the hallway like he’s in a different world. Not sure what the right thing to do is. I stand in the arch way to the side of the door, and his eyes stray to the huge black piano that sits in the room. He points to it. “You play?” You should know. I think, he’s my dad. He should know my favorite food, my hates, my likes. He should know. I nod once. “Mom taught me.” A sad smile comes to his face. “You’re mother was exceptional . . . At everything she did.”

Then why did you leave? I think, the answer sitting right in front of me. If Mom was so amazing— which she was, I’m not arguing against that— then there must have another reason for his disappearance. Me. His daughter.

“Well,” he breaks the silence. “Is there a guest room? Or couch?” At least he’s not just barging into Mom’s room. I’d offer it, but it’s not up to me. It’s up to Mom. I nod, turning to the stairs that lead into the basement. “Down there,” I say, turning back. “There’s both.” He gives me a smile and then scoots past me. His footsteps are heavy compared to Mom’s, it scares me, there’s a stranger in my house.

As soon as I’m sure he’s not in hearing range I start sobbing. Tears never came easy for me, not since I started my medication for anxiety, it was a side effect . . . Which didn’t sound bad at the time. But without a way to vent, life is almost even more unbearable. Tears slide down my cheeks faster than I can count. I feel like I’m standing in rain, rain that only touches my face. I make my way down the dark hallway, past my bedroom and into Mom’s. It’s just the way she left it. Her white bed sheets perfectly smoothed over her mattress, her pajamas folded on the rocking chair in the corner. Her pictures hung above the bed, pictures of us. Pictures of the past. I shut the door softly behind me, choking out sobs as I fall to her bed. It’s almost scary to hear sounds of pain coming from my mouth, I can’t let anyone know how I feel. I have to hide it, but I just can’t anymore. Mom is gone. She’s not on vacation, she’s not at work, she’s gone, gone gone. And I need her.

                                .  .  .

I slowly let my eyes open as I lift myself up. I’m still in Mom’s room, still laying across her perfectly made bed. Still wet with tears. I twist around to look at the alarm clock on her bedside table. 12:03 AM. I must have fallen asleep. I climb off the bed, my eyes straying to the window right next to her bed. It’s so dark outside, so black. And in that darkness I feel a light, something pulling me.

I tip toe through the empty house. I assume he’s still in the basement, either on the couch or in the guest room. I don’t care too much about waking him, but then I realize he’s a person too. Just like the rest of us, I’m mad at him sure, but he’s a person. And people make mistakes.

Once I’m out in my front yard I stand in the wet grass, letting my head fall back. The stars are barely even there. Just little dots spread far apart. Maybe I was crazy to think there was some light out here. Maybe I’m crazy, because right now I should be crying. My mom is dead, why can I think those words so easily?

I walk for a long time, not even sure where my feet are taking me. Until . . . There he his. The boy who I could talk to. The boy who told me I was beautiful, he doesn’t actually know me, but he knows my pain. Maybe that kind of connection is enough. I know he wasn’t talking about my looks, because you’d have to be blind to think I was pretty. This boy—Davian— has eyes. I know because looking into them that first time crushed me. That pitch black, that comfort, it was something amazing. Something great.

I can’t help the smile that takes over my lips as I start towards him. There are flowers all around us, flowers, small trees, and that stone bench. The hospital garden.

“Davian?” I ask as I approach his side. He looks over at me, his eyes tired, but still beyond glad. I’ve never seen someone look at me like this. With such . . . Happiness. “Maisie,” he smiles softly. “What are you doing here?” “I couldn’t sleep,” I reply sitting down next to him. Closer than I’ve ever sat next to someone I barely know. “What about you?” Davian nods. “Same. Sleep and me don’t get along these days.” He smiles. I smile back, letting silence fall around us. It feels uncomfortable at first, I mean it was me that was supposed to keep the conversation going. But after a minute, it feels . . . I don’t know. Normal. I guess, I’m sitting here and so is Davian. We’re just two people, enjoying the silence together.

“They almost seem to glow,” Davian breaks the silence, motioning at a small bush of white flowers. And he’s right. In the small amount of moon light, the flowers seem brighter than in the sun. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, trying, wishing I could just know how to keep a conversation going. “Kinda like you,” Davian says, his voice even softer than mine. He turns to meet my eyes, and I melt. His eyes are so black, just like the night sky. But like the flowers, he’s not lost in the darkness. Because he’s right here. I feel my cheeks burning as I stare into his eyes. “You don’t mean that.” Davian gives me a small bump with his shoulder. “I do.” Is all he says. And it’s more than enough to make me heart start racing. This boy actually thinks I’m pretty. It’s . . . It’s crazy.

“Why?” I ask, feeling my whole body heat up as I quickly turn away from him. “I mean . . . I’m the least beautiful girl in the world.” Davian doesn’t answer for a minute. When he does, his answer makes my heart stop. “Not to me.” He pauses again. “My mom . . . She as really into One Direction.” He looks to me, and I nod. I know them, not a ton, but a little. “She always turned their music on and danced with my dad. It made me smile so much. To see them so happy. Then one day I asked my mom why she liked them.” Davian stops and lets out a small laugh. “Honestly I thought it was because they looked good. More than good, they were exactly what I never would be. But then my mom showed me something . . . Well told. It was a quote, from Niall. ‘I’m the kind of boy that can fall in love any girl, because I love with the heart, not the eyes.’ So, you are beautiful.” He looks deep into my eyes now. We barely know each other, but he still makes me feel like I’ve know him forever. Longer than forever. “Because I see inside of you . . .” Davian swallows, his eyes shaking softly. “And you’re beautiful.”

I part my lips but no words come out. This isn’t the first time I’ve lost my thoughts, lost my words. But it is the first time I’ve loved losing them. This boy is crazy, I’m crazy. I’ve never felt this way before. “I like that,” I blurt out. “That quote. It’s nice . . .” Davian’s lips curve into a small smile. “It’s what I live by.” And suddenly that’s when I knew. It’s what I live by too, not because Davian lives by it. But because it’s the only true way to find love, to find something great . . . Something . . . Maybe like this.

__ __ __ __ __

_Chapter 7 _Davian __ __ __ __ __ __ Am I crazy to think that she’ll be awake? It’s been two days since the crash, why should I expect her to be okay? It’s not completely impossible, especially if this is meant to be. I suck in a deep breath as I lay in my dark bedroom. If this is meant to be? None of it’s meant to be, just because she was pretty doesn’t mean anything. Being pretty doesn’t matter, it’s not her outside that matters, it’s her heart. And I want her heart, I saw her for one second, but maybe it wasn’t her outside that’s doing this to me. Maybe it was something I couldn’t see, like a feeling.

I stare at my ceiling, waiting for the night to be over. I haven’t slept well since the crash. Two days isn’t that many, but it sure feels like it. I keep going over everything in my head. Allie’s right, there are millions of colors besides grey, but I still don’t know what color to pick. And the fact that both her and Tommy are going to be watching me makes it even worse. I shouldn’t have told them anything, I shouldn’t have gone to the hospital yesterday. I should be doing what everyone else would do, move on. Forget about the crash, forget about her. You can’t! I think as my eyes stray to the window that’s beside my bed.I can’t just move on, I need to see this girl. I need to hear her name, look into her eyes, see that she’s okay. It might be wrong, but I feel like the world owes me this. I deserve a chance, I deserve what I didn’t get the first time I hurt someone. And the second. I shut my eyes, Jace’s face flashing in my mind. Somehow, he’s still the one I can’t stop thinking about, just like Mom and Dad. My two mistakes. I shouldn’t have hid that night, and I shouldn’t have let Jace control me. A small sigh escapes me as I let my eye lids slowly open. What am I getting myself into? The mess you made. The mess that screwed up everything.

                                .   .   .

It wasn’t too bad getting back into a car. Maybe it’s because it isn’t the car I was driving, maybe it’s because it’s not me behind the wheel. I watch the flashing green trees as they fly by. I keep going over what I’m going to say. What color I’m going to pick. But no words come to my mind. Tommy stops the truck in the middle of the parking lot of the hospital. Far enough away that maybe I can talk them out of walking in with me. Tommy turns around in his seat, as he turns the engine off. “Here we are.” I nod, my seat belt still hugging my chest. Allie twist around, reaching her hand out to my knee. “It’ll all be okay.” She whispers. Tommy nods. “It will be.” It won’t. How can anything be okay? “I guess.” Allie gives my knee a small shake. “Just . . . Don’t give up.” I think I already have. I nod again, unbuckling my seat belt and opening the door. Tommy and Allie don’t make any move to get out. Maybe they are going to just wait. “Take however long you need,” Tommy calls to me as my feet hit the black road. “We’ll be here.” Can he read minds? ‘Cause it feels a lot like he can. “Thanks,” I say as I shut the door.

Colors. That’s all I can think about, all I need to think about. Nothing else matters, besides picking the right color. I shove my hands into the pockets of Dad’s leather jacket as I enter the hospital’s hissing doors. I remember where the girls room was so I just follow my path from last time. None of the nurses or doctors question me being here, and for once in my life I’m glad I’m invisible. I reach the waiting area, it’s pretty much empty. But Mr. Bowden, her dad, is sitting in the same chair as last time. Folding his arms, sitting in silence. Part of me wants to talk to him, tell him it was me who ruined everything. And before I can stop myself, I’m approaching him. He looks up, giving me the smallest hint of a smile as he uncrosses his arms. I take a seat on the right of him, returning his small smile. “Hey.” Is all I can think to say. He gives me a small nod. “Hi.” Am I crazy? What am I doing here? Is this my way of stalling? My way of avoiding? “What’s your name?” He asks, pulling me out of my questioning mind. “Davian Chase.” Mr. Bowden nods once. “Well, I hope everything’s okay Davian.” At first I don’t know what he means. But then it hits me, I’m in a hospital, the place where bad news floats around. “Thanks,” I say. “I’m sorry.” Mr. Bowden doesn’t seem at all confused by this. He just smiles. “I think everything’s okay. My daughter woke up . . . We don’t have the best relationship. So I haven’t seen her much. I’ve just been here, waiting.” Wait! His daughter! She’s okay! A smile comes to my lips as this sinks in. She’s okay. “That’s good,” I say, trying not to sound to excited. “I’m glad.” Mr. Bowden nods. “She’s outside right now. Sitting in the garden. The doctor said she’s recovering really well, and fast. I just wish I could say the same with our relationship.”

In the garden! Outside! I can find her, I can fix this right here, right now. “My . . . Sister.” I start not sure what Allie really is, but sister sounds right. “She always says that relationships are like flowers in the winter. Even if you can’t see them, they’re still there, you still need to care for them. It just takes a while for spring to come around, for the flower to bloom.” Mr. Bowden gives me a small smile. “Your sister’s smart.” “She is.” I say, realizing for the first time ever, that Allie’s the reason I haven’t totally failed yet. “She really is.” Mr. Bowden gives me a small nod. “Thank you.” He says, it surprises me. What have I done besides lie and hurt him. “For listening.” That might be my cue to leave, so I rise to my feet, unable to control the feeling that the girl is out there, right now. “It’s what I do best.” I reply as Mr. Bowden shoots me another smile, this one bigger. “I hope everything works out with your daughter.” I walk away before he can reply. My heart racing as I make my way down the hallway. I’ve been in the garden before, it was years ago, but I still remember the way. It takes a few minutes but soon I’m outside, waking through small trees and bright flowers. It’s just how I remember it, bright, happy, and escape. I wander around for awhile, trying to decide what color to choose. It’s stupid because I don’t even know what that— There she is. Sitting on the stone bench in the center of all these colors. Her back is turned to me, but it’s her. I know it is. I walk slowly her way, my heart thrashing in my chest as I close the distance between us. Her blonde hair is loose, blowing gently in the soft breeze, making my heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” I say as I sit down next to her. She turns to face me and I swear, I swear everything is over. My life, my mistakes. Everything. Because she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, but it’s not her face I’m looking at. It’s her eyes, the pain in them. Pain I’ve created, pain I know, pain I want to heal. She gives me a small smile, almost identical to her fathers, except her’s is more happy. She’s good. I think. She must do this all the time, hide herself. Hide her heart. “I’m Davian,” I reach my hand out to hers, groaning on the inside as I realize how stupid that is. “Davian Chase.” The girl lifts her gentle hand to mine, and then again, everything is over. I can’t help it, I smile, a real smile. “I’m Maisie Bowden,” she replies, her hand still in mine. Her voice is so sweet, so sad. It makes my smile disappear, it makes me realize why I’m here. To add more pain into this girls life. To be the walking mistake I’ve always been.

“I’m sorry,” I eye her forehead where a red gash lays, just above her left eye. “It’s okay,” Maisie whispers, her eyes leaving mine. I almost grab her face, I want to see those eyes. The ocean blue, the softest part of the sky. “It’s not your fault.” I keep getting smacked across my face. And it hurts way, way more than when Jace hit me. This— Maisie’s pain, both physical and mental— is my fault. For once, this is my fault. Everything. “Are you okay?” Maisie’s soft voice brings me back, her eyes back on mine now. I nod once. “Just a little out of it today.” Maisie gives me another smile, she parts her lips but no words come out. She’s trying. I think as my eye linger on hers. “This might sound crazy . . .” I trail off, my heart stopping my head. Was I really just about to tell her? What the heck is wrong with me! And it won’t sound crazy, it’ll sound unbelievable, it’ll sound like the crack of thunder before getting struck by lightning.

“What?” Maisie asks, her eyes falling out to the world of colors around us. I need to pick. I think as I follow her gaze. “You’re beautiful,” I blurt out. My eyes avoiding hers as they shoot over to me. She smiles, I can see it. “That’s really sweet,” Maisie says. “But . . . You don’t have to lie.” Lie. Maisie doesn’t know what lies I’m keeping. And this isn’t one of them. “I told you, it’s crazy.” I tell her. “But it’s not a lie.” Maisie smiles again, as I meet her gaze. “Look into my eyes,” I mumble. She does, and I feel it all ending. All over again, it’s amazing what this girl already makes me feel. “Does it look like I’m lying?” Maisie licks her lips. “I don’t know you.” She reminds me. “So I can’t really say.” I know she’s lying to me now, I can feel it. We don’t know each other, but we do. “Plus . . .” Maisie trails off, her eyes leaving my gaze. “I’m never like this . . . I never talk . . .” My heart leaps in my chest. This is just like the open door, Maisie doesn’t ever talk. But here we are, talking. Maybe this is meant to be. “And I never tell a girl I think she’s beautiful when we’ve just met.” Maisie gives me a gentle nudge. “We should celebrate.” She smiles. I lift my hand in a fist, holding it out to Maisie. She matches my movement, folding her fingers into her palm and then bumping her hand against mine. Butterflies swirl around in me, and I love it. “Cheers,” I say. “Cheers,” Maisie laughs.

Silence surrounds us, but it’s okay. It feels okay, nothing feels wrong or uncomfortable. It just feels like I’m sitting with someone, like I’m finally not alone. Maisie sighs, bring me back to reality. “You know, I don’t really know what to think.” She meets my eyes. “About life. One minute I’m sitting in the car with my mom and the next . . .” Maisie sighs. My heart slows in my chest. I need to tell her, but I can’t. “I’ll listen,” I whisper. “I get it. Losing your parents.” “I’m sorry,” Maisie whispers back. I bet she wouldn’t be if she knew why she doesn’t have her mom. I meet her eyes again, and then I know she wouldn’t think that. And still I can’t tell her. “I better go,” Maisie says standing up, wrapping her fingers around her left wrist. I copy her, standing as she turns to face me. “Will I ever see you again?” I ask. Maisie brushes a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. “If this world likes me.” I nod even though I have a million things I still need to tell her. I watch as Maisie walks away, giving me a small wave as she leaves the garden.

I lower myself back down onto the bench. All the flowers shine out at me. The reds, the oranges, the blues, all of them. I had thousands of choices, and yet I picked black. I picked to lie. My head keeps telling me it was the wrong thing to do. But my heart . . . My heart is telling me it was for the right reason. And I don’t know who to listen to anymore.

(If you made it to the end of this then thank you! It’s a long chapter! But I’ve been having a pretty good time so I’ve felt like writing more. I’m pretty excited with this chapter! I always love making my characters meet. Anyways thanks so much for the reads and support. It means the world to me!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️😊)

(Just a warning. This chapter didn’t feel all that great. But I’m still posting it because I have a feeling it’s what I need to be able to take the story in the direction I want it to go. So thanks for the reads!! They mean the world to me!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️) Chapter 6 Davian

It’s funny really. The fact that the first person I think of going to is Mom. But in reality, Mom is now Tommy. And Tommy . . . I don’t know what to say to Tommy. Still I keep walking, my arms folded across my chest as a soft summer breeze blows around me. It takes only a few minutes to walk back home. That’s the thing I always loved about this town. You can be anywhere you want, when you want. You don’t need to drive, or even own a bike. You’re born with what you need.

It’s not exactly a surprise when I see Tommy sitting on our porch swing, but what is a surprise is that Allie isn’t with them. It’s your fault. I think as I walk up the driveway. Just like everything else. Tommy looks up at me as I climb the three porch steps, I keeping my eyes off of his. “Davian,” he says. I can’t tell if he’s relived, mad, or both. But still he slings his arm around me when I take a seat next to him, the swing slowly rocking back and forth. “I couldn’t do it,” I whisper, tears creeping into my eyes, blurring the world around me. Tommy sighs, licking his lips. He’s not mad. He’s just scared. Scared because I left, scared because life is scary. “It’s okay.” He mumbles, giving my shoulder a tiny squeeze. “It’ll be okay.” “But it won’t be,” I protest. “How can it?” “Because that’s how life works. We fail, we succeed, we cry, we laugh. It’s broken, it’s fixed. It’s not okay, it’s okay.” I can’t help but let a small smile come to my lips. “You sound like Allie.” Tommy lets out a small laugh. “Yeah.” He lets out a breath. “Well she’s rubbed off on me . . . And she’s right.” “So . . .” I let my voice fade into the early morning. “What am I supposed to do?” “Keep living,” Tommy says. His voice strong, confident, too much like Mom’s. “Sounds hard.” Tommy shrugs, turning his hazel eyes to mine. “Only if you let it be.” Again, I smile. Allie really has rubbed off on him. But I like it, it’s perfect. And I have no idea why. “How do I fix it?” I ask, staring out at the huge green tree across the street. Tommy doesn’t say anything, he just follows my gaze. “I want to make it right,” I continue. “But I can’t.” “You can,” he says. “If it’s what you truly want. If you believe, you can, then there’s nothing stopping you.” I guess this is true. Except I do have something stopping me, am I going to apologize? Or . . . Am I going to lie? Keep a secret so she doesn’t leave me. “I saw her,” I blurt out as Tommy keeps his gaze on the tree. “And there is something stopping me.” Out of the corner of my eye I see a small smile break across Tommy’s lips. “She was pretty, wasn’t she?” Why did I say that? “I never said that.” Tommy gives me a small nudge. “You didn’t need to.” I feel all the blood rush to my cheeks, maybe he’s a mind reader. Or a heart reader. “I just . . .” I start searching for the right words. “Felt something, I guess. Something different.” Tommy’s lips are still curved into a small smile. “You don’t want her to hate you. And that’s what’s stopping you. The fact that once you tell her the truth, she’ll never wanna see you again.” If she even sees me. I don’t know if I’ll ever go back to the hospital . . . Or if she’ll ever come out. A single tear leaves my eye, I can’t let her die.

“She’s not okay,” I say, my heart talking ahead of my actual sense. “She’s hurt.” Tommy’s smile vanishes. “Oh.” I nod. “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t tell her the truth and expect her to like me. And I can’t not tell her the truth, because then I’d be lying.” Tommy takes a deep breath. “There’s always another way.” He says. I shake my head, more tears springing into my eyes. “No. It’s black and white. There’s no grey.”

“Who says you’re looking for grey?” A new voice says, a sweet voice. Allie’s voice. She walks over to us, Tommy scoots over making room for her in the middle of us. Allie takes a seat, ignoring Tommy and coming straight to me. My heart jumps, but then I see her. The girl in the hospital, and I feel nothing. “There’s so many other colors,” Allie says. “So many other choices.” Why does talk have to be so easy? I want the action to be easy, but I guess that’s why actions speak louder than words. Because they aren’t as easy to do. “I don’t know what to do,” I say for the millionth time. “I don’t know what choice to make.” Allie gives me her comforting smile, reaching for my hand that’s laying on my leg. She takes it in hers, holding it gently. “You do,” she tells me. “It’s in your heart, in your soul. You just have to be brave enough to see.”

It’s funny how that makes sense but at the same time I feel like she’s reading Shakespeare. “How?” Allie squeezes my hand. “Davian,” she brings her free hand to my cheek, turning my face, to look at hers. Her eyes are laced with tears, tears I’ve made. “You just keep going. You’ve already done so much, this is just another bump in the road. Another cliff you need to be brave enough to jump off of.”

So, I go back to the hospital. Hope she’s okay, hope she’s awake and then what? Follow my heart? Jump off the cliff and hope I don’t drown in the water? I guess there’s nothing else to do.

I lean into Allie, letting my head rest against hers as her hand stays in mine. “Tomorrow?” I ask, hoping Allie will take the clue. I’m tried, I’m lost. Allie’s head moves up and down against mine. “Yeah.”

I let my eyes close, I let the world around me fade to black.

“I’ll be there,” Tommy’s voice breaks the silence. “Tomorrow.” I feel Allie’s lips breaking into a gentle smile. “So will I.” I know I should feel happy that they’ve got my back. That I won’t have to face all my fears alone, but all I really feel is pressure. I can’t fail in front of them, I can’t let them down.

But most importantly, I can’t make the wrong choice. I can’t break this girls heart more than I already have. I just have to pick the right color, I just have to jump. Tomorrow.

Chapter 5****

Davian __ __ __ __ __ Even after I’m out of those hissing doors, and the painful doctor smell fades, I still find myself running. My lungs burn, my muscles beg for just one tiny break, and my heart . . . I don’t think I deserve to feel it thrashing in my chest. But I do, I feel my heart, I feel the burn of my lungs, and I feel my legs. Running. Existing. Alive. I start to slow down when the sidewalk I was running on begins to vanish and all I’m left with is leafy, dead grass on the side of the black road. I have a destination in mind, the same place I’ve gone to for years of pain, the perfect place to cry. Something I feel forbidden to do, but can’t seem to stop. I can’t help but let my lips curve into a tiny smile, when the abandoned bus stop bench comes into view. The glass window that sits behind the wooden, rotting bench, with the small roof that looks as if it’s about to collapse at any minute. There’s nothing better in life, well in my life. This place is filled with memories. Mostly of Dad. The day we stumbled upon this place was crazy. I was twelve, my eyes wet with tears when Dad found me in my bedroom. Crying my eyes out. He’d pulled me off my bed and wrapped me in a warm hug. Then suggested we go for a walk, it was late out, still not black but the sky wasn’t cotton candy pink anymore. I was so terrified when Dad asked me what was bugging me. It was two reasons, well three. And the first two weren’t really something I ever wanted to tell Dad. So I told him the last reason, the reason that really made my heart snap. I’d been doing homework, all happy because I knew Allie was going to come by. But when she did, her and Tommy had just gotten together or something. They didn’t tell me, I just saw them in the door way when I raced out of my bed room, they were kissing. Not in a big way, that’s defiantly not their style, but they were kissing. Tommy was kissing Allie, not me. I told Dad the details of the kiss, I told him about my little secret crush on Allie. I told him everything about my feelings. The way my heart literally broke when I saw them. I didn’t think a heart could actually feel in that sort of way, but mine did. Dad wrapped his arm around my shoulder and told me in his serious, but still comforting Dad voice: “Girls and relationships, totally suck.” I’d asked why he married Mom if he thought this and that’s when he gave me his speech, that I knew would be my reason for love too: “Because she was a light, she was glue for my heart that I didn’t even realize was broken. She was and is my best friend. I didn’t marry her for her looks or because it’s what my parents taught me I had to do. I married her because she was the one who held my secrets, as well as my hand. She was the first person who made me feel as though life without her, would be even suckier than other girls and relationships.” And that’s when we stumbled across the bench. We sat down, Dad putting his leather jacket around my shoulders as he let me cry, as he held me.

I’ve never admitted it, but that was the day I realized I didn’t like Allie anymore. It’s not that I liked her just for her looks or because I felt I had to, but it’s because I realized she wasn’t the person to hold my hand and secrets. That’s who she was for Tommy, not for me.

I lower myself slowly onto the rotting seat, letting the small creak of the wood bring me peace. Bring me back to that day. The two things that I didn’t tell Dad, sometimes I wish I had. Now they’re things only I know, things I have to deal with on my own. Number one, the only guy I’ve never been able to get out of my head. Jace Polisner. Well, it’s not him I can’t get out of my head, but his words. The day he finally got to me, the day I finally hit him back. He hasn’t talked to me since. Sometimes I wonder if I should say sorry. I mean I’m not a bully, but I do know that people don’t just bully for the sake of it. They hurt others because they don’t want to be the only ones in pain. Although in Jace’s case he picked the wrong guy. I was already in plenty pain before his fist crashed against my face. I think the reason I never fought him off until just a few months ago is because I needed him. I needed the punches and the pain, the physical pain. Because if he wasn’t going to give it to me, then I was. Which is number two. Me, my troubled mind. Not much to talk about, not much to do. It’s the way I am, it’s the way I’ll always be.

I feels like only seconds have gone by before the sun starts creeping up past the forest in front of me. The golden light shines in my eyes, blinding me, reminding me of that day, the same thing the sun always does. The same boring old thing, the one thing I can’t stop thinking about, the one person who’s always in my mind.

. . .

Jace shoves me against the brick wall of the gas station. I let my legs fall beneath me, feeling the pain run up my spine as I hit the ground. “You’re so weak!” Jace shouts, his voice shaky as he bends down, grabbing the collar of my shirt. I keep expecting his two other friends to come over and hold me while Jace beats me up. But they aren’t here today, it’s just Jace as his cold, wet eyes. “Shut up!” I try to scream, but my voice fails me. Every word Jace speaks is the same thing I hear from my mind. I’m weak, pathetic, nothing, stupid. I’ve heard it all way before Jace started telling me. He just proved me right, I’m am everything he says I am. “You wanna know something?” Jace hisses as he lifts me to my feet, his fists both scrunching the collar of my shirt. “You wanna know the truth?” I shake my head softly, avoiding his teary eyes. I don’t wanna hear it, why he hates me, why I’m stupid. I’ve heard it before, and once is enough. Jace shoves me back against the wall, the sharp corners of the red bricks digging into my back. “You’re nothing,” he whispers, his voice cracking as his face becomes inches from mine. “You’re absolutely nothing to me.” I part my lips, searching for something. Words, a scream, anything. “You’re not worth it,” Jace says, a single tear sliding down his shaking features. “Why won’t you hit me?” He asks so softly I can barely make it out. He pushes me deeper into the wall, now I can feel little pricks of blood, dripping down my back, followed by a stinging pain that I’ve grown used to. “Why won’t you hit me!” Jace screams, pulling me away from the wall before pushing me right back into it. I don’t tumble to the ground this time, I stay standing, watching as Jace wipes his wet cheeks. Before I can say anything, Jace is already up next to me, his fist crashing against my cheek. My hand flies to my face, as my legs begin to shake. “Hit me!” He cries. “Hit me!” My cheek burns where his fist was, I can already feel the bruise forming. And still the only thing I can think about is that I won’t have my mommy and daddy comfort me anymore. I have no one. “You’re so pathetic!” Jace’s hands fall to his sides as he stares me straight in the eyes. “You let me beat you, and then what? You run home? You cry? All because you lost your parents! Well . . . Get over it!”

All my breath gets taken away from me. But not because of Jace’s fist, it’s because of mine. A loud scream floats around me, as Jace grabs his face falling to the ground. I gasp, my hand shaking as I hold it out in front of me, my knuckles shining with red blood. Jace scrambles to his feet, his cold eyes now human. He backs away from me, his hand still on his face. His words still echo around my mind. Get over it. How can he tell me to get over it? To get over their death, when he still has his parents to protect him? When he has what I don’t? I never saw him again after that day. It was the last week of school, it’s only been two weeks, but it feels like it’s been more. And he’s still the person that comes to my mind when I’m alone. When I think of Mom and Dad, I think of him. And I hate it.

. . .

I rise from the old bench, the wood creaking softly as dry leaves crunch under my feet. My face is wet with tears that I don’t bother to wipe away. I just start walking with no idea where I’m going. But I don’t really care, nothing even matters anymore. My life sucked back then, and it sucks now. I can’t believe after all my pain, it’s my fault that I’ve just handed it to someone else. To someone I don’t even know. Jace is right, but he left one thing out. I’m weak, pathetic, nothing, stupid, and a murder. __ __ __ __ __ __ __