Black And Blue [Slowly Editing]

Chapter 9

2008
Jane

Two years. It's been two fucking years since I last saw Oliver in person. Oliver lied. The first year I wasn't as worried, but then I realized he wasn't coming back. He made me believe that I could make it, he made me believe I was loved!

I always knew there was cruel people, but I never deemed Oliver to be part of those people. I can't believe I was such an idiot for believing every word that came out of his mouth. I'm a fool. I beat myself up about it all the time. I hated my life.

This is all my fault. I took this path, no one forced me into it. Now I'm unhappy. But the truth is, I still want to be part of his life.

Maybe it was my looks. Maybe he got tired. Or maybe he didn't want to know a person like me. The thing is that I don't know what type of person I am. I think about it sometimes, but I'm getting better at accepting the fact that my life is already fucked as it is.

I sighed, letting go of my thoughts. I set my mind back into reality and put on a smile.

I worked in a music store. We sold instruments, mics, speakers. We sold only the newest albums of every common artist or band, the genre wasn't really of any importance.

My shift was about to end, so I helped my last costumer and got my things. "Bye Frank," I waved a bye to one of my co-workers, who happened to be in a band I created.

I use to fantasize about being in a band so maybe I could see Oliver. Maybe our relationship could work better if I was too in a band. But that won't happen.

Our band started out performing in pubs, then we one day Of Mice & Men were going to perform, featuring Sinners of the Night, which is my band. We finally have been noticed and Austin, which I now consider my brother, has made anything possible so we could attend Warped Tour. It will be in a few weeks, so the guys and I checked that everything was okay and make sure that we would most likely have no border problems.

Sometimes I feel...conflicted with myself. Like, should I try to get Oliver back, or should I stomp on all his work by making my band rise above his? But that would be...cruel, and I don't want to be like him, never.

I walked out of the building, the giant door closing behind me. I walk towards the parking lot, spotting my car in the far right.

People were off shift at this time, unless they're afternoon or night workers. I took out my keys from my purse. The air was slightly cold, but I always wore warm attire for some reason, no matter what season, unless I go to the pool.

I unlocked my car and got in. I put all my things on the passenger seat and turned on the engine on. I checked my rear view mirror and smiled slightly.

I got out of my old look, at first it was so I could impress Oliver when he came back. But now it's just for me. I look more...normal, you could say.

I dyed my hair almond colored, and now it's just a few inches below my shoulders. I got rid of my bangs, or "emo fringe" as they called it. Now it's parted in the middle: normal.

I wore eye contacts, green with tads of brown. I obviously dressed differently. I sometimes wore my band shirts, but I always wore something to top it off as casual. I usually wore knitted sweaters, the rare crop top on hot days.

Many people would somtimes describe my look as hipster, but I didn't switch from one look to another to still be stereotyped.

I drove off to a near by Starbucks. I walked in and the smell of coffee hit my nose. I smiled at the guy at the register.

"Hello, what could I get for you?"

"Hi, I would like a medium Java Chip." I took out my crefit card and paid. "Name?" He asked. "Tha- I mean Jane."

I almost said it. I almost said the dreadful name.

I left the name behind because of all the memories it brought to be that person. So I started from scratch, except I still have the memories, but with a new me, it's easier to leave them behind.

I went to sit down on a stool to wait. I looked at my surroundings. A little girl was asleep on her Dad's shoulders, a college student was on the computer, two teens were discussing about god knows what, and a little baby boy sleeping while his mother ate.

Looking around helped the thoughts to stay away. I went to check if my drink was ready, and there it was.

I grabbed my coffee and got a straw and a napkin. "Yeah," said a male voice.

I froze. It sounded like Oliver. Maybe it was Oliver. But what would he be doing here in the Americas?

I turned around, seeing a the guy who owned the British accent. He was much taller than Oliver, and he had not a single visible tattoo.

I sighed. Sometimes it's just hard to let go of someone you cared about.

***THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN UPDATED FROM ITS ORGINAL VERSION***