Burning Bridges

Chapter 1

"Torn apart at the seams and my dreams turn to tears, I'm not feeling this situation. Run away try to find that same place you can't hide. It's the best place to be when you're feeling like me"

-Bullet for My Valentine

I sat on a small oak bench located right on the edge of my favorite bridge, the cool fall wind whipping my hair around my face. I listened to the little brook gently lapping at the blue and gray-hued rocks that were scattered along the shore of the riverbank. I watched the reflection of the fall foliage ripple as a single bright red leaf fell into the brook and was silently swept away by the never-ending current.

In my mind, I was that leaf, blindly drifting through the current that was my life. It was November. My parents had recently divorced, and after seeing the fighting, the hate, all the yelling and cursing became too much to handle, I had decided that I needed to get away from that- at least for a little while. I had dealt with too much of their scorn and judgment through my life.

My older brother, being my best, and only, friend, had immediately offered to take me in. It’s not that I was antisocial, as my countless therapists and guidance counselors had called me; I just preferred to be alone.

 I had learned that in being alone, there was less drama, less superficial friendship. Solitude was my sanctuary from the cruel outside world. If I was alone, no one could hurt me. I thought that by closing myself off from the world, I would escape the hurt and ridicule that I had suffered for most of my life.

 In a way, I was overly cautious when I was younger, but after seeing what chaos and destruction my peers could cause with one nasty rumor, I decided it would be best to be selective of my friends. Because that definitely worked. All that so-called “brilliant” idea earned me were the titles “loner,” “freak,” and “outcast.” I guess the fact that I kept to myself; usually sitting alone in the library, content in reading a book during lunch did nothing to prove people wrong. It seemed that at school, where you sat at lunch was everything.

 Apparently I had missed that particular memo, but I had arrived in the middle of the second semester. No one wanted to be seen with “the new girl.” I didn’t mind though, not really. If they weren’t kind enough to consider even speaking to me, then why should I speak to them? After all, I was the new kid. Shouldn’t they be welcoming me? They didn’t. No one even bothered; no one even gave me a second glance. I was the anomaly, the thorn in their sides. I could see it every time I was assigned to work in a group in class. The looks on their faces said it all, “Ugh. I have to work with her? But she’s so…weird.”

 I didn’t care about their angry glances, I had told myself. They didn’t matter, not in the grand scheme of things. But no matter how many times I told myself this, I couldn’t help the pang of hurt and jealousy I felt when I overheard people talking about their weekend plans, or parties they had been to. I had never been to a party, never really done anything with a friend, other than my brother, never had a boyfriend, never been kissed. I was a failure of a teenage girl.

  Tears stung my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to make them go away. Footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts. I wiped at my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater, hoping that whoever it was, they didn’t see me crying.

 “Hey…it’s…Charlotte, right?” said a boy. He was one of those cookie-cutter 'popular' boys. Blonde hair, artfully faded jeans, basketball sneakers, and a button-down flannel shirt, or a polo in the summer; the typical style for boys in my new town.

 “Yeah,” I answered brusquely, not really wanting to talk to him. I’d known other 'popular' kids before. They all had the same goal. Befriend the loser and make her think you actually like her then make a fool out of her. I was not about to let that happen to me again.