Closure

Closure By: Tatum Hostetter 11.17.16

I wrote this book because if I didn't, anybody who thinks that they know me wouldn't have a clue. This is not a book about me, these are not real events, but I cannot deny that the characters I created have a part of me in them, because they absolutely do. You will see me fall, and you will see me grow in this book. When you read this, be openminded and understand that the world is not kind, but incredibly cruel. With this in mind, understand that beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and what I find beautiful, I have carefully written, and am now releasing it to you, whoever you are. If you hate it and stop reading after the first page, so be it. If you hate it, and think badly of me in anyway after reading it completely, so be it. If you love it, so be it. Thank you for seeing things my way. Thank you for devoting even a minute of your time to this amateur novel of mine. I appreciate it. I appreciate you. That is all, I hope you enjoy it, because so much work has been put into it. Thank you. —Tatum Hostetter

Prologue She is everywhere. I feel her in the sky when I walk home and in the trees that always seem to whistle her name. I see her only at dawn—when the sun is new and the rising warmth that is chilled from the doom of night finds a place to sleep. I find her in the smell of rosemary and a spoonful of honey. I can only talk to her in dreams where she whispers all of her unheard thoughts as if they are my own. I only hear her sing when the ocean is calm and when she is angry, I see her in waves of war that collapse over the sand like she does when she feels lifeless.

But where I feel her most isn’t beautiful at all. I feel her where darkness resides and that is where I remember her the loneliest. I remember the pain and self destruction. I remember the fires she started for fear of boredom and her chopped bangs she had cut herself. I remember the stained razors in her sink and her wrists and thighs that told dark stories I seemed to find comfort in. She had seen the world for what it was—nothing but disappointment. “Nature's really all we got” she used to say this a lot, with hints of disgust in her voice, metaphorically spitting on humanity and its technological advances. “It's all we got to show for ourselves and we didn't even invent it,” she pondered as she would lay back to count the clouds again.

I often see her there too. In the dimming clouds that crowd me as if she’s trying to send a message. A message I will never receive since I am too busy with my head down. I can’t look at her anymore. She is as distant as God himself and I can no longer speak of my fears since she had become one of them.

I remember the day so clearly—like a memorized poem I had been repeating until it became a part of me.

June 10, 2008. The day I lost everything.

I hadn't seen her most of the day, and when I did, she couldn't bring herself to see me back. The only makeup she wore were tired purple rings around her dazed eyes and her vibrant blonde hair that was pulled into a tight ponytail. I didn't think much of her neglect, assuming she might have failed a test or her parents were arguing about divorce again. I understood the bad days, and I let her have them.

I never saw it coming. I was too busy thinking I knew everything there was to know about her.

I knew what she would and wouldn't do—what she was afraid of. At least I thought I did. I saw the way she saw things and how she danced to Fleetwood Mac when she wanted to feel untouchable. I saw her in a beaten shirt covered in pastel paints and a bandana tied around her forehead. I saw her happy too often that I had missed where she went at 3 A.M. on a Saturday. When she was alone and crawled to the bathroom. I had forgotten about those countless nights of weakness for her, where red was the only color she allowed herself to see. But this particular night had been different. This time she wasn't going back to bed. This time she didn't walk out of the bathroom with a towel pressed over her wounds and cloudy eyes that only revealed themselves for a second. This time she stayed in there. This time I never saw her again.

Chapter 1: It’s that cool shade of blue that hugs the sky only in the late spring—when people can’t decide to wear either a sweatshirt or a tank top. It can be pouring rain one minute and the next, all sunshine.

The clouds are so grey I think they might implode with everything they’re holding onto and I was sitting in my desk feeling the same way.

School was fine, but something felt wrong about it. After all, it is my senior year. I should have been out every Friday night, trying to forget things for fun. I should have been applying to every college application I could get my hands on and awaiting the days when I could finally be on my own without rule and authority.

Instead, I found myself amongst a small circle of friends who don’t do much of anything. My dad would leave applications on my desk that would soon end up in the trash. I’m scared of all that.

I’m scared of the real world and living on my own. I don’t look forward to being alone and being independent. I will never understand why I feel like a stranger to every one of my surroundings—like I belong to some parallel universe far from here.

This desk had been mine for awhile—along with this classroom—this teacher. She isn’t all bad.

In fact, she’s beautiful, and I used to have the biggest crush on her from the end of freshman year till the beginning of junior. It was just my luck she had been my English teacher all four years at Brassbury. But she isn’t just looks. She’s intelligent, she writes poetry; often about her ex-husband, Robert—yes we know his name. She’s a piece of work.

“Skyler?” I hear her hushed voice far away inside my head. I try my best to ignore it and drift, but it’s getting louder; then my head whips up to see her piercing brown eyes glaring malignantly.

“You know, you'll have to blink sometime.” I smirk tiredly. The wrinkle of her nose indicated her stubbornness, and I try to laugh, but she doesn’t budge. “C’mon, you used to be funny.”

I can tell she doesn’t find this amusing either, but her expression was sensitive this time, like I had hurt her feelings.

“It's time to go home now, Skyler. Everyone is gone.” She scales the room with her hands. It’s empty.

“Why didn't you wake me?” I ask, almost sounding annoyed as I gather my things.

She looks blank, almost questioning her own actions, but quickly changes her expression to the cowardly smile I was so used to seeing.

“Well, I'll see you tomorrow!” She turns, fixing her skirt nervously and walks back to her desk. ...

The old cemetery is empty today and I take my steps lightly passed the weeds growing under the large, rusted gate that had never been closed. I make my way to a grave I so often visit, it was routine—my mother's grave. But there’s something about today that’s different. The air feels different, the ground feels softer; everything feels...lighter and less dreary.

It had been so long. How could it have been so long since she was away. The money my father had spent on flowers had added up significantly and the picture he left taped to the grave had faded from each new sun. I can only see the outline of our bodies as I scan the family photo. That was a forced photo. I remember hating the idea of pictures when she was alive, and now all I want is to see her in this particular one.

I leave it there anyhow and stand up as I decide to take my leave. However, I stop abruptly when hearing the sound of a crunching leaf. I don’t think much of it until I turn my shoulder to see a young woman standing over another grave. She isn’t sobbing, in fact, she doesn’t even look sad, but there’s something about the way she stands in which I feel she isn’t here for the same reasons I am.

I decide to leave in that moment, making no sound as I start to walk, but unfortunately I lose my footing on a tree root and barely catch myself before I can call myself clumsy.

I look up feeling her stare on the back of my head, and when I meet her eyes, she smiles.

“Hello.” She says brightly, she seems too happy to be here. I pause for a moment, taking her in.

I observe her pale skin that blends to her lilac dress. She isn’t wearing any shoes either, almost like she doesn’t belong here at all—but in a dollhouse instead. Her face is soft and her eyes are a light shade of green, like the grass in the springtime or the color of a TV when you hit the wrong channel.

I look closer at her arms and wrists where I swear there were a hundred little scratches lining up with each other.

She pulls at my gaze and places her arms behind her back, waltzing towards me. Then, abandons the grave behind her, as if she’s bored of it.

“What are you doing?” She asks, her tone darker than before but innocent none the less.

“Uh...” I try to use my words, but everything is spinning and I can’t decide what the words for “I don't know” are.

She tilts her head slightly, so that her hair falls gently on the right side of her forehead, and for a second, I’m hoping she can’t read minds.

“Just leaving.” I manage. “I should be getting home. It'll be dark soon.”

She doesn’t answer, but moves over to the tree next to mine and leans her back against it effortlessly.

“You should leave too... It gets pretty creepy out here after sunset.” I add, hoping she would speak soon, so that I don’t have to start talking about the weather.

“That's my favorite time of day!” She praises with a thrilling smile. “When its only you, the crickets, and all these trees.”

“And serial killers.”

She shoots me a look that is anything but serious. “Oh please.” She says as she swings on a thinner tree. “I know this place too well to get caught by one of those.” She winks and I start to wonder if she's afraid of anything.

“So... You live around here? How come we've never met?” I ask curiously. She hesitates and her expression changes, then back again.

“I'm discreet.” She shrugs and turns around, hiding her face.

“It's a small town. And I haven't seen you around school before.”

She turns around again to face me with a wide smile and says, “I don't go to school. My parents don't believe in it. Well my mom doesn't. My dad just doesn't speak up.”

I blink, raking my fingers through my hair as she waits for my response.

“You're parents don't believe in education...?” I finally reply. She's moving again, farther from me and to another tree.

“Oh don't be silly, of course they do. They don't believe in the school system. They think its wretched, putting a bunch of kids in one room and teaching them all the same things as if they have the same minds and ideas. No one is the same, why should we act like it?” She tries to sway me with her gentle eyes and steady composure. She's about to speak again, but I cut her off.

“That's not true. They give us a chance to input our opinions and say what we like. We're not robots.” I defend, but something is telling me she’s completely right.

“You're interesting.” Her smile returns. “What’s your name?” She asks looking shocked as if she’s supposed to have already known it.

“Skyler.” I say slowly, and suddenly she jumps from where her tree is and to the ground, walking up to me. She's three inches away from me.

“Did you know Skyler means “home” in some language?” She remarks joyously and I can feel her breath on the tip of my nose. I shake my head; her smile doesn't change and she looks up. “Moon's out.”

I look up with her, just a crescent, but it’s brighter than usual, or at least it seems that way.

“I'll see you around...” I speak softly, contemplating if I should leave or continue the conversation.

“Maybe.” She says and turns away from me waving her dainty hand at me. I walk a few steps and turn back to say something, but she's gone. ...

“HA! It's all mine!” The girl squeals, reaching across the table, dragging the pot towards her.

“You're such a cheater, Sabrina. You can't win five times in a row, its impossible.” Her friend rolls his eyes, banging his head against the glass table, cards falling each time he does.

“Don't be a sore loser, Winnie.” She throws a few cards at him playfully. “I'm just that good.”

Windon or Winnie turns his head to the door where I'm standing. “Skyler! Thank god you showed up. Sabrina thinks she's good at blackjack.” He turns back to look at her and winks.

She gives him a disgusted look, then laughs, getting out of her chair. She hits him, then makes her way toward me, embracing me. “Sky, we missed you. We had a little party while you were gone.

Don't worry it wasn't any fun.” She assured me, knowing I could care less.

“Tell that to Miles!” Windon shouts from the table purposely trying to see if he could wake the sleeping boy on the couch. Miles doesn't do much except move slightly and breathe harder. “He's been passed out since seven. Where have you been?”

I pick up the beer cans surrounding Miles and throw them in the small trashcan already filled to the rim. “I was at the cemetery.” I say and Windon shuts his mouth and grabs his beer.

“It was the weirdest thing.” I begin, trying to remember what happened in order. “I met this girl.” I try my best to describe her, but I can’t remember most of her features. I didn't even know her name.

“Was she a real girl?” Windon laughs, almost choking on his beer. I shake my head displeasingly and Sabrina hits him again.

“What? What did I do?” He asks, still laughing. She rolls her eyes, trying not to smile.

“She's home schooled around here, but I've never seen or heard about her before. Do either of you two know her?” I ask, suddenly intrigued about who this girl was. She had been so distant with her words, but there was something in them that revealed things about her. She was cool and collected with her body language and with every expression she displayed.

“What's her name, Sky?” Sabrina asks, tying her hair up into a bun, then moving back to her place at the table to start a new game.

“I...Don't know.” I stop, scratching my head, and banging it with my hand. “I never asked her.”

“Skyler, seriously? You finally meet a cool chick...at a graveyard I might add...And you didn't even ask her what her name was?” Windon exclaims in an upsetting manner, but he was no where near it. He’s still giggling under his breath.

“I got...Distracted.” I sigh, then find my way to couch. I sit down, knocking Miles' legs off the side and he falls almost in slow motion. Finding a can of beer out of the crevice in the couch, I open it and he shakes his head, getting up slowly.

His eyes are a teal color that were hidden by bloodshot veins crowding his pupils. He rubs them intensely, then looks up to find the one responsible for his wake.

“What the...” He says in a raspy voice that was low and confused. He looks up at me finally and closes his eyes again. “Seriously?”

I laugh and help him up. “Hey, buddy.” I greet him and he doesn't smile.

He sighs and sits down, composing himself. “I had a dream. Sabrina was in it. We were having a nice dinner on the Eiffel tower and then, I fell...” He explains seriously, but Sabrina was laughing pitifully.

“Off the Eiffel tower?” She asks, trying keep her drink in her mouth.

He glares at her. “Yes, Sabrina.”

“Is this you're pathetic way of asking me out on a date?” She asks as she places her cards down in front of Windon, who refused to lose another game.

“I'll have you know the Eiffel tower is the least pathetic place someone will ever take you for a date.” He states, fixing his shaggy hair, trying his best to sound witty.

“Alright, Miles, I'll make you a deal.” She grins maliciously, then adjusts herself in her chair. “If Windon wins this game... We can go anywhere you want.” She laughs and Miles glances at Windon who is unamused.

“Oh no, don't drag me into your weird flirt parade.” Windon puts his cards down and crosses his arms in refusal.

Sabrina reaches over the table to where he is and whispers, “Are you afraid you'll lose again, Winnie?”

He gets up to meet her eyes. “No!” He says firmly and slams his fist on the table playfully.

“Let's go.”

Miles and I watch for awhile as Sabrina slowly defeats Windon again at blackjack, then leans back in her chair with a wide grin on her freckled face.

The worst thing about Sabrina was her competitive side. She had it all, from looks to being at the top of her class, but when she was challenged, she couldn't lose—and she never did. She had only lost once in her entire life. In eighth grade, a bunch of boys had a birthday party where Sabrina was the only girl invited, since she was basically a boy herself. Not in the way some might think, but in the way where her personality just fit with all of them...and never with girls. The game was arm wrestling and Sabrina went against a boy twice her size. She had lost to him so terribly, she vowed to never lose anything ever again and she hadn't since.

“I'm never playing this game again.” Windon throws his cards at her, but they miss and fall on the floor instead. Sabrina looks at Miles who rolls his eyes and slumps on the couch again.

He's silent for a moment. “Will you go with me anyways?” He tries, placing his palms together almost like he's begging.

“No.” She responds and bats her eyelashes at him.

“You're a stubborn woman.” He gives up and reaches for the half empty bottle of tequila next to him. “I like it.”

I reach before him, yanking the bottle from his hands and begin to make myself a drink.

“Hey, are we all going to prom together?” Sabrina asks from the table and Windon scoffs, shaking his head.

“What? I thought we were doing that.” She frowns and gathers the cards from the floor.

“No, Sabrina, you suggested it,” He points his finger at her and reaches for the apple on the table, and then his pocketknife. “I'm not going.”

“Winnie, Please? It's our senior year! We need to go.” She whines while cleaning the rest of the table.

“Why?” He asks. “Why now do you decide to be a girly girl?” He teases and drops a slice of apple into his mouth.

“Windon.” I say, shaking my head and giving him a look.

“Ugh.” He sighs. “Fine! But I'm not dancing.”

She squeals and covers her mouth, almost like she’s embarrassed she did something so feminine.

“No, No, No. I am the only one taking Sabrina to prom.” Miles chimes in, opposing everything, but Sabrina is being serious this time and give Miles her devious eyes.

“Well, its been fun, but I've got a history project that is due that I haven't started, so unless any of you know anything about the Aztecs and what they looked like, I'll see you later.” I pause to see their responses, but nothing looks like it had processed according to their blank expressions.

“Bye, Sky!” I hear Sabrina's voice as I step out of the door. I wave to all of them and leave, starting my journey around the block and to my home.

“Good morning, Brassbury. This is your principal announcing the theme of this years prom, which will be Winter Wonderland. We hope to see you all there and expect it to be the best yet. Thank you.” The sound of the intercom turning off has students turning to each other. It has girls pulling out there phones to show off their expensive dresses. It has guys slumped back in their chairs and it has me banging my head against a desk.

I peak out the window of the small classroom, and at the old tree that lives right next to it.

Every once in awhile when it was windy, the branches would hit the glass and make a pattern of sounds until the wind died down. It drove everyone crazy, but it had always dazed me...Like I was in some kind of trance when it was happening. I look farther, passed the tree and towards the entrance of the school. I saw the young girl walking up to the doors. I recognized her.

“What a stupid name.” Windon mumbles as he picks at his salad for lunch. “Winter Wonderland? How many times have they used that one?” He scoffs and jams his fork in his mouth aggressively.

“Shut up, Windon.” Sabrina says and grabs at his lunch, pulling it away from him.

“Hey!” He protests, and tries reaching for it, then slowly falls back in his seat.

“Eat some chicken.” She suggests while pouring more ranch.

Sneering, he raises his arms. “I'm a vegetarian!”

“That doesn't make sense, Windon. Men are not vegetarians. You can't just sit around and eat nuts all day.” Miles chimes in and I laugh along with Sabrina who is choking on her lettuce.

“That's exactly what he does.” She adds while raising a fork to his mouth apologetically.

“So, aside from this odd scenario, there's this new, really hot girl in my chem class.” Miles speaks up and jams a straw in his coke. He nods and sips his drink when we look up. His glance goes to Sabrina to see her pursed lips and raised eyebrows, then speaks again. “Now that I think about it, she's pretty ugly.”

She rolls her eyes.

“What does she look like?” I ask, now realizing what I had seen might not have been a trick of the mind nor a crazy, obsessed hallucination.

He looks up as if he's trying to remember. “Well, she was thin and had long blonde wavy hair, almost like a mermaid.” He drops his chin to his knuckles and rests it on the table, then readjusts himself quickly. “Not that I was looking.” He looks at Sabrina again, who didn't care one bit.

“That's her.” I say under my breath, but also loud enough for all of my friends to hear.

“What's who?” Windon asks and gives me a confused look as well as the other two.

“The mystery girl.” I say abruptly, then reflect on my words which I now realize sounds so disgustingly cliché I have the urge to smack myself in the face.

“Well, what is she doing here?” Sabrina asks, looking around vigorously.

“Okay, this isn't a big deal...Please don't make it one.” I lie to myself, pretending not to sound so intrigued, even though this was the most interesting thing that has happened today or any other day.

“Oh, but it is.” Sabrina says, and gets up for a better look. “Let's go find her!”

“Oh, God, No.” I say as I slump low in my seat and toss my hood up. “Please...Can we just... finish eating?” I beg.

Sitting back down, Sabrina lifts up her hands in defeat. “Fine, fine. I’m just trying to get you a date.” Winking, she she goes on eating her salad and both Windon and Miles remain silent.

“I can get my own date, thank you very much.” I say, crossing my arms arrogantly.

She teases me playfully, and it starts to get on my nerves, but I know better to show any of it or I would be teased even more. “Of course you can Skyler, seeing as you’ve been single for almost a year, I’m sure you were just working on your game plan.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

No one says anything, and I squint my eyes suspiciously at them, especially at Miles who is sipping at the last remnants of his soda.

“I think maybe that's the last of it.” I retort sarcastically and his response is an exaggerated look.

Finally, the bell rings and I walk briskly away from my friends willingly.

By the end of the day, I still hadn't seen her, and I was beginning to think it had all been in my head.

Stepping into my last class, my English class, is where I almost trip over my own feet as my eyes reach to the back of the room to see her sitting with her hands folded and ankles crossed. Her eyes meet mine quickly, seeing as I can’t take them off her.

When everyone takes their seats, I make sure that I’m sitting in the desk directly in front of her.

I smile at her stupidly, attempting to look the least awkward as possible.

She’s combing her hair with her thin fingers and the raise of her eyebrows complementing her smirk, then she speaks. “You’re name is Skyler.”

I can’t understand if she’s asking or telling me, but none the less, I nod happily. She remembered my name. Feeling comfortable in my daze, my teacher yanks me out of it with her bitter glare.

“Skyler, why don't you tell me what Shakespeare is trying to say in this particular song from the Twelfth Night.” Secretly scolding me, her delicate face displays her irritability followed by a dragged out glare of disapproval. She crosses her arms, waiting for me to speak.

I hesitate, looking around the room. Everyone’s eyes peering at either me or the walls. “He’s talking about death.” I start, releasing a heavy sigh of aggravation. “He's talking about a woman he loves, but she doesn't care about him whatsoever. He says her love dies before his and that a love like that can lead to the end of everything, so he welcomes his own end.” I reply, and lean back in my seat casually trying to sink away from the other faces, but it was stupid to think that I could.

“Come away, Come away, Death.” I hear the girl whisper in my ear with a smile in her voice.

“That's very insightful of you, Skyler...” My teacher gazes over me, her eyes not straying. “...Anyone else?” She finally speaks, leaving the room more silent than before.

“Personally, I think its selfish to end your own life over someone just because they don't feel the same way. I mean I understand, it sucks, but are you really going to risk all the unknown just so you don't have to endure the pain of that person leaving you? That's devastating.”

I turn my body towards her realizing it was the girl behind me who said that. Now she waits, for anyone to say anything—for anyone to contradict her or tell her she's wrong. No one speaks.

Either they all agreed, or she is invisible.

Chapter 2: “I didn't know you were into Shakespeare.” She says as we walk through the park on our way home. The clear day doesn’t reveal one cloud and newly heat of summer is everywhere. I knew I didn't have to worry about the rain for a long time.

She’s skipping next to me as if nothing is on her mind and I stay behind her, wondering what that feels like.

“And I didn't know you were so opinionated.” I chuckle and she turns to look at me, she's walking backwards now, her body facing towards me.

“What's that supposed to mean?” She grins and puts her hands on her hips.

“Nothing bad, just that you have a mind of your own—That's all.” I smile genuinely and place my hands in my pockets. She turns back around, but stops skipping. She's right next to me, her shoulder almost touching mine.

“Well, what do you expect? We just met. You can't know everything in one day.” She states and then nudges me playfully.

For a moment we both don't say anything, then she stops. “Wanna go somewhere?” She asks as if she just remembered something so spectacular she couldn't let herself forget again.

I nod without question and she takes my hand, pulling me through the park with no time to waste.

It seems we’ve been running for a good mile until she stops at the end of a road and all there is to see is empty land and the woods across from us.

“Are you ready?” She asks with excitement in her eyes that I’ve never seen before in anyone.

“There's more?” I pant, and put my hands on my knees, hoping it would help me breathe better.

“Oh, you're such a baby. C'mon, its just a little ways from here, and were walking from here.”

She talks like she's trying to convince me, but I had already made my mind up.

I shrug and wait, holding my hand out for her to lead the way, but she shakes her head. “Close your eyes.”

“What? No. What if you're taking me in there to commit homicide or something.” I say, and she rolls her eyes, holding out her arms.

“Do you really think these noodle arms are meant for homicide?” She waits for my reply, but I don't say anything.

“No. They're not. Now close your eyes.” She orders and I squint them suspiciously, but eventually close them easily.

I can feel the leaves crunching under my feet as the scent of fresh bark invaded my nose, almost suffocating me. The life in the woods stirred, the insects buzzing in my ear trying to grab my attention.

I can feel the warmth latching onto my skin as the sun falls against my eyelids, and I can hear the girl breathing in front of me as she guided me with her hand.

“Almost there.” She whispers, as if she's trying not to wake the squirrels or something. I know we have arrived before she tells me to open my eyes. I can hear a small stream getting closer to us, but I keep them closed until she said the word.

“Okay, open.” She says, releasing my hand and skipping over to a nearby rock that looks not much bigger than her..

My eyes widen with awe for what is in front of me. Everything is captivating and I feel my anxiety deplete.

The stream looks like it goes for miles and the grass is all the same color green. I can see beyond the stream, where the trees open up and the tips of the mountains are visible.

“What is this place?” I ask as I walk toward her slowly, her eyes never leaving my gaze.

“Heaven.” She says softly and closes her eyes and smiles with ease. “Or at least that's what I called it when I found it. It's pretty, right?”

She looks at me like an aspiring painter longing for critique. It was as if she had painted the grass herself along with the wide, brooding sky and the white daisies. Everything seems counterfeit as it stands in front of me so vividly.

“How did you find it?” I ask curiously. She picks a flower, placing it in my lap carefully.

“Well I never like to spend too much time in the house, and when we first moved here I decided to get to know everything better, including the woods. I found this place when I was looking for my cat a long time ago. She was an outdoor cat, but one night she just didn't come back to the house, so the next morning I spent the whole day looking for her, and then found this place.”

“What happened to the cat?”

“Oh she's dead now.” She says bluntly and her face doesn't change from a serious one. She doesn't move her eye contact until her mouth widens into a cunning grin, then laughs uncontrollably.

I don't move or make a noise until she speaks again. “I'm kidding, Oh my God.” “Oh.” I say. “You're weird.”

I immediately regret saying this because her laughter stops and she stands up. I'm about to say something, but before I can, she reaches under her shirt, slipping it off like a silk dress.

“Woah.” I say, shielding my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Going swimming.” She struggles with her pants, shimmying them off her hips. “Are you coming?”

I glance down at the stream. It looks deep enough and the water is clear enough you can see the plants growing beneath the surface. I almost fall in looking over.

“Well?” She waits as she's stepping onto the first of many rocks.

“Yeah, I'm coming.” I say quickly, removing each layer of clothing I have on. Why did I decide to wear so much to school today?

Finally, with my boxers remaining, I make my way over to her, cutting my feet on sharp tiny rocks.. She takes one look at me, and steps onto the next rock, and then the next and the next—till she's up to her chest in the water. I follow her, carefully placing one foot in front of the other, using every bit of my strength not to slip. She made it look so easy the way she gracefully hopped onto each rock and glided through the water with little to no effort at all, as if she was light as air.

The water isn’t warm, but it isn’t cold either, almost like a hot day at the beach when the water isn't as cold as much as it is refreshing.

I never lived at the beach, nor near one, but my grandparents did. We used to go down there all the time when the seasons changed and the weather got hot. It's been almost five years since I've been on sand or seen an ocean, but this is the closest thing to remembering one.

“You're not afraid of anything, are you?” I ask, backstroking toward her.

“Well that's not fair.” She says, waiting for me to catch up to her, moving like a happy fish.

“What do you mean?”

“You don't know everything about me, so it seems kind of ridiculous to assume a thing like that.

Especially something so intriguing.” She mumbles the last part.

“Intriguing?” I ask curiously and she smirks.

“You heard that?” She giggles and continues. “You know, everyone's afraid of something, and its usually always so different from someone else's fear. Okay, here's an example. “Skyler, what is your biggest fear?”

“Heights, I guess.” I say boringly and she tilts her head, looking displeased and disappointed.

“That's it? That's your biggest fear in the whole wide world?” She asks, almost sounding concerned with my lack of originality and thought.

I try to rethink my answer, but I nod instead. “Fine.” I say firmly. “If my fear is too boring for you, tell me your biggest fear.”

She doesn't smile, nor does she move away from me. Instead, she swims towards me slowly and I hold my breath until she stops right at arms distance.

“I guess...Spiders.” She shrugs. “The most poisonous ones I've seen live in that tree right behind you.” She says casually and I turn around quickly with a horrified look on my face.

Splashing passed her she's laughing harder than the first time she did.

“I'm just kidding! There are no spiders...As far as we know.” She says maliciously and I bring my arm back to splash her in the face.

“Alright.” I straighten up, trying to brush it off. “That wasn't you're real fear.” I finally say and she shrugs again.

“You didn't tell me your real fear, so why should I tell you mine?” She answers, then swims away from me and to the jagged rocks.

“How am I supposed to tell you if I don't even know?” I ask, sounding frustrated.

She gets out, and while she's ringing out her hair, she says, “Figure it out. I'm going home now.”

“What?” I say and swim towards her, rushing out of the water and to my clothes. In exasperation, I catch up with her, barely.

“Goodbye, Skyler!” She says and turns away, walking in bare feet through the trees.

“Wait!” I say, almost forgetting what I always forget when it comes to this girl.

She looks back, but doesn't say a word, waiting for me to speak.

“I still don't know your name!” I call to her and she begins walking again, shaking her hair and bouncing with her steps.

“Kaya.” She says.

“I thought you were at Windon's.” My father greets me as I walk in and sit at the dinner table, where napkins and silverware were set out neatly. He’s washing dishes with his back towards me.

“Is someone coming over?” I ask. The table was never set anymore. My mom was the only who did it, or at least the only one who knew how to. As I look down, it is apparent this setting was done by a man with no experience.

“Just a woman from work.” He says casually, but everyone knew what that meant. Every kid understood this was not just a woman from work. He was dating again and there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't even allowed to be angry about it.

“Who is she?” I ask, unaware of the harsh tone that came with it, but I don’t regret it, not even a little bit.

He drops the plates in the sink making a loud, shrieking noise that’s engraved in my eardrums now. “Don't do this right now.” He commands and I get up, scraping the old, metal chair against our hardwood floors.

“Whatever, I'm not meeting her.” I say as I plod up the stairs.

“I didn't think you were going to be home, Skyler.” He explains almost sincerely, then shakes his head slowly as I slam my bedroom door.

My room is cold when I walk in, and turns into a mess instantly from the papers that fly off my dresser from the wind. I walk over to my bed, falling back on it, and exhaling loudly as the mattress bounces with me. I was just about to close my eyes to the sound of silence before I hear a clink coming from my window. I figure it’s a tree branch hitting my window, so I resume on closing my eyes once more. Then, I hear the clink two more times before getting up to see what’s disturbing me.

I sigh. There Sabrina was waving frantically at me.

“Skyler!” She yells.

“What?” I say tiredly. “It’s like really late.”

“First of all...Its 10 pm. Second of all... Get down here now!” She yells again, making gestures as she does.

“Why? What's wrong?” I ask, suddenly concerned with the crazy look in her eye.

“It's Windon.”

Chapter 3: As we make our way to her car, she's rambling on about Windon and what had happened.

Apparently, on his way back from working at the bookstore, he was jumped by a few guys who were not much older than us. She says they had to be no older than twenty. They threatened to kill him if he didn't give them his wallet and his car keys. He did, but he took a rough beating before he gave in.

Luckily, they didn’t take his phone, or he could have been left for dead. I cringe at the gruesome thought and try to sway my mind from it.

“Miles is on his way to the hospital right now. We should get there the same time he does.” She says, almost not focused on her driving, but rather on her texts.

“Sabrina, do you want us to end up in two hospital beds right next to Windon? Put your phone away.” I say, yanking it away before she had a chance to resist. The displeasing expression falls away from her as she breathes her sigh of exhaustion.

When we arrive at the hospital, I can feel the melancholy atmosphere surrounding the entire building. This is where people were told they had cancer, or where families were told their daughter and son didn't make it, or where wives waited patiently to hear if their husbands who fought in battles would ever walk again. This is where Windon is. This is where we would know if he was okay or not.

His father was already there along with his mother and his little sister. His mother's mascara had run from crying earlier, and she is holding her daughter's hand so tightly, her knuckles are yellow.

His father sits in a chair with his arms sprawled on the armchair, cuffing the ends of it nervously. We take a seat next to them. Miles isn’t here yet, and Sabrina is frantically texting him. I can see her hands shaking and her knee bouncing.

“They said we could see him soon.” His mother looks at her husband and he closes his eyes.

“They tell that to everyone, Doris.” He replies and she looks even more concerned now. Then he grabs her hand.

About the same time Miles walks in, the nurse comes out to call Windon's family into the small room they were keeping him in.

Sabrina gets up to hug Miles long enough for the small family to be gone before they sat down.

“Do we know if he's okay? Or if he's going to be?”

Sabrina shakes her head and takes his hand.

“He'll be alright.” I say. “He's Windon, he's a tough guy.”

“He's also Windon. Gets into a lot of trouble, Windon. Sets things on fire for fun, Windon.”

Miles adds, not helping the situation at all. Sabrina is crying now, her face hidden behind her palms.

“Way to go, Miles, you're an asshole.” I smile sarcastically, then slip off my jacket, placing it over Sabrina who grabs the ends to pull it around her.

“So typical for him to put up a fight with those guys.” The disappointment in her voice overrides her hope and for a moment I become afraid of what might happen next.

We sit there for a good thirty minutes before the nurse comes out again. Windon's family trails behind her.

They don’t look sad any longer and his mother had fixed her makeup. Maybe he’s okay after all —not that I had many doubts.

“Can we see him now?” Sabrina asks the nurse, almost begging. She nods and folds her hands.

“He's straight through there.” She points, and I follow Miles and Sabrina who dodge everyone in their way.

The room is like any ordinary hospital room. It’s a private room, courtesy of his family's money, but it’s small and barely fits five people to be around him at once.

The “get well soon” flowers are sitting in the chair next to the heart monitor. It seems steady from what I've seen in those dramatic hospital shows. There are two flower bouquets that are placed in vases by the window sill. The room holds a somber feeling to it, but there’s Windon, smiling like this isn’t a hospital bed he’s in, or that his black eye isn’t bulging and he had bandages wrapped around his big head.

“Winnie!” Sabrina squeals, running to him aggressively, but restrains herself from hugging him.

“We're so glad you're okay!” She continues, then her face changes and she punches his good arm. “You're an idiot!”

“Hey!” He rubs his arm, glaring at Sabrina. She crosses her arms. “What was that for?”

“For being an idiot!” She repeats. “You could have been killed!”

He looks flustered, then looks to me for help, and when I look away he stares at Miles.

“For the record, I totally knew you were gonna be okay. No doubts, my man.” Miles holds two thumbs up at Windon who is unamused.

“When do you get out of here, Win?” “Well, I've got a concussion, so they're just going to keep me for the night. I'll probably see you guys in like two days.” He says.

“Two days?”

“I'm injured.” He's pointing at his head, trying not to laugh. “I have a concussion. Didn't you hear me?” He's laughing now, his face turning cherry red like usual, but this lighting made it look five times worse.

“I think you're a little delirious, Win.” Sabrina says while pulling the blanket over his arms and closer to his neck. She stays there for a moment, looking at Windon before almost pulling away.

He takes her hand and looks back at her. I'm sure none of us could tell whether this was out of pure friendship, or that Windon actually had begun to see Sabrina as more than just someone to lose cards to.

Either way, when I look to Miles, he had turned away, but doesn’t leave. It wasn't hard to tell he had noticed Windon's interest in her before. You could almost see it in his eyes.

Sabrina pulls away after a few moments, then turns back to us, releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

“We're gonna go eat at the Dime, are you coming?” I ask her, and she turns to Windon who isn’t happy we’re going without him. The Dime is the diner near the lake where the old grade school is.

The only reason we refer it as “the diner” is because it’s the only diner for miles, and is almost always filled with highschoolers, aside from some families. We had been going since we went to the grade school next to it. We never really knew why the school had closed down.

“I think I'm going to stay...” She says lowly, and plops into the chair next to Windon's bed. She looks up again, and sees the look on Miles' face and then her face changes, almost like she was looking for an excuse to why she'd rather stay with Windon in the hospital then go to their favorite place with Miles.

“I'm just really tired! I don't really feel like socializing.” She continues and plays with her hands nervously.

I put my hand on Miles' back, guiding him out before he can say anything back to her.

The diner isn’t as crowded as usual, but it still takes us almost twenty minutes to be seated.

With what I could see with my eyes, the diner is mostly filled with kids from my class specifically, but none of them are my friends; and unlike me, Miles had many other friends. He had friends from the football team, the drama club, the ASB kids, and others, but somehow he stays with us and makes it seem like we’re the only people in his life. He receives invites to all the parties, the football games,

and events held by the school, but he never went to one. It was almost like he thought it would make us feel bad or something, but we didn't care about any of that.

We walk to our table, while Miles says his hellos to his classmates, and none of them look at me once.

“Hey, Miles.” A pretty brunette with cherry lips stands over us with her girlfriend at her side, who looks almost exactly like her, except she has red hair.

“Oh hi, Cassidy...” He says disappointingly, as if he is already bored with her standing there.

She twirls her pin straight hair with her dainty fingers and leans over the side of the booth, so her chest is laid out in front of us.

“Who's your friend?” She asks, nodding to me.

“Oh...” He pauses. “Cassidy, this is Skyler. Skyler, Cassidy.” He says, his voice still hasn't changed. I hold out my hand and she hesitates for a moment, almost like she doesn’t know what a handshake is.

“So, Miles, are you going to Sinclair's Saturday?” She asks, moving closer to him, but he doesn't look up.

“Um, I don't know yet, Cass.” He says.

“He is actually.” I say, and that's when he looks at me, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull.

“Really?” She squeals and pops her gum, and her friend speaks up.

“You should come too!” I can’t tell if she’s flirting with me, but her body language hints that she is and I suddenly become very uncomfortable.

Sure, she’s an attractive girl, but everything about her seemed like an act. Her perfect red curls at her shoulders, her tiny waist with a crop top that hit just below her chest. Even the way she stood made me feel uneasy. She isn’t real. She can’t be. Everything had been given to her her whole life.

She was probably never told the word “no” in her entire life. As I think about this, I think about how much judgement I had just put on her. I don’t know her, and I already had an opinion.

“Oh, totally.” Cass spoke up. “This is Destiny, by the way.”

“Cassidy and Destiny.” I say, nodding my head, hinting at the fact that it was quite amusing that both of their names ended in “Y”.

This reminds me of my mother. She used to warn me about the girls who's names ended in “Y.” “They're no good.” She would say. Her name was Lily.

After they finally leave, Miles begins banging his head on the table.

“Woah, dude. What's wrong?”

“Now we have to go Saturday. That's what's wrong.” He says, and I start to wonder if I should have opened my big mouth in the first place. “And then I have to see Cassidy.”

“Hey, she's not that bad.” I say, and he looks at me with dead eyes.

I start to laugh. “Okay, so it's that bad. But I mean, how bad will the party actually be? We can all go. You, me, Windon, and Sabrina. What's the worst thing that could happen?” I say positively, but Miles isn’t having it. He’s a wreck tonight.

“Sabrina.” He whines as he starts to bang his head again.

This is weird for me. Out of the entire existence of our friendship, neither Miles nor Windon had ever mentioned or even hinted at the fact that they were interested in Sabrina. It was never like that. Sure, Miles would mess around and flirt with her, but we all thought it was a big joke just to get a rise out of her.

“When did this happen?” I ask. He looks up at me tiredly and rests his chin on his arm like it’s the tedious thing.

“Last Christmas at Windon's lake house up north. Remember? It was just the four of us. It didn't really happen at a specific time, it just kind of built when I was spending so much time with her.”

I guess it makes sense—how one could fall for Sabrina, I mean. It wasn't hard to like her. She’s her own person, and she could relate to Windon and Miles since she was never really into the girl stuff.

I could understand why. Maybe I’m just stuck wondering how. I never attained those same feelings and I know Sabrina as much as they know her. She has just always been there, like a sister. It almost freaked me out how they could think of her as anything more.

“What about Windon?”

He rolls his eyes. “I don't think he knows.”

“Should I tell him?” I ask, knowing Miles should do it himself, but also knowing he isn’t a very confrontational person either.

“God, no. If anyone found out it would make everything weird. I can't do weird, not with everything else happening.”

“Okay... Well don't let Windon beat you to it. She is kind of in a hospital room alone with him right now.”

He doesn’t like hearing this, and lowers his head once more, tapping his fingers on the table anxiously.

So maybe that was the wrong thing to say to someone so fragile, but I know I need to scare him into talking to her or he'd never let himself get over it. I also know I need to talk to Windon or we will lose our friendship all together.

It’s dark on my way home. I decide to walk through the park, and pass the tall pine trees where the very tips of them almost touch the moon. It is almost like they’re trying to reach heaven with each branch climbing the other. It reminds me of a bible story I had heard once, the Tower of Babel, was it?

Maybe.

I never did believe in much, not that I didn't want to. I just didn't know how to. How do you believe in anything that isn't physically in front of you? How do you believe in a great man in the sky who is said to hear all your thoughts and knows what you're about to do three seconds before you do it?

How do you believe in anything watching over you? I was probably the only person who believed they were entirely alone.

“Skyler!” I hear from a little ways away. I also hear light footsteps getting louder behind me and I turn my head to see her skipping towards me.

“Kaya.” I say lightly, shaking off my previous thoughts, and she slows to a walk as she is right next to me.

“I was looking for my cat, and I saw you walking.” She smiles.

“You have another cat?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets due to the sudden burst of cold air hitting me as if I had walked into a giant freezer.

She pauses for a moment, like she has forgotten what she’s doing. “Yes. He is a tabby.”

It's quiet for a moment, and all there is to hear are the crickets and the tiny animals in the bushes.

“Hey.” I speak up, changing the subject. “What are you doing Saturday?” After this, my throat closes up a bit, anticipating her answer to be obvious like “Sorry, I'm busy” or “I have to look for my cat.”

“Nothing.” She looks at me intently. “Why, Skyler?”

“Oh, really? Ah... Well... There's this party. And I was hoping, maybe you'd like to go with me?” I brush my hair back and the little bit of perspiration right above my brow.

“Skyler, have you ever asked a girl out before?” The side of her mouth creases and she wrinkles her nose.

I hesitate, keeping my mouth open, but no words are coming out.

“You're very good at it.” She says finally and places her hands behind her back. “Should I meet you there?”

“No. I can pick you up. 8-ish?” I rub the back of my head anxiously.

She nods and stands there for a moment, then she turns around hiding her worried look. “I better get home then.”

“I'll see you tomorrow.” I wave, and walk back home feeling the most confident I had ever felt in a long time.

Chapter 4: Friday night finally comes around; the night before my first official date with Kaya. I’m nervous, but I have never been interested in anyone the way I am with her. It scares me quite frankly, but in a good kind of new way.

It’s 10 pm. Windon is out of the hospital and a new man—or so he says and we’re celebrating with beer and ping pong in Miles' garage. We never really hung out in Miles' garage, let alone his house since his parents were so weird about friends and other people, but they are currently out of town for the weekend and Miles is the only one with a ping pong table.

“Love the eye, man. But can you play with only one?” Miles teases in reference to Windon's still inflamed black eye. Although he’s out of the hospital, he still looks like hell, and that’s not an exaggeration.

Windon grabs the paddle almost too quickly and begins his match with Miles. I sit with Sabrina on the low couch that was thrashed to the point where it had lost one of the cushions. No one ever thought to throw it away, of course, it was a special couch with special memories, according to Miles and his family.

“So, Sky, when am I gonna meet this girl you always talk about?” She asks, with that lazy look in her eyes telling me right away that I would make sure that was her last beer.

“Tomorrow night.” I say, sipping at my drink slowly. “I'm picking her up.”

“You're ditching us?” She throws her head back. “You guys, Did you hear that? Sky is abandoning us for that girl!”

“Skyler, that's not fair. You're the one forcing me to go to this party.” Miles chimes in, still too focused on his match to look at me.

“Oh, I'm not forcing you to do anything.” I scoff. “We're gonna have fun, I'll meet you guys there. We don't have to show up together.”

Windon nods in agreement. “Sure, man. It's not a big deal.”

Sabrina and I are quiet for a moment, while they battle it out in front of us, like we aren’t even there. Finally, I look over at Sabrina, where I can tell her dazed eyes are staring at Windon. They don’t leave him once, not even for a second.

After twenty minutes of just sitting there, Miles emerges the winner, and drunk Sabrina gets up out of her chair, stumbling towards him. She cheers and gives him a hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Miles' eyes widened, but then she trips over her feet and almost falls before he catches her.

He guides her to the chair, laying her carefully down as if she’s a tiny bird, and returns to his rematch.

“Sabrina.” I say in a displeasing voice, still wondering if I should bring it up, but looking down at my half-empty beer, I figure I have enough liquid courage to do so.

She looks up at me in slow motion, her smoky eyes are low, but she’s smiling. “Yes, Skyler.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Oh, yes, Sky. Ask me, ask me. I love when you ask me things.” She slurs and kicks off her shoes.

“What are you doing?” I ask, assuming she knows what I’m referring to, but all she does is look down blankly.

“They um... Were starting to hurt my feet.” She stutters and I roll my eyes.

“No, no, no. I meant with them.” I say, nodding my head up towards Windon and Miles.

She is quiet this time, really quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh stop it, Sabrina. You know what I mean. Stop playing with them. Or at least stop playing with Miles. He really likes you.” I say, not positive if that was one of my best moves.

Her eyes change suddenly, like she’s stunned that I know anything about it, and maybe because she knows I’m right.

She gets up after that, holding on to the chair as she does so.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” She asks and guides herself to the back door, letting herself in.

“Where is she going?” Windon stops to ask and I lay back in my seat casually, unhappy with the entire situation. Nothing had been solved and I am at a dead end once again.

“To bed. She had too much to drink.” I say and both of them shrug, going back to their game without a thought.

May 4, 2002.

It was warm that night. I felt the air cover my arm as we drove down a road as familiar as my strong hand. The sun was setting and I could only see her sunglasses in the mirror ahead of me. I couldn't tell if she was looking at me or the road, but every few lights we hit, she would reach her hand back, so that I would grab onto it, like she was afraid I'd magically disappear from the backseat if she didn't check.

My mother had a way of saying things when nothing was being said. I remember understanding her the most when she would sit there in front of me with nothing but her folded hands and the tilt of her head.

I was afraid that one day I'd get in trouble and all she would do is sit me in front of her and I'd be forced to look at her knowing that she was disappointed in me. There was no shake of her hands or faults in her voice from yelling. I would have taken that over silence if she had given me the option.

It was getting late, we were almost home. My father was probably in the office or smoking his cigarettes before my mother could stop him and give him the cancer stick talk.

Or were we going home? We had been going on the straight road we always went to get there, but it felt longer this time, the drive I mean. We would have turned by now, but instead we kept going straight. It was getting darker too, and finally, I sat up.

“Mom, where are we going?” I asked.

She doesn't answer, but her sunglasses were still on and her face was beginning to turn red.

“Mommy?”

I heard sobs now, but nothing came from her mouth. I was trying to understand her like I usually could, but this time it was hard to read her. I had never seen her like this. This was a side to my mother I was unfamiliar with.

A few moments passed and still she said nothing. I was starting to feel afraid, and suddenly she turned her head to look at me.

“Its gonna be okay.” She said. “We're okay now.”

She said this like it would make me feel better. But she was certainly the only one that was okay.

Then she reached out her hand. And before I could take it, everything went blurry.

That was the thing about my mother. When she left, nothing felt like it changed. And at the same time, everything felt strange to me—like nothing was where it was supposed to be.

They found us at the side of the highway, 10 miles out of town. They told me I was almost kidnapped by my own mother. How was this possible? I was her child. She could have taken me anywhere. When my father picked me up, he was crying. I didn't understand this, but I don't think any 12 year old could have either.

I came out of that crash with a scratch on my forehead and a broken rib. People felt sorry for me, they sent me flowers and get-well-soon cards. Meanwhile, my mother didn't come out of that car at all. She got a tombstone and a funeral. That was all she got.

I never and will never know where she was taking me that night or what she was running away from. Frankly, I was fine not knowing.

I drive passed the cemetery and find her waiting at the doorstep. She doesn't look much different than usual. It seems she owns almost the same outfit in five different pairs. She had curled her hair and she’s wearing a minimal amount of makeup. Glitter lines around her bright green eyes, falling on to her rosy cheeks. Anyone could have said she looks like a fairy, and it could have fooled me.

“You look amazing.” I say, getting out to open her door. She gets in and looks at me intently.

“Thank you, Sky. I've never been to a party before.” She says nervously and I laugh.

“Me neither. The only reason I got invited is because I'm friends with a guy.” I sigh in an embarrassing manner since I could have said something better than that.

“What's his name?” She wiggles in her seat, trying to feel comfortable, but nothing seems like it wasn’t working for her. She looks like a fish out of water.

“Miles. You've probably heard of him. Pretty sure people in the next state know him.” I say exasperated.

“I've never heard of him.” She says innocently and I almost laugh, but she’s serious.

“Well, you will tonight. You're gonna meet him.” I say smugly and she purses her lips, trying to decide if that was a good thing or not.

She almost seems new to everything, the way she speaks and the way she listens. She would look at me with good intent, her pupils dilated. I always knew she had heard everything that I said. But there were things that I would question about her. Things that I couldn’t ask her in fear of her answering. Everything felt like glass around her. Nothing felt complete. The way she moved even seemed like she was unsure of herself.

This is a contradiction to her personality because she’s also so outspoken and opinionated. I can’t read her like I could read my mother and most women. I can read Sabrina like a book. Then again, Sabrina is easy to read. Everything she’s made of is out in the open.

We came up to the Sinclair house, and you couldn't tell how loud the music was until someone opened the front door—which was about every ten seconds.

I take her hand, then move my arm to her shoulder.

“Is this okay?” I ask shakily. I had no idea what I was doing, but thank god for television.

She nods and leans into me so there was no space between us.

“Skyler! You made it!” Some guy from my physical science class invites us in. “Miles and that girl are lookin' for ya.”

The scenery of the party was normal and cliché. The twinkling lights stapled to the wall, a bucket filled with some concoction of alcohol and fruits, and the music with bass louder than the actual words. I'd never seen a party before, but if I ever had visions of one, it was exactly this.

“I like it.” She says and lets go of my hand to spin herself. “I'm gonna get drinks, do you want one?”

I nod. “Wait, but I want you to meet my friends!” I speak up, since she is already walking away.

She looks back. “I'm just going to get some drinks, I'll find you!” She calls back smiling and I start my search for Miles in this impossibly large house.

“Skyler! Over here!” I hear him calling. When I finally spot him, he and Sabrina are waving.

She looked about how she did the other night and it wasn't even 11 p.m. yet.

“Hey, dude.” He says, and Sabrina gets up to hug me.

“Where's Win?” Sabrina straightens up hearing this, and sits down, taking another sip of her drink.

“He couldn't come.” He puts in air quotes. “He is 'sick.'”

Sabrina has no comment, but just sits there kicking her feet. After a few moments, Cassidy and Destiny approach us, looking Sabrina up and down. Usually, Sabrina's defense mechanisms kick in and she says something, but I had a feeling she didn't even realize they were standing there.

“Hey, Miles.” Cassidy gets closer, so her chest is right in his vision. Destiny comes close to me, but she keeps her distance.

“Hi, Cass. What's up?” His eyes don't wonder away from where she is and I couldn't tell if he was annoyed. I stepped away from Destiny.

After, a bit of small talk they had, Cass decided to take matters into her own hands and took a seat right on Miles' lap. This might have gone well if it was just Miles by himself. It might have gone well if Sabrina hadn't seen the whole thing. It might have gone better if she wasn't drunk either.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sabrina says, hiding her drink behind her back. Cassidy looks at her in disgust, completely disregarding her.

“Sitting. What does it look like?” She puts her arm around Miles’ neck and grins at her.

“What's wrong, Sabrina? You're jealous? Can't have them both.”

I thought Cassidy was in deep shit before, but after these words, I had no control over drunk Sabrina and what she was plotting. As I thought about this, She had already thrown her drink at Cassidy, and I had to restrain every bone in my body not to laugh and add to the fire.

Usually in the movies, the mean girl would cry and stomp her feet leaving in her own embarrassment, but that is not at all what happened.

Cassidy grabs Sabrina's hair, but before she could really pull it, Sabrina kicks at her ankle, and Cass falls to the floor. She's on top of her now, her hand firmly on Cass's throat, while she fought to get up.

“Sabrina! Get up!” I say, reaching out for her and grabbing her waist. I’m attempting to pull her away, but she’s squirming so much, she almost falls from my grip, and I can barely keep two feet on the ground.

I expect Miles to jump in right about now, but when I look up over the girls, I can’t see him. I finally have a hold on Sabrina before she can do any more damage to our school's sweetheart, who's shirt is soiled from mangos and tequila along with a ripped skirt and bruises on her cheeks.

Sabrina got out with nearly a scratch on her eyebrow and busted lip, and this makes her smile weakly, watching Cassidy dismiss herself from the house.

Destiny leaves too, leaving the three of us to ourselves again as it had been about five minutes ago.

Sabrina doesn’t say much after that, except that she “wrecked that bitch” and that she needed a band aid. Neither of us say anything back to her, partly because we don’t know what to say. No one even questions why she started the fight, though both of us know.

I sit there awhile with them, talking about the party, Windon's accident, and Sabrina's incredibly poor fight, when Miles begins to talk.

“Hey, didn't you come here with that girl you're always talking about? Did she leave?” He asks and I almost fall out of my chair.

“Oh my god.” I murmur, thinking about the last time I had seen her. As soon as I get up, Miles is calling back for me, but I’m too focused on finding her to listen. I had a little bit to drink by then, and things were only a little blurry, but the house appears larger and I thought I'd get lost if I don’t find her soon.

I peak into every room downstairs stumbling over people and sharp corners. I ask anyone if they'd seen a petite blonde in a nightgown since that was my only explanation for it. Each person says no and each room I walk into looks like the aftermath of a hurricane.

I walk upstairs into a room that is similar to any classic country bedroom with pictures of chickens and green flowered bed sheets stand out from the rest of house.

It takes me a little to realize that she’s passed out on the other side of the bed, clutching a bottle in her right hand. The stillness in her eyelids reveal a look of peacefulness, but still I feel blind to what had gone wrong. Why didn’t she come back like she said she would?

Trying to ignore my rambling thoughts, I scramble over and pick her up hastily, leaving her empty bottle the only mess in the clean rural bedroom. She almost speaks when we are halfway out of the door, but only her lips quiver and her eyes twitch.

I think it’s odd that no one seems to notice that I am carrying her out of the front door, and I forget that I had already abandoned Miles and Sabrina at the only party I'd ever been too. People look at me sure, but it looks like it hasn’t occurred to them that I could have drugged this girl. I could take her anywhere and no one was about to stop me. Do they trust me? Or do they just not care?

These were the only thoughts I had as I drove her to the hospital.

They take her in without question, but won’t let me see her until she wakes up. I sit in silence for an hour and a half, wondering how I got here again. I had been in the hospital two different times in the same week for two different people.

She had alcohol poisoning, which was obvious, but I kept wondering why. And I had also wondered how I had forgotten about her so easily.

When she had woken up, it was already about three in the morning, and it was difficult for me to keep my eyes open.

“Skylar.” She says softly as she sits up to look around. For about a second, it looks like she’s going to run out of the room in her confusion, but instead, she sits back against her pillow and smiles contently at me. “I'm sorry.” She says.

I get up, walking towards her, so that we are a foot away from each other. She takes my hand and I flinch with shivers going up and down my spine just for a second. Her hand is so cold.

“I shouldn't have left you alone. What happened?” I ask curiously, pulling a seat from farther away from me.

She looks up, trying to remember fuzzy memories.

“Well, you left and I went to get a drink.” She nods and I as well, waiting for her to go on, but she stops and looks up for awhile at the dim lights over her head. They were flickering just enough that it was almost unnoticeable, but here we were, distracted by it, and I start to wonder if that's what she wants.

“Then, I woke up and there you were.” She says like she’s apologizing. I'm still holding her hand and decide to drop the conversation, thinking it might be sore and uncomfortable.

I don’t know this girl, however, her compelling nature keeps me at her side.

“Skylar, can I ask you something?” She murmurs and I lean back, listening carefully.

“Of course.”

“Why are you here? My parents didn't even bother to come.” She mumbles the last part and jerks her hand back a bit.

“What do you mean? They don't know you're here?” I ask, pulling out my phone. She shakes her head and pushes it away with the little strength she had.

“No, no. They know I'm here. They are 'teaching me a lesson about underage drinking'.” She rolls her eyes and hugs her pillow. The “That is the most insensitive thing I think I have ever heard in my entire life.” I say, and she laughs. Shrugging she makes a face and then pulls me in, kissing me.

It seemed to last longer in my head than it actually had, because when I had opened my eyes, she was already back against her pillow giggling at me.

“I'm here because I like you. And I'm not a heartless monster.” I add and she smiles widely and then it's quiet again.

“Will you stay with me?” She asks quietly. Nodding, I make my way over to the other edge of the twin sized hospital bed and get as comfortable as sleeping in jeans could be. She curls into me and blonde hair crowds my face, but I didn't seem to notice when we both closed our eyes and all that is left to hear is the monitor nearby and her soft breathing just below my chin. ...

I haven't seen her since that night. It's been a week. I try calling, but she lets it ring, and I begin to think she is gone for good. I distract myself during this time. Each day leading closer to graduation and for Sabrina, it was prom she was waiting for. I knew not of what was to become of me after I received my diploma, nor where I would go. I certainly wouldn't stay here, and god forbid my father guilts me into not going.

I never get to see him as much anymore. We live in the same house and the total amount of words I had said to him in a week were fewer than ten. He was so lonely, sometimes I felt like he'd rather be in the ground next to my mother, than here with me.

The girls he dated came and went and none of them in particular I liked. They all smelled of expensive perfume that invaded the whole room as well their important suits they wore. They were too sharp and their personalities were all the same. I had always been confused by these women since none of them resembled my mother in one aspect. She wasn't one for work or clothes worth more than the dinner she ate. She enjoyed her garden and her cotton house dresses. This was either a coping mechanism so that no woman would ever remind him of his wife, or I really didn't know either of my parents.

He’s stacking his deck of cards when I come home. It’s 2 a.m. He’s never up this late and I had just been getting home from Windon's.

He doesn’t say anything when I walk in, nor cared where I had been. He’s just sitting in his chair with the same look on his face.

“Everything okay?” I say lightly, hoping I don't hit a nerve.

He looks at me for a moment, then back at his cards again.

“What? Yes, of course.”

He says this, but it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from him.

“I'm going to visit mom tomorrow, if you want to come.”

He shakes his head and rubs his temples. “No. No I have to work. I have that big meeting I was talking about. I could get promoted and we could have money for when you go off to school.”

“I'm not--” I hesitate and his eyebrows raise, but he still waits for my answer like he had no idea about my decision. “I'm not going to college, Dad. I've told you this, yet you continue to pretend like we've never had this conversation.”

His eyes grow dim and the side of his lip curls downward just a little, like I hadn't seen the worst yet.

“You're mom would have wanted you to do something with you're life. Not waste it.”

“Mom is dead.”

I regret this statement as soon as it comes out of my mouth, just because of the look on his face.

Now it isn’t sad nor blank, nor wavering, but if anger had a picture that went with it, my father's face would be plastered to it.

“You're nothing but a disappointment—a waste of space. You're the reason she was leaving.”

He says, getting out of his seat, almost knocking his chair over.

“Is that how you remember it?” I ask sarcastically.

“Yes, I do.”

“But do you really believe that? Do you really believe deep inside of you that although I was inside the car with her, while you were back at home doing whatever you do, that I was the reason she wanted to leave? I don't remember it like that.”

By this time, we’re both at each other's throats, but I have never seen him like this. He’s covering his ears and shaking his head back and forth. It had been almost six years and he’s still the wreck I saw briefly at the crash. After six years, people are on their feet again. They are going to work and getting on with routine. They form new relationships and even fall in love again. They keep going until that grief is nothing but something so far pushed back into the craters of their minds, they only feel it when they are left alone or thrown into catastrophe. But not him. In my father's case, he was stacking his deck of cards and mourning six years later over a woman he wasn't even sure loved him.

How pathetic.

“She wasn't miserable. I would have known. I would have been able to tell.” He’s in tears now, rubbing his eyes roughly and trying to cover them up. “She was happy.”

He pulls me into him and I rest my head on the back of his shoulder while he heaves and heaves. I feel awful at this point. This is the second time I've ever seen him cry, and I remember why I never desired to ever see it.

“I know, Dad. She was.”

Chapter 5: The cemetery is bleak today. The sky is hardly a color at all, but the clouds look like someone had shaded them with a pencil, but in the most detail. The last time I had been here, was my mom's birthday, which wasn't even a month ago. My dad didn't come that time either, he never came.

I also remember when I had met Kaya here. It’s another day I hadn't heard from her.

Sometimes I thought she was in some kind of trouble, others, I assumed she left. I would have. Maybe she had a chance to get away from her parents and see the city or an island or the town just after this one. Anywhere was better than here.

But nothing is ever what it seems and the world throws curve balls whenever it feels like it, because it can, and maybe that's why I saw her sitting near the grave where I had first met her.

She doesn’t look up at me, maybe because she hasn’t seen me yet, but she looks different. Her hair maybe...No. It’s her clothes. Her jacket is a dark grey and I had never seen her wear one. Nor had I ever seen her wear anything other than her signature white dress.

And without thought or any fear of consequence, I open my mouth.

“Kaya.”

Her head whips up quickly, but when she recognizes me, she turns away, almost like she’s about to run off.

“Kaya, its me!” I say, running over to her, but shes covering her face with her hood and her hands and I can’t see her expression.

“What's going on? Where have you been?” I ask. She says nothing, but I hear low cries. She fights me, but I'm holding her now so she falls into me, releasing her hands to place them around me instead. Still, her face hides against my chest and the crying gets louder.

“At least tell me if you're okay.”

She stops for a moment, and I feel only the shaking of her body while she lifts her head slowly.

Everything becomes clear as she does. She doesn’t have to tell me, although she did.

“They say I can't see you anymore.” She moans and rubs her nose with the sleeve of her ragged sweater. “When I got out of the hospital... They were so angry... My mom was so angry. They knew I was with you. I'm so embarrassed.”

I didn't care about the way she looked. I didn't care about the scabs on her cheek or the hollowness of her eyes. One of them was black, but I didn't care, and I told her this.

“We can leave, Kaya. We can get out of here. Anywhere you want.”

She tells me it’s a nice idea. That it could be nice, but she never tells me yes. She tells me about her parents and how they would never let her, and even if we left without them knowing, she was too afraid.

“This is familiar. This is home.” Stopping for a moment, she struggles with the air around her, breathing harshly, and then continuing, “Where would we go? You have friends here and they were here before me. They knew you before I did. Its not fair to them, or you.”

I tell her things are different now, that I’m planning to leave after school anyways. I tell her school is almost over and we could go anywhere we want..

We agreed that night that we would leave after graduation. That I would take her to Europe or somewhere it took more than fifteen hours to reach by plane.

“I have an idea.”

“What's that?”

“Sleep at mine tonight. You don't have to see them. We don't even have to sleep if you don't want. Please.” I say, hoping somewhere inside her, wherever it is, that she has some common sense.

In that moment, I pray I will never meet her parents. I don't think I would like the person I would become, seeing them snug in their own ignorance. They’re selfish people.

She agrees and we spend the rest of the day together. I tell her about the ongoing problems with my friends. They all had their own agendas and issues that I couldn’t fix for them, not like I used to. I hadn't talked to them in what seemed like a month when in fact, it had been a week. They all aren’t doing too well, except maybe Windon. He had always been the one who couldn't hold a grudge, at least not like Miles could. I know Sabrina is okay. I also know she cares for Windon far more than Miles, but she doesn’t know it yet. I think she’s waiting for someone to make the decision for her, since she never was one for taking responsibility for anything that she did.

“I used to be a push-over, you know. It was me that had to settle everything, like I was some kind of maid, cleaning up their mess.” I kick the rocks before me, keeping my focus to the floor. I can feel her looking at me, taking everything into consideration, and regurgitating my thoughts as her own.

“It’s all meaningless. Do you know that?” She replies, her voice like honey, drawing in everything towards her. Her palms scrape the edge of the sidewalk we’re resting on, and I wait for her to speak again.

“Everything goes away, change is constant, and nostalgia is evil. Living in the past is so tempting. I’m happy for you. You see through all of that.” Her smile moves up an inch, masking the dreariness of her situation, pretending she had forgotten about her bruises all together. They curve around her fragile eyes as dark makeup immediately removing the softness about them completely.

Leaning in, my hand grips the back of her neck gently, pulling her closer as I watch her eyes close. I close mine too, kissing her softly, then she places her head on my shoulder, resting for as long she could.

At about 11 p.m. we arrive back to my house. We’re both in a fairly good mood from the day and Kaya is on my back as I carry her to the front door. She's laughing in my ear from something I had said or it might have just been the wine. She tells me she had taken it from her parents long before she met me and decided today would be the only fit day to drink it. So we did.

The door isn't loud, but my shoes are and they squeak obnoxiously the entire way to the stairs. I toss them off, leaving muddy footprints on white tile. I think just for a second that my dad might be angry from this, and then reason with myself. He probably wouldn't even notice.

The lights in my room are dimming and Kaya hops off my back to study every little detail.

“Did you do these?” She sits down gently on the carpet, skimming my collection of sketches and small paintings that are neatly stacked in the deep corner of my room. I’m not even certain how she noticed them.

“No. Those are my mom's.” I pause and she turns around looking at me with a careful smile. I look away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with this unfamiliar feeling I have never experienced before. I almost feel exposed in a way; as if she’s looking right through me—like she could see the insides of me that shook every time she did.

“They're so weird. I've never seen any like this.” She says. Normally, this would sound like an insult, but coming out of her mouth it sounds nothing like that. She says it in a more admiring way, and I’m beginning to think she was born without a bad bone in her body.

My thoughts bring me back to when I was ten, and my parents dragged me to church once a month when they had their religious kick. There was a woman everyone talked about. Her name was

Eve and she was said to be beautiful and made without flaw. She was the first woman in the world, so I believed it had to be true. I also remember when they said she had done something wrong—and how she sinned against God because she wanted something she couldn't have. They told us she’s the reason we had all become apart of something evil and that we were all born with bad bones in our bodies.

And then I thought about Kaya and how God must have missed her.

“I paint too... Sometimes.” She says. “But not like this.” She looks at them again. I guess I never looked at them other than figures on paper. I also never hung them up. It was always “too soon” for me.

I wanted to talk about the color around her eye and the bruises on her cheeks. I wanted to ask her about everything that came with it. I wanted to talk about the justification for it and how someone could even think about wanting to hurt someone they loved. Unless they didn't; that would make more sense than this. But I kept to myself and I kept her away from any lingering thoughts about it.

She left the paintings alone after that and we were lying on the floor for awhile. More time went by but we were wide awake and finally she spoke.

“We met at a good time, don't you think?”

I nod.

“We met in a graveyard.”

“It's a nice graveyard.”

“It is isn't it.” She chuckles, then looks up at the ceiling. Everything seems to fall in that moment as her facial expression does, it’s just blank now.

“I don't think I'm going up there.”

I assume she is referring to heaven, where supposedly everything is perfect. I heard everything is made of gold and everything seems effortless. Everyone knows each other and no one ever gets hurt.

“So what. Its no fun up there anyways. Everyone laughs at your jokes so you can never tell which ones are actually funny. The people never have anything interesting to say or anything to look forward to. Personally I don't think you belong there. But you definitely don't belong down there either. Maybe somewhere in the middle.”

“Isn't that where we are now..?”

“No no, no. Its almost like the other side of this. Its like when you look in the mirror and see your reflection. It might feel the same, but I think its better over there. Like an alternate universe maybe.”

She was tilting her head now, trying to understand whatever I was trying to explain. But I think she understood because she leaned in kissing me lightly.

And then again and again until I was kissing her back. She reaches her arm around my neck, so that we're closer now and I could feel nothing but her pink lips brushing mine. Easing her dress off, she falls onto me, but it wasn't rough, not even the slightest. It was almost as if she rehearsed it a hundred times, so that it felt like a blanket falling onto me rather than a person.

I moved my hand gently up and down her back and pulling slightly on the ends of her hair, I could see every detail of her neck as she let her head fall the other way. Her soft moans being the only noise I let myself pay attention to.

Everything felt different when her eyes closed, it felt like she wasn't here with me, like she went somewhere else. Somewhere more fitting—where she was supposed to be.

I wanted to say something to her. I wanted to tell her about everything I had ever questioned about anything. I wanted to tell her no one could answer them. And for some reason, I knew she had every answer.

She was some kind of force that led me to believe I was put on this earth, in this town, just to admire her. I would say I knew everything about her now, but I couldn't say that because she was as much a mystery as she was when I first met her. She was something not meant to be figured out like a

puzzle or some riddle, but more of something just to be looked at and wondered about, like the Mona Lisa's smile or the book of Revelation.

“I might love you.” I say without thought, and all she does is glance at me for a moment, not shocked nor angry, but not happy either. It was almost like she knew I was going to say it, before I even knew.

She closes her eyes again, to maybe hide herself from me or some other reason I couldn't understand, but then she spoke. “Remember when you asked me what I was afraid of?”

“Yeah.”

“Not spiders. They don't do anything, but try to make homes and catch flies. Why would someone be scared of that?”

“Kaya, what is it?”

“This.” She murmurs, her eyes still closed. “All of this. Us—You and me. I'm afraid of going outside, I'm afraid of getting old and everything ending. I'm afraid of that word, I don't like it. People just use it. They don't know what it is. You don't know what it is either.”

“I'm sure everyone uses it differently, but I know what it means to me.”

“And what is that?”

Taking a deep breath. I begin to tell her. I tell her what it was like when I didn't know her.

How everything felt like a routine. How I used to feel useless in a way no one could put their finger on. I told her how gray everything looked, even the sun looked tired and the moon was never full even when it physically was. But then something happened—something strange. I told her I couldn't sleep anymore, but that it was a good thing. And that she made that graveyard look like a beach. I told her the world needed her and so did I. That's what love is right?

She opens her eyes quickly, so that I got to see her just for a second, but then she closes them again and kept them that way for the rest of the night. I wasn't upset because I knew this was her way of saying she loved me too.

Chapter 6: The morning is cold. I wake up to a yellow sky and brisk air that demands me to pull my blankets over my head. Then I look over to see her lying close to me. It seems like her body is colder than the air and I turn my face towards her to see if she would open her eyes.

Isn’t it true that if someone is staring at you for awhile, they eventually can sense it? I wasn't too sure, I might have read it in a book or seen a movie.

I continue looking at the small girl huddled beside me, her body is calm and serene and remains completely still. Then, she flails her arms and switches positions, exposing the insides of them. I don’t feel surprised nor do I feel I should tell anyone about what I see. My room begins to have a sullen feeling, and remorse devours me as if these cuts were my doing, but I have to take a step back and realize this is not my fault, at least I think.

Her wounds are new, but she didn't clean them, so the blood had dried up and wrapped around her wrist like a dark crimson hand refusing to release its grip.

I wonder how I missed it. How something so sinister in a way of its own had slipped passed me. I don’t wonder too much about why she did it. I know that she might have compelled herself to do it just in order to feel something.

After a few moments, her eyelids twitch and open, blinking slowly till she’s fully conscious.

Then, she moves her arms and slides them under the sheets.

“Morning.” She sighs and the side of her lip curls into a smile.

“I want to do something today. Something we've never done before.”

She sits up, cradling her knees and combing the disarray of her hair with her fingers. “And what did you have in mind?”

“There's this outdoor concert, I want you to come with me.” I wait for her answer, hoping she’d let me drag her out of this depressing bed and state of mind.

“Today?”

“Tonight. Its here in Brassbury, they do it every year. Haven't you heard of it?”

She tilts her head and hesitates before saying anything. “No. I don't listen to music much.” Her eyes stray to the end of the bed, avoiding my gaze.

“Never?”

“Well not never, I like Stevie. She's great.”

“Knicks? Why?” She shrugs, giving me an effortless and lazy smile. “I like her style, there's magic to her, you know. Something about it keeps me awake. I'm always tired. That's how I finish a painting. Putting a CD in and not stopping for hours.”

I hear pounding at the door after that. Its early, it could only be the mail, or maybe someone who intends on selling something. Or maybe my dad had gotten locked out. It could only be these three things, and if it wasn't I'd have someones head.

Reluctantly, I roll out of bed giving Kaya a last glance and plod my way down the stairs. Onetwo-three-four—Then the knocking is louder.

I quickly unhitch the lock and greet the stranger with, “What is so import—” It’s only Sabrina.

But she doesn't look like Sabrina, not the one I know. This Sabrina is torn up—she’s red around the eyes, her mascara had coated her cheeks like face paint and she had wrapped herself in a larger jacket that couldn't have been hers.

“Sabrina... What's going on?”

She's about to speak, but she can't get a syllable in without stuttering, “I- I don't know what happened. Miles and Windon, they got in a fight.” Her mouth is dry when she speaks.

I turn my head to the staircase to see if Kaya had come down, but she didn't. So I close the door behind me and speak softly.

“What happened, Sabrina.”

She sighs, biting on her sleeve and shaking as her arms wrapped tightly around her body. “Um, we were at a bar last night. We were there till around four in the morning. I went with Windon, because he knows how much I like pool and he had gotten me a fake I.D., so I was like what the hell, right. Anyways, he got close to me...Really close. He kissed me even, and I liked it...I think. But that's not the point. We got closer that night. He had his arm around me and he was kissing my neck and little things like that—we were drunk. Miles had shown up, or maybe he was there the whole time I don't know, but when he saw Windon and I he flipped out. I don't think he was drunk, but he was on something because he wasn't himself. He was this version of only one part of himself—not the good kind. He ran towards me... Not Windon, and he was yelling at me and cussing and telling me I was a Mistake. I was a 'Mistake Mistake Mistake'.” I got really scared. He was going to hit me, Skyler. But Windon, he stepped in and punched Miles first, before he could hit me.”

I have to take a second to process the scenario and picturing how Miles and Windon could act in a situation like that. I have to take a second to realize I’m sometimes wrong about them. I never fully process what my friends are capable of doing, especially to each other. It could have easily happened to me. The concept of friends means nothing I suppose, but then again I’m not apart of their hostile love triangle.

“Are you okay?” I manage to only get out, though a million questions in my head need answering. I look at her and then at her knuckles, they were yellow due to clenching them against her coat—Windon's coat.

She's speechless for a second, and then shakes her head. She's crying now. All I could do was pull her in, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“H-he just kept hitting him....I couldn't do anything...Oh god..” More Sobbing, “There was so much blood... Oh god, his face. The floors were all red and I keep seeing it.”

I put my hands around her hot cheeks and look at her with wide eyes, since she forgets to mention something.

“Sabrina, where are they?”

She turns away from me and starts to cry again.

“Sabrina!” I yell, but she doesn't turn around. “Sabrina, answer me.”

“I..I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“I mean I don't know, Skyler. They're gone.” Her hands fold around her face and shes shaking even more now.

“What happened after he hit him. This is important.”

She looks around like shes trying to remember, then stops. “I, um. I ran away when Miles was on the ground. I couldn't take it anymore, so I left. I ran to the car because I had left my phone in there and I was going to call the police, then I realized I left the fucking keys in the bar, so I went back.

Neither of them were there. I left for five seconds and they fucking disappeared. I asked everyone in the bar, but they didn't know. Some of them just looked at me. I didn't know what to do so I walked here.”

“Jesus christ. I'm going to grab a jacket, and we'll go look for them. Stay here.” I say and she nods, still biting at her sleeve nervously.

I almost trip running up the stairs. Kaya would either be angry that she had to leave her warm bed, maybe I could just leave her here. As I thought about this I open my bedroom door and look at the place where I had left her. Nothing. She isn’t there, nor is she anywhere else. She just left? Out the back door maybe?

I think about calling her, but I figure she'll turn up later. Also, dealing with my best friends who are both bloodthirsty and masters of invisibility, is already too much on my plate.

We get in my car, and Sabrina leans back against my seat almost cradling herself. I place my hand on her knee, but she keeps her head facing forward.

“Okay. Where’s the last place they would be?”

“I don't know, Sky.” Her eyes are starting to get watery again, so I decide I should stop asking questions.

“We'll go to the bar and drive around, maybe they haven't made it very far.” I pray hopelessly to myself that neither Windon nor Miles attempted to drive a car. I pray to some force that the key slipped and that they are just lying somewhere, as gory as it sounds.

The bar is closed and no one’s around to explain anything, then a feeling relief flows through my body. The car is still there. My only concern is that the windshield is cracked on both sides, and who knows where they are now.

“The windshield wasn't like that when I left, Skyler. Why is it like that?” Sabrina is squirming everywhere now. Her head is turning left and right to see if she could crack their code, but no one is here and I can tell that she feels helpless sitting next to me.

I drive around the bar three times, hoping I would see something I hadn't seen the time before, but as expected, there is nothing. Feeling almost hopeless, I take a turn into the neighborhood next to the bar and drive passed all the small houses and their trimmed lawns.

“Should we check the hospital? Seems like the only place fit for them right now.” She suggests, but I only shake my head.

“If Miles was on the drugs you said he was last night, he's not going to a hospital.”

There was no luck in the new routes we took, so we decide to start all over with our sleuthing.

We both analyze the car they had left for us. There wasn't any blood anywhere on the car, which made me think Sabrina's story may have been a bit exaggerated, but the whole scenario is disturbing within itself anyways. I can imagine Windon losing his temper, and Miles egging him on, but it was never personal.

The sound of a faint buzzing catches our attention, and something is vibrating inside the car. I press my face up against the glass to see if I can see anything. I see a light in the backseat wedged between the seat and the buckle.

“Sabrina, I think that's your phone. We have to get it out.”

“Why?” She begins freaking out and breathing hard.

“It could be them.”

Calming herself down, she replies, “And how do you plan on doing that?”

She watches as I step back, and pick up a large rock that had been behind my feet. At that moment, I’m worried about the damage to the car, or the blood, or the pieces of glass that would come aiming for my eyes. I grip it so that my bones are sticking to the outermost layer of my skin, and I throw my arm as hard as I can, hitting the window by the back seat. I was right. Shards of glass explode everywhere, some hitting my face, and I have no doubt, that some are stuck there. My hand is

raw and my entire arm is dripping red droplets onto my shoes. The cuts are small and the blood is continuous, but the adrenaline keeps me from feeling pain.

Ignoring this, I reach my hand into the car and grab the phone—its still ringing as I hand it to her. There is a reason he calling Sabrina and not me.

“Hello?” She shutters and hasn't taken her eyes off my arm, “Calm down, where are you?”

There was a slight pause. “Are you fucking joking?”

She hangs up, tucking it in her back pocket.

“They're at Windon's house.”

I sigh dreadfully and drag my feet back to the car. I keep wondering how they got there and what we had missed in all this drama.

Windon's door is open and we barge inside, standing in the doorway for awhile.

“Hello?” I yell at the top of the stairs. His parents must be away on another trip. They always took trips and it was always without Windon. I never could tell if he cared or not, if it bothered him that his parents basically assigned him a permanent caretaker of their beloved home. I never asked him, but then again he never said a word.

“Up here!” I hear his voice and we follow it all the way to Windon's bedroom.

There he is, standing over Miles, whose face is painted with bruises and dried blood around the nose. Miles is either asleep or he’s dead, but I figure the first one is more realistic. His cold body has a blue tint to it, while being sprawled out on the wooden floors, he isn’t moving.

Aside from this, I am relieved to see my friends somewhere that isn’t dangerous or where I expected them to be. I am also relieved to see that Miles has a pulse and that Windon had lost the anger in his eyes.

Sabrina on the other hand is livid. She throws her things on the floor and runs at him, screaming and almost crying again.

“You left me! You beat him senseless and then you left me!” She pushes him, shoves him, but he doesn't move. His eyes are gray and it looks like he wants to say something, but it would be drowned out by Sabrina's words and cries anyway.

He hugs her then, and she squirms, punching at him softly, but then she stops and slowly wraps her arms around him, sobbing even worse now.

“Windon, what the fuck is going on?” I ask and look at Miles whose eyes look almost too swollen to open themselves.

“He wasn't himself, Skyler, there was something wrong. He came at me—well Sabrina, but I made sure he saw me first. He was so angry at us. He punched me first.”

“So you attacked him until he couldn't move?” All the blood in my body goes to my face and my brain and I am furious. The state of him is worse than I thought. “We have to get him to the hospital.”

Just then Windon loses his mind, and the softness to his expression switches. “We can't!” He yells. “They're going to find those drugs, its trouble.”

“Do you want him to die, Win? His blood is on your hands. Do you really want that to follow you for the rest of your life? Where did he even get the drugs in the first place?”

He shakes his head, still holding tightly to Sabrina. She refuses to look at Miles.

I place my arms under him and begin to pick him up, but as I’m about to, he coughs. He’s trying to blink as well but one of his eyes won’t open. His left one did though, and he looks up at me.

I could only see the black part of it but I know it was his way of telling me he’s fine, and that he could hear everything.

“After you left, we were still fighting, but something happened to him. He ran off into the street; I barely caught up to him and we were already three streets down from the bar. He was seeing

something maybe, something was chasing him, he said. And I guess he thought I was someone else.

He attacked me again so I defended myself as best I could and he got the worst of it. But that wasn't him back there. I know it wasn't.” Windon says to Sabrina and I listen as my head spins.

Everything seems like it’s spinning now. “We'll ask him when he wakes up. I have to go.” I say and start for the door.

“Why? Going to see your girlfriend, Skyler? Meanwhile, our friend is nearly dead?” Sabrina jumps in, tugging at my temper now, knowing that I couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Our friend? You mean the one you play your stupid little games with? The one who head fucks him to cause him to pull this shit? And You.” I look at Windon. “The great friend who almost kills him?”

“There was nothing else I could have done!” He whines.

“You could have done anything else. Our friend.” I say and slam the door behind me.

It was dusk.

I decide to find Kaya, wherever she is, and go to the concert. I haven’t seen her since this morning, but I figure she'll be around, so I walk and walk till it’s dark enough to where I can usually only see my hands if I hold them at my nose, but tonight is different. I have the moon, and my skin glows under it like the world is beneath a million fireflies, giving an illusion that every object around me has a green tint. Ugly—green was ugly and so is the night. I kick the rocks under my feet and wait.

I could go to her house and knock on her window, but I know better. She isn’t there, and as I wait impatiently, I wonder if she is anywhere at all. That’s a stupid thought.

Everything is so silent, I become ill hearing it, like it is its own sound, and it is the most annoying of them all.

I wait almost an hour on an old bench, hoping maybe she’ll turn up. But I lose this hope and decide maybe she had some of her own plans. So I start for the concert on my own.

It is anything but silent here. The people around me are dancing in sync with the noise and I feel some connection to the wandering lights and the colorful surroundings. The voices cloud my brain as I take my third shot of whiskey out of the flask Windon had given to me on my sixteenth birthday. This makes me think about him, and about earlier, and maybe I hadn't handled the situation as fairly as I presumed.

Now I am not alone, but it is all the same. Sure, the voices echoing from the not so distant stage keep me company, but these voices aren’t with me in particular. And I begin to miss the comfort of feeling apart of something.

The band is talking now, and finally the pushing and shoving pauses, and I am able to keep my balance for a little while. I don’t feel so steady at this point, so I quickly make my way to the public bathrooms. My steps aren’t straight, but in my defense, the world has been spinning a million miles an hour for centuries.

That's when I see her, leaning against the side of a large oak not too far away from where my feet are. She’s laughing. I want to call out to her, but my body is weak and I feel like collapsing. I can’t even hear the music anymore—nothing but a loud ringing in both ears.

She doesn’t move, but continues laughing, and I can no longer hold it down. I feel myself heaving and bending over a temporary railing. My guts feel as if they’re trying to crawl out of my throat, and my brain is poking at my skull aggressively.

Next thing I remember, there are a few faces hovering over me. They giggle and whisper.

“Kaya?” I mumble. No one answers and I can hear the music a little bit better now, but I am still on my back. I must have been lying there for over an hour, because after twenty-two missed calls, I answer the twenty-third.

“What?” Sputtering, I try to focus on my eyes staying open and forget about the voice on the other side.

It had been my dad.

“Are you okay? Please come home.” This is all he says, then he hangs up before I can open my mouth.

I want to tell him that I’m too dizzy to even try to find my way home, It’s too blurry to see anything and I can’t remember where I had fallen in the first place.

Sitting up, I carefully and throw my soiled shirt aside. People are no longer staring and I begin to wonder if the figures I saw while lying down existed or if I had been experiencing some odd form of sleep paralysis.

This makes me think of Kaya, and I wonder why she hadn't walked over from the tree. I look over at it—nothing. Again, I feel myself contemplating if she was playing a game on me, or if I had just been asleep. I hope it was the second, since I begin to worry about her.

I don’t have much of a choice, but to at least attempt to walk home. There is a back way around the woods and I took it. Though it is dark, and though the cemetery is supposed to bring fear to the living, it didn't feel any different than if I had walked through a park or the beach for that matter.

I do not know why a grave yard is something that supposedly held some type of evil to it, that something sinister inhabits it. I never understood why the dead were mocked in this way. Maybe it’s the idea that the soul makes you a person in the first place. It gives us perception, or empathy and sympathy; something a body can't do on its own, since it is just a vessel. Nothing good can come from it. It rots until it is gone, yet still we cannot walk through a cemetery without feeling like someone is still there, watching us from an empty grave.

Sometimes I feel like I belong here. I miss my mother though I did not know who she was, not really, but somehow I believed she would have been better off in my place. I know nothing of what the point to living is, of course it is better beyond this, even if it turns out to be nothing.

I walk passed her silently, her grave that is. Maybe she'll wake up if my steps are too loud.

I wish and laugh to myself, and then find myself standing at our red door.

Chapter 7: “Dad?” I call out. All the lights are off except for one of the lamps in the living room. I want to doze off into my bedroom where no one will bother me. I could have walked upstairs without making a sound if I wanted to, I had practiced countless times, but right now I feel my father needs something from me, though everything seems unclear.

“Hello?” I say louder this time, and still all I hear are the nuisance of branches scraping against my windows. I don’t even hear footsteps, then I walk into the living room.

Sure enough, there he is—sitting on his recliner, but it isn't outstretched, and his arms lie perfectly on top of the arms of the chair. He’s cuffing the ends of them tightly, but I hadn't seen his face yet.

“Dad?” It is a low whisper this time, not quite sure if he’s asleep, I walk around, surprised by his position.

If anything, this is the most awake he's ever looked, but there's something about him that doesn’t seem right. Someone had placed a new face on his old one and I cannot recognize him. He is clearly looking straight ahead, but nothing is in front of him—nothing except candlesticks and matches over the fireplace, and I am almost positive they aren’t interesting enough to keep someone from blinking for a long period of time.

At this point, I don’t know what to think or what to do next, moving closely I tap his shoulder slightly. He doesn’t do much, and I almost start to wonder if he is dead or not, but then his head turns and he stands up.

He looks confused and out of place when he does this. He is standing over me like some careless giant about to stomp on something he thinks insignificant—like humans did when they see ants or other small insects.

“Have you seen my cigarettes?”

This is all he says, and walks to the kitchen reluctantly hanging his head and dragging his feet.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“My cigarettes, I lost them.” His tone sounds exasperated, as if he's repeated the phrase a thousand time.

“Dad, you don't smoke anymore.”

He hasn't said anything at this point, but draws himself forward, coming closer to me, then scratches the stubble on his chin. He looks awful for being who he was and how he usually took care of himself. If I had to rank my days from the oddest to considerably normal, this would certainly be at least second on my list.

“Why did you want me to come home so badly?” I ask, which seems like a reasonable question.

“I didn't. Are you hiding my cigarettes? I won't get angry if you tell me now.”

I have a sense of something that doesn’t at all seem right. His eyes are wide and his pupils seem almost as if they’re yelling at me, rather than his mouth. His hair is greasy and the perspiration in his brows drips to his eyelids, and I’m hoping maybe if he'd close his eyes just once, I'd be able to run away.

“I don't have your cigarettes, Dad. I didn't even know you started again. Is this about mom?”

I shouldn't have said this. I shouldn't have brought her up. It was a mistake, a bad one. As if I didn't think his eyes could grow bigger, they do, and he looks like a lunatic. His veins are boiling and his fists are clenched.

“We don't say her name. Why would you say her name?”

He has a confused look on his face; but it isn’t the usual unknowing look, no, it wasn’t that he didn't understand something, but the complete opposite. It was like he'd just seen what a sound might look like, or a glass of water go up in flames, and I was absolutely terrified.

“Because she's my mom and she was alive once! Why would you use all your power to act like she was some demon who'd come back if she heard her name? Why are you acting like this?”

I don’t like this, not one bit. I’m afraid to sleep in my bed, and I’m afraid of standing in front of this man.

“I...” He stutters. I just need to find my cigarettes.”

His voice is low now, apologetic and seems like he’s afraid of himself as well. This is the last thing he says, because he floats away into the next room.

I don’t want to move. Maybe it’s because I’m still in a lingering haze, amongst other things, but I know that isn't it. I don’t know if I should sleep, or wait to walk around my house in the morning, which seems like the worst idea at the moment.

So I lay there on the rough carpet, counting seconds—minutes—hours, until I can finally focus my vision clearly enough to see the distant clock above my fireplace.

Not realizing I had dozed off, I wake up feeling like someone has just dropped a cinder block on my head. Resting my head back down, I look at the clock, squinting and blinking profusely. 10:24 AM. Lovely. I have school today.

The house is quiet this morning. I had showered, leaving all the dirt from last night there and hurried down stairs. I still haven't seen him. He could have left in the middle of the night after our argument. I’m sure if I should call it that because of his lack of defense, but it definitely didn't end on good terms.

Though I’m late, I benefit from it, seeing as I have the first two class periods with two of my friends. I fidget with my locker for a few minutes, realizing I had switched the last two digits, but finally open it, hoping nothing would come collapsing on me.

Everything stays in place, but someone had slipped a note into my locker some time or another.

It’s perfectly folded into the tiniest square I have ever seen. I look around my shoulders, deciding if it it’s a joke—maybe it’s a trap of some kind, but then I think again. No one here is really that smart, so I open it carefully. It reads: Meet at football field @ midnight. Surprise!

–--K I haven’t spoken to her since last morning, and in receiving this, some weight lifts off my shoulders. I’m beaming, even if she isn’t at school today, but then again she’s hardly ever at school.

She never told me why and I never asked. I suppose it's the fact that her parents all of the sudden didn't care what happened to her. I strongly believe she had slept outside rather than her parents house last night, and I was worried considering they probably hadn't even noticed.

I manage to dodge my friends by eating by the large oak tree outside. Miles isn’t at school either, giving Sabrina and Windon much undeserved time together. Every once in awhile from where I was sitting, which isn’t too far from the outdoor cafeteria, She’ll bat her eyelashes at him as he leans in to kiss her temple. I saw them there with ignorance hovering over them as they laugh and talk about

things that have no matter. I don’t know how they can do that. God knows what's going on with Miles in the small spaces no one sees. I could feel the distance taking over us as the school year drags on. But I sit silently eating the sandwich I packed for myself, and yanking the grass out from the ground beneath me.

I like to think I understand self-hatred pretty well, sometimes I believe that it's the only thing I'm made of. With this in mind, Miles falls in to this category indefinitely, and although he is angry and resentful of the person he loves, I saw him hurting in places unfamiliar to anyone else. I don’t know if he’s on drugs, Windon is convinced and I'm sure Sabrina won't hesitate to believe it. I personally have no idea what could have possibly happened to him that night, and if it'll ever happen again. I want to tell myself that it won’t—that Miles isn’t that person, that he isn’t capable, but I can’t say those things.

I thought I knew every one of my friends—their pasts, beliefs, what they liked to do. But I had to take a step back and consider everything. I have to understand that I have no idea what happens behind closed doors or even when he's standing right in front of me. I don’t know him at all, along with Windon and Sabrina.

It’s finally the last period of the day and taking my seat restlessly I long to fall asleep. My english teach stands at the door, making sure she waves to each student as they walked in. Her smile is new today, and what I mean by that is how it isn’t the “show” smile. She looks genuinely happy to be here and she refuses to sit in her chair. She’s also wearing a new baby pink mini dress that showed off her mildly tan legs along with tall heels, so that her legs look longer than they usually do and I’m hoping the lesson today won’t require much focus.

“You look very pretty Ms. Macey.” One of the girls says and Macey blushes, fixing her hair with a pinch and a giddy smile.

“Thank you, Hun.” She says, still not sitting, and also not starting class yet.

Then, another voice chimes in. “Why are you so dressed up?”

She smiles and has a surprised look on her face as if she assumed no one was going to ask.

“Well,” she starts off, as if she had prepared this story the night before; repeating it continuously till everything sounded perfect. “I probably shouldn't be discussing these matters at school, but since you know so much already I'll just tell you all!”

There’s a slight halt in the air, and peeking at the bored, uninterested faces, I have a feeling everyone already knows what is about to be said.

“As you know, Robert and I have had problems in the past, but he's decided that we should work it out!” She squeals, and none but one person clapped their hands congratulating her. “We're getting engaged!”

I sit there, slumped in my chair, eying the ring whenever my attention shifts to it, whenever it isn’t towards the big clock in the center of the room.

And when it finally rings, I am the first one to my feet, but with haste Macey pulls me back.

Her eyebrows are furrowing as she speaks—I hate looking at it.

“Skyler, I'm only a little concerned.” She shuffles through my old assignments like a deck of cards, and in this case, these cards are rubbish—bent, folded and lost to dirt and time. “I don't understand. You love english, but these recent grades.” She hands them to me, as if I hadn't seen them already.

“Um, well this is sort of the last thing on my mind right now. I'm sorry Mace.” It was normal to talk like this in regards to her. Sure, she’s above me in authority and she is to be referred to as “Miss” or something formal in that sense, but that isn’t who Macey is, nor do think she wanted to be.

She shakes her head sweetly and a tender, endearing look fits to her face, and in that moment I feel like a child. She feels like someone's mother in that moment, maybe mine. Her eyes give off a fixture of how she needed to feel, and in this case it's aimed at me. I do not think she feels obligated to level herself and try to replace her eyes with mine. No, she isn’t diabolical or manipulative. She just an english teacher—a romantic. The worst kind.

“You know I'm here to talk if you ever need anything, Skyler. My door is always open.”

Ah, yes, these words are encouraging and I feel most inclined to take her up on the offer sometime. This is what I tell her and by the gentle nod of her head, I know she doesn’t understand what I mean.

“I'll see you Monday, Mace. Congratulations by the way.” I say, tossing my jacket over my shoulder and strolling out carefully, not looking back to see her expression.

“Do your homework!” She bites her lip and gazes at her ring lovingly, even after I leave.

It’s the warmest it has ever been since April came around, and the sky the bluest. There are a few clouds in the sky. They’re those figure-out-what-shape-they-are kind of clouds, but I can’t see anything but mush. Maybe if I try really hard, I could make up something and see it. So I do.

“Nothing.” I mutter.

“What?” I hear a voice behind me interrupting the balance of my own voice, immediately eliminating the comfort of being alone.

Her voice is all too familiar. “Damn.” I say and turn to look at her.

Sabrina's face is impatient and the way she holds herself tells me she most likely wants something from me.

“What is it. Another crisis?”

“Don't do that, Sky.” She says with something somber in her eyes that wasn't there before.

I tilt my head trying to understand as I watch her cross her arms in a protective manner.

“Please help him, Skyler.” She's turning red now, and I restrain myself from hugging her, yet she leans into me yearning for some type of attention or maybe just pity.

“You guys said yourself that he would be fine. What’s happened now?”

“He's in pain—physical pain. We're keeping him at Windon's. We've locked the doors and given him food, but he's not okay. We don't know what to do.”

“Take him to a damn hospital for god sakes. He's going through withdrawals. Windon was actually right about something.”

“Skyler!” Her eyes are bulging out at me, and for a second she looks completely insane.

Sighing from frustration, I decide to put aside my anger for now, giving in to Sabrina's whining.

“You're driving, I walked to school.”

A wave of relief sweeps across her face and I probably should have been taking the situation more seriously due to the matter of it, but I keep reminding myself that I had nothing to do with this. I Maybe that makes me a monster, but I come to a conclusion that cleaning up people’s messes is something I refuse to do anymore.

The sun is setting when we arrive at Windon's and I find myself feeling reluctant to get any closer to the house. Deep inside of me I’m terrified of seeing Miles and where he is physically and mentally. I prepare myself about the looks of him, but nothing prepared me for his demeanor.

I don’t even look at Windon as I push passed him to get upstairs.

“He shouldn't even be here.” I mutter under my breath, but I know Windon heard because I could hear him sigh behind me—his long sigh that he always does.

It’s time to open the door, but I stand there for a few moments silently, while Sabrina holds onto Windon at the bottom of the stairs. I’m afraid, I have to admit that. I am afraid of not recognizing him, my God, what happened.

The door creaks open and I whisper his name, secretly hoping he doesn’t wake up.

No word.

“Miles.” I try again and as soon as the door is fully open, I see him there. He's on the hardwood floors curled into a small ball of his own punishment. He's shaking and his shirt is soaked in old sweat as well as his hair. I walk over to him like someone would walk up to a stray cat, praying to God that he wouldn't cower away.

I say his name one last time while standing over his what seems like 'dead body'. He turns his head slowly and his flushed face tries to create some kind of smile.

“Skyler?” I can hear the stickiness of his cottonmouth and the tears that crowd his lazy eyes as they droop to reveal his exhaustion. “What's going on? I feel so sick.” He sobs then rolls to his side, throwing up nothing but dry heaves and itching his body aggressively.

“I'm sorry.” I murmur, not that he can hear, I’m not even sure if he would remember this. This was the embarrassing stuff—the kind of stuff you do in a hospital where strangers took care of you and watched your suffering without pain or pity. They just surveyed and cleaned up your mess. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Why did you do this?” I fall to my knees, feeling his hot skin scorch my palm. I swear for a minute I can see the steam rising from him. He continues to shake and doesn’t answer, but a wetness to my eyes becomes much more than that and I find myself cradling him, trying to take his place.

But I was just another person in the room. I can’t feel anything, and I want so badly to be apart of that suffering in this moment—to take some from him. He doesn’t need all of it, I know that.

Windon came in. And he left Sabrina behind him, she never came in that night. She had gone home after an hour, but Windon and I sit around him until Miles had willed himself to sleep for a minute. We talked about dark things including Miles and Sabrina. He told me his side of the story about the unusual mess that had occurred between all of us, not including me of course. He told me that he cared about Sabrina for a long time, and that she was all that he had. This was a lie, but I refrain from adding to their fire and keep my mouth shut. Windon talked about 'the girl' I never introduced to anyone—the mystery and the mask she had on. She could hide from anyone, even I didn't know when she was playing a game or genuinely running from something. I told Windon just that she was clever and that she had me wrapped around her tiny finger. We didn't say a word about her after that because he had fallen asleep at my feet and I was much too afraid to drift off with the both of them. I was too scared of Miles waking up and realizing there was something he could do to get out, so I kept my eyes from shutting their lids though they were heavy and the whites of my eyes had become bloodstained red. But I was content with the loneliness.

It’s 11:05, time is melting away like waxing candle. Shaking my head, I have to make a decision to either abandon Windon with Miles, and sneak off to see Kaya, or to forget about the note all together, and take care of my friend. With each passing moment, I rack my brain with reasons to stay, but the only thing my gut is saying is to get the hell out.

That’s what I did. I pick myself up carefully and without noise, hoping neither Miles nor Windon shutter, and tip-toe out of the room. I gaze back just for a moment, studying their unconscious bodies and watching the setting as if I’m in a movie theatre. The weather is blustery and cold, pushing the curtains inside Windon’s bedroom. The only light is from the glowing moon as it seeps in from the window and onto the wooden flooring. My two friends lay at each other’s feet, curled up like cats on the ground sleeping soundly. I turn my head in the direction of the stairs and walk normally by myself, leaving the bleakness of the situation along with the house and carrying myself out of the door.

It's 11:45, and I’m running towards the school with adrenaline pumping through my veins. The air is sharp like cold needles bouncing off my skin, but reaching the gate to the field, I climb it without hinderance.

It’s quiet—the most silence I’ve heard in awhile. The grave yard wasn’t even this quiet. The chimes and the crows usually distract the mind from feeling alone, but here, there are no chimes and the birds didn’t like it here. For a moment, I’m scared to call out her name, but before I can make a decision I see a figure in the distance, and she waves effortlessly at me.

“Kaya?” I say and she nods, now skipping towards me with a blanket and some candles.

“Hi.” She winks, spreading the blanket out in one throw and sitting on it gleefully. I follow her, dropping down right next to her, then grabbing her hand. She lets me take it, and it’s so incredibly cold, that I immediately hold it against me, drawing her closer on accident.

“You know,” She begins, looking right through me, locking her eyes with mine, “You can’t protect me forever.”

“Why not?” I reply with worry in my expression, and she pitifully smiles, making me feel dumb.

“Because you’ll get sick of it. You’ll grow tired of it, and you’ll leave. There’s so much about me that you don’t know.” She sighs, releasing my hand from hers and crossing her arms over her chest.

She looks helpless in this moment, as I watch her body language change from confident, to cowardly.

Pulling her in, her tiny body wraps around me finding refuge beneath me, and then she gazes up at me.

“I know more about you than you think,” I say, gently picking up her left wrist, revealing old wounds, “and I’m not going anywhere.” I see the wetness in her eyes grow drastically, evolving into tears that drip onto her colorless cheeks and her hollow neck.

“Sometimes I feel like something’s scratching beneath my skin, like it wants out, and I’m afraid if I give in, I’ll lose everything completely.” She chokes up, trying to explain herself, but I didn’t need an explanation. “I’m always scared, about everything. I’m afraid of losing you, I’m afraid of disappointing my parents, I’m afraid of the fucking dark.” The heaviness in her voice fades away as she moves over to the right, allowing me to lie down next to her.

As I do this, I see the gray clouds hug the moon, giving off less light, and the rest of it reflects off the small girl lying beside me. It’s almost as if they are reflecting off each other, being each other's light source, depending on one another to be bright. And in that moment of her own weakness, when her words get the best of her, I see her flicker, and the moon is terrified.

“You know, I’m more afraid of my mom than I am of my dad. That’s funny, huh.” She tries to chuckle, but it just comes out as a nervous cry for help.

“Why?” “Because she doesn’t have one sincere bone in her body. My dad, he at least puts effort into hitting me. While it happens, I sometimes look over at my mom. She just stands there looking blank, like nothing in the world matters to her. It's as if she isn’t satisfied by a thing, and I’m sure if she tried to sell her soul, the devil would turn her away because she doesn’t have one. She never used to be like that.” Everything is silent now and the pain of her words consume me. She tells me about her mother in depth, and I feel I know her now as if she was my own.

She talked about the times she had to wait in the car while her mom went in for prescriptions.

She sat there until the music turned off. She could see her mother through the window. She was yelling at a lady in a white coat. She talked about those wasted eyes, damp from exhaustion and the dark circles under them that built till she looked ten years older than she actually was. Kaya told me how beautiful her mom used to be. She told me about the life in her that went away when Kaya turned seventeen. The doses became larger, the nights longer, and the wine filled to the rim. She said something turned off, something broke—her empathy maybe. Her father would come and go, but ultimately stayed since he had no other place to go. He told Kaya that. “He never hit his wife, but he hit me,” she told me this, her eyes deepened and hollowed out. She told me she was afraid of turning into her mother—a stone to this world, nothing but something in the way. She tells me she can feel it sometimes, overtaking her. Kaya never did anything to make her father turn against her, let alone the universe, but for fuck sake she was paying for it.

Things became fuzzy after that. Miles is fine, we had let him out of Windon's disgusting roach infested room. He walks with a smile on his face and cigarettes in his backpack just in case he feels his relapse approach. Sabrina and Windon are happy. She had asked him to Prom in the worst way I had ever seen.

One day she had gone to the pound and gotten the ugliest, most ferocious Rottweiler she could find and tied a ribbon on it saying Prom would be ruff without you, and then the dog lost all self-control and bit Windon right on his heel. But he said yes.

I had seen Kaya most days. Sometimes she didn't go to school. She didn't go consistently, now that I'm counting. But I saw her whenever I could and she spent most of her nights in my room, curled up next to the wall, in between the dark space and my bed, almost falling in if she had been smaller. I liked her there, wrapped in white sheets with her naked shoulders turned against me, so that every detail of her back was visible. It was like some photograph I had seen a hundred times, but since it was mine, I kept looking at it, wondering if others saw what I saw, if they thought my same thoughts, and though I knew it was impossible, I hoped they did.

She had taken me many places, but never out of town, and I told her I would get her out of here some day, just like she wanted. Sometimes she would sob and nod her head in acceptance from her own happiness. However, sometimes she wouldn't even look at me as if it didn't matter to her at all. I know it did, it had too because there was so much beyond this pathetic place. This is where people have children and go to work and that's it, then they die here along with everything else. I never wanted to see that life, and settling for it would be the end all on its own.

She had many days like this. Where her heart was absent and she was this opposite version of herself. It was like this other personality she had, something much darker than the bubbly little blonde I knew. She was different in every sense of the word and when I spoke to her, sometimes she just sat there for hours. She wouldn't say anything until something interesting caught her eye and she would admire it, speaking softly so that I couldn't hear, then her eyes went hollow again, like a zombie maybe.

It had something to do with her parents, maybe everything and I knew that. I would bring them up and she would scream. She would cover her ears with her hands, closing around them tightly and looking at me menacingly, like I had disturbed something sleeping within her—a demon or something much more unfamiliar to me, but equally as terrifying.

Nonetheless, I had become attached to both of these personalities in different aspects. The good side of her, the early side I felt was home for me. A yellowish feeling, if colors were emotions. I felt untouchable and significant. I felt something out of a fairytale with a fairytale girl who did nothing but smile her ethereal smile and the rain went away. She could touch my hand and I felt inclined to say sorry for being in her way. I adored this side of her, I hadn't known of the other one until much later.

She would wake up in a cold sweat sometimes and shriek like a banshee, explaining what had been following her in her nightmares. I became restless during these nights as she would breath hard and squeeze my wrist without release, until I didn't feel it belonged to me anymore.

I became attached to this side, because it had been real. It was a horror show, it was almost sinister, and though her demons were there too, sitting with her—brushing her hair or caressing her cheek with their scaly hands and their long fingernails, I saw nothing but love surrounding her. I grew with this personality of hers and it wasn't a fairytale, but something of complete terror. I longed to have an emptiness in my eyes as well. I longed to be in her place and stare at a window pane for hours upon hours thinking about absolutely nothing. That was solace, that was peace. I found myself wanting a lot of things from other people.

It had been a few months since I had gone to any party due to all the drama surrounding my friends, and also the fact that my own father was losing his mind—and Kaya of course, who only came with me to events just to disappear in the first five minutes of being there.

And just as I thought to give up on anything social ever again, I receive talk of a “small” party going on at the graveyard near my house tonight, and since it’s considerably close, and I have nothing better to do, I decide to humor myself and go. I had never heard of anything like this before, stomping

our feet on the dead and spilling tequila on rotten ground. It doesn’t seem conventional, but I know anyone I would share this thought with, would lean in, glossy-eyed and say, “What's the fun in that?”

So I invite Kaya, who tells me exactly what I thought she would say, and if she had been in front of me, I would have been able to know her answer right before she opened her mouth.

“Yes!” She squeals, leaning in to kiss me lightly on the cheek. Today is a good day for her, and I intend it being the same for the night.

As I thought, the day drags on, but as it gets darker, the moon is almost full and it had been a lantern for rest of the town, especially the graveyard which gets to see most of its glory. The shadows were defined and everything was shining with that low kind of subtle light.

People don’t begin to show up until around eleven o'clock, just for the effect of things. Kaya and I don’t come until that time either and when we finally see everything—the alcohol, the music, and the trash already spread around the sleeping trees, I had a feeling that I wanted to turn around and go home. But I don’t. I don’t because Kaya tells me in all of her grace that she belongs here. She said she loved these people and that they wanted her here, so we stayed.

I drink until the crisp lighting from the moon becomes more of a glow and everything becomes less of a shape and more of a blur. Kaya keeps at my side, and plays with my hands, twiddling my thumbs for me and smoking her cigarette.

“I like it here.” She mutters, and begins to rest her chin on her knees, then she reaches her fingers towards mine and I take them without a thought.

“I really like you.” She speaks again with her voice at its softest and she’s very gentle, the way she looks at me. Then her expression grows into something very fearful and her voice becomes faint, but she says it anyway. “I might love you.”

She picks at the scab on her left knee and cannot look at me for some reason. She doesn't say anything more than that, except looks at me with more fear in waiting for my response. Of course I love her, yet there’s a brick on my chest and it’s hard to speak, so I don’t.

Instead, I grab the back of her neck and pull her towards me, kissing the top of her head with her blonde strands resting on my face. I don’t say it, but it seems she forgets about the matter in three seconds.

We talk for awhile more, but my exhaustion begins to catch up with me and I can barely keep my eyes open; the beer had made them heavy anyways. The last thing I see before they close completely are trees waving at me, and a dusty grave in front of me that reads: “Tom Laughlin 19321948. Sleep well, son.” Then Kaya rests her head on my lap and I dose off hoping the message is for me too.

I was somewhere dark. Somewhere off balance, but the trees were still there, yet they felt like giants and I felt small and useless beneath their hot breath. I was running as fast as I could. I looked down. There was blood on my hands—it was everywhere and it was dripping onto my shoes and onto the ground, feeding it. The dirt swallowed it all, sipping at it like a milkshake and I kept running. It wasn't my blood, it had to be someone else. I didn't hurt or ache. Did I kill someone? Did I take their life mercilessly? What was happening to me? There she was. Ahead of me, lying on the monster. Her eyes were closed and I crept toward her still body. I tried to wake her up, but she didn't move and suddenly I stared at her chest again. The blood started to pool out of her and I wanted to scream but couldn't, I couldn't move—not even my hands. I yelled her name. What was her name? Oh god, what was it? The ground continued to feed off the red puddles surrounding her, and all of it would disappear, like the monster had cleaned it, like it was doing her a favor. Finally her closed eyes started to shake and I got closer, then, they opened.

Chapter 8: I wake up trying to catch my breath. After gathering myself, I look around. I swallow the lump in my throat and the same grave I fell asleep to, is staring me in the face, almost rubbing it in. It had gone down ten degrees and I was shivering even with two jackets on.

Most had left the party, the fire is barely lit, hanging onto its last embers, and the people that stayed are either passed out cold or they are whispering amongst each other, looking for stray cans of beer and having sex behind the tombstones. But what had not occurred to me, was the disappearance of the small blonde girl who had been sleeping on my lap earlier. I cannot tell if it’s another one of her things that she does, or if she had wandered off without knowing, both seem likely.

I decide to peek around first, trying to avoid the lingering couples and the sound of my own footsteps. It’s too dark to see anything out here and my worry for Kaya grows. If I was curious and numb to any consequences no matter the situation, where would I be?

“Excuse me.” I clear my throat and use my foot to tap on a young woman who is half asleep, maybe dead. She blinks lavishly before she realizes that I'm standing in front of her.

“Oh, its just you.” She says in almost a disgusted tone and I become overwhelmed with confusion.

I try to get a better look at her, but nothing helps me comprehend who she is. “I'm sorry, do I know you?”

“Its Nat? Natalie Holmes...Ah. Of course you don't remember.” She slurs her words and rolls her eyes from what I can make out. Getting up, she grabs a hold of my shoulder and stumbles a bit.

“We were in elementary together. You used to pull on my hair and we would sit in corners together.

Your mom would let me carpool with you guys once or twice. Then I got pulled out.”

She's fixing her shirt that is drenched in the scent of either vomit or cheap rum. Then it hits me.

“Two eyes.” I mutter. That's what I called her when we were kids and it sounds like an odd name since, of course, everyone had two eyes, but Natalie was something else—at least in the eyes.

She had one brown eye and one blue one, like a hybrid, but tonight the blue one is gone.

“What happened to your eye?” I finally say and she ruffles her hair like she has been asked this question every time she walks out of her front door.

She can tell I understand how she feels and smiles now. “Its okay. I got contacts.”

I ask her why and all she does is shake her head. She was sick of the comments and even the compliments, she said.

“I was sick of being the elephant in the room, I just wanted to blend, you know? Do you know that feeling? Just wanting to go through without being noticed?”

I don’t answer because that feeling is all I know. That sentence is my entire life and that's what she wants. She can have it. God I feel pathetic.

For the lack of comfort I decide to change the subject and remember why I tap on my long forgotten friend in the first place. “Oh, have you seen a girl with long blonde hair, green eyes, wearing a white dress maybe walking around?”

She wrinkles her nose trying to form a picture in her head. “Don't think so. I saw a lot of people tonight, she didn't stand out I suppose.”

This is a strange statement since Kaya is anything but a wallflower, but Natalie is curious about her and she asks more questions.

“She your girlfriend?”

“Something like that.” I respond. I think harder on why I said this instead of saying “yes”.

Maybe it's because we never went on dates, like the normal ones. We also have never met each other's parents, and maybe I'm wrong, but aren't you supposed to talk to your “girlfriend” every single day? I wouldn't know, I've never had one before, but these were the things I had seen in movies and it seemed to work for them.

She chuckles. “And you lost her? She must be a handful.”

“She's... Something.”

“You don't like to talk much, do you, Sky. You never did.”

I never thought long and hard about it, but she was wrong. I talk all the time, about everything.

I think. Or maybe people just talk to me, and I had it in my head that I always talked back.

I shrug. “I talk when I have something to say. Not a lot goes on up here, I guess.” And I point to my head, picturing a hollow space inside.

“Now I know that's not true. In fact, I think that's the reason you don't say much, because too many voices are talking up there and you don't know which one to listen to.”

“Maybe none of them are interesting.”

“Then you just called yourself boring.” We laugh for a while, but then I realize that I had no clue where Kaya disappeared off to and dreaded to look in the woods. Maybe she hadn't wandered in there, maybe she had gone home. She probably crept behind her house, so that she wouldn't have to see her parents, and then climbed through her window. She’s probably asleep by now.

“I think I'm going to see if she went home.”

She looks at me as if it’s too early to leave our stroll through memory lane, but then her look of longing falls away when she drops her head to gaze at the can of beer in her hand, rather than my face.

She looks up again. “Why are you still standing here? I'll probably see you in another ten years.

I promise I'll be right in this exact spot.”

I smile faintly and wave back to her as I disappear from her sight.

The drive to Kaya's is dark and hard to see. She lives in the middle of nowhere is the best way to describe it. And although I have never been inside, we had walked passed it a couple times and I had memorized the address.

I don’t realize how windy it had gotten until I step out of my car and into the cold, crisp air that smelt of dead leaves and dirt. There it is. The house with the big white door, and the flowers that had grown beside the steps and all around the house in general, like it was embracing it. The house itself is a catalog home, though it has become worn with time. The chipped paint off the sides of it and the poorly trimmed bushes would normally give a house like this some personality, but I can only see it in its worst form. I know Kaya resents this house and the people who live here, and I, in turn, hated it too.

I creep quietly into the backyard, hoping this wouldn't be the night I finally meet her parents.

The ground seems sticky as I tiptoe through the flowers and the dirt with some traces of grass among it, but it is yellow and brown all the same.

Finally, her window is in front of me and I knock on it as soft as I can. Its foggy frame hides what’s inside and the only thing I can see is my blurry reflection.

No answer.

I wait for a few moments and knocked again. Her lights were off but I figure she is asleep and when I receive no answer once again, I decide to take matters into my own hands and crawl through her tiny window.

As I struggle through it, I almost think I hear voices from inside, but considering that it’s around 3 am, it was more logical to say they were inside head.

I jump to my feet and the sound it makes is much louder than I had anticipated. Quietly, I find her light and turn it on.

Everything in that moment changes when I see the state of her room. Everything is trashed and turned inside out. I breathe a little harder when I see that the frames on the wall are shattered and her bed had been ripped apart. It looks as if she had taken a knife to her pillow and the feathers from inside were like organs being ripped out and spread all over the floor like a crime scene.

There is writing on the wall but it’s poorly written and smudged from a pencil she used. All I can make out is “the sky is black,” but it looks like it had been written a thousand times. I don’t understand any of it so I look away only to focus on something more terrifying.

I see pretty, innocent, lighthearted paintings first, but as I fumble through them they reveal something much darker.

The paintings behind them are hidden for a reason she could not speak of, nor would she show anyone, not even me. I felt so far from her in that moment as I toss one painting behind another. So much hate, and so much suffering. Black and blue and red—its all that I saw. I never saw this in her and I didn't want to see it. She was hurting I knew that, but we were all hurting and she was so delicate. Where did she go? I couldn't find her. She's not here, she's not sleeping, and she's nowhere else.

I think back to the last moment I saw her, right before I had closed my eyes. What had happened? What was she doing? Where had she gone and why would she leave? I suppose the last question is absurd. She left all the time, but this time doesn’t feel like it's temporary. How could it, when I feel I’m amongst something I cannot fix.

Frantically, I start to look through her drawers—at least the ones she hadn't already yanked out herself. I find stickers and old toy brushes as if she hadn't touched them since she was a little girl. I got to one of the last drawers.

Yes, people have their issues, their dents in the brain, they have weaknesses and everyone has a little OCD. But when I open that drawer there is more empty pill bottles than full ones. I pick one up slowly, trying to read the label, but my hand is shaking almost violently and I’m afraid of everything in this moment.

She has medication for depression, which was normal and it didn't bother me as much as the second one I found. This one is for BPD or borderline personality disorder. I suppose I saw this in her from time to time, but the reality of it strikes me in my gut and I have to sit down.

I shrink to my knees and tug at the carpet beneath my fingers. I don’t know what to do and I had never felt so responsible for a person in my life. I kept trying to rack my brain for places she could be. Maybe she had gone on a walk and I was over thinking this entire situation. But if there is one thing I had decided to take from this, it is the fact that I had learned more about Kaya from examining her room tonight, than I had learned from one single conversation.

Her parents hit her, I believe that’s true, and that the scratches on her door are a cry for help. I also believed she was alone, and until she met me, she sat in that cemetery all by herself.

As I sit here for awhile, finally resting and clearing my head, I had noticed something I hadn't believed was there before.

The faucet. The faucet is on, not too much, but just enough to trigger my curiosity in the midst of where I find myself. I hold myself up and move to where the sound is coming from.

Her bathroom light is on. It’s the brightest light I have seen in awhile and it lights up the bedroom as well. The door is open only to a crack and I ease my hand on it, slowly moving it away from me. It creaks and my heart begins to beat faster.

When it's open all the way, the faucet is in front of me. I look at it for a second and turn my head almost instantly.

To my horror, I cannot speak in words that make sense if they went together. I cannot move, nor can I hear the running water any longer. My body goes cold and there is nothing but maybe a ringing and the sound of my own racing heart.

There she is. But it isn’t her anymore. I cannot begin to describe what I have seen, but I know that she is there somewhere. She is pale, but only ghostlike now. It isn’t just us in that bathroom either.

I see her demons and the monsters standing over her like giants and swimming in the puddles of blood that coat her and surround her lifeless body. They fed on her until she was no more and her eyes had gone far away. They’re not open, and her hands are laid out in front of her like she had been waiting for something to happen. The razor had fallen into the dark crimson crowding her and my body almost seizes it in instant grief and denial.

I go to her as soon as I see her, tightly squeezing her fragile body and sobbing like I had never before—not since my mom had died. I’m crying softly for a moment, but now I’m screaming. I hoped her parents would hear me and come, but they never did. And something inside me had broken so badly I felt I would stay here forever, holding onto her. Maybe she'd get up and I'd tell her that I loved her, because God knows I couldn't open my mouth before.

“I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I whimper and rock her slowly back and forth. She’s gone, and I don’t feel I am all there myself. ...

I am afraid of everything and I feel everything that consumes me. I do not deny the existence of God, but I do know that he is not with me. I understand that pain comes in different dimensions, but I didn’t think I could feel all of them at once. If there was ever a time where I mastered the art of misery, it would surely be this one. How could it be that everything has gone to complete shit? I must be paying for something, I must have signed the devil’s book to end up here. Even if I hadn’t, the universe put me here for its own humor, and I couldn’t do one thing about it.

I hadn't come out of my house for days. My father drove himself mad and I didn't have to worry about explaining what had happened to me because he was far too busy in his own head. I thought about putting him in an institution, but it was just little things and I didn't know the level of mental you had to be to be put in one of those hospitals. He wouldn't last a second in one of those. If anything he might become worse.

He only did little things. He'd hide his car keys and his cigarettes in places he knew he would forget, then blame it on me later as if I was playing tricks on him. He'd also switch pictures from their frames into different ones and when I'd ask why, he would just say he didn't know what I was talking about.

Also, I wasn't allowed to bring up Mom. Everything got worse when I'd try to connect his sickness to her death. He would yell and sit in front of the TV for hours, not speaking and not hearing me when I talked. I just wanted to talk to him sometimes, and when Kaya had died I needed to talk to

anyone. I hadn't said anything to my friends yet. And when I called the police that night, I left before they got there. I had no idea where she was now or where they were going to put her. I was afraid.

I figured I would visit the family and talk to them. They didn't know me or who I was to Kaya, but I assumed they'd be sincere if I told them now. Everyone is vulnerable when they are grieving.

The house looked awfully different when I revisited it. The flowers had turned away from the house and were almost dead looking. The house itself was gloomy and lost its life—not that it had much of one before, but it definitely felt different now.

The grass crunches under my feet as I slowly approach the large white door. I hesitate before knocking. Then, I ring the door bell.

As I wait patiently I become restless, it had been a few minutes and still no one had answered.

Maybe they weren't home. Maybe they were planning her funeral in town. Or maybe they were just too depressed to move. I didn't know, but I almost instinctively grabbed the knob and turned it.

Like I predicted it would, the door creaks open. Peeking my head through, I called out, “Hello?

Is anyone here?”

I receive no response but the echo from my own voice. I decide to walk in. All the lights are out, and everything looks like it has five layers of dust resting on it. I scale every part of the down stairs except Kaya's bedroom. I do not see myself going in there ever again. It was physically impossible to even go near it. I tried to find my way back to the door, longing for the comfort of the broad world outside of this house. I wanted out, but something cold continues to scream at me from all corners of the vacant room. My eyes move to Kaya’s bedroom door again, and the flashbacks were unavoidable. She’s dancing passed graves and golden dandelions. She’s spinning until the dizziness overtakes her, then she falls gracefully onto the spring grass, laughing and smiling uncontrollably. Her arms reach out to me, ushering me into her embrace. Nothing felt stranger than dreaming about her while I was awake. It happened so often now, that they felt more like visions.

“It’s not real.” The echo of my own voice awakens me and the whole universe comes to a halt, then springs me back into the sacred room I was most afraid of. I was on the other side of the door I had been staring at previously. It was just a minute ago, but somehow I had ended up on the inside of Kaya’s room. Refusing to turn around, my breathing becomes louder and my heart pounds in my chest.

Don't turn around. Don’t turn around. I can’t see it again. All of that misery was locked in this room and now I was apart of it. I turn the knob anxiously and attempt to open it, but it's locked.

Why is this happening? With all my hope dissipated, I slowly turn around, looking behind me and into the depths of it. The absence of light triggers my fear instantly, but as my eyes adjusted, the darkness only reveals an empty room. There is no writing on the wall, and drawers were placed back neatly into the dressers from where they came. Her paintings are gone, and her bed is made. The gory scene only remains in my mind, and even seeing the clean space, it was all that I saw.

The bathroom is sparkling as well, the polished white tile is restored and there is no sign of death or sorrow inside. The closer I get, the cringing of my chest and shoulders becomes more prevalent, however, I find myself dropping to my knees, picturing the girl I loved in weakest and most selfish state. Nothing was good enough for her, and I resented myself, and the rest of the world for not giving her enough.

I went back home, walking with my head down, looking at my feet as I carry myself along.

Walking briskly to my front door, I struggle with the keys, but finally enter into my living room.

“Hi, Dad.” I sigh and sit down on the chair next to him. I didn't expect an answer and I never got one, but I kept talking. “I went to Kaya's today.”

His silence doesn’t falter, but it almost feels like it’s yearning for someone to break it.

“She's dead, Dad.” There it is. That's when he looks at me. I had been waiting for a look, but this one hadn't been the one I was expecting. This one doesn’t look concerned, or worried. He looks uneasy, like he’s far

from saying something, yet everything speaks for itself. His eyes don’t stray until I get up, and they go back to the wall like a spring.

“What's your problem?” I say and pause. “Why do you get to be the lunatic, huh? Why do I have to pretend like I'm fine all the time?” I tilt my head, looking at his strange eyes. I knew he could hear me, behind those thick white walls he had built himself in. “Can't you be my dad just for once?

Not some crazy psycho who lost his mind years after his wife died. It's been almost fourteen years.”

I suppose I couldn't understand where he was in that moment, or why he had drifted from his life and the realities around him. I suppose it bothered me more since it felt like I had no where to go anymore. This didn't feel like home, and my friends certainly didn't feel like it either. I felt stuck where I was in that moment, and apart of me wanted to go mad with him. I wanted to sit there in the chair next to him and pretend like it was okay. I wanted to pretend Kaya was sitting there with me, with her knees crossed over each other and her cold hands keeping me cool.

But she was far away from me now, and my father couldn't give me the words I needed to hear.

All I could do was go back to my room and wait for something to happen.

As days went on, Prom went too, and I had missed it. I had told Sabrina I felt sick. That wasn't a lie. A week after that, she asked if something was wrong, since I hadn't been returning her phone calls or Windon's. I said no. That was a lie.

I hadn't seen Miles since his incident. I sat back in my invisible chair and watched my small group of friends crumble into pieces called strangers. Sabrina refused to hear his name and Windon said nothing. I don’t blame them, but it’s still cruel and I know I have to see him.

I had asked around my neighborhood and the rest of the town if they had seen him. Most of the looks I got were unpleasing and distasteful. I hadn't expected any sympathy, this was a small town and the people here were not exactly forgiving.

Some told me that he kept to the streets, parading around with unfamiliar people. I suppose they were his new friends, zombies trailing behind him with their worn brains and bloody elbows.

They lived somewhere unruly, and if he was forced off the streets, he'd sleep in the woods. I heard he was sticking himself with needles, shooting up, and sitting back listening to the moon.

Hearing about him was easy, finding him was the hard part. No one really told me, I just sort of had to guess, and one day I had been right. I found him in the corners of the city, his friends hovering in the dark behind him. They looked like creatures afraid of light, but Miles, he got the worst of it.

“What are you doing here?” He says as if he resents my presence and a hint of fear falls across his lips.

“I just wanted to talk to you. I'm not here to bust you, or convince you to do anything. I just need someone to talk to.”

At that moment, the creatures back away, descending into different rooms, and I’m alone with him.

“Who are those people, Miles?”

“My friends. Why do you care?” He crosses his arms, and with a yank of his sleeve reveals the hollow veins inside of his elbow. They were blue and black. Puss leaked from the hole in his left arm and the infection was old. He quickly pulls down his sleeve again, then looks behind him anxiously, like he’s afraid of something.

“At least they stick around.” He adds, and I feel worse about myself.

“I didn't leave you, Miles. And Sabrina and Windon, they love you. They just have a funny way of showing it. Sabrina is heartbroken, but that is only because she is worried about you.”

He’s shaking his head vigorously. “You call that love?” He scoffs, “Love is neglect and hateful.

It’s a contradiction within itself. Love ruins people. Love took Sabrina away from me and gave her to Windon. That’s love? No, it's just pathetic. I gave her everything and she dismissed me like one of those petty boys from school that she never gave the time of day to. Love took everything from me and now I am full of hate.”

I wanted to speak, but he stands up carefully, grabbing onto the chair to hold himself up. Then he speaks again, pointing his shivering finger at me.

“And as for you. You abandoned us all together. Right when you met that girl. I still don't know who she is. You never told us her name and every time we were supposed to meet her, she magically disappeared. Are you sure she's real, Skyler? Because as of now, I have a hard time believing what anyone says.”

I sit there, with my hand over my forehead, sinking into my chair and feeling feverish.

“Miles, that's why I came here.” I mumble, but he only tilts his head slightly. I could see in his eyes he'd been waiting for this moment. In this moment, he wanted to tell me off, all of us. But I was the only one here to listen. He was too weak to say all of his words and I could tell from how high he was, that nothing would make sense anyways.

“Nevermind. I'm just going to go. I'll leave you to it.” I begin to rise to my feet slowly, but he scrambles in his seat and grabs my hand.

“I'm sorry.” He looks at me sincerely and his bloodshot eyes are kind. I can’t control myself, though I tried, but everything falls out of me right then. I begin to cry to the point that I could barely catch my breath. Miles doesn’t say a word.

“She's dead.” I manage and his eyes grow wide. “She killed herself and left me here. I found her.” I go on because that’s all I can do. I had no one else to tell and somehow I feel connected to Miles in that moment.

His lips quiver and he starts to bang his head with his palm. “Man.” Is all he says. Then he gets up to open a drawer in a beat up night stand.

“What are you doing?” I ask, but he doesn't answer. He takes out a crushed up bag and lies down on the blanket next to me, then takes out his needle with shaky hands.

“Where the fuck is God?” He says in a gloom. He's lying there with a torn up rag over the gash in his arm. He's laughing now, and I feel estranged to everything he is.

I felt small amongst the tragedies I had seen, but none of them happened to me. I saw him there with his rusted spoon, stained with ash at the bottom and the needle that took my friend from me. I had no idea who this was now—just a body I suppose, nothing more.

Chapter 9: Everything went to mush in a year. The more weeks that went by, the more I felt inclined to sit in the passenger seat of my pathetic life and watch it drive off a bridge.

Seeing Miles and his new state of mind was unsettling. But at least he’s moving on. As for me, I feel stuck. I feel glued to people and I cannot go anywhere. I was stuck to my dad since he had become helpless in all ways possible—since he couldn't remember why he was in this world in the first place.

I was stuck to Miles in the sense that I felt responsible to be there for him, even if he refused to listen to me. I also, in some way, found that I was stuck to this place too. Everyone says that nothing happens here, this is a small town. Everyone says that. But that wasn't true, because I had experienced more in this place than I would have liked to.

I wanted to start over, everything about this year, if I could go back. I wouldn't have stayed to listen to the girl in the cemetery. I wouldn't have wanted to know who she was, or where she lived, and what made her tick. I would have kept walking. And instead of everything starting over, somehow all I could do was replay every terrible thing I had ever seen.

It’s the afternoon when someone knocks on my door and I plod down the stairs figuring it was either bills or men with Bibles. I open it calmly until once again I have a surprise visit from Sabrina.

Windon is not with her this time.

“Uh, hey.” I begin with, after a few seconds of looking at her wide eyes. She is hesitant, but then pushes passed me and walks into my living room. I try to stop her, knowing she would run into my father, but when I follow her in, he isn’t there. I didn't think much of it.

“I kept walking passed your house, but I couldn't find the courage to talk to you.” She says as if she was trying to stay on her toes, trying to keep something from falling out of her mouth.

“Well, you're here now.”

She pauses and looks around, still alert and uncomfortable. I sit on the couch next to where she's standing and I see the breath she takes. She carefully sits next to me.

“Are you okay?” Those words shoot at me like a gun and I look away. She continues. “I heard.”

Immediately, my face turns red and the lump in my throat grows, making it difficult to swallow and think. “You saw Miles?”

She looks ashamed, like it was embarrassing to visit the lowest of the low, let alone be friends with them. I can tell she’s searching for something to say and this bothers me.

“He's a person, Sabrina.”

She then looks up with a defensive look on her face. “He chose that life over us. How could you be on his side about that?”

“Did you come here to ask me that?”

“No.” She replies solemnly.

“Then what is it?” Sabrina saw it in my eyes that I knew why she came here. She wants to feel sorry for me. She wants to pretend to be my friend because death is a line no one crosses. Even hate does not cross that line. And Sabrina isn’t a cruel person, just naive.

“You know, everything was fine before...”

“What? Tell me. I want to hear you say it.” I’m getting angry now, but Sabrina remains cool, so I have to act like it.

“Nothing, I'm sorry. I didn't know her like you did. You never even told us her name. I can't hold anything against her, just you.”

“Her name was Kaya.” I look down. It feels strange saying it out loud. “I loved her, Sabrina. I think that's why she killed herself... I didn't say it that night. I couldn't, I think I was scared of loving her. She was overwhelming and I was afraid for all the right reasons. There was so much blood.” I place my hands over my face and rub my eyes, trying to keep them from watering. Then I wait for Sabrina to say something, or do something. But she doesn’t do anything, and when I look up, her eyes aren’t cruel, but confused, and maybe even afraid.

“What is it? Didn't Miles tell you this already?” I don’t understand her reaction, since she’s looking completely clueless herself.

Her eyes begin to water too, but they are different than mine. She looked like she was in shock or about to have a panic attack. I move my body closer to try and console her, but she moves away almost instantly.

“What are you talking about, Skyler?” The weariness takes over her voice, she can barely speak now. I can’t understand what’s happening to her.

“Why are you looking at me like a crazy person? Are you okay?” Her face turns a pale white along with her hands. Looking at her now, you would think she was seeing a ghost or something supernatural at the least. Looking away from me, her glassy eyes do not stray from the ground.

“Skyler. What's going on?”

“What do you mean?” I was becoming angry again. She sits up just then, and the tears begin to come out of her eyes.

“Kaya who lived in the white house.”

“That's right.”

“You said she died a few weeks ago.”

“Yes.” She steps back again and heads for the door, but I grab her by the hand demanding an answer.

“What is it?”

“Skyler. She's...”

“Spit it out, Sabrina!” Something felt wrong in that moment. Something collapses inside of me, I can feel it scratching under my skin and snapping my bones in half. It’s gnawing at my nerves so that I can’t feel anything.

“She's been dead... For two years. She killed herself, like you said. But that was two years ago Skyler, whats happening to you?”

That's when I couldn't feel anything. That ringing in my ear turns its volume up, blocking out Sabrina's words. The overwhelming words that were coming after me. I feel its hand on my shoulder and its hot breath consuming me, putting me in a place that is both dark and far from my sanity. I want to go there—it wants me to. But the ringing comes to a halt and I can hear her voice again.

“You've been seeing her, and touching her and you don’t have any memory of her before.” She keeps on, but I stop her.

“Stop it. Why are you doing this. You're messing with me.”

She's shaking her head frantically and trying to keep her voice low. “You need help.”

“I'm not like him, Sabrina. You can't do this. You can't look at me like that. That's how I look at him.” I couldn't tell if she knew that I was talking about my dad. She probably assumed it was someone made up in my head, because that's what crazy people do—make things up.

“I can't be here. I can't see you like this.” She turns around.

“You know, you think you're better than me. You think you're better than Miles, and I bet you even think that of Windon. Because that's who you are and I can't change that, but I didn't tear us all apart. As much as you think it was me or Miles who went off the deep end and threw our friendship in the garbage, you're wrong. You just want someone to blame because it was you who tore us apart. Just leave me alone.”

She looks at me for a moment with the coldest eyes I'd ever seen. I knew everything we had made from when we were kids until now, all the time we had spent together, every good word that was ever said and every bad one that had once meant something, didn't anymore, and that I would never see her again.

“Fine.” She says, turning the knob on my door to leave. I can see the tears in her eyes fall onto her cheek, and she tried to wipe them so that I wouldn't notice. “Okay, what about all those times you tried to introduce us. I bet she had an excuse, didn’t she? Or what about the fact that no one has heard of her transferring to our school a few months ago. Did she graduate with us, because I didn't see her.

As a matter of fact, I didn’t see you either, so you might as well be a ghost too.” She pauses to see my expression and my brain goes back to the memories of her. “One more thing; you're just like your dad, whether you like it or not. Get some help before you hurt someone or yourself.”

Those were the last words I'd ever hear from her. She packed her bags and she packed Windons, leaving Miles and I to our fate and going God knows where. Her parents called me multiple times. They kept checking in with restless voices, asking if she had come home. They stopped calling eventually, accepting that their daughter wasn't meant for this place or anything strange for that matter.

She needed normal. Sabrina needed to feel safe and seeing two of her best friends leak insanity wasn't safe.

She probably feels better now. Something was happening to her, at least when she was here. I feel bad for her, but I don’t pity her for not being able to handle it. All of us were handling it.

I wasn't angry about her leaving either. She called me crazy for loving a girl who lived inside my head, and she refused to see Miles as a human being, but instead something less significant like an animal or packaging that was once needed, but thrown away when she finally got what was inside of it. ...

Dear Skyler, I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you this in person. I know you think I'm this fragile girl who lives in her head and doesn't say much. You told me once that I didn't belong here, that I should have lived in some story book. Somewhere that I couldn't get hurt, where there was always a happy outcome. But you're wrong. I loved this life and I loved you. I know you couldn't love me because I am unlovable.

But sometimes I felt like I could be. Only you made me feel like that. I never want to see you hurt either, but I know that's impossible, so when you're angry I hope your fists don't bleed too much. I want

you to know this wasn't your fault. Something was happening to me and I couldn't stop it. Things were after me and sometimes I felt they would devour me if I didn't cut them out. I finally did.

Forever Yours, Kaya ...

Things are different now. I checked my father into a facility where he could get help, and in turn got a job to buy a new place, since we couldn't keep the house we lived in. I knew my dad would be proud if he could keep his eye on me like he was supposed to, but I also knew he would get better, and after he was out he could help me and we could finally leave this place.

That would be good for me, because sometimes I think I see things too. I needed help in someway. Knowing Kaya was watching over me helped a lot. She was probably sitting with the angels like she was one of them. They were probably talking about their lives on earth and the people they knew, and I hoped she was talking about me.

The things that I see aren’t obvious. They’re figures in the door, low whispers, dark things in the corner that I could blame on a trick of the eye. I wasn’t scared either, even when things got worse.

It was about 10 o'clock at night, as I walk through an old neighborhood I used to be very fond This neighborhood wasn't far from my house, but I never came down here anymore. We often strolled here on Halloween—my mom and I. I tilt my head back to see the waning moon through the tall oak trees and for a moment it feels like fall, and I was seven again.

I was swarmed with emotions, and nostalgia crept up on me like a cat—swiftly and aloof at the same time. I could see the brightly colored jack o' lanterns placed on long porches. They had silly and angry faces carved into them, forced to portray only one emotion. I felt bad for them.

The other kids were dressed almost exactly the same. When you were ages seven or below, you were either a bed-sheet ghost, a fat pumpkin, or some kind of fairy princess. I only had two of those options, but I refused to be a pumpkin. I was a ghost every year, and each bed sheet was different from the last, to keep things interesting.

It was still summer, no matter if it was ending, but I never looked forward to Halloween anymore anyways. I was heading to a party by myself. I hadn't gone out of the house for what seemed like years, so imagine my surprise when I was invited to an end of the summer bash.

I’m looking forward to getting very drunk and hopefully passing out without doing anything that would prove I am, in fact, a head case.

I can hear the loud tempo of the music floating, moving down the sidewalk, and as I get closer to the house I almost regret coming. Before walking in I think about Miles and Windon. I think about the few parties we'd been too, but the everlasting comfort we had with each other in group settings. I think about Sabrina and her jealousy that about ruined us, because according to her, I’m the bad seed. I also think about Kaya, in her dress that fell right above her knees. When she'd pull me with cold hands and jump on my back so that I was forced to carry her.

It was becoming easier for some reason, forgetting about her. Sometimes, I forget what she looks like, her gentle demeanor and the innocence in her voice. I forget about those things, but then I think about that calamitous night. I think about the writing on the wall, and all that blood, God there was so much blood. Then, I shake it off, rubbing my arms to get rid of the goosebumps. I need a drink.

When I got in I was greeted by Adam Wheeling, an interesting individual. He liked to be known as an avant-guarde or an artist, but all of his art consisted of lines and boxes. Basically, everything that he painted or drew did not “speak to me.” Instead, it reminded me of what a small child might color in his spare time because of his lack of skills to draw a stick figure.

“Hey, man. No one has seen you in forever. We all thought you died.”

When I didn't reply to his somewhat offensive comment, he took a breath and spoke again.

“Come on in, man.”

“Thanks.” I say and push pass his unusual, tall and dainty body. Looking beyond me I saw the stairwell that was slightly decorated with ribbon to cover the broken railing. The walls were grimy and I was almost positive, if a small animal lightly ran across the floors, they would creak none the less.

There were a fair amount of people here, most of which used to know me. They all had their colleges picked out after the summer was dead and gone. They all had plans, and I was still in the same place that I was.

Then I thought to myself, this was about the time Kaya would say she needed a drink, then disappear for two days. It gave me an uneasy feeling to think about her sometimes. Only when they were the bad days.

Then I thought about the fact that my brain had made me send her away. She could never meet my friends because she wasn't there. But she used to be, and knowing that made me feel somewhat okay.

I couldn't shake her and I was stuck wondering why my brain thought that I needed her. I needed her so much, she only lived as a figment of my imagination now, or did.

I kept trying to understand how she died all over again.

It had to be the guilt. I know in some way or another, it will find me and end me. It may not have been happening literally, but it sure feels that way.

I know I should have told her that I loved her. Everyone's supposed to do that. Wasn’t that the solution to all social problems? Giving up the argument, or saying sorry? Telling someone you miss them or saying goodbye for the last time? Love had the power to do anything, or so we believe it does.

Love is supposed to have this overwhelming magic power over mankind. It could cure cancer or simply just reassure someone that you aren’t going anywhere.

And here I was pondering the thought of Kaya’s existence because I could have told her that I loved her more than I felt I had it in my power to love someone; and I didn't say it, because I was scared. I was scared of having all that power and being in control of what happens next, but little did I know I had too much of it already. Kaya was gone because of me, but I couldn't give myself all that credit. Her parents were shit, and she was lonely. What more could drive a person over the edge than that?

I reach in my pocket and pull out a small damp box. Taking out my lighter and a soggy cigarette, I let it hang from my mouth, attempting to light it stupidly. Wondering why they were wet in the first place, I remember I had washed these jeans earlier and never took them out.

“Can I have one?” I hear from directly behind me. I quickly whip my head around to see a comforting, familiar face.

“You don't know how great it is to see you.”

“Oh! Little ol’ me?” Natalie frames her face playfully. “Do you know anybody here? I can see the social anxiety hovering over you.”

“Hovering.” I repeat.

“Like a cloud, my friend.” She pats herself down in search of something, and finally pulls out her own box of dry, clean cigarettes. “It's quite sad actually.”

She hands me one as she places one between her teeth carefully.

“It's uh… Just been a rough few weeks.”

She lights her cigarette. “What happened? Did your grandma die?”

I try to shrug it off, but she realizes my uneasiness and takes her sarcasm down.

“Oh, dude, did your grandma actually die?”

I shake my head. “No.” I say gravely.

“Then what is it?”

Normally I wouldn't open up to someone with details about my problems, but somehow the image of our childhood, and the fact that she actually seemed concerned, made me want to tell her.

“Do you remember that night at the cemetery? When I was looking for that girl?”

She nods, looking up as if to picture the scene in her head.

“She committed suicide that night. I found her.” It was like ripping off a bandage, telling her something like that, and her jaw drops like I knew it would.

I didn't want her to feel bad for me, though I knew she did; everyone did at one point. I was just the person everyone felt bad for. I was until they found out I made it all up in my head, then they just made up rumors about me or gossiped.

“I’m sorry, Sky.” She says in defeat as if it was the only thing she was able to say. She then sits on one of the steps and starts to play with her hair anxiously. The smoke from her cigarette rises to the ceiling, spreading like a cumulus cloud hanging over both of us.

“I’m sure she was just sick of looking for something she couldn't find.”

“What do you mean?”

Just as she was about to answer me, the host of the house comes walking towards us. He seems angry and I drop my head realizing who it was.

“Hey! You can't smoke in here.” Sinclair takes both cigarettes out of mine and Nat’s hand and stomps ferociously on them. Mine hadn’t even been lit yet.

“Nice to see you too, Sinclair.” Nat responds sarcastically and he gives her a look of endearment, completely ignoring my presence.

“Oh, Nat, I didn’t know it was you. How are you?” She displays her power by the way she holds herself, and he seems almost submissive to it.

“I'm good, cool party. There's actually enough people here to fill a room.” She smiles and reaches in her back pocket for another cigarette. This time, he doesn’t protest.

He rolls his eyes and let's out a long sigh, then he turns around and walks out.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” She lights hers for a second time and when I don’t reply she quickly realizes and speaks again. “Oh! He owes me something.”

I don’t feel I should ask what that something was, so I keep my mouth shut and hug my knees against the stairwell.

We walk aimlessly through the halls, studying people as they minded themselves. I see a few girls I used to be friends with. I see Cassidy and her groupies, but they were different. They look almost desolate in expression, but they were busy with their pills. It’s almost like they aren’t people anymore; the undead maybe. They continue to keep their peace in silence and stare at the ground. My eyes went to Nat, who doesn’t seem phased by the changes that I see. It also never came to my attention how Nat knew these people, or why she was here in the first place. She doesn’t go to my school, she didn’t grow up with these people like I did. She didn’t know Cassidy and her friends before they were zombies, and how lively and annoying they used to be.

In one room, I swore I had seen Miles in the back corner. He was with his new friends, who were as damaged as he was, but I didn’t think about intruding on them. He was completely lost himself, and didn’t want my help; I know that now.

We steal a bottle of rum from the pantry without anyone noticing. Nat yanks it from my hands, tossing it back for a few seconds.

“Are you okay?” I ask, and she looks somewhat insulted.

“Relax, Sky.” She pushes the bottle into my chest. “Drink and lighten up.”

The bitter taste hit my tongue and I squint in disgust, but force it down as fast as my body would take it.

By the time we reach the back door of the house, Nat is on her third cigarette. She offers me one, but I decline. That’s a first.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” She asks and I nod hesitantly, wondering where we would go.

I’m suddenly confused with who she is.

“We could go to the park by my house.” I volunteer, and she smiles widely when I do.

“I haven’t been there since we were ten.” She says sentimentally.

I stumble over a floorboard on my way out; and being as clumsy as I am, I drop Nat’s bottle, almost tripping over it. It shatters into a million pieces and Sinclair’s doorway begins to smell of rum immediately, and maybe the blood from my leg.

“Are you okay?” Nat stoops down to where the glass had sliced me, and I explain to her that the alcohol would clean it, and that we should ignore it. If she wasn’t drunk, I’m sure she would have insisted on going to the hospital. Not that she likes to admit it, but she was a very paranoid person.

She could barely break a rule without feeling the guilt close in on her, but right now it’s different. She had already seemed different tonight, but the alcohol had made her even more unaware and as soon as I told her to ignore it, she left it alone. We continue out, forgetting about the broken glass almost as quickly as it happened.

As we exit the house, Nat flicks her cigarette on the porch and I fumble to step on it, but missed and lost it. I can’t see very well due to the broken backlight. There is only wanting darkness and we carefully walk beyond it.

We are both a little drunk, strolling through the trees and carving our figures in the heavy mist.

She grabs my hand gingerly, looking at me with dew drop eyes; the only thing I can see in the bleakness of night.

“Do you remember when I was afraid of the dark?” She asks and I nod reluctantly, trying to think back so long ago. My brain can barely process anything, but I suddenly picture ten year old Natalie at my side.

We were in her room, under the heavy blankets that acted as a fort for us. Our flashlights hit each other, creating an even larger ray of light and I could see Nat’s gray eyes gleaming. We giggled while playing our game; we always played the game at night.

“Let’s play a new game.” I suggest.

“What kind of game?” She looks anxiously at me.

I smile sinisterly to scare her. “It's called Bloody Mary.”

“What do you have to do?”

“You have to go in the bathroom by yourself and say her name three times… But the lights have to be off.” I pictured myself there, holding her tiny hand and watching her face change from childlike to fearful. “I’m going to be right outside the door.”

“I don’t know, Sky, can’t we just play our usual game?” She groans and tilts her head to one side as if she was begging.

“You have to face your fear! Trust me, nothing happens, I’ve done it before.”

“Why do you do it if nothing happens?” She asks, still faltering in tone.

I get up, tossing the blankets off her and move closer to the bathroom door. “Because it’s fun!”

She sighs apprehensively, struggling to find the floor with her feet. “Fine.”

She makes her way to the door next to me and I guide her in, she's moving very slowly. She then stands in front of her dirty mirror, looking intently at herself. Before I close the door, I take her flashlight and she gives me her last look of uneasiness. I try to close it now, but her hand catches it.

“Right outside the door?” She asks for reassurance and I give it to her, squeezing her hand.

Then it closes and I count to myself. One…two…three…four…

“Skyler!” I hear her yell, but I hold the door, thinking if she stayed a little longer, it would help her. But she only panicked more. “Let me out!”

With reluctance and disappointment, I open it. She bursts through the door hugging me and trembling.

“I’m sorry, Nat. I thought that I was helping.”

She didn’t say anything, but continued to cry softly.

“I remember that night like the back of my hand.” Nat says, bringing me back to our present state in the misty woods we found ourselves in. “I know I told you it didn’t help, but it did…kind of.”

She sinks to the wet ground without flinching from the cold, but I suppose it was the alcohol keeping us from putting a sweater on.

Taking my seat next to her, I yank up some grass beside to me. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know, Sky. You’ve just always been like that; always trying to help people. I know you couldn’t help that girl, but you helped me.” Just then, she lays her head gently on my shoulder and we sit there for awhile, without words or movement. The air was getting more crisp and bleak as autumn approached.

For the longest time, I wasn’t ready for the summer to be over. I didn’t want to be that kid who never made something of himself. But here I was for the first time in three months, content with where I was.

After we don’t say anything for awhile, Nat looks at me a certain way and I have a strong sense of Déjà vu. That was the same way Kaya used to look at me; in the same loving, vulnerable way.

“You’re intimidating.” She says in a low tone, trying to mask what she was feeling.

I turn my head away from her gaze. “Is that so…” I murmur, no longer playing her flirting game.

“What's wrong?” She asks, now concerned with my behavior, but still being sincere with her words.

“What do you want with me?” I hang my head, trying to sound annoyed.

I couldn’t see her face, but I know it was surprised and confused. “Huh? I want to get to know you.”

“You already know me.”

“No not like—” She stops herself, realizing anything she could say wouldn’t work, and that I also knew what she meant. She stands up firmly and angry, looking down on me with her sore eyes.

“You know what, I know you’ve had a rough summer, but I figured someone like you would need a friend.”

“Oh, someone like me?” I stand up leveling with her eyes. They were still dark and full, but with anger and frustration now.

“Damaged!” She fires back at me and I lose it, pushing her away from me. She was getting so close, I felt threatened. I couldn’t take it. She fell backwards, hitting the ground, but it didn’t seem to phase her.

I immediately feel horrible in doing so and try to help her up, but she smacks my hand away.

She continues to stay on the ground making me feel worse, but that was her intention.

“You think you’re so tough. You think the goddamn world revolves around you. Well, It doesn’t. You know, you never asked about me. What I’ve been doing...Maybe I’ve had it bad too? But you wouldn’t know, because all you care about is you.”

I don’t say anything yet, approaching her again, sitting next to her on the cold ground. She doesn’t try to move away.

“I’m sorry.” I say, taking her hand, and she lets me. However, her face is the same, maybe a little softer. She looks away, knowing she had contributed to the fight too.

“I should have given you more time. I’m sorry too.” She sits up, nudging my arm playfully again. “I didn’t know her, but I’m sure she would want you to be happy. I don’t think she would want you to be sitting here in these woods all alone. She would want someone here and I’m going to be that person, but as a friend.” She smiles at me sweetly, and I couldn’t help but do it too. I was about to say something but she opens her mouth to speak again.

“And if you ever push me again, I’ll kick your ass.” She laughs, but I was thankful she didn’t take it to heart. That’s who Nat was and I went in to hug her gently.

As I was doing so, I look beyond us, back to where the house is. Now that I’m looking at it, it’s farther away then I thought. It looks completely lit up, like a ball of light in the distance.

Then I realize something and release Nat from my embrace.

“Natalie.” I say, shivering in fear. “Look.” I begin to jog towards it and as I get closer it, my jog turns into a run.

She stands up trying to see what I was doing. “What, what's wrong?”

“Oh my god.” She responds to her own question and starts to run after me frantically.

I’m running as fast as my legs would carry me, and as the ball of light gets closer, my temperature rises, causing the beads of sweat on my face to fall into my eyes.

The house I had just been in about half an hour ago, was burning to the ground; and I could barely catch my breath through the thick embers grazing my lungs. Natalie had caught up to me by time I was on my knees trying to understand what was happening, and before I could do so, the screams of someone came from around the back. I immediately pick myself up, hanging onto Natalie in case my legs would fail me. We sprint to the back where we see four teenagers bantering and running around like headless chickens. Two girls huddled next to each other, are sobbing into their knees near the farther oak trees, I couldn’t make out their faces, but one of them sounds like Cassidy, though I can’t be sure. I then look in the house’s direction. Two of them of which were guys, are attempting to pull someone out of the window. It’s obvious they had already broken the glass, as the shards crack beneath their feet.

I run to them, grabbing the body as well. It’s a girl, but she is completely out cold. Her body is still and we carry her to the trees where the two girls are. Natalie runs to the other side of the house and comes back so quickly it was almost like she hadn’t left at all.

“No sign of anyone else.” She says and breathes hard, bending over for a second. “Where are the cops? Did anyone call the cops?” She is frantic and pulls out her cellphone, starting to dial 911.

One of the guys speaks up. “Stop! We already called them. As you can see we are in the middle of nowhere,” He spreads his arms out sarcastically, “It's gonna take a while for them to get here, sweetheart.”

Natalie, still in fight or flight mode, charges at him. “No one said you had to be a dick about it, Larson.”

She knows him. I’m surprised, but they went at it for a little longer until I stepped in.

“Don’t you guys think we should be figuring out what to do to help this unconscious girl, and all the other people inside, instead of arguing like children?” Nat gives me a dirty, but understanding look and takes her hands off her hips, dropping down to the girl and checking her pulse.

“The others are dead, dude.” The quieter guy says and rubs at his temples, still trying to process what was currently happening.

“What do you mean? You’re telling me that no one noticed the fire until it was surrounding the house? That’s bullshit.” I step up to him, waiting for the whole story anxiously, but he could barely say a word without shaking.

“That’s the thing. We have no idea how it started and it started at the door, the back one I think.

Since they couldn’t get out of there, they ran for the front door, but by time they did that it had spread there too, and it was coming in on us. The only reason we made it was because we made a break for the stairs and jumped out of there.” He pointed to a window very far from the ground, but not far enough to where one could get seriously injured.

I began to think back to everyone I had seen at the party—putting faces to names, and pushing through my drunk haze to realize how many goddamn people had burned alive.

I walked over to the two girls who were still holding each other.

“Cassidy?” I ask hesitantly, not recognizing her through the black ash drenching her face.

“Yeah?” She whimpers, and my heart beats a mile a minute. I begin to jabber my words and mix up the thoughts and ideas in my head as I try to say everything at once.

“What? Skyler, is that you?” Her voice is raspy and confused, and she leans in closer to look at my face. Then, she wraps her arms around my neck, hugging he weakly. She starts crying again.

“Where are your friends, Cass?” I ask and she lets go, sitting on the ground once more and wiping her tears.

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracks and shakes as she fights her emotions. “We took some pills.”

“Where are they?”

“I don’t know! They wanted to get high again. They went with Miles in a different room. I’m not into that shit.” She then looks through me as if she had realized they weren’t ever coming out and she rests her head inside her knees.

Miles. I had forgotten I had seen him in there. In that moment, my brain stops working and I look to Nat who doesn’t have a clue as to what was going on. “Miles?” I ask Cassidy again, my voice breaking and whimpering this time.

She nods and takes my hand. Miles is dead. He was in that house probably selling dope just to make his living and he died doing it. I play back everything about him.

Where the fuck is God? I remember him saying this. I remember him wallowing in the dirt of his home and the withdrawals he went through when we tried to get him to stop. He was gone. He was fucking gone.

I think about Sabrina then, when she left without sympathy for him and without a goodbye. He loved her more than he had loved anything. He loved her more than he loved all of us.

I wasn’t going to call her, because that would mean that I forgive her for everything. I wasn’t going to call her because she doesn’t deserve to be here anymore. She’ll find out later probably, through news articles and television. Maybe she would feel bad then.

Just then, I hear sirens in the distance, they’re getting louder as they approach the house, and we all run to the front, besides two of us who stay with the girl.

The officers get out of their cars along with the fire department right behind them. They start to drench the house with their powerful hoses and the fire goes down slowly.

Meanwhile, the police officers question us.

“We're all of you here when the fire started?” One of them asks. He takes off his hat and fans the rough air away from him. I look to Natalie who is about to speak up.

“We were.” Cass and the other girl say together, still holding each other.

The officer then draws his eyes to Nat and I and we look at each other, and Nat responds.

“We were here for a little bit, but then we left.”

So that the officer understood completely what happened, I speak up as well. “We stayed for about twenty minutes, then we went out to the woods. We were out there for not even half an hour, then I saw the house in the distance, and we ran back as fast as we could.” I explain and watch the policeman write it down in his little notepad. His pen hits the paper aggressively as if he was proving a point, then he nods and lifts his head to us again.

“Does anyone know how it started?” He sighs, but his eyes grow wide when no one answers.

“We don’t know.” Cass says, “It came out of nowhere.”

The policeman look at us for awhile, asking Cass more questions than Nat and I. He tells us he wants us to come in to the station tonight for some questions.

We were escorted into an empty cop car as they stayed outside, talking to the firemen when the fire had finally been put out. The house was completely black and ash fell down on the car like snow. I see the unconscious girl on a stretcher coming from the back of the house with the two guys by her side. Then, five more stretchers come out of the front door; this time with body bags.

Chills roll down my spine, and I look to Nat who isn’t looking anymore. I grab her hand, intertwining my fingers through hers. I could see that she was trying to smile, but her lips were quivering.

“How did this happen?” She whispers and looks down at her feet.

The cop gets into the car finally, not saying a word, but I could see him eyeing me through the rear view mirror cautiously.

“Excuse me,” I begin, “It’s two in the morning. How long is this going to take?”

Realizing this might have sounded rude I search for new words in my head, and Nat nudges my arm. “Sorry, it's just been a long night.” I end with. He still hasn’t said anything.

We arrived at the station a few minutes later, and I get out, still holding Natalie’s hand.

We follow the man inside, and come to a quiet room with two other men sitting in chairs.

Cassidy is walking out, her features brighter now, and her flaws standing out as black charcoal covering her pale tones. Her white tank top was tattered and more gray now, and one of her straps fell off her right shoulder. Also, her shorts are ripped and dirty; they were probably snagged from the window, and her hair was tucked behind ear neatly despite the tangles and knots behind her head.

She gave me a glance with dripping black eyes, but they seemed deep and empty into their own dark abyss. She didn’t say a word, and left with an awful look on her face.

Going into the small room, I was afraid now—for not a specific reason, but just the fact that the law had us now. We sit down in an anxious manner, and I could feel Nat still shaking in her chair.

The men were very different in appearance. One looked very young, about 20 years of age, and he had sideburns that went lower than the norm. His hair was dark, but he had a stare that I couldn’t hold for too long. His knuckles were big and he was knocking slowly on the table in anticipation for us to start. I didn’t like him.

On the other hand, his partner was much older, and he looked as if he had been doing this all his life. His coffee in hand was not hot, but I knew he needed it from years of exhaustion from this place.

I couldn’t tell if he would be completely useless or if he’d be the smartest out of the two.

“So,” The younger man starts off, as I predicted, and his ego began to show through his voice.

“We just talked to your friend Cassidy, and she says they don't know how the fire started, but that it was abrupt. She also said that you two had left about ten minutes beforehand. Can you tell us where you two went?”

I could tell Natalie wanted to start, but I speak before she can. “We just didn’t like it. We wanted to go on a walk. The host was being a dick.”

“And what door did you go out of?”

“The back door…” I respond, wondering what this had to do with anything.

“Now, Sinclair—Sinclair Davis, he was the host; is that right?” He goes on, and we both nod in sync. “You say he was being very rude?”

I immediately regret saying this, since this gave me a motive to do something drastic. I was beginning to think he was starting to admit us as suspects and my skin went cold.

“Yes, but we just went about half a mile out and then we saw the fire and ran back. We had nothing to do with this.”

“Skyler, do you smoke?”

Now I was upset. “What does that have to do with anything?” I raise my voice and the younger man is about to throw something back at me, but the older one decides to speak. He rests his hand on the younger man as if he was resting it on his temper. The younger man shuts up and sits back since he no longer had any power.

“We found a cigarette at the end of the porch near the back and next to it was a broken glass bottle. Now, we aren’t saying that is the exact cause, but it is possible. We aren’t identifying you as suspects, my partner here just likes to jump to conclusions.” He looks over at the young man like he was looking down at a child who didn’t get the toy he wanted.

“Did either of you two see anyone or anything happen that would relate to this as a theory? Was the broken bottle there before you left? Do you remember seeing it at all?”

Natalie shakes her head in confusion. She's closing her eyes and scrunching her eyebrows as if she was annoyed by this question. She denies it very abruptly.

“I’m sorry but, you’re asking us if we were observant enough to see a cigarette butt on the ground?” She crosses her arms and the policemen sigh in unison.

For a moment, my body felt very still and the men's voices go quiet as I fall into my own thoughts about tonight. I shuffled through my drunk memories trying very hard to reach into the events from earlier.

–Natalie and I are pushing passed bodies…Natalie steals rum, we drink it hastily…She’s laughing and smoking her cigarette, I think. She stomps on it outside, or did I do that? Did I put it out? The bottle slips from her hand… Someone breaks it, was that us? Did we break that bottle? Did we leave it there? We walk away from the house— “I don’t remember it either.” My words fumble out of my mouth like my brain had decided my fate for me, and before I know it, I no longer have control of anything.

I could feel the younger man’s glare burning into my eye sockets, they don’t move away for a long time, but I am collected.

Meanwhile, I squirm in my seat listening to the two men converse with Natalie. She’s either a fantastic liar or she has no recollection of what happened earlier. Lucky her. I think to myself, and glance over at my new partner in crime. Yeah, she has no idea.

Chapter 10: We leave the station at four in the morning with drooping eyes and exhaustion in our steps.

Natalie is using her clothes to wipe off the ash on her arm, and I still hesitate in bringing up the sore subject. I begin to think about my options, and if I should bring it up at all.

Nat and I could go home, and mourn alone. We could go our separate ways and rest our fling (if I could call it that) along with last night. I could leave everything there, and finally, I decided not to say anything. ...

But still those images would live in my head. They burned into my brain as if I had been a branded cow. They cursed and yelled at me, they screamed, we own you now, we own you.

I could shake them off for a little while if I tried. I remember the nights, where Nat and I became closer, where she finally laid her head on my chest and rested her body in sleep, but I could never close my eyes. My mind would run miles and my fingers tapped the ground frantically, just for my own self control. She barely noticed, and for a few months, I felt I could live without regret and the bags that dragged behind me if I pretended that I was fine.

But each night I took my time and went outside. I looked up dreadfully and the man in the moon looked through me as if I was his pawn. He reached his hand down lovingly and I took his glowing palms and put them in my pocket. He stayed with me and whispered in my ear whenever the anxiety crept up on me.

That is when Nat noticed.

“Hi.” She says sweetly as I walk into her house without knocking. Her parents aren’t home conveniently, and it feels weird since they never left the house.

She seems cheerful today. “Hey there.” I say and take a seat at her table, watching her wash dishes.

“So,” She says carefully, as if her words were broken glass and she was trying hard not to step on them too harshly. “Can I ask you something?”

My head cocks toward her, waiting for her to proceed. “Sure.” I respond in reluctance.

Silence fills the air for a moment, and I look to her eyes, they take a deep breath and then look into mine.

“Do you ever think about her?”

I immediately shake my head in confusion. “Who?” I reply.

She stops washing dishes, then she walks toward me, taking a seat on the other side of the table. She sighs and I don’t understand why it’s so hard for her to speak to me.

“Kaya. Do you still think about her?”

I cannot put my finger on what she’s asking me. “What are you talking about?”

She looks taken back and grabs my hand, with a concerned look on her face. Now she looks confused.

“Nat, who is that?” I ask, begging for some reason and explanation. This topic must have been very serious to her.

That's when she starts to cry. My brain goes right and left and up and down, and I couldn't help her. How could I console her when I couldn’t understand? It feels like my body is pulsing and I can feel it in my ears. She's sobbing into her hands and I kneel at her chair, trying to ignore it.

“What’s happening to you?” Nat spits out and pushes my hands away as I try to get closer.

“Please, just… Can you give me some time?”

“You’re not even going to tell me what's wrong?”

She's shaking her head again, but this time she is calm, and the tears come to a halt. She wipes her nose and looks up at me gently.

“It’s not your fault.” She says in sincerity, and immediately hugs me, but something told me this is the end. I don’t have a clue as to why this is happening, but my temper rises.

I shake myself out of her arms and step back to look at her, no longer feeling pity for the girl that I care about. “You do not get to do this. You do not get to blindly leave me without consequences.

Oh, I’m so glad that you can just switch your feelings off anytime you please, but I’m an actual person, Natalie. I’m sorry I’m not a fucking robot. You know, you’re just like Sabrina. You just leave when things get hard.” I drag my voice out to be dramatic and she looks completely terrified as if she has no idea why I’m angry.

“No, Skyler. That's not—” She starts, but I cut her off, thinking of the worst thing I can say.

Something came over me like a hurricane. I felt my heart coming out of my throat and at that moment I did not care about how she felt.

“We burned down that house, Nat. It was all our fault and I have felt guilty for it since it happened.” I look at her now, and still she doesn’t say anything. It looks as if she’s afraid of me.

“We dropped that bottle of rum and you threw that cigarette at it. You were too drunk to put it out. We just left all that glass there. We didn't think anything of it, we didn’t give a shit.” Her face is starting to get red again, She sticks her fingers in her ears and closes her clouded eyes. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s rocking back and forth.

“All those people are dead because of us. Miles is dead.” My voice breaks, thinking about him, and I can’t hold onto my emotions anymore. They fall out of me and I fight myself to sit down. I can’t be weak anymore, I’m always weak.

I turn back to Natalie who is still rocking herself, and I start to regret what I had told her.

“Nat.” I say, changing my voice into a gentle tone, but she isn't listening. “Natalie.”

Still no words came out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re right, you’re right, okay?! Is that what you want? I know we killed those people, Skyler. I know we should’ve told the police! But that’s not what this is about!” After she screams, she takes a deep breath, attempting to break it down slowly.

“It’s about Kaya. She’s a real person, Sky. You loved her and now you can’t remember who that is? There's something wrong with you.”

My heart skips a beat as I sit in silence for a moment, trying to take her words in. I rub in between my brows and wipe my eyes. I sigh deeply and finally I am ready to speak again. “Natalie, for the last time, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You were pretending, like I was? You knew about the fire the whole time?”

We were both getting very frustrated, but both of us refused to leave. I pace back and forth, biting at my nails. She's still looking at me, with her smokey eyes. She nods.

“Skyler, I love you.” She stops, wondering if she should have said it, but continues squeamishly.

“I love you, but you don’t know how to love anyone. It's not your fault because you’re sick, but I can’t keep thinking I can change you. I can’t love someone who lives inside their head.”

I stand there blankly, feeling very dazed and perplexed by her words. She told me that she loved me and as I search for my words, I couldn't find them to say it back to her. I cared about her. I cared about her a lot, but the closest I got to those words were that I was sorry and that I had to leave.

I don’t look at her when I leave, but keep my head down until I get to her porch.

I don’t know where I should go. Then I thought about my dad, and decided to visit him. Since everyone assumes I'm just like him, maybe he'd be the only one capable of understanding me.

I walk back to my house feeling uneasy, but determined to get some answers. The only thing is, I have no idea where to look.

When I arrive at the busy hospital, I look at the sign above the swinging door. Psychiatric Care, it reads and pause just for a moment. As soon as I gather myself I proceed to the lady at the front. She looks very official with her snazzy Bluetooth and her clean face. Her freckles went up to her ears and the gap in her tooth gave her voice a little whistle when she spoke.

“Hi there.” She says cheerfully.

“Hi. Um I’m here to see Jack Jenson. My name is Skyler.” I say, and she looks a bit uncomfortable, knowing I hadn’t been here before. She probably dealt with this everyday, seeing kids or parents come in without knowing how to see their loved ones in states of confusion and depression.

I felt bad for her, even if she felt worse for me.

“Let's see,” she begins typing away on her computer, “And your relation to the patient?”

“He's my father.” I say if it wasn’t obvious enough. She nods and continues typing. She hands me a piece of paper, as if it was a hall pass and I was visiting my kid at school.

“Thanks.” I say, taking it gingerly and walking towards the nearest elevator. Looking at the paper, I guide myself through the disturbing hallways, each room had a label as to what it was used for.

I looked to my left where I saw the “leisure” room with many bodies lounging in different places. A few were playing games, some were watching tv and drawing. I peek my head in to get a closer look in search of my father, but he isn’t there.

I keep my slow pace and stroll down the semi-dark halls, trying not to seem uncomfortable, but the environment rubbed me the wrong way and I had began to conclude that I had seen too many horror films. Each door had a different number. 256…257…

Finally, I come to his room and stand at the foot of his doorway. It’s closed and I slowly turn the knob, but I immediately regret coming and release my grip quickly. The squeaking of my shoes behind the door already had given me away entirely and I watched as the knob slowly turned.

Here goes nothing, I repeat to myself and there my father was, standing in front of me. I had to keep telling myself, that this was the man that raised me; I knew this man, but I didn’t at all. He stands there a little longer, but then turns away, leaving the door open for me to enter, and moves slowly back to his chair near his window pane.

I didn't know what to say except, “Hey, Dad.” And he tilts his head carefully, like a rabbit turning his ears to listen.

“I…Don’t know what to do. I came here thinking you would have the answers for me, but I don’t know what I was thinking. I just don't have anywhere else to go.” I stand there for awhile, hoping maybe he’d answer me, but then, nothing.

“It's about Natalie. You remember her, right?” I continue, knowing this was pointless, but also knowing everything was pointless and if anyone was going to keep my secrets, it could be my dad, who wouldn’t be able to say a word even if he wanted to.

“It feels like I’ve been in the dark this entire year. She said some things that I don’t understand.

There's this girl, she kept saying her name. Kaya, I think.” As I say this, he turns his head completely in reaction to it. This makes me feel weird, but I keep going, ignoring his alarming glare.

“She says that I used to love her, or that I do love her. I don’t remember, but I just feel so lost.

There was this fire. I think it messed with her head. It was so traumatizing, Dad, we started it. We didn’t mean to, but we both lied to the police and it's been eating at me ever since. I think it took a bigger toll on her. She’s not making sense, I can’t go back there. Something tells me not to.” I break for a silence, wondering if I should tell him the last thing on my mind.

“I hear them too, you know.” I mutter and he looks at the floor now. The unsettling stare turns into sympathy and I saw his heart ache through his clothes. “I hear the voices. They’re in my head, Dad, they won’t leave me alone.” I try to pull back the tears that cloud my eyes now. He could hear the crack in my voice, then his mouth parts as if he wants to say something.

“Dead.” He says so that only the mice could hear him, but I hear him too.

“What?” I’m surprised; by what he said and that he said anything at all. I walk towards him eagerly, but he hugs himself fearfully.

“Kaya.” He whispers, looking up at me now with purple color embracing his mournful eyes.

His face is pale and decorated with lines and wrinkles now.

“What does that mean?” I demand, grabbing his shoulders and, now, he shakes his head in defiance.

“Excuse me.” A nurse kindly peaks her head in, giving me the “time to go” look. It seemed she could read me to the point where my frustration and strain were visible on my face. I nod at her submissively and glance over to my dad once more. He was sitting calmly now, with his arms at his side and his legs resting in front of him. There was a book on his lap that I hadn’t seen beforehand, and I was fairly confused as to how it got there. He picks it up as I go, and since the nurse was still there, I wasn’t going to stop and ask. ...

So, that was it, that was all I had. I had nowhere to go from here. It began to rain, and I paced the gleaming streets at dusk, hardly thinking about anything. I missed my mom, but I could barely put an image to her anymore. My father didn’t miss her, I know that. He was in a different world now, and I slowly felt myself easing into it with him. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw my parents together or if they were even happy. I couldn’t remember if they were happy with me. I had turned into this psychotic mess who lost the last person he had to his own insanity.

I missed Natalie. I replayed the last words she said to me over and over until they didn't make sense anymore. I love you, I love you. My brain whispers back. The voices didn’t like this. They didn’t like anything that could make me better. They wanted me to sleep. They wanted me to fall into some pit of nothing where I couldn’t find my way out. They told me this. We own you now, we own you.

They say, but I ignore them, shaking my head in angst.

I’m running now, feeling every drop hit my face as if it was trying to keep me from going anywhere. It got harder but, then, I’m at the gate of the cemetery. Wrapping my fingers around the

spaces in between it, I breathe hard. My feet sink into the mud beneath me, making it difficult to open the gate, and my apprehension begins to take over.

Finally, as I push through the mush and dirt, it opens partially and I slink my way through it.

Sauntering aimlessly around the solemn graveyard, It was silent now, and the rain comes to an abrupt halt in the air. I gaze around at the trees and stones that surround me where the air is cold and dirty, however, it whistles passed my ears and I start to feel comfortable.

The deeper I get, the closer the trees feel closing in on me, and the rusty gate disappeared from my vision. I eventually find my mother’s grave. I used to come here a lot, before my life went in a downward spiral, but I should’ve come more. I could have survived this—everything.

I sit there for awhile, leaning against a stump of an old tree. There were shivers running up and down my body, yet it was still and not very apparent. A cold blanket of wind falls over me suddenly, however, I am not disturbed by it. I feel at peace with my surroundings, and look over my shoulder just for a second. Something was peeking over at me, and the inclination to investigate was unshakable.

I sit up carefully and quietly, keeping my eyes peeled for any suspicious movement in the vast woods beyond me. So far, nothing is stirring except for the undying wind.

“Hello?” Immediately, I regret my decision to speak to the unknown figure or creature and I begin taking a few steps back without breathing. I just want whatever it is to come out of hiding, so that it could reveal itself, and if it was planning to kill me, that it would kindly get on with it.

I become feverish in waiting, but as I stand contemplating why it hadn’t come for me yet, I realize that instead of me waiting for it, It is waiting for me.

“Hello?” I say again, but with confidence this time, and walk faster towards the crunching leaves. I almost scream when the figure is revealed, but then, a great sigh of relief leaves me and I place my hand on my chest. “Oh my god.” I pause in between breaths. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Hello.” The figure says. I look closer and smile with endearment. She is beautiful—the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I feel my chest imploding and my words failing me as I swallow my tongue.

She sits there with a cunning half smile that was both evil and lovely. I feel safe in her dangerous glare, for it is neither overwhelming nor boorish. She doesn’t speak a word until I tell her my name almost instinctively.

“I’m Skyler, have we met?” Still her eyes do not stray from mine, until her long blonde hair brushes her face, and she has to tuck it behind her ear. Then, she moves away from the grave she was sitting on and dances towards me, like a deer very light on her feet.

Her white, summer dress moves with her like a ghostly dandelion. She stops right in front of me, so close that I should be able to feel her breathe, but the only breath I feel is the cold rush of the wind grazing my arms.

“I don’t think so.” She says and places her hands behind her back innocently. Then, she speaks again. “My name is Kaya.”

With the soft tone of her voice and those deep green eyes, I almost fall into them. I ask if she lives around here, and she nods cheerfully. I had never seen her before, yet something about her feels like home.

We part ways after some conversation, however, something tells me that I’ll see her again, I hope that’s true.

Epilogue Her dauntless nature never faltered, and carried her through the cruelty and rage of those who envied her. She never wept in times of weakness, but stripped off her cloak of innocence to reveal immortality.

There isn't much more I can say about her, except that neither God nor the devil created her.

They never saw her, they never touched her. She had to have derived from some sort of parallel universe, like the Bermuda Triangle or a black hole in time. Wherever she is, I believe there is no law, no salvation, and no servitude. But I always knew her misery would fall back onto this world like a hurricane. When she closed her eyes for the last time, I believed all that pain would crumble, and build into something inescapable. It would demolish seas and mountains, leaving us at the mercy of catastrophes And chaos. It would have us crouching on the kitchen floor reaching for a knife to end the suffering completely. Anything would be better. She knew that. She knew what she did when the blade devoured her, swallowing her soul up like wine and then spitting it out.

Still, I don't blame her for anything. I believe in some way or another, that she follows me with a gun to my head, waiting for me to be where she is. Sometimes I lose my mind, when she creeps inside and lives in my veins. Will the sorrow ever dissipate? Will someone slice me in half? Do I have to do everything myself? Fine, here I go into oblivion and self-hatred, counting my minutes as hours, and hours as lifetimes. Where is the shadow man when I need him. He's laughing at me, he's poking fun at my hopeless desires. Here I go, I'll show him how my day will end. Kaya will run to me, she'll

take her mystery and bury it in the ground, then she'll tell me what I've missed and kiss me on the cheek. That will be nice, yes, here I go.

Background This story is from the viewpoint of an 18-year-old boy, named Skyler. Skyler’s mother has passed away and lives with his father, awaiting the day to finally flee his small town. Since nothing is what it seems, Skyler’s life shifts into something much too intense for him when he meets a strange girl in a cemetery. As their relationship grows, the dark parts of her reveal themselves in a variety of different ways, eventually ending her life and leaving Skyler in a state of mind that nearly drives him insane. As Skyler’s life quickly goes in a downward spiral, he learns many truths about himself that he didn’t believe were there before and eventually accepts his own demise.