The Men in Blue and Red

The Wanted

After I was able to calm down, Damon and I made our journey back home. It was quiet the way back, but neither I nor Damon dared to break the awkward silence. This was the part I hated most about telling people about my past, the awkward silence afterwards. People never knew what to say after hearing about Amber. Heck, I didn't even know what to say, so we usually ended up in silence.

When we get home, we find a grumpy Boston and a dead fire. The jerk didn't even bother to start the fire back up.

"I'll go get some more wood for the fire," Damon said, before quickly making an exit.

I stared after him, even after he had left my sight. The guy practically ran away from me! I hated this! Why did I tell him? Now the friendship that I had finally made with Damon was shattered, lost forever.

"You told him, didn't you." Boston said, startling me from my thoughts. He was staring at the fire, a blank stare adorning his face. That face was one I knew oh so well, almost to well. He was trying to hide his real emotions. He always did this whenever he got upset or angry, as if he was afraid of how people would react to the fact that he was actually human, that he had real emotions. I blamed his father for that.

I knew the man when I was younger. He was unusually cruel and unusually mean towards children. If I remember correctly, he always said that children were "uncultured and blind to the world, unable to make a reasonable thought for the life of them." When he had Boston, he vowed to raise the boy to be a man. I doubt Boston even knew how to have fun at times.

His thoughts were obviously disturbing him, because he furrowed his brow the way he always did when he was upset. While he was good at keeping his emotions hidden, he wasn't perfect. But still, he was really, really good at it. For the life of me, I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"Yeah," I responded, barely above a whisper.

"He say anything to you yet?" I shook my head, holding in the tears.

"No, he probably hates me now after hearing about Amber." Boston stood, still staring, practically glaring, at the fire.

"Why would he hate you?"

I gave a harsh laugh and plopped down by the empty fire pit. How could he ask that? Isn't it obvious? I was a murderer! A cold hearted girl who watched her sister wither away in agony, a girl who couldn't keep a simple promise.

"You know why," I whispered back.

I heard the shuffle of feet, but kept my eyes glued to the ground. Soon, a large warm arm was draped across my shoulders, pulling me to a warm chest. I didn't resist Boston, but instead snuggled into his side, seeking comfort from the one boy who didn't judge me, who loved me unconditionally.

This was the reason I fell in love with him, he understood me. He understood the guilt that weighed me down, but the desire I had to live happily. I didn't deserve it, I know, but a girl could dream couldn't she?

"It wasn't your fault Willow. What happened to Amber was out of your control, there's nothing you could've done to save her."

I shook my head, begging the tears behind my eyes to stay put. While I allowed myself to cry in front of Damon, I would never show weakness to Boston. Crying two times a day was out of question. I needed to be strong, had to be, if I wanted to survive.

"How could you say that?! It's my fault she's dead and you know it."

My voice broke and the dam opened. I couldn't help it, no matter how hard I tried the tears would not stay where they were. They ran down my face, racing with each other as one after the other followed it. Quiet sobs shook my body as I clutched Boston's shirt like an anchor.