Don't You Remember

P R O L O G U E

"Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can" -Yan Martel
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M O R G A N

I never fit in, anywhere, really. And as I looked around this party, it was like the sun in my eyes; I finally realized just how much I didn't fit in with these people. 

I wasn't a drug chaser; I wasn't a hooker. I was a kid in an adult's world. 

I hated life the way winter hated summer, the way the sun hated the moon, the way light hated the dark. A disdain that permeated through my bones and burned a hole into my subconscious. Nothing about this life was worth living, except for my friends, they were what kept the string from completely snapping and me falling.

And falling.

And falling. 

And falling into this deep dark well, that was mind in which I never escaped. 

Right now, I was standing at the edge of the well, and with every breath of the wind, I swayed a little closer to falling, but I never fell. Because November Karly and Lydia were there to catch me, when I tripped a few, they would pull me back and sing their sweet song, and I would end up on the ground again. 

But I always ended up back at that stupid well; it was just much too enticing. Like a moth to a flame, I still found myself looking into the abyss of the well. 

I hadn't felt like this in a while, and I thought maybe- just maybe. I was getting better. But no it all went back to that deep dark place when I stood across the room from Harden Westbrook, the man I'd been in love with since 6th grade when some older kids were picking on me in the hallway, and he came to my rescue- because at that point he was already five foot ten and pretty buff from football. 

And when he started working at the pool as a lifeguard with me over the summer, I decided it was at that point I would make my move. And I did- Harden and I hooked up a couple of times. But it wasn't until early August that I learned from another lifeguard told me about Bailey. 

Harden's girlfriend. And that the only reason he was having sex with me was that she was waiting until marriage and he... wasn't. 

I watched the way his muscles moved under the black fabric of his t-shirt and the way his one tattooed arm wrapped around Bailey's waist. She sat beside him quiet with her head laying on his shoulder as her eyes fluttered closed and then opened again. 

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle as I sipped my beer. Little princess is out a little late, ten more minutes and Versace pumps will turn into target brand flats. 

And as I ran my eyes up to his tan arms and along his neck and finally to his face I realized he was looking at me. His blue eyes pierced through mine like a laser into my soul. I couldn't.

I couldn't let him know how he was hurting me, how every bone in my body felt like it was breaking when I looked at him and how the tears that were now running down my face as I pushed my way through sweaty strangers towards the doors were by his hand. 

He could never know what he did to me- it kept replaying in my head like a mantra as I slammed the door open and clambered towards the woods. I needed air and the weed and alcohol infested house wasn't going to give it to me. So into the woods, I go.