tghwriting - Tumblr blog

[tghwriting]

50. No Hope

Her heart was pounding so hard that it made her head spin. She needed it to stop but nothing she did would help. Nothing would help. She took too much, she knew it. The panic was setting in. The room was spinning. Her head was spinning. She grasped onto the wall, trying to steady herself, but there was no strength in her arms. There was no strength left in her legs either as she collapsed under her own weight, the floor becoming the only thing keeping her safe.

She wanted air. She wanted to get outside, to breath cold fresh air, to be around people that could help her. But who was she kidding, the people here, the people she was with right now, they wouldn't help her. She would be lucky if any of them even went looking for her. If any of them found her still alive.

She felt like she was dying.

The feeling in her chest was worsening. Her hands were ice cold and shaking. She couldn't grip anything with enough force to pull herself up. She couldn't find any strength.

But as her head started to spin faster she felt a sense of knowing wash over her. A sense that everything in the world had an answer. Like being in control of a dream. The euphoria had set in and was starting to take hold.

As she laid there she tucked her legs up under her and closed her eyes, hoping that the darkness would make whatever was going through her pass faster. But she knew it wouldn't.

As she laid there and the sounds slowly muffled, she felt as if she was being transported somewhere else. She opened her eyes just barely and she could see the crack in the door and the light shining around it from the other room. But in that moment, in her head, she wasn't lying on that floor in that house. She was lying in bed in her grandfathers room. She was looking at his open door. She was awake from a nightmare. A child. She wasn't alone. It felt like a memory, something deep down in her head that she had long since forgotten. She felt the memory surge to the forefront of her brain. All that had felt terrible and horrible had melted away as long as she focused on the memory, as long as that was the only thing she was thinking about. As long as she focused on that, she was safe.

The next thing she knew, she was sitting outside of the house, sitting under a street light on the sidewalk, alone, heart racing. She hadn't remembered walking outside, she hadn't remembered standing up. But she vividly remembered her grandfathers room. She vividly remembered that memory, but she didn't know if it was real. She didn't know if it was a memory or not.

She leaned against the light post and closed her eyes again. The world was spinning. Her head was pounding. Her palms were sweaty. She wanted it to stop. She wanted this to pass again. She needed this to end.

The fresh air was seeming to make things worse. It wasn't calming her, it was making her heart race more, making the chill down her spine elevate until she was shivering uncontrollably. The knot that had been forming in her stomach seemed to be moving, rolling around inside of her. She squezed her eyes shut tight and curled up to the light post. She felt like she was sitting on that bed again, that she was being comforted by her grandfather again as the cold seemed to take over and her shivering suddenly stopped.

[tghwriting]

49. Hear Me

Tatum sat with her knees held up to her chest, the socks on her feet sticking to the edge of the chair every time she even slightly moved. She didn't want to talk to anyone, she never wanted to talk to anyone, no matter how many people tried to talk to her. Somewhere down the hallway she could hear someone having a meltdown about something she couldn't make out.

The hospital was darker than those in movies, an old mansion from the eighteen hundreds that had been converted to the hospital in the sixties. It gave it a homey but haunted feel that never made it quite comfortable enough to relax in. The room she was currently in was the group room, a large TV was mounted to the top portion of the wall, playing a cartoon that she wasn't too interested in, but it was distracting enough.

She rested her head on her knees, wrapping her arms around her calves and squeezing them tight. She could feel the scabs that now covered the wounds on her forearms crunch and crack under the pressure of her grasp, even under the bandages that were still wrapped there.

“Mind if I sit here?” The voice made her jump. “Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.” He chuckled as he slid into the seat before she could answer him. “I'm Mack.” He reached his hand out for her to shake but she just looked at it before resting her head back on her knees. “So...you really don't talk.” He clicked his tongue and leaned back in his seat, folding his hands on his chest. "Well, since you're not super chatty I'll just chat for the both of us." He chuckled. "I'm in here because apparently you're not supposed to have other voices in your head. I just thought that was thinking." He laughed, hoping that she would as well. She just looked at him. "I've asked around, no one seems to know why you're here."

She raised her eyebrows at him but didn't say anything, she just fidgeted with the legs of her sweat pants as she remained curled in a ball in her seat.

"Well, I'm from Wilmington. Parents said this was the best place in the business of crazy. Well they didn't say those words...but you catch my drift." He laughed at himself before sinking back into his chair. “Tough crowd.” He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling.

Tatum let out a small sigh, the most noise she was willing to make, and reached out her hand to him finally for him to shake. He looked from her hand to her and back before taking it and shaking it violently. She let him for a moment before pulling her hand back and placing it on her leg once more. He noticed, in that brief moment between the hand shake and her putting her arm back down that her wrist was tightly bandaged, but as she hugged her leg again she tugged down her sleeve, covering it once more.

She met his eyes for a moment before quickly eyeing Mack up and down, laying her head back on her knees as she did. “I'm Tatum.” She said, her voice hoarse and low. He smiled wide, leaning close to her.

“You speak!”

Tatum shrugged and sat there silently looking at him, a smile spreading across her face as he continued to talk for the next few hours. She didn't respond, didn't say more than those two words. She couldn't find it in her to, but she appreciated that he took the time to sit with her, to talk to her. She had been so lonely. She needed someone, but she couldn't find it in her to talk to anyone, to make that first move.

He did this for several days. He would sit next to her, he would tell her stories about himself and his home, his friends, his family. He would talk to her about movies he loved and books that he enjoyed. A few times he sat there and recounted the events of a book or show that he loved, moment for moment, which made her smile, even if only a little.

After about a week when he sat down next to her she looked up at him and smiled. “Morning.” The word seemed to startle him as her hoarse voice broke through the silence. She smiled up at him. It was the third word she had said to him in a week and he hadn't expected it.

“Morning, sunshine.” He slid down next to her. She was still smiling at him. “I don't think I've seen you smile this much. Or say so many words.” He chuckled at the last bit. “I never thought I'd hear your voice again.” He shrugged. “I was starting to think I'd imagined it the first time. It wouldn't be the first time I'd imagined someone talking to me, but you know...” He trailed off as he met her eyes. Her head was up from her knees and she was looking at him, smiling.

“You're very nice.”

His eyes seemed to widen more as she rested her head back onto her knees. “Four whole words! Double what I've heard before. I'll take it.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair. As she looked at him she couldn't help but be even more happy that he had decided to sit down next to her a week ago. That he had taken the time to talk to her. She reached out towards him and gently brushed her hand atop his.

“Thank you” She moved her hand back slowly. She had needed a friend. For the first time she didn't feel alone. She didn't feel scared. She felt like she was going to be okay. He made her feel that. He made her feel like everything that was wrong would eventually turn right. Though that feeling would inevitably not last forever, it might not even last an hour, it was enough to give her the strength to speak, even if only a few words. It was enough. It was more than enough.

[tghwriting]

48. The Morning After

Lilah leaned against the kitchen counter, wearing nothing but her underwear and an over-sized t-shirt. It had been a good night, a very good night, and she felt happier than she had in a really long time. She could hear Cameron upstairs walking through the bedroom above her. She sipped her coffee and scrolled through the videos her phone that was sitting on the counter in front of her. The steps creaked as Cameron made his way downstairs and a few seconds later he was walking into the kitchen, mid yawn, and ran his hand over her butt as he walked to grab his own coffee mug.

She looked up at him as he made his coffee. “I thought you'd still be sleeping.” She said as she looked back down at her phone and turned off her screen.

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked as he opened the refrigerator door, squatting down to look on the shelves. “I can make eggs.”

“Mmh, eggs.” She sipped her coffee and smiled before standing up and walking over to him. She laced her arms around his waist as he stood up, carton of eggs in his hand. She kissed his bare back and closed her eyes, squeezing him tight for a moment. When she let go he turned around, placing the carton on the counter as he did, and laced his arms around her waist, picking her up in his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him.

He moved forward and sat her on the counter, not moving from her embrace, trailing kisses down her neck. His beard caused her to giggle as it tickled her sensitive skin. He finally stepped away and turned to make breakfast.

She sat there on the counter, happy and content, drinking her coffee and watching him make her food. It was her favorite thing to do.

[tghwriting]

47. Obsessed

The house was silent as Sienna walked in. The air was stagnant and cold. The lights off and the curtains closed. She was alone, but she didn't feel like that was true. She could feel eyes on her. She thought she could hear breathing somewhere in the darkness. There was something in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on but it sent an uneasy chill down her spine. She flicked on the light and the empty room illuminated.

She dropped her bag on the floor next to the door as she walked inside, the door slowly closing behind her. She turned the lock and let out a sigh of relief. She walked over to the coffee table and picked up the remote, turning on the TV and letting the noise take over the quiet house. She walked over to the window and opened the curtain, looking out at her yard and the house across the street, it's lights still on and the guy that lived there walking past the closed curtain. She could see his shadow as it walked through his living room and up stairs, the lights turning off and on as he walked from room to room until the only light on was upstairs in what she assumed was his bedroom.

She walked back over to the couch and sat down, throwing her feet up onto the coffee table. She scrolled through her phone as the TV played in the background, but she was so exhausted that at some point between scrolling and commercials she drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

She was awoken by the sound of a door closing. She jumped, holding her phone to her chest, looking around her empty house. The TV was still on, but she wasn't sure where the sound had come from. It didn't seem like it had come from the TV but she might have just dreamed it. She wasn't quite sure.

After coming to the conclusion that she'd just imagined it, she turned off the TV and started upstairs. Usually she would have walked back over to the front door to confirm she had really locked it but she was so tired that she forgot.

Her bedroom was colder than the rest of the house, forcing goosebumps to wash over her body. She shivered, walking over to her dresser and slowly pulling out her pajamas. She threw her clothes on the floor of the corner of her room and laid down on her bed, still holding her pajamas in her hand. She was almost too tired to move as she laid there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to find the energy to stand up and get dressed.

In the distance she heard a creak, somewhere in the heart of her house. She looked up for only a moment, her heart beat temporarily spiking, but then she remembered just how old her house was and sighed, dropping her head back down onto the mattress.

She had drifted off again, too tired to pull herself fully in bed, too tired to even put on her pajamas. It wasn't until she heard a third noise that she sat up and pulled on the t-shirt at the foot of her bed and a pair of boxer shorts. In the dark of her room she saw something, a shadow, standing in the corner by her closet. But there couldn't be anything there, she thought, she had locked the door. But she never checked and her heart raced as she tried to remember if she had or hadn't. She pulled back in her bed, keeping her eyes on the figure while she reached for her phone.

She only looked away to look down at her phone screen. Then the figure moved. It was gone from the corner, it was gone from her room. She was positive she had imagined it. That she was just too tired. That there was no way that there could have been someone in her room, but she couldn't find the energy to double check. Her heart rate slowed again and even in her state of fear she drifted off once more.

Nothing awoke her in the night, nothing creaked, no doors closed, no figures loomed. She was alone and she was able to finally rest.

When the morning came and she rolled out of bed she immediately walked over to her bedroom window and looked at the house across the street. The man that lived there was standing in the window as well, and it seemed to her, as if he was looking back at her too, but he couldn't be. He wouldn't be.

She looked down at her dresser and picked up the notebook that was sitting next to her lamp. She opened it and jotted down: 10:05 am. Not at work. Staring through window.

She closed the notebook and slid it into the top drawer, moving to her closer to get dressed for the day. It was her day off and she didn't need to be anywhere so she pulled on a pair of sweat pants and kept on the t-shirt she had worn to bed.

Downstairs in her kitchen she turned on the coffee pot and pulled out a bowl for cereal. She took her freshly made coffee and bowl into the living room, propping her feet up on the coffee table and turning on her TV When she looked out the window over to his house once more he was gone from his window and the lights all seemed to be off. She narrowed her eyes, trying to look without getting up, but figured she was just overthinking and she should chill out.

When she finished her cereal and coffee she returned it to the kitchen and placed it in the sink, where she saw a plate that she hadn't used laying in the sink still dirty. She turned around quickly, looking for any sign that she wasn't alone. She knew she hadn't used that plate, the food residue on it was still wet, it couldn't be that old.

She felt her heart pound in her throat as if it wanted to jump out and run. She turned back to the sink and looked at the plate again. Maybe it was hers, she couldn't remember, but she was almost positive that it wasn't. Almost.

She shook off the feeling in her gut and grabbed another cup of coffee, walking back into the living room. She nearly dropped the cup when she entered. Sitting on her couch, was him. “Did you miss me darling?”

[tghwriting]

46. To Be A Savior

Audrey leaned forward against control panel staring out the window at the buses the size of ants that were slowly disappearing from view. The city was overrun, she could see the monsters closing in on the walls, getting closer and closer. The door behind her pounded. Cain's voice pierced though the metal door. “Audrey open the door!” He screamed, as his pounds shook the door. “Audrey! Don't do this! Open the fucking door!”

Audrey didn't turn around. She didn't look back at the door. She just stood there resolutely. She held her trembling hand over the release button. She was ready, the building was primed, there was no turning back.

He continued to scream through the door, trying desperately to force it open. “Open the motherfucking door Audrey! I'm not fucking joking!” His voice was growing hoarse. She jumped each time he screamed but she still refused to turn around. The buses were now just specks in the distance but she could still see them. She needed them to be gone.

Shots could be heard, echoing through the door as the lock was blown to pieces and the door slowly swung open. Cain stood there for a moment, gun still in his hand, before lowering it and storming into the room. Audrey spun around, grabbing the gun that had been sitting next to her on the control panel as she did, holding it up, pointing it directly at his face.

He was bloody, fresh wounds were still dripping from his cheeks, forehead, arms. His pant leg was ripped and she could see the scratch marks that were deep and bloody along his shin. He looked like he'd been through hell, but he was unfortunately still alive. Her hands shook as she held the gun, but he didn't notice. His eyes, burning with anger, were staring at her face. He was breathing heavily when he finally spoke, though his words seemed breathless. “You can't do this.” It wasn't a plea, but more of a condescending observation.

“Get out or I will put a bullet in you.”

“You don't have it in you sweetheart.” He shook his head, a smile pulling at the edges of his chapped lips. “Now let's leave before you do something that we will both regret.”

She stood firm. “No. Now get out.” The gun shook more violently in her hands. He took noticed and a small chuckle escaped his lips. “I'm serious. Get out.” She kept her voice soft, yet firm. The gun was shaking with each word, more out of anger than anything else.

“Oh sweetheart,” he tisked, “you think you can outsmart me?” He smiled, lowering his own gun and slowly reaching his hand out to her. “Now give me the gun and we can leave together.” He grabbed her hand around the gun, she didn't pull the trigger. She let his warm hands embrace hers and for a moment she felt like she used to, she felt how much she loved him. But that love was tainted now, not gone, but tainted. “That's a good girl.”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp as the words came out and she, keeping her hand on the gun, whacked him in the side of the head with the butt of the gun. He staggered to the side.

“You fucking stupid bitch.”

“You underestimate me, Cain, you always have.”

“I know you.” He growled at her, his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched. “You are too weak. Too scared.” He reached for her again but this time she did pull the trigger. A bullet lodged itself in the floor next to him, making him jump. She pointed the gun at him again, holding it in one hand, while her other hand returned to hover over the button. “You'd be dead already if it wasn't for me.”

“You took my leg!” She screamed. His eyes fell on her ripped jeans, noticing the metallic leg underneath the ripped fabric.

“That bite would have killed you.” He winced in pain. “I saved you're life!”

“You killed your own brother trying to kill me!”

“He got in the way.” He tried to stand. Tried to reach for the gun.

She quickly glanced behind her, the buses were out of view. “You think you scare me. You don't scare me anymore.” She pulled the trigger again, this time hitting him in the leg. He screamed and doubled over on the ground, grabbing his own gun as he did. She pulled the trigger again, hitting him in the side this time. The shock forced him to drop the gun.

“You don't have the balls to do this.” He reached for the gun again but before he could grab it she smiled.

“Bet.” She pressed the button.

Nothing happened. The sound of the monsters coming up the building started to get louder and louder. He laughed. “It doesn't even work.” He grabbed the gun and held it up, pointing it at her head. “All this for nothing.”

She looked away from him and went to press the button again, but something out the window caught her eye and she started to cackle, letting her gun drop to her side. “Cain?” She turned to look at him again, his face was white, his hand with the gun shaking as he struggled to hold it up. She took the gun out of his shaking hand and leaned down so her face was close to his. “I win.”

“Fuck you.” He spat.

The building under them started to shake. Suddenly he noticed what she had seen out the window, the large, fiery cloud, that was slowly growing around them. She smiled wide as the windows around them exploded inwards, the ground beneath them gave way, and fire and radiation engulfed them both. The monsters that had been climbing the walls and the stairs were disintegrated in an instant, the building collapsed in on itself. Audrey accepted her fate silently. Cain went out screaming. The buses that had been escaping the city were close enough to see the fall out. Watching from their back windows, knowing that Audrey had bought them all time, that she had saved them.

In the wreckage of the building, as the cloud subsided and the dust settled, only the metal of the building was left. The monsters were dust, Cain was dust, the guns were damaged beyond repair, but still laying in the midst of the rubble. Stuck under one of the many beams was the glint of shining metal, Audrey's leg. The knee seemed to bend, lifting up the broken beams around it, pushing through the dust. The toes wiggled. Flesh started to grow from the metal, a thigh, a torso, a second leg, a chest, arms, a head. Finally, standing in the rubble, was Audrey, her body back as it had been. “What?” Her voice was hoarse as she looked down at herself, alone, but somehow, alive again.

[tghwriting]

45. Sparks Fly

Ollie walked past multiple passed out classmates as he walked towards the back door. Xander had been sitting outside for most of the party, but now he was out there alone. As he walked up behind him he felt his stomach tighten. He wasn't sure why but he felt this air about him that felt almost dreamlike. He hadn't smoked like basically everyone else at the party, but he figured it was just the second hand stuff that was affecting him now.

There was still a fire in the pit at the center of the patio where Xander was sitting, staring into the dancing flames. Ollie took the seat across from him, sliding down into the chair was a soft grunt. He was tired, almost exhausted, but he didn't want to leave Xander alone, he didn't know when this opportunity would arise again.

“I thought you'd have gone home by now.” Xander said, taking a sip of his beer, before leaning forward, holding it by the neck in between his knees. Ollie shrugged, tilting his head back to look up at the stars.

“And leave while the night is still young?” He chuckled.

Xander looked down at his phone on the table next to him, holding his hand over it for a second, the time illuminated on the black screen. “It's almost three am.” He narrowed his eyes at Ollie who nodded.

“Still young.” He leaned forward in his seat, looking past the fire at Xander with a smile. “You spent almost the entire party out here.”

“I like the fresh air.” He smiled, leaning back in his seat and looking out towards the lake that the fire overlooked. “It's so nice out here.”

“It is.” Ollie didn't look anywhere but at Xander. “You know, I thought that at some point tonight you would have come over.”

“And let the whole school know.”

“They suspect.” He chuckled.

“Do they?” He looked back at Ollie, eyebrows raised.

“Wouldn't you?”

“I don't give other people that much attention, you know that.”

“Do I?” Ollie winked.

“Smartass.” He stood up from his chair and walked over to Ollie, standing in between him and the fire. He put both hands on the armrests of Ollie's seat and leaned down so that his face was just inches from Ollies. “I hate when you're this...”

“Correct?” Ollie leaned up, his lips so close to Xanders that they were a hairs length away from brushing against each other.

“I think...” his breath was hot against Ollie's lips. The smell of beer encircling the two of them. “I think we should...” He trailed off, looking in Ollie's eyes, taking in the blue and green speckled iris'. Watching as Ollie's eyes darted back and forth trying to focus on which eye to stare out. Ollie never could keep eye contact with anyone. It was something that Xander had found extremely endearing.

“You're a tease, you know that?” Ollie reached up and grabbed the back of Xander's head, pulling him in that last bit, locking their lips together in a tender but passionate kiss.

Xander pulled away first. “What if someone sees?” He looked around at the passed out kids around the yard. Ollie shook his head.

“Then why don't we go somewhere a bit more private?” He started to stand up but Xander put a hand out to stop him. “What?”

“No, no, it's okay.” He smiled a wide, coy smile. “Let them see.” He leaned back down and this time forcefully, but lovingly, kissed him. His lips left Ollie's and trailed down his stubbly jaw line, down his neck. He ran his hands over Ollie's chest and smiled when he felt Ollie shudder under his cold hands. “What do you want to do?”

“I...” Ollie's head was spinning, he knew what he wanted, he know how much he wanted it. But in that moment, looking at Xander, “I don't know.” His voice broke. “I don't know.” He pulled away from Xander's touch and slid up out of his seat, gently nudging Xander away. “I'm sorry.”

All of the emotions that had been flooding through him seemed to break through the surface and he walked away quickly, not towards the house, but towards the lake. Xander hesitated but followed.

“Ollie, wait up.” He took off in a run to catch up to him, gently tugging on his arm to get him to turn around. “I don't want to mess this up.”

Ollie met his eyes for a moment and smiled softly. “I just...I don't understand what I'm feeling and it's kinda stressing me out.” He sighed.

“I get that. I don't know what I'm feeling either but I know that I'm feeling something and that isn't a bad thing.”

“Isn't it?”

“What are you afraid of? You father? My parents? The random assholes in this town?”

“I don't know.”

“Well, I for one think that nothing any of them think matters.” He grabbed Ollie's hand and squeezed. “I don't want to grow up and move out of this town and have regrets. I don't want to regret.” He reached a hand up and caressed Ollie's cheek. “So what do you say? Let's not regret together?”

Ollie closed his eyes and nuzzled his face into Xander's hand. When he opened his eyes his smile had returned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I'm sure.”

“But...”

“But what? What are you so worried about?”

“I...”

“You don't know.”

“No. I don't and I can't...I don't...” He trailed off and stepped out of Xander's grasp once more turning to look out at the lake that was now only feet from them. “I've seen what being in a relationship with someone can do to a person and I don't want....”

“You don't want to end up like your parents?” His voice was soft when he said it. Ollie had never talked about what happened between his parents even though the whole town knew. No one ever talked about it outright, but there were whispers, murmurs, people gossiped. Ollie's mother had killed herself four years ago, never leaving a note, just one day, seemingly out of the blue. His father never talked about it and he got remarried two years later. It was a sore subject for Ollie.

“My...”

“You won't end up like them, I can promise you that. I won't let that happen.” He reached out for Ollie again who backed away from his grip. “Ollie.”

“What if I'm just like him?”

“Now that...that is something that is absolutely impossible.” Xander smiled wide, shaking his head and letting out a small laugh. “You will never be like that man.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I've met him and I've met you. I have eyes, ya know.” That garnered a smile from Ollie who was the one to reach out to Xander this time and grab his hand.

“Thanks.”

“I'm serious, you know that?” Xander squeezed Ollie's hand and smiled. “I care about you too much to let anything like that happen.” Ollie smiled back at him.

“You care about me?”

Xander rolled his eyes and laughed. “Of course I do.” He pulled Ollie in and kissed him. The world seemed to melt away and Ollie, against the anxiety in his head, believed him.

[tghwriting]

44. Coming Home

It was a strange feeling, going home after so much time had passed. It had been almost two years since Isla had stepped foot into her family home. Almost two years since her parents were murdered in that house. Almost two years since she was taken away in the middle of the night to safety, still covered in their blood. As she stepped over the threshold and into the large foyer she could feel the stagnant air. No one had been in this house since that night. No one had opened the doors, the windows. No one had dared cross the threshold. But the war was over and it was time to face that house.

Isla walked around the cobweb filled mansion, opening every door and throwing back every curtain. She coughed as dust flew up in her face when she pulled the curtain in the living room back. It was bright out and the sunlight made the house feel a little more welcoming. But the still air and musky smell didn't do it much favors.

As she started upstairs she heard the front door slowly open and then shut again. She leaned over the banister to see her uncle standing in the foyer. "I opened all the windows down here, heading upstairs to do the same."

"Are you sure you want to go up alone?" He asked, his voice concerned.

"I'll be fine." She nodded as she continued to ascend the staircase. He did the same lap that she had just done, but he took in the rooms of the house. The unfamiliar pictures on the wall and the strange decor he never imagined his sister owning. When he made it back into the foyer Isla had come back to the top of the stairs and was leaning over the banister.

"Everything alright?"

"I don't think I can do this?"

"Do you want me to come up?" He asked, already starting towards the staircase. She nodded but didn't say anything as he took the stairs at a jog, making it up to her in just a few seconds. When they were both standing at the top of the staircase Isla grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight. “You don't have to go in there.” He said, looking down the hall to the door of the main bedroom. She shook her head and took in a deep breath.

“I have to. If I don't do it now, this close, I might never.” She let go of his arm and slowly started towards the bedroom. The hallway was dim, the sunlight just barely showing through the curtains. As she walked past cobwebs and dust she felt the stagnant air thicken around her. She tried to take another deep breath but the air felt too heavy and her heart was racing too fast.

He was right behind her, his hand partially outstretched as if to catch her if she were to fall back. He hadn't wanted to be here either but being here for her felt different. He wasn't focusing on the fact that his brother-in-law and sister-in-law had been killed in this house. He wasn't focusing on all the death that seemed to encircle this family, he was just focusing on Isla and making sure that she was alright. That was all that mattered.

Isla reached for the door, her fingertips brushing against the handle before dropping to her side once more. She turned around to look at him. “I don't know if I can do this. I don't...”

“They're not still in there, I.” He said, his voice soft, comforting. “There shouldn't be anything in there but memories.”

“Memories are really scary sometimes, you know that.” She turned back to the door and reached out again, this time her fingers laced around the door knob and with a creek, the door swung open.

The room was as dim as the hallway, the light just barely breaking through the curtains. But as she stood there in the doorway, looking into the room, she could feel the memories flooding back to her. That night her parents had died. She remembered standing there in that very same doorway screaming. She remembered holding her mother's body, the blood seeping into her clothes and covering her skin. She remembered being pulled away, being carried kicking and screaming from the house. She remembered her uncle waiting outside. He never walked into the house. He never saw them. He never saw what had happened in this room. But she had. She had seen it all, and those memories were almost harder to bare than the regret she had about not being able to save them.

She fell to her knees with a loud bang, tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to catch her breath but the harder she tried to breathe the harder it became. He was still behind her, knelt down, his arms wrapped around her shoulders as she sat there and violently sobbed.

When she was finally able to open her eyes and wipe away some of the tears she looked around the room. The blood was gone, but the room was the same. The bed had been made, the room tidied, but it was like the room was an echo of what it once was. A memories forever captured in real life. Frozen in time.

She turned and ran from the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. Stopping only when her knees hit the ground and she once again broke into tears. He had followed her out, hoping that he could do something to help her. But he knew that there was little he could truly do except hold her and let her cry. And he did, he knelt down beside her and wrapped her in his arms while she cried harder than she had cried in a very long time. But she had done it, she had walked through the house, she had gone into the room, she had done it.

While she was still unimaginably sad, she was still proud of herself because she knew if she had tried any sooner she wouldn't have even made it through the front door.

[tghwriting]

43. A Brand New Day

Taylor walked though the front door of her apartment building and pulled her jacket tight around her. She put her earbuds in and started to walk down the street. It was still dark out but she couldn't go back to sleep. So as she walked down the quiet street she was left with the silence and her thoughts. The music was soft in her ears, the slow sad melody seemed to reverberate through her skull. She focused on it, trying to keep anything but her thoughts for taking over.

She had her playlist on shuffle, but every other song she'd skip until she found the one she wanted. She didn't want to hear happy music, she wanted the slow melody of sad ballads to be the only thing she heard. She couldn't listen to happy when she was anything but.

As she rounded the corner towards the neighborhood coffee shop that was the only thing open this early, she saw a familiar car parked in front of the building. The black convertible was unmistakable. She had seen it too many times to not know who's car it was. Part of her wanted to walk back home, turn around and avoid him. But she had walked this far and she didn't want to have walked for nothing.

When she walked into the cafe she saw him sitting in the corner table by himself. The barista smiled up at her as she approached. “For here or to go today?” She asked already punching in the order that Taylor made every single day since moving into that apartment a year and a half ago.

“For here.” The deep voice startled both of them. Taylor turned around to see Max standing there, his caramel colored skin softly illuminated by the yellow light of the cafe, his smile knowing and kind. He handed his card over to the barista, not taking his eyes off of Taylor.

“I can buy my own coffee.”

“I know.” He took his card back and signed the print out, not bothering to look at it. “I was hoping you'd come in today.” He pushed the receipt back to the barista. “Sit with me.” His voice was soft, but it wasn't a question as he gently held the back of her arm and led her to the table he had made his own.

“You could have just called.”

“Would you have answered?”

“No. Probably not.” She sighed as she sat down in the chair he had pulled out for her before taking his own seat. “How's...is it Nina?”

He shook his head. “Why do you think I wanted to talk?” His smile wavered.

“Aren't you supposed to be getting married today?”

“Supposed to be.” He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, avoiding eye contact. “It wasn't a fun night making all the phone calls.” He finally said.

“You called it off?” She asked as the barista brought her her coffee, sliding it in front of her. “Didn't you?”

“Caught her and my brother together last night.” He sighed.

“I'm sorry.”

“At least now I know why you two aren't together anymore.” He sighed again and held his coffee to his lips, putting it back down after a moment without taking a sip. “Did you know?”

“I suspected.” She nodded. “But he left me, remember?”

“Vividly.” He took another sip.

“So why did you want to talk?” She asked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

He didn't look at her, he just leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment, lost in thought. “I...I shouldn't have gone back to her.” He finally said. “I should have fought harder for you.” He met her eyes for what seemed like the first time since they had sat down.

“Then why didn't you?” She knew the answer but she needed to hear him say it.

“You know my family, they wanted me with her and there was no questioning that.” He finally said.

“So what did they say last night?”

“Let's just say I don't think I'm going to any holiday dinners for the next few years.” He chuckled, a soft, broken, chuckle. “It doesn't matter.” He shook his head.

“What does matter?”

“I want to try again.”

“You just called off your wedding last night and you want to try again already?” She didn't feel very convinced, after everything that had happened, after the messy break up she had had with his brother just a few weeks ago, she didn't feel in the right place.

“We don't have to go right into anything, but I just want to talk. I want to be friends again. I want to go slow and let things happen. I want to give it a shot.” The words came out of his mouth so fast that he stuttered through them. When he stopped talking he picked up his coffee and finished the last bit. She smiled at him, a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“I can do friends right now.” She said slowly, taking a long sip and looking up at him. She put the empty mug down on the table and stood up. He stood up as well. “You don't have to come with me.” She said glancing down at his bag that was still sitting against the leg of the table.

“I don't want you to go just yet.”

“Then come with me. We can walk and talk.”

He hesitated a moment before nodding and picking up his bag. They left their empty cups on their table like the signs on the wall requested and headed out the cafe door. The sun was now rising, shining a soft orange and cool blue glow over everything. Taylor stood outside of the cafe door, her eyes closed, her head tilted up towards the sky. The wind was blowing through her brown hair, gently whipping it around her face.

He watched her stand there and smiled softly.

After a few moments she turned to look at him, catching him staring at her. “What?”

“I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time all over again.” He bit his bottom lip nervously. “I know that sounds cheesy.”

“It does.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's fine.” She nodded and took in a deep breath, looking at his car than back to him. “Still wanna walk?”

“Yeah.” He said breathlessly. The two walked side by side silently for a few minutes before he finally stopped and looked at her. She noticed after a few steps and turned back to look at him questioningly. “I'm really sorry.”

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.” She said softly, closing the gap between them and gently touching his arm. “You didn't cheat on anyone, you didn't have an affair with your brother's fiancee while you were dating someone else. You are not the bad guy here.” She wanted to comfort him, but she knew how bad he felt, she knew that the words were not going to make any difference, even if he needed to hear them.

“I feel like I pulled you into this mess.”

“One night over a year ago when the two of you were broken up is not pulling me into a mess. It's just...” she tried to think of the right word, but she wasn't sure what to say.

“Unfortunate.” He finished her thought for her. She nodded.

“Meeting you was not unfortunate.” She smiled. “Meeting your brother might have been though.” That got him to chuckle. She reached up and touched the side of his scruffy face. “I wouldn't change any second I had with you. I need you to know that.”

“I broke your heart.”

“No you didn't.” She assured. “My heart can handle a lot, trust me.”

“Is that why you're walking alone to a coffee shop before sunrise every day?”

“Everyday?”

“The barista told me. She said that you're one of her first customers every morning.” He said, leaning against the closest wall, which was an old brick wall that separated the house behind it from the street. “I didn't...I wanted to make sure I'd find you without knocking on your front door.”

“Think I'd slam the door in your face?”

“As much as I knew you wouldn't answer your phone.”

“Well, then I'm glad you made it creepy.” She giggled. “Why don't we just start over.” She finally said, taking a step back and putting her hand out in front of her. “I'm Taylor.”

“Maxim. Max.” He took her hand in his and shook, a large smile spreading across his face.

“Would you like to come over to my place and hang out?” She hung on the words 'hang out' for longer than she needed to. He nodded.

“I'd like that.”

“See, that wasn't so hard.” She liked her arm around his and pulled him off the wall, starting to walk down the street once more. “It's a brand new day, the sun is shining, and you don't have to marry that monster of a woman anymore. Life is good.” She said the words more enthusiastically and happier than she was actually feeling. She felt that sadness and anger that had been weighing down her chest slowly start to lift as she squeezed his arm in hers.

They got to her apartment building and she led him upstairs and into her apartment. He'd been there before but this time felt different. His brother wasn't there. His ex wasn't going to call him and check in on him. No one was going to bother him. He breathed a sigh of relief as she closed the door and walked over to him as he just stood in the middle of her living room. It felt different and that was good. As she stood there looking up at him and he looked down at her he could feel that everything was different, everything had changed over night. While a few days ago he would have been terrified of the prospect, as he stood there now he finally felt his own weight lift off his shoulders. He was free.

[tghwriting]

42. Agony

The pain that shot through her body was worse than almost anything she had ever felt before but she didn’t flinch. This was a pain that she had felt before, too many times. She had volunteered to demonstrate after the other students in her class all stepped back and avoided eye contact, afraid to be the unlucky one that was chosen. She stood there and slowly rose her hand, being the only one that was brave enough.

Their teacher was unconventional to say the least, wanting to show them the reality of the world they had been born into, the dangers they might face in the real world. Torture, that was something they were going to need to learn to handle, to withstand.

When she was the one to volunteer he looked at her, almost as if he knew that it would be her. That she would be the one to face him. He smiled when she stood in front of him, a knowing smile.

Then he raised his hand and narrowed his eyes. There was no light that shot from his finger tips, no indication that he had done anything. She stood there, pain coursing through her body, but not enough to bring her to her knees. She stiffened her neck and cocked her head to the side, narrowing her own eyes at him and smiling. The class was silent, watching the interaction but not fully understanding what was happening. It wasn't until she spoke that they finally understood.

"You're heart isn't in it, is it professor?" She said, her tone cold.

"I shouldn't have to try so hard on someone so young." He countered.

She gave him a small smile, "you know you're going to have to try harder than that."

He nodded. "Very well."

The class watched in silence as he twisted his hand in front of her. This time she crumbled, screaming, her voice cracking as the shriek that escaped it echoed through the room. She writhed on the floor as the pain that shot through her was the most immense pain she had ever felt. As her body felt like it was burning from the inside. Her screams turned silent as he refused to let up. As he twisted his hand, slowly balling his fist. She felt like she was being ripped apart. Like every bone in her body was trying to break free of her skin.

"Stop it!" Several of the kids screamed, attempting to step in and stop him themselves. But he held his other hand up to them, blocking them from reaching him.

He finally let down his hand and she gasped for breath, but no one could reach her, the barrier was still stopping them. "You are stronger than I anticipated."

She sat up from her fetal position to cross her legs in front of herself and look up at hi, a coy smile stretched across her face. She didn't look like she had just been in so much pain, she didn't look like she had just gone through the hell that she had.

"My family has done worse for less." She sighed as she slowly stood up. "Really need to set your heart to it though." She smiled, brushing off her pants and straightening her back. "Works real well when you're angry." She started back towards the class but he still didn't take down the barrier separating them.

"Mind if I try something else?" He asked when she glanced back at him. She turned and shrugged. He lifted up his hand once more, this time a dark red glow emanated from his fingertips. This time the glow spread out from his fingertips and wrapped themselves around her like ropes, dragging her to her knees and pulling her across the stone floor to her. The glow lightened and as it grew brighter she began to scream again. This time the screams seemed to radiate more pain than before, but the look on her professor's face made her realize that her reaction was not what he had been expecting.

The class jumped back from the barrier as her screams grew louder, as the red rope like glow wrapped it way around her throat and tightened. Her screams were cut off as she struggled to breathe. Then, as her face started to turn red, then purple, a bright white glow radiated from her skin, pushing outwards against the red light, pushing it away from her skin, freeing her from it's grasp. She was only free for a moment before the red rope-like glow wrapped itself around her ankles and drug her across the room, her nails dug into the wood, scratching up pieces of it as they did, the wood splintering into her now bleeding fingertips. The class started to scream again, this time banging on the barrier to try to get her out of it.

Then suddenly, it all stopped. The red glow retracted back into his fingers and the white glow dimmed around her body until it was completely gone. The blood on her fingertips seemed to slowly clear and for a moment, she just laid on her back on the floor until the teacher walked over to her and reached out a hand for her to take so she could stand up. Her legs wobbled at first but then found their strength again only a moment later. “Are you alright?” He asked, his voice low. She nodded but didn't say anything as the white glow from before returned, swimming around her skin, repairing the damage what just happened had done. “Curious.” He narrowed his eyes at her and let down the barrier. Her friends were the first to reach her, all talking over one-another asking her if she was alright. She kept her eyes on the teacher, wanting him to elaborate on what was so curious but he didn't, he leaned back against his desk and let the class settle at its own pace.

Once the roar of students had quieted almost to complete silence, he spoke up. “If any of you think that that is as bad as it can get, you will be sorely mistaken.” He said, pushing off the desk and walking over to her again. “How did you push it away?”

She looked up at him, then down at her now healed hands, and back to him. She was almost unaware that there was anyone else in the room as she opened her mouth to speak. Then, in a low voice she sighed, “Practice.”

[tghwriting]

41. The Accident

Violet could still hear the crash like it had happened only seconds ago. She could feel the impact of the car and the tree, hear the crumbling of the metal, the shattering of the glass, the thump of the wood when the car finally came to a stop sideways against a large grouping of trees. She could feel the steering wheel bent up against her stomach. She could hear the faint gasps for air from the only other living person in the car. It had been a deer, hadn't it? It was gone now. She swore she had seen it. She panicked and swerved to miss it. Had it been something else? It had to have been a deer. But she knew not to swerve when it came to deer, that it was safer to plow through...so why had she swerved. Was it the panic? It had to have been a deer.

Her right side was splashed with blood that wasn't hers. As she moved her sore neck to look next to her she saw what she had feared she would see. Her best friend had been crushed by the impact, her lower half bloody and broken, splinters of bone were scattered over the passenger seat. Her head was lulled to the side against the cracked window, blood dripping from the open wound on her head and down her face.

“Vi.” The voice in the backseat was hoarse. Violet stretched upward, wincing in pain, as she moved the rear-view mirror to see behind her. Her sister, Scarlet, was looking back at her, her face splattered with blood. The girl next to her, her sisters best friend, was pinned back against the seat from the tree branch that had shot through the car, through her sternum, and secured itself to the back of the seat.

“Are you alright?” Violet asked weakly, smiling that her sister seemed mostly unharmed.

“Never better.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “Can you get out?”

Violet looked down at herself, while the steering wheel had bent down and pinned her to the seat, she was relatively unharmed. “If I can push my seat back I think I can.” She said as she wiggled her toes and moved both of her arms to feel down her stomach.

“I've got room, come on back.” She said as Violet reached down and pushed the seat back with little effort. She was able to get the door open wide enough to get herself out of the car. As she turned to look at the wreckage she saw what she wouldn't have been able to see otherwise. Through the entire backseat of the car was another tree branch that pierced through the door and out the other side. She could see the blood dripping from the end of it and she knew where it had pierced through, there was no way that it hadn't. Tears were welling up in her eyes, her heart was pounding. “Vi?” She asked, reaching her hand up and through the open window. Violet limped over to her reaching her hand out to grab her sisters bloody hand. “Do you have your phone?”

Violet reached into her back pocket and pulled out her now cracked cell phone and quickly dialed 9-1-1. She didn't want to tell her sister what she knew. She knew that Scarlet hadn't noticed it yet. That the shock and adrenaline had taken over her thoughts. The woman on the other end of the call told her to keep the phone one as the police and ambulance were on their way. Violet placed the phone on top of the car as she leaned in through the window to look at her sister's lap.

Scarlet's breathing was shallow and weak. “It's really bad isn't it?” She asked finally. “I can't feel my legs.”

“Scar...I'm...”

“It wasn't your fault.” She said with a small cough.  “That man shouldn't have been in the road.”

Violet looked at her and then out to the road above them. “Man?” She asked leaning back to try to get a view of anything that would have shown her what she had avoided. “It was a deer, wasn't it?”

Scarlet slowly shook her head. “No, there was a man in the road.” She reached her hand weakly out of the window and brushed her fingers along her sisters arm. “It's really okay. I'll be fine.” She gave her a small, comforting smile.

“Scar...” She shook her head and leaned against the car, placing her hand on the door and closing her eyes. She could feel the pain slowly growing in her abdomen, her adrenaline seemed to be waning. Scarlet's eyes were starting to close. Violet jumped up when she noticed. “No, Scar, keep your eyes open. The ambulance will be here soon. Just hold on.”

“I'm awake. I swear.” She breathed out a long, pained breath. A cough escaped her lips and as it did she winced in pain. Violet could see the color slowly draining from Scarlet's face as she rested her head back against the seat. Neither one of them looked at the other two in the car. Neither one of them wanted to focus on their two dead friends, they just needed to focus on staying alive long enough for the ambulance to get there. “Violet.” Her soft voice startled Violet in the deafening silence that had engulfed them.

“Hey, I'm right here.” She grabbed onto Scarlet's hand, squeezing it tight. “Don't push yourself. They'll be here soon.” There was hope in her voice as tears were starting to drip down her cheeks.

“Vi, I'm not getting out of this car.” As she said the words, Violet knew that they were true, but she didn't want to believe them.

“No, don't say that.” She cried. “Don't say that. They're almost here. You just have to hold on.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks now. “Please don't say that.”

“It's okay.” She gasped for air, trying to muster up the strength to speak. “It's...okay...” Her head slowly lulled to the side as the last word slipped out of her lips. Her hand in Violet's fell limp. Violet screamed as, in the distance, red and blue flashing lights started to fill the darkness.

[tghwriting]

40. The Choices We Make

It's that feeling of bliss, that moment when you've just descended the highest peak of a roller coaster, that moment when you've faced your fears. You're heart is pumping so hard it makes your head spin. When the blood rushes through your ears and makes it impossible to hear anything else. That light-headed joy that never lasts as long as it needs to, and rarely feels the same a second time around.

The lights in Z's bedroom were off, but it wasn't hard to see. The moonlight from outside the open window shed a blue glow over everything in the room. The street lights illuminating a pale yellow just around the edges of the glass.

Her room, though not necessarily messy, was filled with items and memorabilia from her life so far. Stuffed animals from her childhood sat in the shadowy corner by her bed, collecting dust and untouched for the better part of her high school career. Her book shelf, shrouded in darkness, was organized by author, with a few of her favorites facing outwards so anyone that came over could see them and hopefully ask what they were about. She would have loved to talk about them with someone. Her backpack was open on the floor at the foot of her bed, next to a freshly worn pile of her school uniform. School books were strewn about from the backpack, piled haphazardly on top of each other and then subsequently knocked over.

Her bed wasn't made, her quilt lay half on the floor, half curled up at the edge of the bed. The unwashed flannel red sheets were the same, she'd pull them off eventually to clean them, but she never really felt the point. Her pillow was on an angle, crushed up, the pillowcase rolled up and the old pillow halfway out onto the bed.

Her laptop was open on her desk, but in sleep mode, the screen black. Next to it was her purse, a small black bag with a skull latch that was laying open and sitting there, it's contents as strewn about as her backpack.

The drawer to her dresser was open, once neatly folded socks and underwear were now scatted about, piled and separated on either side of the drawer.

It was a school night, late Sunday, her parents were out for a work event. Her brother asleep in the other room. She had been tasked with watching him for the night, making sure that his homework was done and that he'd brushed his teeth before bed. It wasn't uncommon for her to watch him, for her parents to go out and stay out until the latest hours of the night.

If anyone had just walked by her bedroom door and opened it they wouldn't have known she was even in there. They wouldn't have seen her, laying on the floor in a puddle of her own vomit. They wouldn't have even had the inkling to walk in a few feet and find the needle laying next to her track-marked arm. They wouldn't have known that she was still breathing, even if only barely.

When her parents got home they didn't check on her, they didn't check on her brother either. They had pulled up after three and quietly snuck upstairs, making sure to not make any noise. Making sure to not wake their kids up. They didn't know that they should have gone into her room. They should have opened the door and found her. They could have saved her.

It was the morning, when the sun was peaking through the window, when the birds we're chirping and her father was getting ready for work. When her brother had taken his shower and eaten his breakfast. When her mother had made sure to pack them both a lunch for the day, knowing how much she hated the hot lunch at school on Mondays.

Her mother had told her brother to go upstairs and wake her. Make sure she was ready for the day. Make sure she hadn't snuck out in the middle of the night and not come home. It wouldn't have been the first time. But when he opened that door he saw something someone at the young age of twelve should have never seen.

His scream echoed through the house and reached the already awake neighbors who were nosy enough to go outside and see what was wrong. He fell to his knees as his eyes couldn't stop looking at her, her ice cold body laying there, covered in vomit, her arm covered in track-marked and scars. Her eyes were open, staring at the open window. One of her stuffed bears tucked under her arm. She'd had enough energy to pull it from the bed, to hold it as the drugs took over.

Her mother's scream pierced through the air like a knife, prompting the nosy neighbors to run into the unlocked house and up the stairs. Her father was the last one to the room. It was a neighbor that called 9-1-1, while her father pulled her brother out of the room and handed him off to the neighbors husband. Before he returned to hold her mother, breaking down into the same uncontrollable tears that her mother was already broken down to.

The police and paramedics had to escort them out of the room, their neighbors that were there were a welcome comfort. But nothing, nothing would ever make them forget that image, her cold hands still clutching the stuffed animal as they picked her up. Her eyes were glassy, staring without seeing, until one kind paramedic closed them and covered her with a sheet. There was no solace for them. There was no note, not indication, she was chasing a high that she hadn't felt in a long time and she has gone too far. Had they opened her door, had they come home an hour earlier she would have made it. She would have still been alive.

[tghwriting]

39. Insomnia

She was so unbelievably tired but no matter what she did she couldn't fall asleep. Every sound in her apartment was distracting her, keeping her awake. The ticking of the clock in the living room. The dripping faucet in her bathroom. The upstairs neighbors dog running back and forth. There was a ringing in her ears that sat in the background of her focus, slowly getting louder. She relished in those days when she forgot the ringing was there, because whenever she noticed it again it seemed to take over her mind.

She rolled over, trying to find a cold spot on her bed. She kicked off the sheets, her legs unbearably hot, only to pull them back on a moment later when the cold air pierced through her skin. Her pillow was the same, but flipping it over helped momentarily.

She felt her hair laying haphazardly around her and pushed it all up above head, smoothing it upwards on the back of her skull. But a moment later she could feel it again and shot up to a sitting position, reaching over to her nightstand to grab a scrunchie. She pulled her hair up into a tight high ponytail and let out a momentarily sigh of relief.

Now she could feel the neckline of her t-shirt creeping up to her throat. It felt like it was slowly shrinking tighter and tighter. She reached up and tugged at it, holding it as far open as the seems would allow before giving up and quickly tugging the shirt off her body. The moment she felt her skin touching itself she reached back over and pulled the shirt back on, but she could still feel the neckline uncomfortably close to her throat.

The sheets and quilt around her seemed to be moving on their own, encircling her, trapping her feet and scratching at her bare legs. Her shorts had ridden up uncomfortably under her thighs, a small lump that was all too noticeable.

She kicked off the sheets, forcing them to fall over the edge of the bed and to a heap on the floor. She let out a long, angry huff as she jumped out of bed and hustled over to her closet. She opened the door and flicked on the blinding light. She needed a tank top, that would help, she thought. She grabbed a black tank top off a hanger and changed from her t-shirt into the tank top. She almost instantly felt better in regards to no longer being choked. Then she flicked off the light and closed the door, walking over to her dresser and switching her shorts for a pair of soft cotton pants. For the most part, what had been keeping her up was resolved. She turned back to her bed and stared at it for a long while before sighing and walking into her living room.

She laid down on her couch, hoping that this would help her fall asleep, but the moment she felt herself getting comfortable her hair started to hurt again. She sat up and pulled the ponytail out, replacing it with a loose topknot that seemed to relieve the stress on her scalp. When she laid down again she felt the heat of her body under the blanket slowly starting to warm her to uncomfortable levels. But as she tried different ways of placing the blanket the heat only seemed to get worse and the longer she laid on the couch the more aware of the cushions sinking underneath her she was.

She jumped up off the couch and angerly threw the blanket in a heap over the back cushions before turning on her heel and storming into the kitchen. She flicked on the light and filled her tea kettle with water, pressing down the button to activate it and waiting for the water to boil. She pulled out a mug, a tea bag, and a few cubes of sugar and waited, leaning back against the counter, staring off into the distance. She just wanted to sleep. She was so tired and she just wanted to lay down and pass out.

When the water was done she poured it into her cup and let the heat melt the sugar and steep the tea. She grabbed a spoon and gave it a quick stir before tossing the spoon into the sink, turning off the light, and going back to her bedroom. She sat there, not drinking the steaming tea, her legs dangling over the side of the bed. She let herself fall backwards on the mattress, her feet still on the floor, and looked up at the ceiling.

The ticking of the clock. The dripping of the faucet. The fabric against her skin. She wasn't going to be able to fall asleep. She let out an angry growl as she slammed her fists against the mattress and sat up again. She yawned, her eyes were burning, she just wanted to go to sleep.

She grabbed the mug of tea and took a sip from the still steaming liquid. It warmed her insides as it slid down her throat. She stared down at the tea slowly swirling it around in the mug, focusing on the sloshing liquid. It seemed to calm her as she stared into the swirling brown liquid. She placed the mug back on her nightstand and laid back down, resting her head on her now cool pillow.

Her eyes found the ceiling again and stared at it once more, letting her thoughts take over. Hopefully she would grow tired enough after a while that she would just fall asleep. She did everything she could to focus on the ceiling, to block out the dripping, the ticking. Tried her best to ignore the feeling of her shirt around her neck, even though it was no where near it. Tried her best to ignore the warming of the sheets and the pillow under her. Tried her best to just focus on anything else. To finally fall asleep.

[tghwriting]

38. A Late Night Walk

She walked down the hallway, unsure of where she was going, only knowing that she needed to be alone. She needed to get away, needed to think. She couldn't do that with her roommate snoring on the other side of their dorm room. It was after midnight and the campus was seemingly empty. So she headed outside and into the cold night air.

The campus was well lit, the walkways newly paved. She popped in her headphones and started from where she had left off in her audio book. She was re-reading Lolita for class, which had been her favorite book from her high school English class and was still one of her favorite books.

As she walked, listening to the relaxing tone of the narrators voice, she felt that weight that had been keeping her up slowly fade. She wasn't sure where she was walking, she didn't really have a purpose, but she felt her legs taking her through the campus to somewhere familiar. After a few chapters and a while of walking in circles she stopped in front of the Literature building near the center of campus.

Most of the lights were off except for two up on the third floor. She knew who the lit windows belonged to and smiled, walking into the still unlocked building. The literature building looked like walking into the house of an eccentric rich man. The walls were lined with bookshelves, but they were all decorative and none of the books moved. A grand piano that played itself was in the corner of the lobby and there were couches and arm chairs placed in clusters around the room. This was where most of the English majors hung out. The was the building her father had paid for and designed.

Her father was a long time professor of Literature, but he made a lot of his money off his best selling novels that seemed to always be the topic of someone's conversation in this room. She wasn't proud that she had followed in his footsteps, it made her feel like an extension of him instead of her own person. She turned towards the stairs to her left that led upstairs and climbed to the third floor and down the hall of the teacher offices.

The door at the end of the hall was her fathers. It was closed and dark as she had expected. Her father never stayed late on campus, his last class ended at five and he was always home for dinner at seven. The door two down from his office was the door that was cracked open, the light still on. She slowly approached the door, taking out her earbuds and pausing the audio book. She could now hear the soft jazz music that was coming from the open door. She gently knocked and as she did the door slowly swung open to reveal the inside of the office.

He was sitting on the armchair in the corner of the office, his legs crossed, and a file open on his knee. A large stack of files were sitting on the small table in front of him, along with an empty whiskey glass, his phone, and his open laptop.

He glanced up at her over his half moon glasses that sat on the tip of his nose. “What are you doing out so late?” He asked as he looked back down at the file in his hand.

“It's not that late.” She said as she closed the door, walking over to the armchair opposite him and sliding down into the cushion. “What are you still doing here?”

He smiled, turning a page in the file. She could see now that he was grading the most recent essays, his red pen stuck in between his fingers as he read like an old cigarette. He held up the file as his answer before turning the page again and marking something with the pen. “You know if you wanted to see me, you could have just called.” He didn't look up at her.

She sighed. “I wasn't planning on it.” As she sunk back into her seat she pulled a book off of his nearby bookshelf and propped it up on her lap, kicking her feet out and resting them on top of the ottoman next to the table.

“Then what were you planning?” He asked, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.

She looked up at him, he had stopped grading the file in his hand to look at her, pulling his glasses off his face to bite the tip of the arm of his glasses. He smiled at her, his barely wrinkled face, wrinkling at the corners of his dark eyes. She didn't meet his eyes though, she glanced over his salt and pepper hair, his sun-kissed skin, his strong hands. She caught herself looking at him and bit her bottom lip. “I just needed to think.” She finally said, hoping that he hadn't noticed her looking at him like that.

He shook his head and put his glasses back on with a small chuckle. “And your thinking led you here?” He asked, closing the folder and leaning forward. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she nodded. Her hands were trembling, her heart was racing, her breathing had slowed and seemed to catch itself every so often in her throat. He reached a hand out to her and gently touched her knee.

“Guess I just...” she reached her hand down to place it atop his as her voice faded out. He slid his hand further up her thigh. She shuddered under his touch. He pulled his hand away and leaned back in his chair, keeping his eyes trained on her.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “Why did you come here?” He put his hands on the sides of his chair and pushed himself up. Her eyes focused on his forearms as they flexed under his weight. He walked over to her and bent down, brushing the tips of his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She met his eyes and smiled as he leaned down, his face barely inches from hers. She could smell the bourbon still on his lips. He brought his lips down on hers, covering them in a warm kiss.

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, lacing his fingers in the underside of her hair.  His grip locked her head into place as he kissed her. When he pulled away he slid his hand around to rest it on the side of her face, tracing her lips with his thumb. Her eyes stayed locked on his. He pressed gently under her chin, signaling her to get out of her chair. She did, but she didn't stand up. She slid off her chair and down onto her knees, not breaking eye contact with him.

“'Atta girl.” His voice was soft as he caressed the side of her face, leaning back down above her, lacing his hands in her hair once more and tugging her hair forcefully. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, her pupils dilated, her palms were sweating, her heart was racing. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that she needed someone to satisfy, needed him to satisfy. He seemed to know what she was thinking as he let go of her hair and walked over to the office door, locking it, and walking back over to her. “Now, is this what you came here for?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down, his lips just a hair away from her ear. He whispered, his voice husky. “Yes, what?” She shuddered under his breath as it gently brushed against her skin.

“Yes, sir.” Her voice shook with anticipation. She could feel his smile against the side of her head.

“Good girl.”

[tghwriting]

37. Static

The house was eerily quiet as Amber approached. Its bright chipped white paint was shining in the sunlight. The large tree in the front yard cast a dark shadow over the lawn. Something felt off, she couldn't put her finger on it, but something was wrong.

As she walked up the driveway to the front door she saw Luca's car parked haphazardly between the lawn and the pavement. His backpack strap was stuck in the driver's side door, dragging along the ground.

She walked up the porch and to the front door which was slightly ajar. The sound of TV static was faint through the open doorway. She gently pushed the door open and slowly stepped inside the house. "Luca!" She called out, hoping to hear an answer. Her heart was pounding. She didn't know why but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She closed the door behind her and flipped on the hallway light. Luca's sneakers were flung on the ground, sitting feet apart from each other, one on it's side, the other upside down. His jacket was in a lump on the floor. She felt her heart beginning to race, faster and faster. "Luca!"

She pulled out her cellphone and called his brother, Isaac. He answered the phone after a few rings. "Hey babe." His voice seemed distant, like she was on speaker or he was driving.

"Have you heard from Luca?"

"No. I've been in class. Whats up?"

"I'm at your house, I was going to surprise you when you got home with some food but the door was open and his car is here but he isn't answering." She put down the bag of Chinese takeout she had been holding on the entryway table and started into the living room, then to the kitchen, the dining room, and back to the front door as she spoke.

"He's probably got headphones in." Isaac sighed.

"I have a bad feeling."

"Have you gone up to his room?"

"Not yet."

"Look, go up and you'll see he's just doing homework or something. I'll be there soon. I'm like, ten minutes away." He hung up before she could say anything else. His nonchalance didn't help her unease.

She started up the stairs, each creak made her skin crawl. The air felt thick and as she passed the photos lining the staircase she seemed to notice them more today. His childish smiles in each one, his football picture, his baseball pictures, old Christmas photos. “Luca! Are you up here?” She still  did not get a response.

She stopped at the top of the stars. The static from the TV was louder now, coming from Lucas closed bedroom door. She could see the light flickering under the door. "Luca!" She hesitantly started walking towards his bedroom door. Her heart was pounding and every slow step made the floor beneath her feet creek.

She slowly reached out and grabbed the door knob. She was shaking as she pushed open the door. The TV static was the only light in the room, the sun had set making the house nearly completely dark. There was a knot in the pit of her stomach as the door fully opened. Luca wasn't inside. "Luca?" She asked, hoping that maybe he was in his bathroom or something but still no reply.

She noticed as she looked around that his phone was sitting on his bed, along with the t-shirt he had been wearing earlier. She pulled her phone out again to call Isaac back but stopped when she heard something. A faint creek coming from inside his closet.

She couldn't bring herself to walk over to it. She couldn't understand what she was thinking, her mind was racing to fast for her to comprehend anything. Then suddenly she found herself walking over to the closet door.

She couldn't stop herself as she reached out for the door knob, but she hesitated before opening it. She didn't know what she thought she would find but she had the sinking feeling that she was going to find something she didn't want to see.

Then, after what felt like hours of contemplation, she opened the closet door.

Her mind didn't process it at first, it didn't know how. The cell phone in her hand slipped through her now limp grasp as it hit the floor by her feet. Her mouth opened to scream but no sound came out. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as if it was trying to escape.

She was looking down at the dark closet floor, strewn about were photos of her, photos that were taken through windows and around corners. Photos that no one should have been able to have. Photos of her and Isaac together. They were scattered around each other and crushing some of them was a step stool that had fallen over. She knew what she would find as her eyes moved upward.

First were a pair of bare feet dangling together, legs covered in jeans, a bare torso, a blue and purple bulging neck, and his face. There was an expression of pain in his bulging eyes as he slowly swung back and forth, each time his shoulder tapped against the wall, causing the sound she has heard earlier. She reached out to touch him, afraid that she had gone mad and was just imagining this. But when her fingers came into contact with the icy cold skin she screamed.

The scream was horrifying, sharp, piercing. It carried through the house, through the now closed front door, and outside to where Isaac has just gotten out of his car. He ran, taking strides longer then it seemed his legs would take him. He flung open the front door and took the steps two at a time. "Amber!" His voice carried to her but she couldn't process anything else. She felt frozen in place.

Isaac burst through the partially open door and rushed over to her. His hands found her shoulders before his eyes saw what she was looking at. He pulled her back. He didn't scream, but he wanted to. He started to shake and pulled out his phone quickly dialing 9-1-1.

The next hour or so seemed to be a blur. As the police, the paramedics, and their parents all encroached upon the house. Upon the bedroom. Isaac and Luca's mom fell to her knees when she approached, the scream echoing the horror that Amber's had. Their father was stoic but they could see in his eyes the pain and horror he was feeling as well. Isaac didn't leave Amber's side, he held on to her silently. She hadn't spoke a word the whole time. Not when the police tried to question her, not when Isaac tried to comfort her, not at all.

She just sat there on Isaac's porch, her head on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She could still see him hanging there, the pictures that lined the closet and scattered on the floor. The TV static rang in her ears. It was the only thing she could hear. It filled her ears. Took over her thoughts. Nothing else. Just static.

[tghwriting]

36. Meet Me Under The Stars

It was just after midnight when he snuck out of his family's cabin. He didn't think anyone had seen him but he also wasn't really sure. As he crept around the building he kept looking around, scared that someone would be following him. But every time he looked back he was alone.

They had agreed to meet after midnight just past the edge of the forest. He had wanted to get there early to meet her sooner but his brothers had both been up and in the common area until just a few minutes ago. He hadn't wanted to risk stepping outside and them seeing him.

She however had been out there for a little over an hour, sitting alone and glad that her parents didn't care enough to ask where she had been going. Though if they had, she would have just said that she was going to meet a friend and they would have just assumed it had been her best friend Ethan.

They never had a problem with Ethan since his parents were also their best friends. But if they had known who she was going to meet they would have never let her leave their side again. If they had known that she was meeting someone of "his kind" she could kiss any trust they had in her goodbye.

"I didn't think you'd be here." His voice was barely above a whisper as he approached her, but it was such a quiet night that it had been loud enough to make her jump.

"Of course I'd be here." She flashed him a bright smile. Even the moonlight it was hard to see him, his dark hair cast shadows upon his dark face, obscuring the small smile. She tugged on her hood, bits of her bright red hair peaking through.

"Did you're parents see you?"

"No, yours?"

"No." He smiled. "Though I would have been here sooner if my brothers hadn't been out in the common area for so long."

"I'm sorry about having to meet like this."

"It's okay." He closed the distance between them and gently brushed his soft fingers under her chin. "We'll be back at school soon and we won't need to worry about sneaking anymore."

"Won't we?" She leaned back against a tree and sighed. "I'd my parents find out that I'm..."

"Dating a half breed like me?" His words were sharp.

"Don't call yourself that."

"It's what they think."

"But it isn't what I think." She was the one to reach up and gently caress his face. "I would never think that of you."

"I know." He sighed. "It's just that I...I don't want to put you in danger."

She smiled up at him. "As long as I'm with you danger is the last thing I'm worried about."

He looked down at his hands. "But your parents."

"They can deal with their old racist way of thinking, I won't let that stop me from caring about you." She gently nudged his chin up to look at her. “I care too much about you.” She smiled up at him. “Better they find out while we're away at school anyway, better to get disowned from three hundred miles away then from the same room.” Her tone was playful but the words didn't make him feel any better.

“I can't...I can't let that happen.”

“I can.” She stood up on her tip toes and kissed him gently. He hesitated before letting himself sink down and wrap his arms around her, tightening his grip and holding her tight. Her hood fell back as his one hand ran up through her hair, holding her close to him. He was the first to break the kiss, leaning back and looking down at her. “What?” Her voice was breathy as she spoke.

“How did I get so lucky?” He asked, still holding her close to him. He leaned forward again and kissed her forehead, pulling her close once more. He held her, his head resting atop hers, her head on his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of his heartbeat, quick and pounding. She tightened her grip around him, grasping at his shirt with her fingertips, clenching the fabric in her fists.

The snapping of twigs and the crunching of leaves made them jump apart almost instantly. Both looked around but neither saw anything. They turned back to each other and each let out a nervous laugh.

“I should probably get back.” She said in a hushed tone. “They might go looking for me if they notice I'm gone.” She started to walk away but his voice stopped her.

“Do you have to? Just a few more minutes?” He grabbed her hand and gently tugged her back to him. She let him guide her back into his arms as he reached up and ran his fingers through her hair, tucking loose strands behind her ears. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” She whispered breathlessly. “Just a few minutes.” He leaned down and kissed her again, his lips once again warm against hers. She didn't want the kiss to end, she didn't want to leave his grasp. His arms felt right, they felt like home, and as the cool night breeze swept through the trees and whipped around them she felt happier than she had dent in a very long time. Just being in his arms was enough to make it all fade away. The thought of going back to her parents was almost non-existent in her head. In that moment, during that kiss, she felt like they were the only ones left in the whole world. That they were safe. They were one.

They both pulled away at the same time, looked deep into each others eyes. “I'll see you at the game tomorrow.”

“I'll be in the top box.” She smiled up at him.

His smile widened. “Me too.”

She looked at him in delighted astonishment. “Now how did you manage that?”

“Dad's got connections.” He ran his finger down her jaw and gently nudged her chin. “Don't worry. I won't get into any fights with your parents. I promise.” He winked. “No matter how many comments they make.”

“I'll try to do the same.” She grabbed onto his hand that was now resting gently on her cheek. She pulled his palm to her lips and gave it a gentle kiss before moving his hand down and slowly letting it go. “Tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” He nodded as she turned, pulled up her hood, and slowly walked out of the trees and back into the moonlight.

[tghwriting]

35. I Don’t Believe

           Gwen looked up at the Gothic building, the arches, the statues, the stained glass windows. They gave her so many good memories but she didn't feel the same standing in front of them now like she did as a child. She hadn't stepped through these doors in years, though if she closed her eyes she could remember it as if she were still standing within its walls.

           She didn't want to go inside. The doors were slightly open and there was a woman standing just past them that she could see, taking to someone just out of view. She stared up at the doors and waited. Waited for either her feet to make the decision for her, or for someone else to decide. She didn't want to decide, she didn't know what she wanted to do.

           Finally she felt herself stepping up the steps and walking through the doors. The woman was gone now and the entryway was empty.

           She hesitated, taking in the familiar smell of incense and old wood. The familiar statues loomed over her. The familiar archways seemed to beckon her forward. She stepped into the church itself, between the pews and looked up at the crucifix in front of her. The gruesome statue that had always made her feel uncomfortable was the centerpiece for the church.

           She walked up to the first row and slid into the pew to her right, her family always sat to the right when she was little. Her mother didn't like receiving communion from anyone that wasn't the priest and the priest was always on the right.

           It was silent in the church, more silent than she would have liked. It was almost painfully silent. The only sounds she could hear were the sporadic creaking of the building.

           She didn't know what drew her to this place. She hadn't stepped foot in a church in years, though her fiancee wished she had. The two didn't see eye to eye on many things, but religion was the big one. He believed. She didn't understand. She thought though, if she tried, maybe she would. If she put in the effort. If she forced herself. Maybe she would understand.

           She was lost in thought, sitting there, staring up at the statues and stained glass. She remembered her childhood. How much she enjoyed coming here. She remembered the years she spent in Catholic school, her big Italian family constantly talking about church and God and belief. She remembered how that never felt right. How she always felt just slightly out of place.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps. It wasn't until he was standing right next to her that she noticed him.

           The man was wearing black jeans and a black shirt with the white collar, indicating his priesthood. He didn't look formal or official, and if it hadn't been for the collar she wouldn't have even known he was a priest.

           "May I?" He asked, gesturing to the seat next to her. She nodded and slid over just enough to still keep a comfortable distance between them. "It isn't very common to see people sitting in here alone this time of the day." He said, keeping his eyes up at the crucifix and not on her.

           She looked at him for a long moment, his dark hair was thick and full, his skin was void of wrinkles, and to her he looked very young, the youngest she thought she had ever seen a priest.

           "I know what your thinking. Why is this strange man talking to me?"

           She chuckled. "You're a priest." She said almost too matter-of-factly.

           He nodded and finally turned to look at her. "I am, and you seem like you need help."

           "I don't need help." She said defensively. "I..." Truth is she didn't know what she needed.

           "Do you want to talk?" He asked, turning to look back up at the crucifix.

           "To a real person? Or..." She looked from him to the crucifix and back.

           "Ah, you don't believe.."

           "I don't know what I believe."

           "And you're here to figure that out?" He glanced over at her. She rubbed her hands together and picked at the skin, looking down at the kneeler at her feet. "Think of it this way, I'm cheaper than a therapy session if you wanna talk."

           That got her to smile. She turned and looked at him for a long moment, her eyes narrowed, before she finally relaxed. It was a priest, someone she had grown up knowing that she could talk to about something like this. Someone that might understand better than her finances or her family. "I don't know where to start." She finally said. "I guess I just...I don't want to feel this broken. Like I can't decide what I believe."

           "You know you don't have to be certain, a feeling is more than enough."

           "That's just it, I feel like I believe in everything and nothing at the same time."

           He narrowed his eyes at her, thinking of what to say.

           "It's like there is this fear of what if I'm wrong and something else was right and then I'm punished for not believing in the right thing."

           He smiled, "You know that as long as you're a good person God doesn't care what you believe, or if you believe. He still loves you."

           "But what if he's not real?"

           "Then you've still been a good person. Where's the harm in that?" He sighed. "People think that it's black and white, that God is either real or he isn't." He paused. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.

           Finally she decided to say what she was thinking. "So why do people like you, people that believe in God, always make those that don't feel horrible about it. They tell them they're wrong and that only one belief if the correct belief."

           "There is no correct belief. Just fragments of what is real and what is known. There is so much that we don't know that you cannot put it into black and white terms. You just have to have faith in what you believe in."

           "But what if I don't believe in anything?" She said almost so low that he stained to hear it. "What if I think that this is all crap but I'm too scared that I'm wrong?"

           "Than you live you're life the way you want, but you keep your intentions good. Live a good life, be a good person. You don't have to believe in something to be a good person." He smiled. "There is no pressure to believe in something if you don't."

           She looked up at the crucifix again and sighed. "My fiancee doesn't understand why I can't believe like he does."

           "Does he still love you?"

           "Yes."

           "Than you don't need to believe in the same God or religion, you just have to love each other and be good to each other. Your morality should not be defined by your belief system." He looked up at the crucifix and back at her. "Our doors are always open, you don't need to believe to be welcome here." He stood up and smiled down at her. "I'll be here if you ever want to talk again." He started back towards the exit of the church.

           Gwen sat there in silence for a long while. She didn't feel any less lost, but she felt less ashamed. Less ashamed that in her heart she couldn't force herself to believe in something that she just didn't believe in, no matter how much she knew about it or how much pressure others put on her. She couldn't believe. She didn't believe. And for the first time in her life, she felt like that was okay.

[tghwriting]

34. Actions Speak Louder

           Kris could hear the commotion outside of her bedroom window. As she leaned out to look down to see what was going on the yelling and laughing grew louder. On the street beneath her brownstone she saw her neighbor and best friend Ari surrounded by three guys from down the street that went to their rival high school. It took her a moment to process what she was seeing as the boys ganged up on him, surrounding him on every side so he couldn't get away. The words coming from their mouths sent anger raging through her. She ran out of her room, down the staircase, and out the front door.

           Two of them had their hands on either side of Ari, holding him while one of the other boys threw a strong punch into his stomach. “What the fuck are you doing? Leave him alone!” Kris yelled as she jumped down the last few steps and ran over to the group. She grabbed his arm before he could throw another punch.

           “This doesn't concern you, bitch.” The stocky boy that was throwing the punches growled at her. “We're just trying to teach this ---”

           Her tanned fist collided with his jaw before he could get out the next word, a word she knew should never be said.  He grabbed his jaw. The two boys holding Ari pulled him backwards while the fourth boy appeared next to the first. The ring on her finger had cut his cheek and small specks of blood were dripping over his pasty skin.

           “You'll pay for that.” He wiped the blood off his cheek and swung at her. She was fast though, years of boxing lessons had taught her how to dodge. He stumbled as his fist went past her. “Fucking bitch.”

           “I told you to leave him alone, or it won't just be your cheek that's bleeding.” She spat at him. His large pig-like face was a bright shade of scarlet. His fists were balled up, his stance was hunched. “You think you're little girlfriend here can save you?” The next words that came out of his mouth were just one slur after another about his skin color. Kris moved to punch him again but this time he reached into his sagging pants and pulled a gun on her. A small handgun that was more than likely his father's. She backed up as he pointed the gun in her face.

           Ari screamed for someone to come out and help. But no one did. Kris eyed the bully up and down and laughed.

           He shook the gun at her. “What's so funny to you bitch? You think this is funny. I'll fucking kill you right here.”

           “Feel's like your overcompensating for something.” She looked down at his crotch and back up at him. “You know?” She held her fingers up just about an inch apart.

           He stepped closer to her, holding the gun to her throat. “You think I'm joking.” The gun clicked.

           “I know you are, because I know that you know you won't make it down the street without being caught if that gun goes off. I also know that you can see the camera's that are on the outside of the building behind us.” She glanced back under his grip to look at the clearly visible camera just above the front door pointing out onto the street. “It's a high crime area, there are camera's everywhere. The one behind us has audio too, and I think you've been loud enough for it to hear every word.” She felt very smug as she spoke. He dropped the gun and stepped back, nodding for the other two to let Ari go.

           “This (slur) and his (slur) loving girlfriend aren't worth it.” He backed off more as the two other boys joined him, the three of them walked smugly down the street as if they'd just won. Kris rushed over to Ari who was doubled over on her front step.

           “Are you okay?”

           “I'll be fine. Thanks for that.” He looked up at her and back to the camera. “Doesn't that only work like half the time.”

           “If we're lucky, but they don't know that.” She smiled at him, reaching down to lift up his shirt. Even with how dark his skin was she could see the start of a few nasty bruises on his torso. “Let's go inside and I'll get you some ice.”

           “Thanks.” He smiled and let her help him to his feet as she slowly led him up the stairs and into the house. She sat him on the couch and went into the kitchen, grabbing a few ice packs and two sodas and walking back to him. He had laid down on the couch, resting his head back on the large pillows and holding his arms over his stomach. “You didn't have to stand up for me, he could have shot you.”

           “I know. But I couldn't just stand there, besides, if we're lucky that cut will scar.”

           “I don't think we're that lucky.” He chucked and then winced in pain. “Why did you stick up for me?”

           “Why wouldn't I?”

           “Because you didn't have to.”

           “I know. Like I said, I couldn't just sit there and listen to him call you every name in the book and beat the shit out of you.” She placed one ice pack on his stomach and the other on his chest. He winced at first and then breathed a small sigh of relief. She handed him a soda and smiled. “I wasn't sure what you'd like, but it's a root beer”

           “Root beer is good.” he didn't sit up but placed the soda on the coffee table and relaxed back down. She sat on the ground next to him and brushed her hand across his forehead. She leaned down and softly kissed the top of his head.

           When she leaned back she wasn't sitting in her house anymore, she was laying on the street in front of her brownstone. Ari was screaming behind her for someone to come help. The gun had fired. She couldn't feel where she had been shot but she knew she had. Another shot. Ari's screaming stopped. The distant sound of a police siren started to move closer but the closer it got the more it seemed to fade into the background.

           The three boys had run off. She didn't know what had happened to Ari, but she couldn't hear him anymore. If she would have been able to look behind her she would have seen him, laying on the steps of her brownstone, blood dripping from his chest.

           The blue and red flashing lights grew closer but her vision was failing. Shadowy figures hovered above her, then the blue and red lights were the only thing she could see, before total darkness.

           She was pronounced dead before the ambulance left the street. Ari was still alive. He had made it, brought to the hospital and saved. That camera had captured everything.