Stark

Chapter 1 (p1)

Copyright © 2012 T. M Moore. All rights reserved.

Abigail, December

She sat silently, clutching the only thing she had left of him. She rooted it out last night. She dug through her closet for the fleece he had given her one cold night. She pulled it on and breathed in his sweet, familiar scent. His warmth still radiated from the soft cotton; filling her up. She pulled it closer to her, wrapping her arms around herself; around him. She choked on every breath she took, her body shaking with silent sobs. Oh, she did love him. She imagined them sitting together, his arms around her, her head sitting on his shoulder, and he'd lean in and press his lips gently to hers, and she'd melt into him with a warm heart. Her head filled with what could have been.

The high chime of the phone could not move her. She stayed rooted to her chair, with her fists balled against her mouth in a weak attempt at capturing her hiccoughing sobs. She could feel the people watching her, and they knew; her heart was broken.

"Abigail," they'd say, "It's alright."

"But it’s not." Abigail would reply. A long, unfamiliar arm draped itself across my hunched shoulders. Its owner began speaking, but she couldn't register a word, so she nodded and agreed.

His mother was a strong woman, but this was not something she had prepared for, not something she thought she would ever have to deal with. His mother walked like her now, hoping that each step forward was a step closer to him. She took Abigail to his room.

"Take anything you want. I know how you two were" his mother had said.

"OK, thanks." she had whispered. She ducked in the doorway, observing Abigail’s movements. Abigail sat on the bed and stared around.

Abigail’s hand slid along the faded blue duvet cover, along his pillow, underneath and along the seams—she stopped. Her hand had brushed against some paper. She pulled it out and saw it was for her.

"Sorry, I didn't know." his mother apologized, saying she hadn't known it was there. She hadn't been in here much, no one had.

She had left the room when Abigail opened it. Carefully, she eased it from its case. She read it slowly, his voice the narrator. Her eyes filled with fresh tears and suddenly, there was nothing. She felt nothing; nothing mattered.

The arm around her stopped talking, and turned to face her instead. Ethan. Did someone have to die for him to give her some attention? But she listened; she listened to him.

"Abigail, it's alright."

No it isn't.

"You can talk to me."

We both know you don't want to hear.

"We understand."

No one here could ever understand.

"I'm staying here with you. I'm not going anywhere."

Abigail sat with his arm around her waist and she boldly leaned in, it was a reflex.

He eased the letter from her tight, sweaty grip, whilst trying to calm her breathing. She let go shakily, and watched the reaction in his eyes. They didn't glare accusingly as she had expected, but his eyes filled with fiery anger; it drew her closer.

"This is not your fault," he says, seething with anger. Deep crimson crept up his neck. "Don't you ever believe this." he pulled her in and cradled her in his arms and she swore for a moment, her heart stopped.

Their friends had seen what happened and started over to join them at the corner of the pub. His mother soon followed.

"Are you alright?" she asked steadily. Her eye caught the letter.

"Thanks for letting me have it." Abigail said to her while everyone stared.

She read it through, her breathing stopped and her eyes began to swim and fresh tears spilled over. "Oh no- no- not your fault." she cried, pushing Ethan aside to embrace me. Abigail sat silent; she was empty of emotion.

"It’s not you." Ethan whispers as she reads what Aiden had written again. She could feel Ethan's hate boiling over. She wanted to be closer to his skin. He was slowly igniting a wild flame inside of her. 

She read it again, and again. Soaking in the words.

~ If I can't have the one I love, then life is not worth living. I will love you, always. –AIDEN

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