Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment ~ Buddha
A party. The last party I went to was the large one at Cassie's house, where MJ confessed her love for Peter and threw up all over me at the same time.
A mess. That's what it was. A complete and utter mess.
Luckily, the fire fighters were able to revive a few items from the fire, ones that were stashed away in boxes, otherwise we would be clothes-less.
Right now, in the present time, as I take in my reflection, it's as if looking at a stranger. Perhaps I haven't changed anything about my physical appearance, but there's still a random person staring back at me.
I knew that I was a tornado, but I didn't know how much destruction I could really bring upon the people who are dearest to me. Dad? Dead. Mom? Heartbroken and as good as dead. Cam? Traumatized at my expense. Tony? Having to deal with the demons of his past that I brought back. MJ? In a relationship with someone who has feelings for someone else. Ned? In the middle of them. And Peter? Sacrificing his life for me, sacrificing his relationship for me, sacrificing everything for me.
The letter was sweet and it made me feel loved, however on the contrary, it is also a bomb waiting to detonate and blow up in both of our faces.
Everyone is sacrificing something for me. Everyone is crumbling away, falling apart, breaking down.
My eyes shut, unwilling to look at this idiotic person anymore- no. Not even a person. A monster.
There is something I could do though. A pair of scissors reside in the cookie jar on my desk. My wood-brown hair flows down almost to my rear, which is far too long for me right now. It's only extra weight on my shoulders.
It's now or never.
So with my hand in a fist of white, I clench the scissors and delight in the sound of hair being snipped away. It falls delicately to the floor, like feathers. The whole haircut is slightly uneven as to be expected and roughly up to my shoulders. That's short enough.
But it did nothing.
I still feel like a sack of bricks.
I let out an angry cry and throw the scissors into the mirror, hearing the crack! My fingers entangle with my hair tightly as I process what I just did. My knees feel weak and buckle under my weight, making me fall to the floor.
Looking at the shattered fragments from the mirror and how my face is split up into dozens of pieces, it makes me realize how broken I really am. That is, if the mental breakdown didn't.
Someone flings the door open, the commotion sending my heart to jump out of my chest. "I heard the noise. What happened? Are you okay?" Cam bursts out.
"I'm fine," I blatantly lie... or am I trying to reassure myself? "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," I repeat over and over again.
"You don't look fine," he mutters, collapsing onto the floor beneath me. "You kind of look like me after that night." After seeing the horror on my face, he takes it back, "what I meant to say is, did you cut your hair?"
Am I seriously that fucked up?
"Cam," I change the topic instantly, "you never told me what happened that night, why you went to her instead, why she took you, all of the smaller details."
Instantly, his entire mood changes from the content one to a now solemn one. He turns his head to face the mirror instead of looking at me. He scoffs before quietly muttering, "I guess I didn't."
Now it's my turn to look at him, watching his every reaction carefully. It's almost as if he's dead, his expression unmoving, his chest barely rising. "You don't have to tell me, you know," I whisper unintentionally. "It would just be good to know, in case there is anything that would work against her."
"I know that I don't have to tell you. Technically, there is no way you can force the knowledge out of me," he says matter-of-factually. "When she started the fire, she did intend to kill you, I can almost guarantee that. She expected it to happen. I guess when she took me with her, she didn't want me to die. Otherwise, she would have just left me there."
It's almost as if I can guarantee it. She could never kill a child who is defenseless. She lost two children at the same time and they couldn't do anything to try and stop it. They were even more defenseless than Cam. But the real question is...
"But why did you follow her? Why didn't you come to me when we were both asking you to come?" I ask.
He takes a large gulp, clasping his hands together, squeezing them together. Clearly, he is nervous, very nervous. "It's stupid," he murmurs.
"It's not stupid, Cam. It's helpful, it may be something I need to know," I insist. I have to know now.
"She promised that she wouldn't hurt you," his voice breaks, tears flooding his eyes.
This is something bad.
"What did she say?" I ask again. He shakes his head, burying it in between his knees, muffling the sound of his sobs. My hand rests comfortingly on his shoulder and I try again, "Cam. You have to tell me now. This could change everything and I--"
"--she promised she could bring dad back!" he bursts out, lifting his head so his eyes meet mine.
She... she... she promised him what? That bitch.
"Cam--"
He interrupts again, "--she promised, she promised! She promised that she wouldn't hurt you and she would bring dad back if I went with her!"
All of the pain on his face breaks my heart into thousands of minuscule pieces. He doesn't deserve to carry this much pain and this much burden. Everything was out of his control and he only wanted to do good for everyone and fix the mistake of not continuing his relationship with his father.
"Cam. There's nothing you could do," I clear my throat so as to refrain from breaking down. "Dad is dead, okay? No matter who or what promises that they can bring them back, they're lying. I know you tried to do the right thing and to be honest, I would have done the same in your position. So just know that it's impossible to bring him back. What happens, happens."
He nods, wiping away at his cheeks rapidly. My arm snakes around his neck and brings him to my chest, where he buries his head.
If anything, I'm glad Cam is still the Cam I've always known him to be.
Nate's house, unsurprisingly, is also as grand as Cassie's.
Rich people.
From the outside, it seems to be three stories tall with six windows per story and two balconies, just on the front wall. The music blasting from inside sends chills down my spine and already provides me with ear rape, it's that loud. It's a shock that the neighbors haven't complained yet. Unless Nate had bribed them as their houses are nowhere near as grand as his.
Two steps into the house and already, I am consumed by the large crowd, the doorway, completely out of view.
I need a drink.
Shoving past the dozens of sweaty bodies on the dance floor is easier said than done but it works. The kitchen can easily be located by the chants of the group of jocks, "chug! chug! chug! chug! chug!" One does a handstand, drinking straight out of the keg, like every typical high school party. What are the chances that Nate is there?
"Hey Raven."
Very low it seems.
"Hey," I would never have expected the smile on my face to be genuine. "Nice party."
"It's not me," he shrugs modestly. "It's the people who come that make it. Actually, none of this was me. Thompson brought his DJ stand, the guys brought the drinks and the kegs and that's all that needs to be. All I did was provide the location."
My eyes dart to the architecture of the ceilings and the pillars that line the walls. It really is incredible. "Well your location is stunning," I whistle.
He grins, showing his teeth, "thanks." With the snap of one's fingers, his mood shifts from cheerful to a shadow that covers his entire face. His eyes focus on the kitchen island beside us, avoiding my gaze. "You're never going to forgive me, are you?" he mutters, but I can somehow hear it over the noise.
I gulp, hoping that this will force away all of the guilt and anxiety and regret that I feel at the current moment in time. No matter how much my head tells me to hate his guts, my heart tells me something different and no matter how many times my heart has let me down, it seems to be right.
"What I believe is that everyone deserves a second chance, no matter how cliche that sounds. I know what it's like to try to fit in with a group you don't belong with. You're smart. You could do more than just be a jock, you could become someone who actually leaves a mark on this world... so long as you drop your clique," my lips press together to form a line before I quickly add on, "if you're not going to do it for yourself, do it for Cassie. You can't hurt her like you hurt me. Me, I might have deserved it. But her? No. Treat her well, Nate."
Okay, now I really need a drink.
My back turns to face him, deciding that that is an appropriate place to end the conversation.
"Raven?"
I spin around, "hm?"
He grins his goofy, genuine grin once again, "you didn't deserve it." And it's his turn to make his back face me. As I process his words, it's too late to reply with anything as he disappears into the crowd of ecstatic party-goers.
Cassie would be great with him, a match made in heaven. If he takes my advice, and drops his friends once and for all, he will reach great heights.
The red cups seem to be on the other side of the kitchen so much to my dismay, the group of jocks drinking is the only thing blocking me from getting there... them and a few other people who seem to be just as out of place as I am. One in particular, stands out from the rest despite his short height. I only know of one person who would wear worn-out flannel to a party like this.
And I really need to talk to him. All I have to do is scream out his name so he can hear me.
"P--"
Yet, lo and behold, someone else interrupts me, throwing their arms around Peter's neck and planting their lips on his cheek. Who else other than his girlfriend?
Peter replies with something that I cannot comprehend over the music and shouts. It's not his words that are important, but his expression: his smile is practically dead.
He can't. He can't do that to her.
She trails her finger down his collarbone, her eyes twinkling with desire. Now, this is a side of her I have never seen. She mumbles something into his ear before taking his hand through the crowd and up the stairs.
Oh my God.
An electronic dance song bursts through the speakers, causing everyone to sway back and forth, the heavily drunk people falling into everyone else's arms, one even throwing up over several people before collapsing onto the floor.
The stench of vomit bothers me severely. It sends my stomach to turn into knots and makes my life a living nightmare for a good half an hour. I need to leave before hell arrives.
Apparently someone fainting isn't the only talk of the party. Two people stand on the stairs, their tongues basically in eachother's mouths. Typically, this would disgust me. What is the point of doing this at a party? But by realizing who it is, it's okay.
Nate and Cassie are finally together.
And I'm happy for the first time in a while... but this doesn't last long at all.
A head bobs their way through the crowd, shoving everyone out of the way. The bold curls bounce on the top of their head, practically flying as they make their way to the door. Tears stain their cheeks and the way they are storming out suggests that they've just been heartbroken. If it weren't for the familiar outfit consisting of a pink and yellow party dress and a long-sleeved black tee underneath, I would never have realized who it was.
"MJ!" I call out, pushing dancers on the dance floor out of the way. She doesn't appear to hear me. "Michelle!" I call again. The music seems to be too loud. Luckily the DJ table is on my way. A large red button sits on the table, the words 'on/off' written in white above it.
Flash seems elated to see me... again. "How is my favorite superhero doing?" he asks, adding a wink. "Got any requests? I have--"
"--not now, Flash," I interrupt, slamming my palm down directly on the button, initiating a powering down sound. The sound of people complaining and getting angry escalates drastically in the span of a few seconds but I don't let it phase me. Nothing phases me. Nothing. "MJ!" I repeat at the top of my lungs.
But it's not just her attention I get. All hundred pairs of eyes stare directly at me. That's one way to do it. Everyone else seems to only look at me in interest to see what's going on. Only the one I'm staring at stares at me with a look of disgust, spite, anger, rage, fire.
It's her.
At least she has recognized my presence.
However, she doesn't stand and wait in anticipation for what I have to say like everyone else. Instead, she slams the door open and marches out, not even bothering to close the door.
What did I do wrong?
These shoes aren't made for walking!
"MJ, come on," I murmur to myself and, unintentionally, to almost every person in the house.
I chase after her, the crowd creating a path that leads into the dark outside for me. It's stopped raining which would be a relief on any other day, but today I couldn't care less. Her boots cause the dense grass to squelch underneath her feet. She crosses her arms across her chest, keeping her head low so as to provide some warmth against the bone-chilling temperatures and winds that befall us.
"MJ!" I shout out. "Can you at least wait for a second? I don't know what I did wrong but--"
This causes her to turn around. She turns around angrily... at least I have her attention. Her hands fall to her sides, clenched in two fists. Even in the dim light of the moon, I can see how white they are. A knot twists and turns in my gut, telling me to turn around and ignore this, but how can I?
"You don't know what you did?!" she bellows. "And I thought I had my first girl friend in you, Raven! I guess I was wrong." My mouth opens, prepared to scream a whole speech regarding how I don't know what I did, but I hope that she can find it in her heart to forgive me because she's been the friend I didn't know I needed as well. But nothing comes out.
The worst part isn't even that I didn't say anything. It's that she was expecting it, storming off as soon as her small speech was done.
Leaving me alone, pondering over what it was that happened between her and Peter.