Among the Flames - Lya Lively(ang.)

among the flames

Lya Lively

SYNOPSIS Hayden Harlow is running from a past she can barely recall; memories so traumatic that she can't even trust herself with them. In an attempt to start anew, she disappears and soon finds herself living with a guy who wishes he was lucky enough to forget everything. The rage Noah White harbors burns like an inferno inside of him, threatening to erupt in chaos until he finds a cause worth fighting for... her. As their friendship grows, the past Hayden wanted to leave behind begins to surface, from the dark recesses of her subconscious, where the horrid memories had branded. As their lives intertwine, and secrets unravel, they find it increasingly difficult to deny the sparks between them. But together, the volatile mixture may combust, destroying them both. When they are left to choose between fight or flight, both will have to go against their very nature to save each other from being consumed by their past. Can they live together among the flames? Where there's smoke...

CONTENTS SYNOPSIS CONTENTS PROLOGUE ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE TWENTY-TWO TWENTY-THREE TWENTY-FOUR

so love me like you’ve never lied before; lie with me like you’ve never told the truth. hold me like you’re afraid of letting go and i promise i’ll hold on too.

PROLOGUE At first, my mother’s insanity was like a spark; an undesirable light that sprang out of thin air and sucked the oxygen from the room. And just as quickly as the inferno began, it vanished into the shadowed corners of reality leaving me gasping for breath and cloaked in darkness, unable to discern which side of her was real. It all started with the sleepwalking, bouts of consciousness in the middle of the night. But when night would end and come to day, she would roam our house as a zombie among the living, a vampire in the sun. She spoke in languages that only she understood, violently screaming from the top of the staircase, always fighting a battle within herself. Whoever she was, she wasn’t my mother anymore. She was something else, something terrifying. I missed my parents, before the poison, but this was the only way. I’ve tried hiding, but the memories always found me in the dark recesses of my mind with haunting glimpses and violent whispers. If I’m not turning into my mother then I have already become her.

Every night I watched the people I love screaming and gasping, the only haven left was among the flames. They wouldn’t find me here; they couldn’t.

ONE Hayden I drudged into the air conditioned student apartment complex, the light of May silhouetting me as I stepped through the heavy double doors. I didn’t carry any more than I needed: my Mom’s old suitcase that she got from a thrift shop when she was starting college, and my acoustic guitar slung across my back. Alright, so maybe a little bit more than I needed to survive, but it was everything I needed to live. I dropped my luggage down on the tiles beside me as I reached the center of the dull, gray lobby, pushing my dampened hair from my forehead. The weight of the guitar slung over my shoulder was causing my muscles to stiffen, but I kept it secured across my back. I looked straight ahead, unable to force myself to be remotely curious in the destination. It’s all too much, I thought, I should just give up and go back. From somewhere behind me, ear buds flooded with

the excess sound of a familiar tune, or perhaps it could was a muffled ring of a phone going ignored. As I turned to figure out where the sound was resonating from, my head felt light and my knees buckled, perspiration formed along my forehead; I become hot and cold all at once as my body folded, palms slapping loudly against the hard tile. I blinked my eyes open to a pudgy, older woman staring down at me, her paper-thin skin bunched together between her eyebrows. I held both fists beside my temples, sitting with knees pressed against cold tiles in the middle of the lobby as I struggled to regain my composure. “Are you okay, dear?” she repeated. I quickly pushed to my feet, the sharp pain ebbing and quickly replaced with a flood of embarrassment as my eyes scanned the room. Sleep deprivation. No wonder. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I must have tripped. It’s been a long day.” My face flushed, and my eyes shifted to the ground. I quickly regained my belongings and tried to muster up any pride I might have left. I blinked against the harsh intrusion of the lights as I struggled to maintain a polite smile. “You shouldn’t wear so many layers here. The Savannah heat isn’t something to mess with.” She waved off my apology, “Would you like any help you with your things?”

My eyes danced over the woman who looked like she was nearly a century old. “No, ma’am, I’m fine, but thank you. It’s just a migraine.” I adjusted my guitar case strap that draped over my shoulder and reached my hand out to her. “I greatly appreciate your concern.” “Of course.” She smiled but it faltered, and I knew she wasn’t certain I was alright. “Well, you have a blessed day, dear.” “And to you,” I replied awkwardly as I let my hand fall to my side. Where I was from, people looked the other way when they saw someone approaching. I’ll never fit in here, I should just turn back now. I let out a deep sigh and searched the room for people who may have seen my little episode. To my luck, and astonishment, no one else seemed to notice really. The only other person, a guy, appeared to be oblivious as he made a beeline for the doors with his phone in hand, and a scowl on his chiseled face. So much for that famous southern hospitality. I made my way over to a counter that reached just below my elbows, giving me something to lean on; that’s a first. “Hello, I would like a room,” I stated to the woman behind the computer screen who was so short I could only see the top of her poofy hair that looked like it used to be brown but was melting into gray; perhaps it was from too many years in the abysmal heat.

She leaned to the side, eyeing me over a pair of red-framed glasses that sat low on her narrow nose. Wrinkles framed her eyes giving her a permanently tired expression. Her lips protruded slightly like she had done the duck-face too many times and stretched that way leaving marks, divots, all around them. Smoker, I thought bitterly, like my mother. Her expression was a mix between slightly disgusted and curious but I couldn’t blame the quick judgment. I was sweating profusely, and I’d just spent nearly two days riding three different buses and a cab to get here. “I’m gonna need a bit more information than that if you’re gonna be gettin’ a room,” she joked, the edges of her mouth curling up to reveal coffee stained teeth. Her accent sounded like she hailed from the Boston area, unlike the southern twang of the lady who had helped me up before, and it felt out of place. But I could only imagine it would be the same when people heard the unique dialect from being raised in south-central Pennsylvania. My brain was beginning to fog over from the lack of sleep, afraid to rest on the buses, and risk getting any of my belongings stolen. I matched her fake smile with my own. “I just need a place to rent out for a couple of months.” Because that doesn’t sound shady at all. She glanced sideways at me. “How many?”

“Just a couple months, maybe three. I’m starting an online college program, and this is a way for me to explore, get that college experience, and keep up with my studies,” I rambled. It wasn’t a total lie; I was exploring, not that it was any of her business or that she was even slightly pretending to care. She just wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to get in trouble for something stupid, or perhaps damage her property and disappear in the middle of the night. “Identification,” She said, holding out her hand, waiting. “Uh, I’m seventeen. I turn eighteen in the fall.” I pulled the card out of my back, left pocket and handed it to her. “Mhmm.” She didn’t care, but she typed, and I took that as a good sign. “I’m sorry, we don’t have any single rooms available.” She tapped her fingers on the counter; nails chewed to nubs. “And we would need a parent signature to give you your own place. Liabilities and all.” Her penciled in eyebrow had risen before her gaze dropped to the guitar strap. “Just what we need... another busker,” she mumbled. “Parent signatures,” I repeated, sighing heavily. “Do you have anything else? I’m sure I could fax something to be signed...” My voice came out more helpless than I had intended and I let it trail off as she stared at me before shaking her head. “Any

way I could rent out a bedroom, or...?” I pressed. My lack of sleep was making me irritable, and I struggled to keep my tone even. I didn’t come all this way just to get turned down. She sighed loudly before rolling her eyes. “We may have something available.” More typing. “Alright,” she muttered to herself as she continued to tap her stubby fingers against the keyboard. “Well, you’ll have to share the apartment. It’s registered to a Ms. White,” she read aloud; she sounded out the syllables painfully, as if the name was venom so she couldn’t let her lips touch her teeth. “The agreement would be with her, and if she doesn’t require any parental permissions and assumes all responsibility, you would be able to move in today. Other than that, we’re fully booked. Lots of students have gone home for break, but it’s tourist season.” I thought it over for a moment, my teeth raking over my lower lip. The last thing I wanted was to share my space with a stranger, but I’d come this far, and I couldn’t go back. There was nothing left to go back to. I gave her my information that she needed and was pleased to discover that I would only be paying for a portion of the rent. At $265 a month, that would put me at $795 by the end of the trip. Thank God for babysitting.

I took a deep breath, declaring the nonexistence of everything before that moment. When I walked through the door to my new home, my real life began.

Noah I let out a ragged sigh as I stormed across the lobby, ignoring the large smile from Miss Jensen as she stopped typing on her keyboard and primped her bouffant hair. The buzzing from my pocket almost startled me until my phone’s muffled speaker started blasting "She Hates Me" and I knew exactly who was calling. I flipped it open wildly as I raised it to my ear, hoping she would hear my disgust through the phone. “Chloe?” “Are you still coming over?” She asked, the boredom evident in her flat tone. “I might.” I could almost hear her rolling her eyes through the speaker. Shoving open the door to the outside, I stepped out into the humid air, my shirt clung to my chest. “Well, I need to know beforehand,” her voice was growing agitated. “Why,” I joked through clenched teeth, “Gotta hot date?” She didn’t laugh. “Are you or aren’t you? It’s a simple question, Noah.” “No,” I lied, hoping she’d beg me to come. “Forget about it.”

I pressed the speaker against my ear, folding it beneath the flimsy screen, but I didn’t want to miss a sound, just in case. She sighed lightly, a little distance between her and the phone before she came back in the same calm, uncaring tone. “Why are we even doing this, Noah?” I ran my fingers roughly through my short, sooty black hair, biting the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from saying how I really felt. I looked back and forth down the sidewalk, torn on which direction to go. I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I stepped into the street, waiting for a cab to glide past before continuing. “Why are we? I mean, you’re gonna see him one way or another...” my voice trailed off as I swallowed back the bile that was rising in my throat. I wanted to find the guy and beat the hell out of him, but it wouldn’t change anything because he wasn’t the problem. It was her. She fell silent, not denying that she would. I pulled the phone away to keep myself from apologizing. You’re not wrong on this; I struggled to convince myself. “If you don’t trust me, I don’t see what the point is on keeping this thing going,” she said like she’d been rehearsing that line all night. She said ‘thing’ as if we hadn’t been together going on eight months. Thing, I repeated in her voice. I shook my head, clenching my jaw so tightly it felt like my teeth might crumble into dust. “Yeah,”

I admitted, “me either.” I shut my phone before making the motions to throw it deep into the bushes, but instead I held it tightly in my fist, wishing I was strong enough finally to say goodbye to her and mean it. Unfortunately, I was too weak to just walk away, and she knew it. Instead, I typed a message to myself, unleashing the pain that threatened to drown me. At the very least, my heartbreak could become a few lyrics for my next song. i held on so tightly to your rope i couldn’t breathe it took me weeks to see the grip was around my throat and you held the leash.

Shoving my phone into the back pocket of my jeans, I made my way toward the river so I could clear my head, or at the very least, drown my thoughts enough so that I didn’t care anymore.

TWO Hayden Time seemed to slow before the musty elevator finally reached my floor, and I was able to find the other end of my bridge to be burned, separating me from my past. I must’ve checked the room number eighty times, but I wanted to be sure that when I knocked, it would be her and not some strange person down the hall or on another floor altogether. I was going to do this the right way. No more screwing everything up. 213C. I thought about how terrible I must have looked for my first impression as I stepped into my new beginning. My amateur dyed auburn hair was cut awkwardly just above my shoulder blades with countless flyaways, and the denim blue of my irises was framed by long nights of exhaustion that caused my pale, translucent skin to be marred with dark purple moons under my eyes.

My loose heather gray top now clung to my chest from the excessive humidity, and my faux leather jacket wasn’t helping any. I knew it would end up shoved in the back of a closet, but I couldn’t bear to take it off just yet and shed the final layers of who I was before I arrived here. At least not until I met my new roommate. I pulled my black fedora low on my head to try to hide my face before bending down and tying one of my ratty old gray sneakers that previously found residence just inside my bedroom door where I threw them after finishing yard work almost every miserable Saturday afternoon. I groaned as I brushed my palm over the mustard stain on my skinny jeans, that most certainly wasn’t of my doing. I hoped that whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t too quick to judge me. I grabbed the brass knocker below the peephole and pressed it against the door before I could talk myself out of it. It opened as my arm fell to my side causing me to jump. “Oh-I’m sorry,” the guy on the other side of the door apologized, but there was a hint of amusement in his crystal blue eyes. I craned my neck up to look at him, smiling nervously as he ran his fingers through his disheveled blonde hair that appeared to have been styled by salt water and a steady ocean breeze. He was built like a surfer too; his frame was long and thin but strong. He didn’t look like the

type to spend hours in the gym, but his strength came naturally from hours of riding waves, evident by the sun-kissed color of his skin. He didn’t look more than a couple of years older than me, and his hair nearly covered his eyebrow that was arched in question, but his smile broadened, and I knew he found my startled expression funny. “So... can I help you with something? Are you selling cookies? If so, I’ll take a box of the minty ones.” My eyes narrowed, but his wide grin lets me know he was only teasing. “Oh, um...” I pulled out my room information for reassurance even though I could probably recite the small hurried scratch by heart. Room 213 - Ms. White. “Actually, I’m here to be staying with,” I squinted as if my eyes may have been playing tricks on me, “White?” “Well,” he shrugged. “You’re in the right place.” He opened the door and gestured me to enter. I hesitated before moving in slowly, my knuckles pale as they gripped my suitcase handles. I thought back to my collapse in the lobby before pushing it to the furthest cavity of my mind. My new life had begun, and I wasn’t going to waste any more time dwelling on the past, even if it had only been moments ago. “So,” he called out from behind me, breaking his way into my thoughts. “ I guess you didn’t bring

cookies then?” “No, sorry,” I replied, glancing back at him. “Just my luck. What brings you to Georgia?” The hope that I’ll get so lost I’ll just stop existing without actually having to die. “Is it that obvious that I’m not from around here?” I asked, feeling self-conscious for the millionth time about my outfit choice and not wanting to explain why I fled from my old life. “Well, anyone from here knows better than to wear a leather coat in the summer.” “So I’ve been told. I’ve heard you have a great St. Patty’s Day parade. Who’d wanna pass up on that?” I forced a smile as I glanced around the cramped space. “I’m afraid you missed the parade by about two months.” “Maybe I’ll stick around for the next one,” I replied with a shrug as I took in my surroundings. The apartment was small but had all of the essential amenities and smelled overwhelmingly like fresh jasmine, thanks to the little plugin placed by the front door. The living room was filled with mismatched furniture that led into a kitchen with a counter lined by stools, which served as a table. Almost instantly my gaze was drawn to a girl around my age lounging casually on the loveseat parallel to where I stood. I couldn’t tell if it was the strain on my tired eyes playing tricks on me or if

she was really that thin and delicate, like a ballet dancer. “The longest a roommate has stuck around is three weeks.” He eyed me up and down. “I give you four tops since you haven’t died from heat exhaustion in that coat.” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “I don’t scare that easily.” Yeah, right. What brings you here again? The room fell quiet as I adjusted the strap of my guitar on my shoulder, struggling to think of something to say to ease the uncomfortable silence. I’d never been very good at small talk when everything that had gone on in my life had been so monumental. I was custom to choosing my words carefully in order to keep the peace. I glanced at the blonde man who shuffled his weight from one foot to the other before I realized I still didn’t know anyone’s names. “So,” I laughed nervously, “Are you my new roommate?” "No," he replied, with a dimpled smirk, eyes shifting back-and-forth as if in a constant attention battle between me and the floor. I sighed lightly, not of annoyance but exhaustion. “Then... her?” I asked, raising my chin to the mysterious girl whose gaze locked onto the television, seemingly uninterested in the stranger who’d just entered their space.

He shook his head again. “I’m just curious if it’s a guy or... a woman?” I asked, trying not to sound too hopeful for the latter. "No, it's my brother, actually. He's out with his girl right now." He laughed while absentmindedly rubbing his palm over his elbow. The girl pushed from the couch with a bored yawn before traipsing her way over to us. Her naturally red hair swayed weightlessly with each step, draping over her small shoulders. “I’m Kara Russell. I’m Cameron’s-” He cut her off proudly slinging his arm over her shoulders, and I was shocked she didn’t crumple under the weight. “She’s my girlfriend.” His smile broadened as if she was the first place trophy in a surfing competition. He pulled her toward him, pressing his lips against her hair. She giggled, staring up hopefully into his eyes, “What he said.” She leaned into his chest, her small palm pressed against his heart with her fingers fanned open. He extended a free hand, “Cameron White. You can call me Cam.” “Ah, well it’s nice to meet you both,” I replied awkwardly as I took his large hand, hoping he didn’t realize how clammy my palm was. “I’m Hayden.” I cleared my throat before correcting myself, “Hayden Harlow.”

The pounding in my head began to intensify like my brain was knocking on the walls of my skull to try and escape. If only it were that easy to escape, I thought. I could have saved myself from endless hours of smelling that guy who ate pickles from the jar in his lap. “When can I expect to meet your brother?” I asked as my eyes danced between them. They were an odd match, but they looked genuinely in love. Cameron shrugged as his tongue ran out over his lips. “He’s a little... unpredictable. I’m sure he’ll show up tonight... or maybe in the morning.” My shoulders dropped, and I wanted to sink to the floor in a heap. What if he decided he didn’t want me here? Where will I sleep tonight while I wait to meet him? “Should I just leave my information with you then? I don’t have a cell phone, but I can stop back by tomorrow.” “You have a date or something?” He asked, his eyebrow quirked as he ran his fingers through his girlfriend’s hair, playfully messing it up but it fell back into place as if never disturbed. She glanced up at him, scrunching her nose as she suppressed a smirk. “No. I don’t know anyone here,” I replied with a shrug. “Well, you know us. Just get settled in, and if my brother has a problem, I’ll deal with him.”

“Um, okay. Thanks. Would either of you know where my room is?” I winced as the strap of my guitar dug deeper into my shoulder. “I’ll give you the grand tour.” Cameron stepped forward. He guided me to a door just past the kitchen island, where the tiles ended. “That’s the kitchen. This is the living room and,” he turned around gesturing grandly with his arm, “Your room. My brother’s room is back there,” He gestured with his chin. “Thanks.” I continued to force a grin though my cheeks were beginning to hurt. It felt like Lucifer was holding a meeting in my head. “Oh, you play guitar?” Kara asked me noticing the case slung over my shoulder. Well so much for getting away easy. “Yeah, sometimes,” I stammered. “That’s cool,” Cameron added. “You know, my brother plays some, too.” “Really? What kind of music?” I asked, relieved that I had something in common with my mysterious new roommate. “He makes stuff up.” He shrugged. “Indie, I guess. He writes a lot of angry poetry.” “Yeah, I seriously don’t know how he does it,” Kara interjected, looking genuinely amazed. “Our dad played back in the day,” Cameron added in a way that made me think he was preparing to tell a story, but he didn’t elaborate. His

smile faltered. Kara glanced up at him as if neither of them had expected the words to come out. The mood shifted, and it felt like when you’re little, and an adult says something they shouldn’t around you. “I’m kinda self-taught. Only issue was I didn’t know a thing about guitar, so I was a pretty sucky teacher,” I explained, hoping to lighten the mood.“Well, it was really nice meeting you two, but, um...” I searched for words. “I’m gonna go clean up and unpack. Are you sure your brother’s going to be okay with a female roommate?” “Shouldn’t be an issue,” Cameron smiled. “At least not with him,” Kara gave another glance up at Cameron. “I think you two will get along well,” he replied, looking back down at Kara as something unsaid passed between them. “Thanks.” I nodded and shut the door behind me. I dropped my bags, sliding the guitar strap over my head before carefully placing it on the floor by my feet, and leaned my back against the cool, wood door, my hand propped on the handle. Everything rushed to my head; every thought I’d ever conjured, every feeling I’ve ever had both physically and emotionally, everything. I felt sick; a knot tied tight in my stomach and threatened to spill over. I quickly peeled my jacket from my

body, Instantly feeling ten degrees cooler as I let it fall to the ground. I could hear their muffled voices on the other side of the door. It was hard to make out what they were saying, but I did hear faint mumblings that sounded like, “her” and “okay?” They probably think I’m crazy, I thought, like some killer or something. I spun the lock on the door, listening for the click before I slid down to the carpet, my arms wrapped around my knees as I hugged my legs to my chest. I am safe here. I don’t need to panic. My heart began to race, thudding at a frantic pace inside of my chest as if struggling to break free from the confines of my body. I searched for something, anything to distract my mind from the anxiety attack that was imminent. My chest tightened to suffocating measures, it felt as though there was a blade piercing into my heart as it forced away my breathing. I thought about Kara. Her vibrant chartreuse eyes popped in contrast to her copper hair. She was shorter than I was; freckles dusted lightly across her cheeks and peppered her nose. Her hair hung down to the crease just before the bottom hem of her white dress, like mine had before I chopped it off. Cameron, on the other hand, was at least a full head’s length taller than I was, and though

awkward and lanky was also very attractive. His skin was flawless, free of any blemish or freckle that I could see and bronzed from what I imagined came from hours on the beach. His vintage baby blue Addicted to Pi t-shirt that hung loosely on his lean frame hinted at humor, or carelessness. And then there was me; I’m a mess. I’m a total mess. Everything I owned was a hodgepodge of the handful of important moments in my life. My fedora was a gift from my father when I turned ten because I had obsessed with watching black and white movies. We used to watch them together on the couch in the family room. Punchy, our black Labrador retriever, would curl up to sleep on my lap making it nearly impossible to breathe, and mom would make popcorn. I could’ve sat there for hours if it weren’t for school. But that was before my dad took the other job, before my mom’s sister got into a fatal accident and Mom sent Punchy down to the shelter. Before the poison set in her mind, those were my favorite days. My muscles tightened. I forced myself to my feet and trudged to what was now my bed, bringing my bag over with me in hopes that I might muster enough energy to start to unpack. What’s the point of unpacking? Surely, I wouldn’t be here long enough to have my things scattered about.

My eyes went to the window that overlooked the street, and it looked more like a way out than anything. An escape. I’d left my collection of books back in my old life but tucked away in the bottom of my suitcase was my copy of Great Gatsby. The cover had been taped back together several times and the ink on the pages was faded to the point it was barely legible, but I didn’t need to be able to see them because I had the story committed to heart. I had two chests of drawers now but not nearly enough belongings to fill them. And wasn’t that a metaphor for my life? The short one had an empty picture frame rested on it, and my heart sank at the thought of sliding a memory from my past inside to be faced with every day. There was also a small nightstand with an old alarm clock, a closet big enough to hang a few dresses, and my very own bathroom. It was small, but it had a sink with a mirror above it, a bathtub/shower combination, and a toilet. It was apparent that this was the master bedroom. What more could a girl ask for? I decided to try it out. After the long trip, I was in desperate need of freshening up, which only made me even more embarrassed that I just met people smelling like garbage, even if they had been polite enough to pretend not to notice. I checked the closet for a towel, and hung it on the silver rack

on the wall. I turned the spigot, ran my fingers under the water, and waited for it to reach the perfect temperature before I flicked the drain stopper with my toes and the water began to back up, filling the tub. I made my way back into my bedroom and dug through my suitcase for my red purse. "Got it," I mumbled, filling the all too quiet room with my thoughts. My purse, which was more of a messenger bag, contained my toiletries. I grabbed a change of clothing, deciding on skinny jeans, a loose-fitting white and black striped shirt, before making my way back into the bathroom and peeling my soiled clothes from my body. I lowered myself into the rising water, leaning back until my face was submerged before raising back up and sputtering as I gasped for air. When the tub was nearly filled, I turned off the flow of water and relaxed back, resting my cheek against the cool porcelain as I let my eyes close, too tired to hold them open any longer. The painful memories drowned me; pulling me in on myself like a star that collapses inward at the end of its life. Maybe that’s all I was, just a dying star who’d never had the chance to reach her full potential. The flashes came, and the room melted away in the background. I searched desperately for something to grab onto, an anchor, to save myself from falling in, but to no avail. The memories

absorbed me in the careful way sunlight absorbed a flower; with a weightless, yet fearful, elegance of entirety. *** “I should get back to bed,” I told him reluctantly. “I’m sure the fighting has probably subsided by now.” Eric took long strides beside me, eyes down studying the grass underneath the apricots and golds of the setting sun. “Yeah,” he mumbled, still not looking up at me. It wasn’t like him, but I guessed he was just dealing with something with his mom again. I sped up a little and stopped in front of him, the sun dipping just behind the trees leaving us in a patch of shadows. I could still see his faint worried expression. “What’s wrong? You’ve hardly been talking to me lately, and I don’t think it’s the hair,” I joked about the horrible amateur dye-job, but he only cringed. He shook his head slightly before finally glancing up at me. “I’m sorry, it’s just this thing with my mom...” his voice trailed off as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans. In his black clothing, he was becoming nearly indistinguishable from the street. The only thing

that made him stand out were his horn-rimmed glasses. “Yes, this is good. Please tell me things.” I muttered, not wanting to push him away. I knew he was sensitive about the situation with his mom; they hardly ever got along and when they didn’t it was rough. “Hayden,” he choked out as if my name tasted like acid on his tongue, “I did something bad. And I don’t want to say it because... I know you’ll look at me differently-,” he stopped abruptly. I thought maybe his voice had caught in his throat, choking him up. Instead, his hand rested itself on my shoulder, his attention caught by something else. An old country song floated in the air like a faint fog of noise, accompanied by the blinding glow of headlights. I waved my arm over my eyes to shield them from the light from what appeared to be my mom’s beat up Honda Civic. Eric’s voice was barely audible over the thudding of my own heart that vibrated in my ears like a fast paced drum solo to a song only I could hear. I felt his fingers gripping my arm, the piercing sting of his nails biting into my flesh as he yanked, but I couldn’t convince myself to move. My feet stayed planted in the ground as if sinking into the Earth, burying themselves among the weeds. I stared blindly at the silhouette of the driver, the sadness so suffocating that all other

surroundings were dragged away from view. Why couldn’t I move? I felt the air shove from my lungs, leaving me gasping as I dropped to my knees on the warm asphalt, the pebbles cutting into my skin and causing me to wince. Fat tears glided weightlessly over the apples of my cheeks, and the world slowed around me as I waited for my inevitable demise. “Mom,” I gasped as a sob wracked my chest, resigning to my fate as my eyes fluttered closed. A heavy force wrapped itself around my waist, tight and familiar, and pulled me away from the light. I blinked open my eyes with my face pressed against damp grass from drops that still lingered from a late night storm the night before. Eric was sitting over me yelling, but his voice was fading in and out in waves. It was like I’d felt everything at once and now there was nothingness, a hollow cavern where my heart should have been. He pulled me to my feet, and I wobbled under my own weight for a moment before being able to keep my balance. Reluctantly, he let his arms fall from my waist, shoving them deep into his pockets. I began to move my feet, desperate to get out of this place. He kept pace with me as I hurried to get back to his house, glancing behind him to the driver that was now out of the car and yelling frantically. His hand gripped mine, our fingers interlacing as he began to run, tugging me along

as fast as my weak legs would carry me. I ran through the blur of my tears, with only a single thought in my head playing in an endless loop, tormenting me. It was all-consuming and threatening my sanity, just as hers had been stolen from her long ago. “My mom tried to kill me.” *** My lungs burned like wildfire, and it was spreading through my body, radiating to the tips of my fingers, and when my eyes finally opened, the world was blurred above me. I sat up, choking and sputtering, the water coming out of me like vomit. It had since turned cold causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps and my entire being was wracked with tremors. I washed as quickly as possible and changed into my dry clothes, still unable to keep myself from shaking as if the coldness had seeped into my bones. I unpacked the rest of what was in my suitcase before shoving the empty case under my bed. After I had felt like I had accomplished something, I went back into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. When I was sufficiently clean and had scrubbed every fleck of dirt from my travels off my body, I took my notebook off my dresser and wrote down my nightmare in the form of song lyrics, in hopes of

some good coming from the tragedies my mind was subjecting me to.

THREE Noah I wanted to slam the glass that I gripped in my palm against concrete, or better yet against the side of someone’s head. How could she be cheating on me? Rage boiled through my veins and the alcohol only fueled the fire. “Hey, man,” the bartender mumbled. “I really can’t keep you much longer. My shifts over in an hour. You should be headin’ back.” “I’m good,” I lied. I tugged at the napkin I’d been writing my lyrics on, folding it at the edges just to give my hands something to do before I began to scribble more words. the poison is nothing if it doesn’t take away the choices quiet down the voices the heart is washed away breaks in a broken cage

no chance to escape the flames “Real talk, if it’s a girl-” he started. “You want to have a heart to heart about my problems?” I sneered. “I said I’m good,” I repeated through clenched teeth, the muscles in my jaw tightening as I tilted my head to the side, my eyes closing momentarily as my neck popped. I should be in the gym, getting out my frustrations with weights, not in a bar. His gaze lowered and I knew he was sizing me up. That’s right, asshole. I could body slam you without breaking a sweat. “Alright, well. My shifts over in an hour. I could call up a cab if yuh’ need one?” “You this friendly to all of your customers are are you too chicken shit to kick me out?” I replied, my head on the precipice of combusting. “I’m leaving. Don’t worry. Just pour the drinks.” I finished draining the amber liquid back my throat in silence while I crumpled the napkin in my fist just before throwing down a tip and turning to walk out, the fire of my anger still raging inside of me. “Hey man-,” the bartender called out to me again. I turned to acknowledge him but said nothing as I shoved the paper into my pocket.

“You sure you’re alright?” But what he was really asking was, Am I gonna get in trouble for serving a minor because you have a chip on your shoulder? I looked down at the time on my phone to see that there were no notifications, “What do you care?” Give me a reason to kick your ass, I thought while smiling, please. I needed an outlet, something to quiet the angry voice inside of my head, my voice calling me a fool for subjecting myself to her. But the bartender only nodded and went back to wiping his dirty rag over the bar. I muttered a string of expletives under my breath as I shoved open the door and stepped out into the muggy night air.

Hayden I awoke to a dull thudding in my head as I glanced at my alarm clock. “Great,” I mumbled to myself as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I’d napped most of the day away. I glanced suspiciously at my locked door before I shed my clothing from last night. The air in the room was cold. I hadn’t realized how overheated I was, cocooned in the thick comforter until I felt the dampness on my clothing. Undressed, I made my way over to the bathroom, for once taking the time to notice the subtle softness of the carpet beneath my toes; it was a slightly darker shade of tan than the bed sheets, but someone had made a clear effort to make the place feel like home. I pressed up on the balls of my feet to look at my full face in the bathroom mirror as I pulled my auburn hair up into a ponytail. I wasn’t short, just under five and a half feet, but the mirror was hung for someone who was obviously taller. I wondered if it had been that way when my roommate moved in, or it had been raised for them. Perhaps Cameron had used this room from time to time. I sank back to the heels of my feet and glanced down at the chipped pink paint on my toes before my gaze locked on my small stomach that protruded slightly with delicate indents where abs

would be if I just pushed myself a little harder. I should take up jogging again. It would be a great way to learn my way around the city if I didn’t die from the heat. I caught sight of the little yellowing bruise below my right knee from when I tripped finding the way to Eric’s house late one night not long ago. It was still tender but would go unnoticed by others, especially if I spent a little time in the sun. The thought of making it out to one of the islands along the coast made me smile. It was nice not to be landlocked any longer, and I hoped to take full advantage of the warm breeze and salty waves. I turned the sink knob slowly as I thought of Eric. We’d known each other since we were both two awkward, uncomfortably smart children of the third grade. I started Greenstone Elementary late in the year of second grade, right around when my mom started having issues, but it was still too early to tell exactly what was going on with her. My only best friend that year was Miss Kim, who unfortunately passed away of cancer in seventh grade. Eric Fisher moved to Hanover early in the third grade. He kept to himself, opting to read books at recess instead of playing with the rest of the children. It was evident he was raised differently than the rest of us, but no one bothered to ask him where he’d come from. Every day he brought his

lunch to school in a brown paper bag, and it smelled like death. The other kids would sit several seats away from him, claiming he was a zombie, and the bag contained pieces of dead bodies. One day, about halfway through the year, they dared me to sit near him. I placed my tray two seats down from his and sat down as I began to eat in silence, watching him out of the corner of my eye as he pulled a container from his bag and began to dig into his dish. He flipped the lid of his bowl upside down and began to scoop the noodle mixture out before sliding it over to me. He said he knew that the other kids thought he was a zombie, and if I wanted to show them I was fearless, I would eat some of his mother’s goulash. We ate lunch together every day since and even eight years later, his mother’s noodle scramble was one of my favorite foods. I cupped my hands full of the still running water, rubbed it on my face gingerly to embrace the warm liquid, and then shut the sink off. I glanced up, taking in my still too tired appearance before looking away. It was too much; just seeing me was too much. I could dye and cut my hair, change my style, move to a land far away with different people, but I will never be able to change what happened. Wasn’t that the point? To change it until it didn’t hurt anymore?

I grabbed my toothbrush from the small blue cup on the back of the sink and squeezed a small dollop of toothpaste over the head. I scrubbed violently, the bristles grinding their way through my enamel probably disastrously so; I didn’t care. I want it all to be over. I want to be able to see my reflection under a dim light and not know who the Hell was looking back at me. I rinsed my mouth out quickly with a handful of cold water, running out of the bathroom to find something to wear for the day that wouldn’t scream Northerner. I flipped carelessly through my limited stacks of laundry; I was almost successfully distracted. Almost. A slight glance at the t-shirt my father had bought me on a father-daughter road trip to get my license made my heart sink. Halfway to the DMV, I spilled a blue drink on the shirt I was wearing while we had been jamming out to Johnny Cash. We stopped at a store that was part gas station/grocery store/flea market all in one, where he’d gotten me a hunter’s Daughter boxy-tee so I wouldn’t look like a complete slob in my photo, even though they only take a picture from the neck up. The thought of my dad and I triggered a mix of emotions that twisted in the pit of my stomach. Visions of him appeared like they do in the movies, scenes fading to black only to be revived in a different location and time. Only now my brain

focused on the minute details, the seemingly unimportant gestures, and glances. How had I missed them at the moment? Only this time, as I was thrust back into my past, I wasn’t being drowned in a lack of consciousness; I was being awoken. *** The AC blasted against my face causing tremors to shoot goosebumps down my arms. I shut it off quickly, “It’s too cold in here.” “Well,” my father replied in his trademark sarcastic tone, “we are only driving on a mountain.” “Yeah,” I whined jokingly. “But it’s supposed to be spring.” “The snow waits for no man,” he replied, staring ahead as he navigated the winding road. “Ahem.” I glared over at the side of his weathered face. “Dad, I’m not a man.” He laughed but still didn’t glance in my direction. The snow turned to sludge, piling up along the sides of the road. Dad was quiet, seemingly invested deeply in his thoughts, so I turned up the radio and changed the station to a random comedian.

Within minutes the small space was filled with quiet chuckles; not because of what the comedians were saying but our interpretations and corresponding inside jokes that significantly raised the hilarity of the otherwise bland situation. The sharp, intense stabbings lessened to just the areas of my face where my vents aimed. The squealing, in fact, was an eruption of my own bubbly excited laughter. And then I heard the familiar laughing that would’ve otherwise stopped my heart and cause me to burst into tears on the spot, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. While it was all too real, it was still no more than memory that will be forever engrained in the deeper parts of my mind. “Woah,” he laughed. “Quiet down; you’re gonna cause an avalanche,” Dad teased. “You’re a jerk,” I yelled back while continuing to laugh at my high-pitched laughter. It ranged somewhere between the maniacal laughter of an evil genius, and a bumbling idiot. *** Instantaneously the scene shifted, and I was sitting in the driver seat, a stranger relaxed beside me. Her hair was knotted into a loose ponytail, a pink button-up shirt over blue knee-length shorts. ***

“Okay, you’ve got to back up without hitting the cones in four moves. You can use less, but if you use more you automatically fail.” She said, so comfortable the clipboard seemed more like an accessory choice. I flipped on my turn signal and held my body at an uncomfortable angle against the corner of her seat so that I could see the cones behind me. In two moves I was in the spot, but out of nerves I asked her dumbly, “Can I still pull forward?” Sarcasm bled from her tone so casually you could’ve sworn it was nothing more than a language to her she spoke naturally. “Well, you had four moves, and you made two; what’s four minus two? Hmm, that’s two. So do you think you still have any more moves?” She was smiling, her tone lighthearted and joking, but it was just enough to turn my cheeks a bright red. “Alright, ma’am,” I said mimicking her tone respectively. “Now, I don’t need your sass. I get it, but a simple ‘yes’ would have sufficed.” She laughed causing me to relax. “Well, I mean, it’s so simple.” She was still laughing to herself when I finished pulling forward; sure my vehicle was perfectly aligned. “I just wanted to be sure,” I had said before I beeped the horn to signal that I was finished. “Perfect! You’re in the lines,” she announced when she got back in the car, and then she told me

to pull back around by the front of the DMV. I pulled back by smoothly, eyeing the string of building fronts hoping to give Dad the big thumbs up, but I couldn’t find him. *** The scene changed again, one memory bleeding into the next like ink on a soggy paper. We now sat solemnly in a restaurant only a couple blocks away from our hotel that we were staying in so Dad could meet up with a client in the morning. In front of me were a large, flat bowl of Chicken Noodle Soup and a small mug of Hot Chocolate. Across the table was my dad sipping at his coke, his expression bordered disappointment and sympathy. *** “I know you didn’t make it, sweetie; I’m really sorry. I wanted you to pass too.” He said as he took a few more bites of his burger, bacon spilling from the sides. I pushed around the noodles aimlessly, my shoulders hunched. I said nothing. “Man, I thought you were kidding.” He chuckled lightly. “Man,” He sounded so disappointed, and then he took another sip of his soda.

After I had taken my test I told him, “I didn’t pass.” And he, of course, thought I was joking because I had studied for weeks. “Well,” he broke the uncomfortable silence of me desperately trying not to break down and cry. “Finish up,” he glanced over at the hostess counter, light brown hair with flecks of white in a ratty mess. Over his small-framed glasses, because he left his black ones at home; he looked a bit like an evil scientist. “I’m gonna go get some stuff and then we’re gonna head out of here. Next time, Kiddo.” He patted my head, a sudden smile crossing his dry mouth. “Don’t beat yourself up.” He went up to pay the bill, laughing at something the hostess had said to him. Occasionally they would glance at me; he was probably telling her about how I was only one stop sign away from passing. She almost looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her face. *** When the memory faded, replaced by the harsh loneliness of reality, I wanted to scream. Part of me wished I could just forget my family ever existed so I wouldn’t have to relive the memory of them. I pushed the horribly selfish thought to the back of my mind as I pulled on my ruffled black top and a pair of skinny jeans with matching jean flats.

I was still a mess, but with proper finger combing of my hair and a bit of mascara, I looked casually messy. Thank God for hipster-style teenage trend things. I grabbed my guitar, in its case, from beside the nightstand and slung it over my shoulder. I sat my fedora on top of my head, my arms feeling naked without the comfort of my jacket, but the last thing I wanted was to pass out from heat exhaustion again today. I reached into the mesh pocket inside the lid of my suitcase and fumbled through it with my fingers until they brushed up against some travel cash left over. I only had $300 left for on-hand expenses like bus, cab, or food. It’s previous purpose was gambling money for Eric and my late-night secret poker games with his older brother, Sam. I only started out with $20, I thought, smirking mischievously. My anxiety was almost completely forgotten, only until I was forced to face the bedroom door. I could just stay inside, I thought stubbornly. My roommate hasn’t even met me yet; and if I hid long enough, maybe I wouldn’t ever have to face him. It was all so very persuasive. I could just keep running, I thought wildly, no one would ever have to find me. I would never see Eric again... At this I

gripped the doorknob with delicately callused fingers. No one would ever have to know I exist! And then I turned the knob.

FOUR Hayden Cameron lounged on the sofa parallel from my bedroom door; his head adorned with a headset/microphone. His eyes glazed over, and the faint smell of marijuana lingered in the air as his long fingers tapped relentlessly on a classic controller. He shouted something vulgar at the television, my first response, of course, was to squeal and jump backward nearly losing my footing. “Oh, sorry,” He chuckled. I laughed too, both eyebrows raised. “No, it’s fine. Good job, I guess.” My fingers tied themselves together in front of my stomach. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his eyes never breaking from the game. “No problem,” I replied, rocking back-andforth from toe to heal. “Is your brother back yet?” I waited, watching him physically tear himself from the screen. “Not yet, should be soon, though,” He smiled, and there was something behind it,

perhaps amusement, but I couldn’t quite discern it. Whatever it was, it was making me increasingly nervous to meet my new roommate. “Okay. I’m just gonna head out, see some sites, get comfortable with the place,” I replied, but Cameron had already locked his attention back onto the screen. I picked $25 from my stash and sat the money on the table, beneath the apples. “Rent’s on the table, under the fruit.” “Alright, later.” He replied halfheartedly. I shouldn’t have expected anything more or less; I compared the reaction to mine when songwriting. It was something that required passion and attention. “What the hell was that?” He yelled in frustration, signaling to me that it was time to go. *** On my way out to the elevator, I tried to decide what I wanted to be doing for the remainder of the day. I needed to get myself a phone for emergencies. Once I met my roommate, we would probably need to exchange that information seeing that he never seemed to be home. Wait, ‘home?’ Was that the actual word I used to describe the place I’ve only spent one night in? I smiled to myself as I thought about how I’d gotten lucky enough only to pay half the rent but

basically, be living alone. But then I remembered Cameron on the couch, screaming at the television. The only time I remember getting out of the house to hang out with friends was when my mother would have her fits of frustration that would send her on an unbelievably aggressive rampage. It was almost like she was a completely different person altogether. My thoughts were cut short when I ran into someone, bouncing off their muscular chest like I’d hit a wall. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized instinctively as I tried to catch my balance. My voice came across shaky, but it didn’t seem like he noticed or cared. In fact, had I not spoken, I was sure he wouldn’t have even had realized he had nearly plowed me over. I glanced up at him, ready to tell him to watch where he was going next time but I bit back the obscenity when I noticed the pensive look on his face. Clearly, he was not having a good day. Everything about him was physical perfection from his messy coal-black hair to his chiseled features and strong jawline. I could feel myself beginning to blush, and I hoped he assumed it was from the unrelenting heat. “It’s fine,” he bit out, distracted with something that furrowed his eyebrows, narrowing his gray eyes that were flanked by thick lashes. “No big

deal,” he pointed his finger over my shoulder, “See you around.” I glanced to the smattering of dried blood across his knuckles. Before I could respond, he was already slipping around me, and I turned to watch him walk off before shaking my head. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me when he didn’t apologize and the generic way he’d blown me off, and then out of nowhere, “Well, I’m Hayden. It was nice meeting you too. Can’t wait to run into you again,” I blurted out as my frustration got the best of me. I shook my head, mumbling a curse under my breath when the guy stopped. “Shit.” “Noah,” He called back as he turned around and smiled, clearly amused by my outburst. He took two giant steps back toward me and extended his large hand. “Nice to meet you.” I looked at him questionably, glancing back and forth between his hand and his narrowed eyes. Taking a couple of slow steps forward, I slid my hand against his rough palm and squeezed it gently. I couldn’t help but stare at his smoke-colored eyes. Realizing that I was leering, I looked down quickly. Across his chest written in white was the name Johnny Cash. He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat. “I see you’re a fan of good music,” I said with a little more shock in my tone than intended.

He looked down to see what I was talking about while tugging at the bottom corners of his shirt. “Oh, no. It was my dad’s,” he replied, the side of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin before running a hand through his short mess of dark hair. “Oh, so you have bad taste in music?” I asked sarcastically, trying a little too desperately to keep the conversation going. He took a step back with mock offense, furrowing his eyebrows in false anger he smirked slightly. “Well, I wouldn’t say I have bad taste in music...” “Oh no,” I cocked my head slightly, “of course you wouldn’t.” Flirting? Was that what I was doing right now? “So you’re completely confident in your taste in music?” He asked, glancing at the neck of my guitar. It had become such a part of my daily life; I’d almost forgot I was wearing it. I looked away for a moment, staring thoughtfully at the worn green shag carpet in the hall. I bit my lip in concentration; he’s asking to follow up with a question of what I like; I need examples prepared. I thought frantically, trying to keep my expression calm; Deep Purple, Guns N’ Roses, Led Zeppelin, Bon Jovi... “Yes,” I answered finally, smiling brightly at him. He nodded, “Alright.” His arms crossed in front of him competitively; this is it, “What do you

like?” “The classics,” I said vaguely. I don’t need to give into this condescending boy’s charade. He squinted at me as if he was trying to figure out my game. Quickly I started backing up; I pointed up at him with my face twisted in confusion, “Didn’t you say you had to go?” I saw him smirk before I turned around, “I guess I didn’t peg you as someone who backs down from a challenge,” he called from behind me. “Cute,” I smiled. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play all your cards on the first hand,” I called back. “You do if you have a winning hand.” I turned around at this, “Well maybe I’m just not done playing.” And I walked away listening to my heart pounding heavily in my chest. Noah, I thought musingly. Maybe this place isn’t so bad after all.

Noah I stepped off of the elevator; my neck is stiff and back sore. Every movement felt painfully emphasized as I tried desperately to forget what I had done last night. He wasn’t the bad guy; I thought bitterly, I was. My eyes felt sunken in as if my insides had been rotting for months already. My thoughts were interrupted by a petite redhead with a guitar slung on her back who rushed toward me, never looking up as if trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. She must not be from the south. I should have stepped out of her way, but where would be the fun in that? She ran into my chest, nearly bouncing off me like a cartoon character. “I’m so sorry,” she cried out. Her large denim eyes blinked several times. “It’s fine. No big deal,” you should be apologizing you idiot. “See you around,” I gestured behind her before slipping by in the narrow hall. “Well, I’m Hayden. It was nice meeting you too. Can’t wait to run into you again,” she called out from behind me, and I shook my head at her stubborn attitude. Most people would make sure to give me a wide berth when they saw me coming, but this tiny little thing of a girl was mouthing off to me, and it was amusing.

I turned around, struggling to hide my smirk at her sudden outburst and I could have sworn I heard her mutter a curse. “Noah,” I extending a hand for her to shake as I took a step close. “Nice to meet you.” She watched me, her gaze flickering back and forth from my hands and my eyes. I could feel the crusted blood dust I hadn’t wiped off of my knuckles weighted by her judgmental glance as she cautiously stepped close to me and grabbed my hand in hers. “I see you’re a fan of good music,” she said with a hint of excitement. I looked down to meet her attention and tugged at the bottom edges of his shirt, “Oh, no. It was my dad’s,” I replied bitterly, wishing I hadn’t worn it today, wishing I had done some laundry or burned it the second I got the chance. Running a hand through my hair, I stood up straight; I wanted to change the conversation. “Oh, so you have bad taste in music?” she asked, clearly amused, her nose scrunching slightly as she spoke. I took a step back pretending to be offended, “Well I wouldn’t say I have bad taste in music...” “Oh no,” she said cocking her head innocently as she teased me, “of course you wouldn’t.” “So you’re completely confident in your taste in music?” I asked. Her short hair fell just above her shoulders, the guitar on her back nearly her

height seeming impossibly heavy the way it tightly hugged her delicate shoulders. I’m shocked she didn’t topple over when she strapped it on. “Yes,” she said giddily. A single dimple formed in her left cheek while she playfully rocked back and forth on her heels. “Alright,” I crossed my arms to almost block out the light she unknowingly gave off, “What do you like?” “The classics,” she said carefully with an eyebrow raised, challenging me. She started backing up, eyebrows pulled together in question, “Didn’t you say you had to go?” Her lips twisted up in a playful grin causing me to smile in response, even in my dampened mood. She turned around, ready to make a quick exit before I could question her further. I’m not ready for you to go yet, I thought. “Woah,” I said jokingly as I waited for her to turn back around, “I guess I didn’t peg you as someone to back down from a challenge.” “Cute,” she called back, causing something to flinch inside of me. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play all your cards on the first hand?” “You do if you have a winning hand,” I shot back. Finally, my waiting paid off, and she turned around to face me, briefly. “Well, maybe I’m just not done playing,” she said before walking away. It

wasn’t much, but it was something. I kinda hoped it was true. The words began to tumble around in my thoughts, a song effortlessly writing itself from just one encounter with the mystery girl.

the spark ignites something breaks inside of me, the chains untied the light finally finds me something flinches inside the flick of her eyes where one thing held darkness this one, there’s light

Hayden As I exited the elevator, I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. If all of the guys are as hot as the southern sun, keep ‘em comin’. I took careful steps through the lobby, remembering that last unfortunate event that occurred here. I made my way out the heavy double doors, holding one open for a young mother and her little boy who struggled with their suitcases. I thought of my mother, and my smile faded as I turned to trudge down the sidewalk. The warm air outside blasted in my face like opening an oven door, and I was glad I’d left my jacket behind, even if I did feel exposed without it. Even in the stifling heat, I needed caffeine, which I’d grown to depend on after long nights filled with nightmares. What even is sleep? There was a small café just down the street that looked more like a furniture store with couches and recliners. The guy behind the counter was smiling as the woman in front of him rattled off her drink order that sounded more like a grocery list. “Hi, I’m Drew; how can I help you?” He smiled as his grassy green eyes landed on me. I suddenly felt flustered as I looked at the board listing the different beverages behind him.

“Um, can I try just... uh,” I cringed having no idea what I was doing. “I would just like something... coffee-like?” I brought my shoulders up to a shrug, my eyes gliding over the various pastries under the glass hood to my left. “Not much of a coffee drinker, huh?” He asked sympathetically. “Nothing this fancy,” I admitted. “Is it that obvious?” “No,” he shook his head causing his chestnut hair to sway as he struggled not to smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” He replied, finally revealing a broad smile and a delicate wink. I chewed the inside of my cheek as I struggled to find something witty to say, but I drew a blank. “I’ll just have a Redbull,” I sighed. Noah was right; I am a quitter. “One Redbull, coming right up,” He said before turning around to grab one out of the mini fridge. When he came back, I was studying the different sugar packets. “You know,” I said. “The artificial sweeteners are actually worse for your body than the normal sweeteners; which sucks because people on diets love using them,” I fumbled one around between my fingers. “No kidding,” he said as he handed me my drink; resting his forearm on the counter. “That’ll be a three dollars and ninety-five.”

I glanced at the tattoo that laced over his inner arm while I searched my back pockets for cash. I pulled out a five, “What’s that?” I asked nodding at it. He had been eyeing the guitar on my back carefully as if preparing to question it but somehow changing his mind. He took the cash, counting out the change by mouthing the numbers silently. “Oh, uh it’s a clock to remind me just how important it is to live in the moment and,” he waved his hands like a magician, causing me to giggle, “to not let a moment pass you by. Here’s your change.” “Thanks,” I said grabbing the change, clutching the can tightly in my other hand. “That’s weird,” I blurted. “What?” He was smiling his voice slightly whiny. “How?” “I don’t know,” I shrugged, “I mean, why not just get a watch or something?” “But I can check the time on my phone.” He raised an eyebrow as if I was the crazy one. “It looks cool,” I lied. “Have a nice one,” I added while putting my change into the tips jar and heading back outside into the unbearable heat.

FIVE Hayden When I finally got back to the apartment complex, I felt like I was missing something, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was. I spent the entire trip through the lobby thinking about it, and then while I was in the elevator on my way up I remembered. “Shit,” I slapped my hand against my forehead out of frustration. “I left my room key on the dresser. Shit,” I repeated. I made my way back to the room hoping that Cameron would still be there to let me in. Luckily, he was, but he wasn’t the one to open the door. “Noah?” “Uh, Hayden? You following me?” He asked jokingly with a cocky half-grin. “Cute,” I said while adjusting my guitar strap on my shoulder. “So I’ve been told.” His smile widened as he shifted his weight to lean against the inside of the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest. His

shirt was different, he was wearing a black one now that clung much tighter to his wide frame. “But no,” I continued. “I live here. And you? Are you friends with Cam or something?” I asked while pushing past him; my hand accidentally brushed his thick bicep. “Uh, I live here.” “Huh?” I turned around. For the love of God, please no. “You two know each other?” Cameron asked from behind me, watching television while shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “Well, you sure are smitten with the ladies lately, first hallway girl and now this? You’re on a roll, bro!” I wanted to protest, but then, “Wait a minute, did he just say ‘hallway-,’” but I was cut off. “I thought I didn’t have to rent out that room,” Noah argued, ignoring Cameron’s excitement. “The apartment is fully paid for.” “Well, maybe mom is tired of footing the bill for your lavish digs, and now you have her.” He gestured to me. “Why can’t she find somewhere else to live?” His muscles flexed beneath his angular jaw as he ground his teeth. “This is bullshit, and you know it.” Cameron shrugged as he ate another bite of his food, clearly amused and not the least bit phased by

his brother. “I’m sure you keep showing her your charm she won’t want to stay very long.” “Excuse me?” I asked angrily, embarrassed that I actually thought this Neanderthal was kind of cute earlier. “Look, Cameron said it wouldn’t be a problem, and I already gave him my half of the rent. I’ll stay out of your way but as long as I’m helping with the bills,” I pointed at him now, “I expect not to be treated like garbage by some spoiled overgrown toddler with shitty taste in music.” Before I had time to react he had slammed his hand heavily against the doorframe beside my head, leaning in with a smirk as my eyes widened fractionally before narrowing. I glanced at his bicep I had brushed earlier to find it tensing. “Spoiled? You don’t know me, princess. You have no idea what I’ve been through. This shitty apartment is all I have, and I’m not sharing it with some girl looking for a summer adventure.” His light gray eyes were suddenly darker as if storm clouds had settled behind his thick lashes. I flinched, but I wasn’t afraid; I was surprised. He actually seemed kind of decent when I ran into him, literally, in the hallway. His warm breath that reeked of alcohol fanned over my cheek, and I felt them begin to heat from his close proximity. “We’ve all been burned, princess.” I said through a clenched jaw to keep me from shaking,

“bottom line, I’m staying.” I felt my eyes watering beneath his gaze, but I wasn’t sad or frightened. I studied him, my eyes locked on his defiantly in hopes of seeing a glimmer of the guy I’d met earlier, but all I saw was the glassy-eyed stare of my mother looking back at me. The poison had taken over, and he was gone. He finally pushed himself back with the same abruptness from which he came. Cameron was standing beside us, his voice low and calm as he halfheartedly tried to calm his brother who now focused his attention on him, giving me a chance to breathe again. “Mom probably doesn’t want you living alone anymore. You know that. She was only paying for the room anyway so you wouldn’t get into fights as much, or so I could sleep over anytime.” “Then you move in. You’re here all the damn time anyway,” Noah snapped. Cameron shook his head, stifling a laugh. “You’re too much of an asshole for me, bro. Besides, she’s nice. Give her a chance.” I winced at the word nice, meant as a compliment. Was I nothing else? Noah stalked away sorely, shaking his head before he disappeared into his bedroom, slammed the door. He was gone. In every sense of the word, Noah was gone.

Whatever was going on with him, I knew not to take it personally. I’d come with my own baggage that was slowly causing me to crumble under the weight. I’d realized long ago that we are all stars; the victims of attraction, the result of power and destruction, serving our purposes unquestionably until the time comes that we die. Some stars create galaxies, but some fall in into themselves creating a black hole, a place where gravity is so strong that not even the light can escape it. Others are consumed by the unrelenting darkness, leaving nothing behind but their silent screams as the center they once surrounded becomes their undoing. Seen, not heard. Feeling, not felt. There, then in an instant, gone. He and I were just two lost souls in the vast abyss, waiting for our undoing.

Noah How could they do this? I asked myself, violently slamming my fist onto my bed. Was it him? Did he come back and now this is just his way of making things shitty for us again? Dad’s way of continually making us suffer? The light in her eyes was almost bent in the same way his were, I thought. The broken story behind her gaze is the same, I choked on the lump in my throat, and it seemingly halted my thoughts. The same as mine... “I’m sorry about him,” I could hear Cameron’s muffled voice saying through the door to her causing me to stop my pacing. “He’s been through a lot.” I threw my hands up into my hair, gripping and pulling at it like a madman, the memories flooding back. *** I stared up at them quietly from behind my door frame. My mother gasped in sharp cries, begging my father to let her go. He didn’t. Instead, he just yelled at her, holding her wrists tightly beneath his fingers while he flipped the cigar around with his tongue.

Cameron lay awake in bed crying. He curled himself up tightly in his bed, hugging his knees and praying our dad would just stop; praying that he would just go on one of his trips and never come back. Deep down I knew what he was really asking for, the thing he truly wanted for our father but was too weak to admit it. He wanted him to die. She screamed for him, her eleven-year-old son, to save her. I watched as he pinned her against the wall and Cameron shook more violently from fear, unable to be moved. How could she call for him? He still wets the bed. I watched the way my dad was hurting her, but I didn’t feel scared. I felt angry. Angry that she could be as dumb as to stay with a man that did nothing but force her to be weak. So, at nine years old, I took careful steps toward them and watched quietly. “Why,” I asked, wanting desperately to be able to pull her free from his grasp, but now that they were both looking at me, my feet felt too heavy to move. “Now what’re you doing out of bed,” he asked, releasing my mom from his grasp as she crumbled to the floor in a heap. “I heard you were up,” I whispered, suddenly not feeling as brave, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

He stood over me, and I had to crane my neck to look up at his face that was contorted in anger. His breath was pungent and hung heavy in the air like a dense cloud. I watched his movements carefully as he took the cigar from his lips, exhaling smoke into my face and causing me to gasp and sputter. He drunkenly grabbed me by my bare shoulder and pressed the glowing end against my flesh. I felt the immediate sting followed by the painful feeling of my skin melting beneath his cigar as I cried out, begging for someone to help me. “You’re burning him,” My mother cried out, dropping to the ground beside me while the tears streamed down my face. He waved her off like an insect that simply bothered him and nothing more. It was my fault; I should’ve stayed back in my room. “It was an accident,” I cried to his defense, hoping she wouldn’t kick him out again. Last time she kicked him out she threatened to call the police, and we didn’t see him for two entire months. She sat in front of me, pushing her disheveled dishwater blonde mop back from her reddened face, looking into my eyes with such pain that it physically strained her body. Her once bright blue irises now looked dull as if the very light behind them had been snuffed out from years of abuse.

“No,” she whispered caressing my face, “none of this is your fault, sweetheart.” Dad was about to say something, but she cut him off, “No,” she snapped, but her voice wavered from pain, fear and hesitation, “I think you need to go.” She refused to look him in the eye, but when he brought his hand up threateningly, she hid me behind her and moved her face away, shielding herself behind her wild hair as if it would soften a blow. He didn’t hit her, just laughed before grabbing his guitar and slinging it over his back before he disappeared. I reached out to stop him, “Dad,” I choked out, but it was already too late. He was gone. After the paralyzing pain of what had transpired subsided, my mother ran cool water over my burn until the stinging faded into a dull ache that would radiate in my chest for years to come. Cameron came over to where I sat on the couch and looked at my burn with his face contorted in pain as if he could physically feel the wound on his own flesh. “Does it hurt?” He asked quietly, and it was hard to imagine that he was the older of the two of us. He didn’t only take after our mother in appearance, but also in her timid nature. “Kinda,” I admitted, but I didn’t let the pain show.

He nodded before going over to our mom and rubbing her shoulders gently with his small hands. “I’m sorry about him,” he mumbled, his voice still cracked from him crying, and I couldn’t help but think of how weak he was. I never wanted to be like him... like any of them. *** As much as I hated to admit it, I was my father and now, my anger and resentment putrefying in my heart until I was nothing but rage. I was the one who should have been apologizing. The idea turned my stomach. I don’t deserve happiness. I picked up my phone from my dresser that was vibrating against the wood, a message from Chloe lit up on the screen. I slid my thumb up and down the edge of the small LCD.

SIX Hayden I sank down on the small loveseat in the living room, picking at a loose thread from the seam of my jeans. The last place I wanted to be was in the common area of our apartment and having to look at Noah, but Cameron thought it would be good for me to show him that he didn’t bother me and I wouldn’t be scared away that easily. The truth was, I had nowhere left to run. I couldn’t pick up and leave every time someone hurt my feelings. Kara showed up a little over an hour later while Noah and Cameron were on the sofa watching a boring superhero movie that I couldn’t force myself to enjoy. It had all the potential of being a box office hit, but I guess it wasn’t in the budget. Noah hadn’t spoken a word to me since his temper tantrum, but his eyes had cut to me several times, and I did my best to ignore him, keeping my gaze plastered on the television. He couldn’t have just been mad about having a roommate; that kind of anger doesn’t just spark out of nowhere. Even a

lighter takes a few clicks before you can get a good flame going. But it wasn’t my place to ask what his problem was. “Hey, guys,” Kara sang cheerfully as she came in the door. The guys mumbled back their greetings, and her gaze fell to me with a sympathetic smile. I waved to her awkwardly as I pushed from the couch and made my way into the kitchen to grab a few chips from the bag on the counter. “Hi.” “Oh hey, girl, I’m glad you’re here. How long have they been watching those dumb superhero movies?” She asked, pointing at the television as she sneered. “Too long,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “Well,” She said gleefully directing her attention back at me. “How would you like to go and hang out with some other females? The girls and I were about to go out, maybe doing a little bowling and grab a bite to eat.” “I had some errands to run,” I lied, my smile becoming forced. “Isn’t it getting late though? For bowling I mean.” I didn’t want to be rude, but the idea of meeting more new people didn’t exactly sound like fun. “No,” she checked her phone, “It’s only fourthirty, but we could do something else.” I shot a glance over at the boys; Noah was staring back intently forcing my eyes to dart to the ground. Anything would be better than having to

dodge his glare. “No, it’s whatever,” I replied, never feeling so alone. *** “The loneliest moment in someone’s life,” I read carefully, feeling the words beneath my thumb as it stroked the page, “is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” F. Scott Fitzgerald was an undeniable genius when it came to his creation of The Great Gatsby. I shut the book with a sigh while I refused to look up at my mirror. I almost found a sort of discomfort looking at my reflection. “Hayden,” A voice called from deep inside the house from a floor below my bedroom where I sat. Instinctively I looked up; I caught my own eyes in the reflective glass. “Yeah, mom?” I spoke just loudly enough to be heard, my mind distracted by my own face. It had the same oval shape as my mother's, framed evenly by long brown hair that spilled curls across my small chest; I even had the same pale lips and a small nose. Was it possible to receive the box but not its contents? For my sake, I hoped so. “You need to get this laundry out of the dryer.” “Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” I stood up slowly as if in a trance, I took graceful steps

toward the dark mirror-dresser combo. It didn’t help that I wore her dress, the blue various-print down that hung just down to my knees, the one she had worn to prom with ruffles at the bottom. I hated it but topped with my pink scarf you almost couldn’t tell. Pink. It fit my face nicely; if only my hair“Not later, now.” She called up again, frustration growing in her tone. “I’m coming,” I said quickly throwing the scarf onto my bed alongside the novel and shutting my bedroom door behind me. Taking the steps two at a time I began a conversation with her, “So mom, what would you think about me dying my hair?” I grabbed an empty white laundry basket from the bottom of the steps and made my way to the laundry room. “Dammit, Hayden. You’re not dying your hair, do you understand me?” “Mom, I wasn’t saying that I’m planning on it, I was just wondering what you would think,” I explained. She sighed heavily, her strawberry hair revealing brown roots “I don’t know. What were you thinking about doing? Highlights? You gave me no details to go off of.” “I don’t know, I was thinking of maybe changing the color,” I said as I pulled slightly wrinkled clothing out of the dryer, dropping the

pieces that didn’t need to be folded immediately into my basket and folding the rest. “Like maybe a blond or a red...?” My voice trailed off as I waited for a response. I could feel her rolling her eyes as she sighed again. “I’ll tell you what; if you ever even consider dying your hair I will personally kill you.” “Well,” I mumbled to myself, bleeding disappointment, “Thanks for putting thought in it to spare my feelings.” *** “Ladies,” Cameron called from the living room startling me back into reality. I nearly squealed, yet again. “I don’t talk through your chick flicks, you don’t interrupt my man picks,” he sang. “Agreed?” “You so talk through my chick flicks,” Kara shot back, annoyed. “Yeah, and I don’t watch them. Therefore, your argument is invalid,” I replied, shaking off the memory of my mother. He shushed us irritably and turned up the TV while Kara and I laughed. “Good,” she continued, bringing her voice down to a whisper. “You’re going to love them,” She squealed.

SEVEN Hayden The first of several best friends I had the pleasure of meeting was Kimberly Anderson. She had an athletic build with long blonde hair that made her olive-tone skin pop. Dressed in all pink, she looked like a model for Barbie. The other friend was Alesha Green. Her pixie cut hair was the same vibrant blue as her eyes, complimenting her dark complexion. She wore a vintage Superman T-shirt that I was instantly jealous of, even though I hated the movies because my father was always a fan. Both girls were a different physical representation of stunning and chic. It was clear that they were party girls by the way they walked into a room with such astounding confidence and optimism, though they both looked like they attended very different types of gatherings. The conversation turned to boys almost immediately, a topic I knew very little about.

“So, Hayden,” Kara began as the girls all directed their attention toward me, making me feel self-conscious. “What do you think about Noah?” “He’s... different,” I stammered, thinking back to how I initially liked him when we met in the hall, but how quickly he’d showed me another side of himself, a much angrier side. “Yeah,” Kimberly interjected, “but he’s totally hot, right?” she asked with a laugh, and I got the feeling she didn’t really need a response. “Does he have anything else going for him besides his pretty face?” “Oh yeah,” Alesha joined in, a sly smile spread across her lips, but her blue eyes stayed glued to the table. “Definitely more than just a pretty face. Have you seen his arms?” Again, they all laughed. These are the type of girls that would have turned down Eric before getting to know him. Even after all of this time I was protective of the boy who used to eat alone at lunch. Of course, he wasn’t that little boy anymore, and he wasn’t exactly a victim. I got the feeling neither was Noah. The longest a roommate has stuck around is three weeks. As the words replayed over in my head, I cringed inwardly. Maybe I didn’t want to get to know what was inside of that overly attractive head of his. It would be better to keep my distance.

A blonde-haired guy walked by, ramming his hip into the corner of our table while his eyes glued to the screen of his cell phone. The iced coffee in Kim’s hand splashed up her arm, causing her to squeal loudly. He apologized immediately, and even though she wore a scowl on her face, Kim accepted it as she blotted the mess with a few napkins left on the table. I glanced around to see if anyone was staring at us after her loud outburst, but everyone else seemed oblivious to anything going on around them. My eyes cut to the counter where I had met Drew, but behind the cash register stood an older woman with jet black hair and a nose ring. To my left was a young couple, two guys, who looked like they were on their first date. The thinner of the two was unable to stop fidgeting, and his leg was jumping under the table so much I thought he was going to cause a sinkhole. But their mutual attraction was evident, and I hoped to feel the gravitational pull of someone else one day. Next to them was a little girl waiting for her mom, at the counter ordering, whom she shot frequent glances at in between moments of watching the door for intruders. She looked about twelve, blonde hair, gold eyes and a large gap between her front teeth. Her mom was on her phone, arguing with someone on the other end of a custody battle.

There were other groups around us too, just conversing. Some were having intellectual battles about whether or not time travel was indeed possible. I wanted desperately to join in because one of them was so stupid it was unreal. Another group, farther away, was checking out a group that was also checking them out. Looking around I saw all of these people, all waiting for something. The girl for her mom, the young couple for the other to make their first move, the girls for the guys and the guys for the girls, the mom for her husband to tell her he loves her, the nerds for a legit answer. Everyone was waiting, but nobody was making things happen, and that bothered me. I almost swore my father rolled over in his grave to yell at me, and then reality struck. A girl from one of the other tables threw her head back laughing, “Ugh, Sara! I’m gonna kill you!” That’s when I felt it, the familiar tightening in my chest and twisting of worry in my gut. It felt like I had flown too close to a black hole and that it was sucking me in, leaving no traces of light behind in my absence. The past consumed me. The harder I try to forget the harder it pushes me back to remember. It’s like a rubber band. I keep tugging and tugging, testing my strength and my limits, and then I let go, and everything comes flooding back. It’s that split second that I almost believe in the dream I’m creating for myself that the band brings

me all the way back to where I started, stronger each time, more painful. I’m not sure if I should be anticipating the fall or the break; because at any moment, I feel like I could do both. *** “Hayden,” he whispered, enunciating each word slowly as he spoke, “your mom’s going to kill you this time.” “So she says,” I replied, running my fingers through my long red hair. “I don’t even see what her problem was; all Aunt Karen did was take me to get my ears pierced. I was thirteen!” He continued looking at me, not sure if he was disappointed in me or if he liked it too. “Yeah well, this time you’re really-,” “Look, Eric,” I said grabbing his hands and staring into his eyes to show him I meant business. “I get it; she’s going to be pissed like she always is and yell like she always does; can’t you just, for once, be on my side?” He stared at me for a moment before rolling his eyes and giving up his fight. “You look really pretty,” he conceded. I smiled proudly at him, twirling, so my dress swayed at the bottom, “Doesn’t it?” I gushed.

I turned back to the mirror that hung on his wall, the one his grandma had given him when he was ten just before she got sick, beaming at my new image before my skin went pale. “What’s wrong?” He asked from behind me while placing a hand on my shoulder. I hesitated, taking in what I had done, “You don’t-,” I whispered. “You don’t think I look like her, do you?” From the red hair to the high cheekbones, her long eyelashes and short stature, I was undeniably becoming my mother. He sucked in his lips, chewing on the insides of them; it was a nervous habit he picked up in fifth grade when his dog, Sheriff, passed away, and he didn’t want to talk about it. It was a sign that he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to make a situation worse. But this time, I just wanted it straight. “Maybe a little, why?” His voice shook from the confession. I held the tips of my hair tight between my finger and thumb and stared at myself with a frown. “Do you think she’ll like it?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “Hayden Ann Harlow, I think you’re beautiful, and nothing else should matter,” his voice cracked, muscles tensed beneath his t-shirt as he stiffened at his confession. I stared silently at our reflections standing side-by-side through the small, oval mirror framed

with a plainly decorated silver lining and gold trim. The glass was fogged and scratched in some places, from what I may never know, but it helped distract me from the few tears that did glide down my cheek. I let my eyes travel back to his worried expression and smiled, “Okay, Eric,” was all I could manage to say. He forced a fake smile, his body relaxing again. “Alright, Hayden.” Even with my own sadness I could never understand why he was so choked up at that moment, his voice cracking and expression pained. I knew he cared for me and I for him, but it was still odd to me, even then, just how much he must have sacrificed for our friendship. *** “Earth to Hayden.” I looked up at them; all three of the girls stared back at me and caused me to shift in my seat. “Oh,” I could feel myself blushing, “Sorry, I kinda zoned out.” I rubbed my eyes, stifling a yawn. “Yeah, no kidding,” Kara said back with a sympathetic smile. “You okay?” She mouthed. I nodded uncomfortably, “So what’s everyone drinking?”

Noah “Can you toss me a Happy Drink?” I called from the sofa to my brother who had his head inside of my fridge, rummaging for something to eat. He hesitated a moment, holding the fridge door open, “Dude,” he said slowly. “I get it that things are tough right now, but I am not giving you alcohol,” he glanced over the top of the door. “Mom would kill both of us if she came over and you’re wasted.” I just stared back at him for a good minute, “dumbass,” I said shaking my head. “They’re on the bottom shelf; it’s juice.” He squinted at me in disbelief before checking, “Oh,” his slouched body said from behind the door. “Red or blue?” I thought for a minute, “both.” “Good choice,” he said closing the fridge door and coming back over to sit beside me. “So,” he started. “Yeah?” “What do you think about Hayden?” He asked casually while slurping his blue juice, a trail of liquid ran over his chin and left tiny blue splatters on his t-shirt. I shook my head and turned back to the television, pretending to be deeply invested in the

show that was one, even though I had no idea what was going on. “What about her? What is this show even about?” “You know, like... what do you think?” “I think I’m changing the channel,” I said grabbing the remote from beside me and flipping through the programs. “About Hayden, Noah,” he said exasperated. I glanced at him, his eyes begging me for an answer. “Look, man, I don’t know. Hardly met her and I kind of hope it stays that way. I hate having people in my space.” “Yeah, well she’s into music,” he pushed. “She plays guitar like,” “Like Dad,” I finished. “And she dresses like she’s ready to leave like him too.” “I meant, she plays like you. I was just thinking,” he said before hesitating, “maybe if you and Chloe are over-,” “We’re not talking about this,” I snapped. “Look-,” “No,” I growled at him. “I just said no dammit, let it go.” We sat in silence for a little longer, both staring awkwardly at the television as I took a sip from my juice. “Don’t get her involved,” I added, struggling to keep my tone even. He eyed me for a moment, “Why not? Because you think you’re some sort of lost cause?” His light eyebrows twitched out of disgust.

“Because it doesn’t matter what I think of myself; it’s about what I do, who I am.” “And who are you, Noah?” He asked stubbornly turning to face me, “Please, little brother, enlighten me.” “James,” I answered quietly, refusing to glance his way. He turned back to the television, and out of my peripheral vision, I could see horror stealing his previously smug expression, “You’re nothing like Dad,” he muttered. I said nothing. “Noah, you are nothing like that sorry excuse for a man. You can’t let that be what defines you. He made his own mistakes, and then he left. But you,” He said, his emotions getting the better of him. “You are still here, and you are not him.” He paused, waiting for me to respond, to stop fighting. “Yeah,” I lied. “You’re right; I don’t know what I was thinking.” He turned back to the show. He knew I was lying, but his expression seemed to soften up a bit. “You’re not him,” He said one last time as if he was talking more to himself than me. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” I lied again, maybe it’s best I keep my thoughts to myself.

EIGHT Hayden It seemed like centuries, though it had only been a mere two weeks since I’d promised Noah I’d stay out of his way if he stayed out of mine. It was becoming agonizing to orbit around him in such a tiny space, and it felt like only a matter of time before we collided again. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt my feelings that after only about six minutes of interaction, he’d decided he didn’t want me to be in any part of his life. But I was determined to stick to my plan and stay put. I wasn’t going to be bullied or scared away when there wasn’t anywhere left to run. This was my chance to start over. I reached for my doorknob; I wanted desperately to escape the growingly claustrophobic confines of my room. But as my fingers gripped the knob and began to turn, I heard Cameron’s voice and lost my nerve. Instead, I leaned my cheek against the slightly cool wood and listened as he spoke to Noah.

“Look, man, I’m not trying to make you come, I just...” There was an uncomfortable pause filled with someone shuffling their feet. “I just really didn’t want to have to go this alone.” His voice sounded drained as if he hadn’t slept in days or perhaps it was just that hard for him to ask his brother for a favor. Where are they going? “Good. Don’t make me,” Noah replied to his brother with a hint of annoyance. “I’m not going. End of conversation.” Cameron let out an audible sigh. “Jesus, Noah! When are you ever gonna learn to grow up,” Cameron yelled back at him before the door slammed, causing me to jump backward, my palm pressed against my chest as I struggled to calm my startled heart. I waited a few moments, listening to the silence before I turned the knob and stepped out into the living room. I found Noah standing in the living room, his back to me. “Hey,” I said as I stepped through my doorway. “Not now, Hayden,” He sighed as he ran rough hands through his mess of hair and turned to face me. My eyes traveled down his bare chest before snapping back to his face. Dark circles marred the skin beneath his stormy eyes. “I just need space to think right now.” There was no anger in his voice,

and if I didn’t know any better, I would say he sounded more defeated than anything. I wanted to point out that he was in the common area of the house, but he looked so broken, that I couldn’t find it in myself to argue. “Sorry,” I mumbled. I walked quietly over to the sofa and sat down on the far cushion, pulling my knees to my chest. After a few seconds, he joined me, sinking down on the other end without a word. I stared off at the blank television screen, not sure if it would be alright to turn it on. “So is this what you normally do when we’re all gone?” His voice was scratchy from lack of sleep. “No,” I chuckled nervously. “I’m usually alone.” He nodded slowly. “I was kidding,” I waited for a reaction but he just stared ahead, no expression on his face. “I play guitar sometimes, but the silence is... peaceful.” I lied. “I don’t know. I don’t really like silence.” “Yeah?” I looked at him, a whole cushion away from me, and all I could see was the sad guy I had met on my way to the elevator before we spoke; it was clear he was hurting, and I wanted to know what had caused it. “Why?” He shook his head, returning his hand to his hair. “Being alone with my thoughts, it’s like...”

The pain in his voice was just suffocating to listen to, it was as if he was drowning. And I got it. “Reliving everything makes life hellish. You constantly remind yourself of all the things you secretly take blame for and if you fall in too deep...” I looked away from him as he continued to speak, feeling his eyes locked onto my profile. “But when you’re alone there’s no one to break you out of it, no one to assure you it’s okay,” he finished. I fell back against the cushions, tucking my feet up underneath me. I wanted there to be a blanket to hide myself in as he continued to stare. “Yeah,” I whispered, turning to face him, his gaze never wavering. It was like he was pleading with me to understand, and I knew all too well what that type of loneliness felt like. “I get it.” For a while there was just a long period of silence while the broken thoughts hung in the air like fog. Finally, I realized I had been watching him, my eyes tracing the delicate outline of his jaw. He felt my gaze, but he refused to look in my direction, so I cocked my head to the side like a puppy. Finally, my waiting paid off, and he turned to face me, “What?” “It is okay, you know that right?” I tried assuring him.

“What makes you think so?” “Well,” I thought. “Every bad thing that’s ever happened to me in my life has brought me here. I’d like to think that counts for something good. Don’t you?” And just in that moment, something flicked behind his eyes, just slightly. “I’m starting to.” *** The rain poured heavily, thudding as it hit the glass window and cascading down to the street below. Usually, I couldn’t sleep when it rained, but the steady drumming had lulled me into unconsciousness. That’s when the horror of my past returned, slipping into my subconscious when I was too tired to keep my walls up. But instead of reliving the broken fragments of my past, my mind mutated the memories into something even more terrifying. *** I stood silently on the sidewalk of an empty street. The sky lacked the beauty of stars or moon leaving me cloaked in nothingness. I blinked my eyes several times before an orange glow lit overhead, finally giving me a glimpse of my surroundings. The buildings stood ominously like angry giants that towered over me.

I glanced up at the glow of the streetlight overhead, and I could hear the sound of the electricity buzzing through them. I looked down at my clothes, feeling oddly loose, or maybe it was the tightness. There was just something about them that didn’t feel right, which made sense because they weren’t mine. I wore muddy, oversized jeans and a hoodie. It felt familiar to me, but not as if I had worn it. Instead of my boots, I wore ratty old sneakers, torn and drenched. I looked back up to the sky, wondering when it must have rained because while there were no stars or moon, there was also no cloud in sight. Suddenly a chill drifted down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck stood in their own personal terror; I wasn’t alone. But even worse yet, there was nowhere for me to hide. A woman about my height, possibly taller, stood down near the end of the street under a light of her own. “Hey!” I called to her, hoping she would be able to explain where we were or what in Hell’s name was going on. “Can you help me? I don’t know where I am.” I explained helplessly. She didn’t respond; she didn’t even move. “Hello? Ma’am?” I called, my voice growing tighter in my throat. And then it hit me, ‘What if she’s not there at all? Maybe I am alone, and I just see things.’

My heart pounded faster in my chest, my hands shaking as my knees started to buckle. “HELLO?” I realized I was screaming now, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care if people heard me, or if there was no one there at all, or if I genuinely was crazy. I just wanted someone to acknowledge that I existed. Anyone. “PLEASE-“ Footsteps padded in the puddles behind me. I spun around causing my hair to fly into my face, but no one was there. Perspiration poured down from my forehead over the rest of my body. My head throbbed, and my chest felt like I had just been punched. I felt the overpowering urge to scream, and cry, and run, and just give up and let the rain take me away; but I didn’t. No, I couldn’t. I turned back to face the woman under the streetlight, but she was gone. Clutching my heart I spun wildly, frantically looking to see a place she could’ve disappeared. My breathing turned to rough panting. I almost didn’t notice the streetlights growing dimmer, until they had reached a darkness that was near sightless. I panicked, “HELLO? WILL SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME?” My words were coming out in violent sobs, a breeze just pushing few small pieces of hair away from my face. Then something pinched me. It felt like a small jellyfish on my ankle, only stinging lightly. It didn’t bother me at first, and then the pain became a

piercing sting; like a thousand paper cuts. The pain spread up my legs; within seconds it went from discomfort to excruciating agony. I tried to lift my pant legs to see what had been biting at me, or clawing; but in the dim light, all I saw was the burnt skin bubbling and hissing as its terrified screams. They formed all up my legs, growing as if the invisible flames were licking and lashing against my bare skin. I cried out as I fell into the water beneath me, not able to carry my own weight anymore. That was when I found her standing over me; watching me. “Why are you doing this?” I pleaded, no longer able to scream. She simply smiled. “Why?” I choked out. “You did this to yourself.” She dropped something into the water, and the flames spread more rapidly. She smiled as she stood over me, motionless as the flames crashed over her like waves. And then it hit me; it wasn’t rain. It’s gasoline. The last thing I managed to cry out before we were engulfed once again in the orange glow was a single word; a word that killed me on the inside while the fire killed me on the outside. “Mom.” Slowly, we both died.

NINE Noah I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought bitterly, the pain straining my throat and eyes until the world was a violent blur and I knew I couldn’t scream to escape it. I punched at my mattress as if it would make me feel better. I tugged and pulled at the sheets as if crushing things within my fists would undo what I’ve done. I COULD HAVE FIXED IT, my mind screamed while I rummaged through my dresser drawers. WHERE IS IT? My body grew cold instantly, face flushing and I could feel all of the blood rush to my stomach where it twisted and knotted my intestines. “No, no, no,” I quietly chanted to myself in disbelief. I let out another choked off sigh, “no.” I turned my doorknob quietly, searching through kitchen drawers and living room stands but it wasn’t there. Shit, I could feel my lungs collapsing, heart shattering, hands becoming clammy, and it was the point I wanted to start

writing but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move; I couldn’t think clearly. And then it hit me. The spare room, I stepped quietly up to her door, resting my ear up against it to hear if she was awake. Nothing. I turned the knob hesitantly, not wanting to wake her as I pushing the door away from me. I could always claim I forgot, I planned. No, I considered while checking shelves and dresser tops for the picture frame. I couldn’t forget her“Please,” her motionless body choked out in a harsh whisper. I froze. My heart padded like bricks falling on water, violent smacks against the inside of my chest, but I said nothing. I watched Hayden roll over while she slept, the frame in sight, but instead I walked past it to see her. Her face twisted in horror, tears and sweat blending as they slid down her soft face, “please help me...” she whispered groggily. Caught in the moment of watching her in her complete innocence clawing her way out of the terrifying depths of her mind with no one to break her out and remind her it’s okay, I pushed a single strand of hair away from her face. I admired her a second longer before grabbing the seemingly empty picture frame and pulling her door almost closed. It’s my turn to face my demons, I thought to her.

I pulled back the pins keeping the back pressed against the photo and pulled it off revealing a small white square stained only in the middle with wearing on the edges. Flipping it over I saw a faded image of a youthful woman, maybe 24, 25 sitting on a sofa cluttered with laundry and plastic bags. Her head was cocked to the side while she appeared to be laughing, her face pointing in the direction of a man who watched back soberly in her direction. I continued to study the image, the minute details that put the whole thing together like the almost unnoticeable baby bump that hid beneath her hideous gray sweatshirt. New poem...

Hayden I shot up in a panic, gasping and clutching silently to my throat. The room eventually came back into view, and I realized that the pain that remained was on my ankle where the flames had begun, and in my chest where the anxieties hid. I lifted the covers to see why; apparently, I had been scratching it in my sleep so much so that it bled onto the brim of my sock. “Shit,” I whispered with false frustration, secretly glad I had something to take my mind away from the nightmare. I stepped quietly into the bathroom to clean myself; thankfully it wasn’t a serious wound, and all it needed was a little soap along with my hands that were sticky with sweat. Realistically I knew I would need a shower to take care of how heavily I sweat; you could’ve safely assumed that rain had come in through my window and found its way over to my bed. I cringed, but something lightened within me. The stress wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t necessarily there anymore, so it was nice for the time being. On my way back to my bed I noticed that not only had the rain stopped but it was only 3:12 in the morning. I grabbed a corner of my blanket, shifting myself onto the mattress, and pulled it gently over the top of my bare shoulder when I caught a

glimpse of a shadow beneath my door and noticed that my door was open a crack when I knew I had closed it. I sat up, quickly deciding to let it go until I heard the light clicking of the front door opening and shutting. Somehow I had gone to standing and then rummaging through my suitcase for sneakers. It didn’t take long since I had emptied most of the clothes into drawers, so I slipped on a gray pair of Adidas and left my bedroom slowly. I somewhat hoped to run into Noah coming in late or something; nothing. I tapped my fingers on his door; again, nothing. I tugged on the spaghetti straps of my tank top to readjust them and left the apartment with a sort of eager, lightweight jog. I just caught a glimpse of his black hoodie as he was getting into the elevator. Now, a normal person might have let this go; this would’ve been the point where they’d say, “Shoot, I guess I missed him, and I’ll just have to pick up some milk in the morning.” I, however, was in no way that person. I high-tailed it down the steps like they were lava, panting heavily when I finally reached the lobby. My adrenaline was pumping, heart racing, stomach churning; it was like watching a scary movie and anticipating the killer to jump out, or reaching the top of a roller coaster and seeing the drop. It felt awesome.

I slowly pressed the disease ridden door keeping a small crack so he wouldn’t see me. I wasn’t exactly sure why I was hiding from him, but like I said it was awesome. After impatiently waiting a couple of seconds, positive the germs on the door were consuming my hand relentlessly, I jogged to the barely-open elevator doors. “Shit,” I whisper angrily. Empty. This time I wasn’t jogging but full-on sprinting to the lobby doors, checking the sidewalk in hopes of seeing him through the misty shadows. Got him. I weighted my footsteps carefully not to splash in the puddles while I followed him, determined to stay five seconds behind him. At some point, whether it was when we passed through a vacant park or when we speed-walked down a not vacant street that I decided three seconds would be sufficient enough. A small sliver of me wanted just to haul ass back to the student apartment complex and ask him what he was doing when he gets back, but I decided I didn’t want to walk all the way back the way we came completely alone. At least this way I had someone to witness the attacker and call them out of a lineup. A bird screeched on a nearby tree branch. Don’t judge me, bird. I found it odd that we started walking through trees instead of on a bike path or something. Oh my

God, he knows I’m following him; this is it. But he didn’t turn around, or change pace, or anything you would expect a suspicious person to do; he just kept walking. This was about when I started thinking up excuses I could use when he finds out I’ve been following him. Maybe this was a bad idea. He’s going to think I’m insane for following him unless I thought he was a burglar and I wanted to see why he broke in... Okay, that was completely stupid. Wouldn’t I just call the cops? WHAT IF THE BURGLAR HAD A GUN? And suddenly I was even more terrified of walking around in complete darkness behind someone I wasn’t even completely sure was Noah. The pain in my chest returned, along with the voices that mocked my already fleeting sanity. I am just like her. Wait, I thought abruptly. Where is he? Lost in my thoughts, I forgot to keep seconds behind him and started wandering aimlessly in the woods. I walked slowly, contemplating my next move, and then I was walking swiftly, then jogging, then running, then sprinting fearfully trying to guess the seconds I was behind him. 6, 7, 8... My heart beat grew faster and more determined, while my breaths became shorter and shallower.

When the trees ended, I was welcomed by the sight of a graveyard, and there he was opening the large steel gates that far too elaborately caged in dead people. That is weird actually that they put a gate around dead people, I mean, I know it’s actually to keep the living out or possibly their spirits in, but I found it strange. What if he’s one of those Devilworshipers and now he’s going to sacrifice my soul to his demon buddies. Now that had to be the absolute dumbest fear that I’d come up with this early, I mean come on Hayden, wake up. I was hesitant to follow him, but then I did because what else was there to take from me besides my life? Nothing. I stopped instantly when I reached the gate, just close enough to see his body slumped over in front of a gravestone. “Oh no,” I whispered to myself. Tears formed in my eyes as I neared him, my breath grew more shaky and uneven. Suddenly the weight of losing my parents settled deep in my gut, that I hadn’t been to the funeral if there had even been one, that I hadn’t seen family or friends make myself feel not so... empty. I stood close enough to read the name over his shoulder, “Lisa M. White.” I said aloud. “My mom,” his weak body choked out from the wet dirt.

Suddenly it all made sense; he missed the funeral; his mom was probably the Ms. White who had 'fully paid' for the room, and this was the contractual complication that resulted in me getting a room. I bit my lip to hold back tears. I knew, deep down, that this grave wasn’t my parents, but somehow, deep down, it felt that way. “Cancer,” he spoke in simple statements, but I got it. I stood helplessly beside him, refusing to look at his sad face swollen from sobbing. My chin quivered, could it be true? Was there freedom in having nothing left to lose? I dropped down onto my knees beside him, feeling the dampness of the soft dirt against my bare skin. I rested my head against his shoulder, something about it felt comfortable and relieving. I put my arms limply around him, feeling the shiver of sobs beneath his hoodie as he weakly raised a hand to keep my arm in place against his chest. It was the only thing that had felt like freedom in a long time. MOTHER LISA M. WHITE OCT. 17, 1963 MAR. 25, 2016

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me read it over, and over, and over... my eyes fluttered as it started to mist. I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing. Did she? *** I don’t exactly remember what happened after that. I know that I woke up on the sofa covered with a throw blanket I didn’t recognize. I don’t remember dreaming either, which was strangely comforting. I sat up slowly, my neck screaming out in pain whenever I moved it and pushed the blanket aside gently. I scanned the room, but no one was around. Sitting up quickly I brushed my hair out of my face and found that my cheeks were wet; It must have rained, or maybe I cried in my sleep again. I wiped away the salty liquid and sat up fully, my feet grazed my sneakers that were now sitting up against the couch; I almost didn’t even realize that I was wearing a hoodie. The door opened quickly, and I stood, frightened. “Hey, you’re awake,” Noah said awkwardly holding a plastic bag. “Yeah,” I mumbled. “What happened last night?” The back of my head throbbed. “Uh,” he started, shutting the door behind him and locking it. “Well, you kind of passed out at the...” He avoided all eye contact with me.

I walked over to him, watching him place the contents of the bag on the counter. It was small things like canned spaghetti, apples, Gatorade, etc. “And?” “Well,” he shook his head, back facing me; with each word he spoke he shrugged uncomfortably. I should just let him go; he had a rough night. “I brought you back here and let you rest.” “Thanks,” I said finally as I made my way over beside him and helped by putting the canned food in cabinets and apples on the table. “Hey, so why were you following me last night?” And there it was the question I dreaded. I stood at the table, my back to him, sorting the apples in their bowl unnecessarily. I could feel him staring at me; his lean body slouched against the counter casually. “I heard you sneak out,” I answered honestly. “You weren’t sleeping?” “I woke up.” “Ah,” the more questions he asked, and I answered the more doubtful his tone grew. I turned to look at him now to study his expression, “I had a nightmare, so I woke up and then I heard you leave.” “I see,” he said unsurely, still only partially looking at me. “What about?” “What about what?”

“The nightmare,” now he saw me. “What was the nightmare about?” My heart felt like it was floating just above water; almost high enough to breathe. I could feel the burning of tears in the backs of my eyes, my neck stiffened, legs grew weak. “It was nothing,” I choked out in a whisper barely audible. I could see him in a blur nodding, “Alright, Hayden.” He said “alright,” but there was a shiver in his voice that unmasked his doubt in how things were going to be for us. “Okay, Noah.”

TEN Hayden I ran into Kara on my way out of the student apartment complex; she wore a shimmering silver blouse with leather shorts and black pumps. As I got closer, I noticed that her mascara was smudged just below her eyelids like she had been crying. “Hey, Kara,” I spoke slowly like I was the college student who dared test the waters on the last day of shark week. “I hardly recognized you; how are things?” Her blank gaze shattered into a million pieces causing her small chin to quivers, her delicate fingers curled into fists by her sides. I almost didn’t notice she was coming at me until she was there, in my face, no time to react. Luckily, and also uncomfortably, she only wrapped her arms around my shoulders and sobbed. “What’s wrong?” I asked worriedly, not sure what I was supposed to do with my arms. She muffled words against my shirt, but I couldn’t make them out, “Hun, you’re gonna have

to speak up.” “We... broke...up....” Oh shit. “Oh my God, Kara. I’m so sorry.” I wasn’t sure why but it felt right to shake my head slowly in disbelief, I mean, I really didn’t believe it. But here she was, in the student apartment complex lobby, sobbing and looking a mess. She was able to contain herself for a moment, just long enough to fill me in on some of the details. “His mom.... She died..” she was making gestures with her hands as if she too couldn’t understand it. I looked away, somewhat ashamed, “I know.” “He said he couldn’t do this...” He voice broke, and she was sobbing again, “how could he do this? We were perfect... I don’t understand.” This time I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, hugging her briefly. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” When we got to the room, I knocked first, leaving her stopped a couple of steps behind me, to make sure Cameron wasn’t over to make things worse on Kara. Luckily, he wasn’t. “Hey buddy,” Noah said when he opened the door, his face changed quickly from sympathetic to surprised. “How’s it going with you,” I asked pulling Kara by her wrist behind me. “Cuz it’s going great with me.” My tone was bleeding sarcasm that I was grateful he caught.

“Hey Kara,” he said gently, but he didn’t have time to continue before she cut him off. “I’m so sorry about your mom Noah,” Her arms laced themselves around his neck causing something to turn over in my stomach. You probably just feel bad for someone other than yourself for once. Still, it made me uncomfortable. Finally, she let go sometime later, “Thank you, Kara.” He said sympathetically, gently pecking her forehead. The feeling came back stronger this time. “Okay,” I said quickly. “We should get you cleaned up.” She followed me to my room slowly like a sandcastle on the verge of crumbling. I nodded behind me to Noah who nodded back. I smiled secretly to myself. "I didn't, I mean, I was just getting back from a party," she explained sadly. "I live on the floor below this one." “Here,” I said handing the wet blob to her. “It’s a warm washcloth to get the rest of the makeup off.” “Thanks,” she whispered back. “No problem,” I shrugged. I readjusted myself to get more comfortable, but there isn’t much of a way to be comfortable when you’re sitting on the edge of a tub; it just doesn’t seem likely. “No, I mean for everything. Thank you, Hayden.” Her tone was more serious, calm and collected. It pleased me.

I smiled, “No problem.” There was a short moment of silence while she rubbed away thick globs of mascara and eyeliner that in no way complimented her light complexion. And then she spoke, “So, what do you think about Noah?” She threw the washcloth on the rim of the sink; it landed with a slushy plop. “What,” I asked in exasperation, my face heating up like an oven. “Well,” she smiled sideways, “I just noticed the way you two look at each other...” she poked. “It seems like you two might have a thing.” I felt out of breath like I was the night I followed Noah into the graveyard, the same fear pumped through my veins like blood. “What? Nono, no definitely not,” I denied unconvincingly. I shook my head violently, “No, I’ve only ever liked one guy, and he isn’t here.” I said finally. “Oh? Who?” Thank God, I was dragging her attention away. “Eric,” I said surely. “Ah, and let me guess,” she raised a single eyebrow and smirked mischievously sniffling quietly. “Does he go to another school?” Her laugh echoed in the small space. “Oh, shut up,” I complained. “Hey,” she said throwing her hands up defensively. “Don’t get mad at me because you can’t admit to yourself that you like Noah.”

“Because I don’t,” I cried. “God, why do you want me to like him so badly?” “Oh, I don’t know.” She mocked. “Maybe cuz you’re all he talks-.” She stopped suddenly, apparently reading a familiar expression on my face. “No. No-no, no Hayden!” “He talks... about me?” I said finally causing her to drop her shoulders and sigh into her hands. “That’s not what I was-.” “Bullshit,” I cut her off. “Tell me.” “Why,” she mumbled. “It’s not like you like him anyway.” “You know what, fine! I don’t care about your stupid gossip that probably isn’t true in the first place,” my heart fluttered. “It’s whatever.” I crossed my arms angrily; I don’t see why she at least couldn’t finish the sentence. She threw her head back lazily, drowned in her thoughts. She sat on the toilet seat lid facing me, her back against the sink. “I hate his girlfriend,” she mumbled confidingly. “Yeah?” “She’s a bitch; thinks she’s better than everyone else, too good for him.” She shook her head and stuck her tongue out. “I’d like just to hit her, one good time,” she brought her fist up and jokingly showed me how she would punch her. We both laughed. “Why don’t you then?”

“Well, they’re dating.” She shrugged, “so there’s that.” “Well, then why don’t you talk to him, you know, as a friend?” She chuckled, but I didn’t see the humor. Was she picking on me? “Clearly you haven’t been here long.” Longer than three weeks, I thought bitterly. “We’ve all tried talking to him; he just doesn’t listen.” “Then he probably knows and is just waiting.” “Yeah, but for what?” She was looking at me now. “I don’t know,” I was getting nervous under pressure. “For something better to come along?” “No chance, he doesn’t know he deserves better. It’s part of his charm,” she shrugged, sitting back again. “We choose to accept the love we think we deserve,” I recited quietly, resting my mouth on my knee. Maybe that’s why I choose to be alone. “Yeah,” Her voice was just above a whisper. She groaned, “Yeah I guess you’re right.” *** I took slow, deliberate steps into the tub, the warm water only reached above my ankles. From the bathroom, I could hear the joyous shouts of Eric and his older, slightly more intimidating, brother

Sam while they watched a football game in the garage. One of them was swearing off betting profusely as the water flowed heavily. I wonder how Eric would respond to my newly dyed red hair tied into a red knot on top of my head. Would he think it’s daring? Maybe he would think I’m some whack-job who’s really bad at dying hair. I hope it looks nice, or else what’s the point? Just to deliberately go against my mother's wishes, to prove her wrong? Maybe I was doing it all just to impress Eric and show him there’s more to me than just whatever my mother wants. The kitchen timer sounded, startling me and I nearly fell into the tub. I followed the instructions that came along with the dye and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair using the removable shower top. I could feel the warm liquid running soothingly across my scalp like kind fingers brushing through my hair. It almost didn’t feel like I was doing anything different from an ordinary shower. I finished rinsing off all of the soap before I turned off the water; the level of the water reached nearly to the center of my calves. I lifted the plug from the water and watched the suds slowly drain down. It was odd, I thought running a towel over my wet hair, that Eric’s mom had hair dye; I mean, it surely wasn’t Eric or Sam’s, and I know their dad

doesn’t dye his hair red. I don’t know; maybe I was just overthinking things to distract myself from the change I’d just made. Do I regret it? I stared at myself in the mirror wearing nothing but underwear and a bra; my wet tangled hair pulled down over my shoulder. I glanced down for a moment, noticing Eric’s toothbrush lying carelessly in the sink. Something was wrong; I thought outside of the suddenly-escapable memory. I wasn’t fully immersed; it was as though I was in a dream waking up just enough to become aware that I’m dreaming, but then by doing so I start to forget what the dream was about. Something isn’t right; I’m missing a piece. But what? Shit, Eric’s coming upstairs. I’ve gotta hurry and get dressed before he sees me.

ELEVEN Hayden “This has to be one of the,” I looked around the tight space, the infrequent splatter of lights reflecting against sweaty bodies, “Weirdest thing I’ve ever been to.” Kara just laughed, “At least try to have fun for one night, Hayden!” She yelled over the pulsing beats. Just then some guy seemingly came up out of nowhere and started dancing with her. He had long, green-dyed hair and mesmerizing yellow contacts. He wasn’t all that cute with his lanky figure and dancing that more closely resembled the arm-flailing tube creatures outside of car dealerships, but he was interesting, and Kara seemed well-distracted. I want to be distracted, I thought distractedly. I was too busy thinking about what Kara had said to me the other day, does he really talk about me...? Was I the ‘hallway girl’ he had mentioned to Cameron? I had to be!

An explosion of noise broke me from my thoughts. Lights were flashing dramatically, music pouring out of the speakers like sweat off of the sticky bodies that pressed against other bodies. It’s like it’s everything I’m not, isn’t that a good thing? Normally, my thing would be sitting alone in my bedroom pitying myself. Or it would be going over to Eric’s house and having him pity me. Or going to a school where I have my teachers and classmates look at me like they feel sorry for me. Normally I would curl up with a good book and reread the same page twenty times before giving up because I was too busy feeling bad for myself to pay attention. Somehow this was different. Somehow I almost liked it. No. I love it. I’m surrounded by people having a good time, people that don’t care about my past or who I am or my faults; the world is perfect right now. I’m happy, and I don’t want to think about anything else. We all just jumped, throwing our fists in the air and freezing with the music. The crowd would freeze as the music would lead up preparing for the beat to drop, then- JUMP! The adrenaline rush was unreal. Red. Blue. Green. Orange. Multicolor. JUMP! It was all so intense; people were drinking and things that I, morally, wouldn’t permit.

A small part of me wanted to break loose into the chaos, but I refused. I saw the way it was affecting people; I could only picture the aftermath. These people saw strobe light of color and lasers and music and dancing... but I saw the next morning of vomit, headaches, and just overall sickness. After everything I just couldn’t convince myself to be a normal, stupid teenager. Sweat glistened over my entire body; my hair was everywhere, and I was everywhere. And then, you wouldn’t believe it; I saw him through the crowd of disappointment and neglect. “Noah,” I whispered his name out loud preparing to make my way over to him, a pathetic smile creeping across my lips. He was grinning, and it seemed like the happiest I’d seen him since we met. Perfect, I thought excitedly, the exuberance of the moment striking me like a bus, now just talk to him. And then I saw it. It was then I saw the bleached-blonde in a tight dress holding his hands between her delicate fingers. I wasn’t sure if the beat dropped, but I felt something fall within me. It collapsed and shattered, and I’m inclined to believe it was my heart but it could’ve just been that I hadn’t eaten. Suddenly I was approached by a dark-haired boy, his green eyes piercing through the lights of

the party. It wasn’t his eyes I saw first, though; it was the tattoo of a clock that laced his inner forearm. He held his hand out, offering me to take it. Suddenly the world was quiet and still. I reached out, closing the gap between us, and held his hand as he led us out of the swarm. Behind me, I could hear the beat drop followed by laughter and yelling. It hit me that I was that girl. I was the one that dies first in scary movies, but he was so mesmerizing, and all I wanted to do was forget. I couldn’t help myself. He wanted to take me away from the crowd, so he did. *** “So what’s a nice girl like you doing at a party like that,” he asked me from across the red and black checkered table. Nice girl. I wanted to reply to his smile with one of my own, but just thinking about it reminded me of Noah and that girl. “What’s a smart guy like you doing with a tattoo like that,” I asked gesturing to the clock. “Ugh,” he laughed a cute, deep-voiced laugh. “Back to this?” “Yes,” I said bluntly. “I don’t like it.” He was still smiling when the waitress came over to take our order. He gestured to me first, “Um, just a sweet tea, please.”

“Ok,” she mumbled scribbling it down. “And you, Drew?” She asked him, her mouth curling up slightly at one end when she said his name. “Yes, well I will have the fantastic cheese sticks and water, please.” He winked when he finished and handed her our menus. When he returned to planet Earth, I glanced away and began fidgeting with sugar packets, “Who’s she?” I tried to ask casually. He watched me and picked up a packet as well; he twirled it between his fingers, “No one you need to worry about.” She was tall with long brown hair and baby-blue eyes, the very definition of ‘worry about it.' My eyes darted to his, “What do you mean?” “I mean,” you could tell he was getting nervous, his jaw clenched while he maintained eyecontact with the table tiles. He threw a casual shrug, “I like you.” I didn’t mean to, it just happened... He looked appalled but in a sarcastic way, “Did you just laugh at me?” “No,” but I couldn’t stop. The giggles just kept erupting from me like lava, “I mean, yeah, but I wasn’t laughing at you!” He tried to be upset, but he couldn’t help himself from joining in, “what’s so funny?” “I dunno,” I dropped the sugar packet, and the waitress came back with the drinks.

“The cheese sticks will be out in just a minute,” she assured him with a smile. “Okay, thanks,” he replied blindly before turning back to me. “Then why are you laughing?” “I guess,” I said after the spontaneous amusement subsided, “I’ve just never had anyone say they like me before.” “Hm,” he said quietly. We just sat there for a minute waiting for him to get his food so we could leave. “You know,” he started. “Artificial sweeteners are actually worse for your body than the normal sweeteners. Which sucks because people on diets love them,” he smiled. “No kidding,” I said amused, brushing loose hairs out away from my face. *** “So how was your night,” he asked dropping me off at the apartment. “It was okay,” I grabbed his wrist playfully, “you certainly taught me not to waste a good moment.” He leaned in closer; I could smell the cologne on his Green Day t-shirt. Just then the door opened, startling us both, causing him to jump away. “Oh sorry,” Noah said with false discomfort. “I thought I heard someone out here; I was hoping it

was...” His voice trailed off when he noticed my disappointed expression. “Did I interrupt something?” “Naw, man; you’re good,” Drew said quickly. He was about the same height as Noah, maybe only half as wide, and it seemed like in that moment that’s exactly what he was thinking too. “Oh good,” he continued calmly, “well have either of you seen Cameron?” “Nope,” I said without hiding my disdain. “Oh okay,” he said leaning back into the room. “If you do just yell for me,” he winked as he closed the door. I couldn’t tell what it was for sure, but I could’ve sworn I almost wanted him to come back out; for anything, just something stupid. “So...” Drew said after an awkward pause of silence. He leaned back in, “Nope,” I said smoothing putting my hand in front of his face. “Maybe you should get a bigger tattoo next time. Clearly, you missed the message.” I grabbed the room key out of my back pocket and opened the door, “Night Drew.” “Night,” he mumbled before I shut it. I pressed my back against the cool wood, just in time for Noah to come up through the kitchen. “Gone so soon? It’s only,” he went to check the time with a questionable eyebrow raised.

“You didn’t think it was Cameron,” I said plainly. I could’ve sworn he smirked, “so you went out tonight?” “You didn’t?” “Not exactly.” “What do you-,” but he cut me off before I could finish, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ve gotta take this,” he said checking the name on the LED screen, “Hello? Cameron? Where the Hell are you, I’ve been worried sick!” He yelled, his expression turning tight and angry. It was at that moment the room started to shake; I could feel the intense emotions mixing the contents of my head and stomach like a blender. The thoughts trampled their way into my mind with a violent thudding that sounded like the pounding of a clock. It ticked, and ticked, and ticked as the room fell black like a curtain closing the scene. *** “Where were you,” she yelled angrily. “We’ve been worried sick!” “Mom,” a male’s voice spoke guiltily, “I was just hanging out with Hayden.” I leaned heavily against the warm drywall; the Fisher’s didn’t like using air-conditioning because Eric’s dad was raised in an Amish community. He

was only kicked out because he fell in love with Eric’s mom, a nonbeliever. They’ve somewhat modernized and compromised since then, but there are some things they still like to hold onto around the house like they don’t use electrical appliances and they don’t wear jewelry, they only dress in solid dark-colored clothing and don’t use any unnatural dyes. For that reason, Eric’s mom likes to keep multiple candles stashed away for cold nights, also a kerosene lantern in case of emergencies in each of the bedrooms. I scrounged my toes beneath me on the carpet as their voices changed to hushed tones. “I don’t want you hanging out over there anymore,” his mom whispered loudly. “But Mom, it was only one time,” Eric’s familiar voice whined. What was only one time, I thought curiously. “Eric, that is enough! I don’t want to hear any more on the subject,” she scolded. “And when your father comes back from wherever he is,” I could imagine her waving her arms in the air as she sometimes did when she became exasperated. “He can deal with you. Now make sure you’re packed up for New York when he gets home, you know he doesn’t like to make these trips longer than they need to be.” Her voice was sharp, unfaltering. Whatever she was saying, she meant it. I just wish I knew

what it was. I waited a moment longer in my hiding place behind the wall just outside the kitchen for Eric to reply, to argue, something but he remained silent. I turned around to high tale it back to his bedroom; there I could confront him about this whole ‘hair-dying’ situation with my mom. But as soon as I shifted the weight to my other foot he was already standing over me; his strong hands rested on my shoulders while he stared worriedly into my eyes. I managed to choke out a whisper, “Noah?”

TWELVE Hayden “What was that?” Noah asked for nearly the tenth time. “I told you,” I said weakly as I tried to push away the thoughts that had invaded my restless and confused mind; “I must’ve just zoned out.” “No, no-no. No, I’ve seen people zone out; that was like,” He searched for a phrase that would best describe what he meant. Then his face tightened into something that could only be described as either anguish or disappointment; he squinted. “Are you on drugs?” “What?” I stood up exasperatedly, “are you kidding me? I zone out, and you think I’m a drug addict all of the sudden?” “Well, I didn’t. But now I do,” he replied firmly. I pushed on his chest; it didn’t move him, but he took a careful step back anyway. “You’re ridiculous,” I told him angrily before I stormed off to plant myself on the sofa.

He opened his mouth to say something, regret becoming apparent on his face, but before he could the door swung open. “Who’s ready to go camping,” Kara asked bursting into the room with false enthusiasm and a red tank top. “Umm,” I mumbled curiously, caught completely off-guard by the sudden mood and subject change. “I don’t know if that’s such a great idea,” Noah said finally. “I mean, with you and Cam...” “Look, I know we aren’t dating anymore,” she said rolling her eyes. “But we already paid for the trip, and I think, correct me if I’m wrong, that we’re all old enough to move past the ‘boyfriend/girlfriend’ drama and have a fun weekend out together.” Her inappropriateness in the situation was almost comforting, possibly, hidden deep within the panging sickness it left in my stomach. A part of me worried slightly that Noah would tell her he believes I do drugs now, and since they’ve known each other for so long, she would believe him. And then I would be alone, again. There was a moment of quiet contemplation on Noah’s part where he refused to look at me; I just sat on the sofa quietly while they dealt things out. As I watched them, I noticed a pink Nike bag thrown over Kara’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he argued while he ran a hand through his messy black hair, “I still don’t think that’s a good idea.” She threw her hands up in exasperation, “Well what if Hayden comes to ease the tension,” she pointed at me. “What,” I asked warily. “Was I just volunteered to play peacekeeper on a camping trip I wasn’t formally invited to?” “Yes,” she said painfully withholding her irritability as she spoke through her clenched jaw, there was a twinkle of hope evident in her bright green eyes begging me to consider her invitation. “Well,” I said carefully, “I’m for it if you guys are.” I shrugged. “I haven’t been camping since I was three, so I don’t really know all the fundamentals but, yuh know, I’m cool with it if you are.” I made it a point to look at Noah when I said, ‘you,’ struggling not to cry as I spoke. He hates me. He shrugged and turned around so his back would face me as if our conversation five minutes ago hadn’t even happened, “I mean, sure. I’ll try, but I can’t promise Cameron will agree,...” “He will,” Kara said suddenly. I exchanged thoughtful glances with the back of Noah’s head while he continued to avoid looking at me, “Well, what’s everyone waiting for? Let’s get packing!” Kara yelled excitedly as she threw down her bag beside the table. “I’ll be back to pick

everyone up in about six hours, so be ready,” she added before she disappeared into the hallway. *** Seven hours later Kara showed up rushing us out of the room, of course, I was already ready because I didn’t need to repack too many things. “Alesha is driving us in her dad’s old VW van thingy, and Cameron is bringing Tony along,” she told us on our way out to the elevator where we then stood awkwardly for what seemed like forever. To be completely honest, while I wasn’t ecstatic to go on the trip, there were few things I hated more than staying inside alone for countless hours. SO, it was better than the alternative. “Wow,” she looked at Noah hoping he’d comment, “and here we have an annual trip we go on, and she hasn’t been since she was three.” I raised both eyebrows to respond instead of speaking outright; maybe this whole trip was a bad idea, from the start. We rode the rest of the way down in silence. I’m not sure why, but I was surprised when I saw how big the van actually was. Alesha stood plastered to the side of it, gesturing us into the double doors like a sarcastic model, now sporting red hair that better framed her sun-kissed skin and blue eyes.

The vehicle, which I later became informed is named Debra, has a beautiful cream and brown interior that was soft to the touch. The seating in the back resembled the setup of a limousine. Whereas it was positioned in the shape of an L. In the back, there were only seat belts for four people, so naturally, Kara and Alesha occupied the front seats while the boys and I sat uncomfortably in the back with all of the luggage behind and between us on the floor. The trip was a six-hour trip. I’ve learned that Tony, Cameron’s friend, is a huge fan of Skiing though he had oddly enough never participated in the sport or witnessed it played in any form. He claims that the “obsession,” his words not mine, all started when he saw a poster in a magazine “about sports” and the intricacy of the image captivated his “dreams and waking conscious at all hours.” “Wow,” I said awkwardly shaking my head in genuine disbelief, “that’s almost poetic.” Noah, who seemed to express the thoughts I was actually thinking muttered, “Or just weird.” “Yeah, but mostly that,” I whispered back, startling him as though he hadn’t known his voice was audible or that the words had left his lips. I almost wanted just to stare at him, Noah I mean. I knew he didn’t like me when we met, I know he still doesn’t trust me and that I’m undeserving of it anyway, but what I don’t know is

when the day will come that I’m not able to just wonder about him so closely. I don’t know when the day will come that the questions I’m dying to ask won’t even have the slightest opportunity to be shared, even if I wouldn’t ask them now. I almost felt deeply intoxicated by the curiosity he left me drowning in; it was as if even the more I found out, the more questions I had, the less I truly knew. It was almost enough just to be able to look at him with silent thoughts and know that right now he was next to me and that was enough. “Are you staring at me, Harlow?” His voice asked, breaking through my mental rantings of curiosity and plaguing temptation. “You wish,” I lied. I shifted my gaze out the window beside him, “I just wish I would’ve gotten the window seat.” That’s not necessarily a lie. He raised both of his dark eyebrows suspiciously, “You wanna switch?” He asked me, his fingertips grazed his seat belt buckle resembling a cowboy drawing his weapon in any western movie ever made. “Right now,” I asked excitedly grasping for mine. He quickly glanced at the girls before shifting his gaze back at me, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a sideways smirk, “in three...”

His dark eyes burned into mine like a hellish fire, “two...” Anticipation caused my palms to get slightly sweaty; it happened whenever I was nervous. He glanced back at them, “ONE!” And you could hear the quick clicking of our seat belts and the quick chuckles once we settled down in each other's seats. “Noah,” Alesha called back without turning around, “you better not be doing anything stupid.” “Of course not,” he said sounding sarcastically appalled. Then Kara turned around, her back towards Cameron and Tony, “Hayden, I hope you’re not instigating anything,” she winked. “Of course not,” I told her with false disbelief. “Okay,” she mouthed as if she didn’t believe a word I said. “Hey,” I whispered to Noah after she turned back around. “I was wrong; I don’t like this seat,” I joked. He caught on to the sarcasm, his eyes widening. Mine, however, had somehow gracefully shifted down past his jaw and to his neck where, just before his shoulder, was a mark. “Three,” he said playing along. It could’ve been a birthmark. “Two,” his eyes sparkled with amusement. But it was something just off from that, and then it hit me.

“One!” He laughed amusingly a deep, adorable laugh that reeked of innocence and tragedy. It was a burn. *** We finally arrived at Buck Pond Campground six hours later after four bathroom stops, two drivethru’s, and once because there was a bee. Do I feel bad for screaming? No. Are you shitting me? It was a giant bee. What kind of question is that? Psh! Anyway, we checked into our three-person tents with just less than fifteen minutes before our reservation would’ve been given away if necessary. I wouldn’t say we were lucky exactly, but I wouldn’t deny it if someone else did. The sun had already died over the pond hours ago, so we lit the campfire given we were within the time regulation of us doing so, and somehow the conversations went from light-hearted talk about music to a full-fledged deep-seated discussion about life, and death, and everything between, above, and below it. Eyes were glazed over, illuminated by nature’s poison, voices hushed, and thoughts hung dry in fear of being spoken.

THIRTEEN Hayden “So Hayden,” the conversation turned to me when everyone had grown uninterested in Tony’s sockpuppet collection. I felt my breath catch in my throat like a match, “Yeah?” I asked, but my throat was dry. I could feel their eyes burning into me like headlights on an open road. “Why’d you decide to move here?” Alesha asked. I thought carefully, “the tourist traps.” I heard a scoff from somewhere to my right, then a dog from a nearby campsite barked, easing my paranoia. “There are tourist traps everywhere. Why Georgia?” It was Noah’s voice. “It fit the daydreams,” I said without thought. The burn on his neck floated gracefully back into my head, so I pushed it away. He nodded, “But seriously. Why here?”

I opened my mouth to say something but Kara quickly came to my defense, “Jesus Noah, we invited her here to have fun, not be interrogated.” I sat silently watching and listening. “Well I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, “but I’d just like to know something about the person I’m living with now if you don’t mind?” He said it with force, but there was something off about it. It was almost like he was hesitant about being so... forceful. “No, you just want-,” she started, but I cut her off. “It’s fine; he’s right.” His gray eyes flickered with hints of orange from the fire. “Why here?” He asked again. I choked down my spit before speaking, giving my time to think genuinely about the answer. “Because of Eric.” “Oh,” now Kara chimed back in. “That’s the guy you like,” she said remembering our conversation. “Liked,” I corrected her. “I can’t say I know him anymore,” my voice grew more and more tired as I spoke as if the words physically drained my body. “A lot happened before I came up here, so how can I expect he’s the same when I’m not even sure who I,” I laughed a short-lived, sad laugh. “So did you run?” Noah asked again.

I looked up at him, his eyes piercing into me like daggers I hadn’t seen since my mother was still alive. “Yeah,” the word came out choked up, so I cleared my throat. “But why’d you run?” When the words came from his lips, the world seemed so simple, so “black and white.” Maybe it was, and damn, why couldn’t it be? The campfire illuminated the features of his face so spontaneously. It was dangerously calming, fearful and yet relieving the way the lights danced across his solemn face. The fire, a contained natural occurrence still not yet contained, flickering everso-slightly as if threatening to go but it never leaves. The rumbling crackle filled my distracted mind until I spoke aloud. “I was afraid.” My words came out soft and low, barely audible over the cricket’s tiresome roar and the distant laughter of our distant neighbors. “Lonely. I was scared, and I thought I could outrun it-,” I paused, contemplating. “the pain-,” my voice cracked. I shook my head. “It was just all too much, so I ran.” Noah opened his mouth to say something but quickly shut it. I too was at a loss for what to say, to think, to feel, but his words were the only ones I cared about at the moment. At any moment. “Did you-,” A soft voice spoke up with indisputable trembles of hidden anxiety. “Did you

find what you were looking for?” Tony asked timidly; his body pulled together as if he was cold. He used one arm to hold his legs close to him while his other hand pressed a stick into the ground. “You know,” I told him. “I don’t think I really knew what I was looking for, or what I was escaping. I think- I think for a moment I just was. And I think, even for a moment, just that was enough.” They all sat in silence for a while, so I shifted my attention to my marshmallow as it burned. I watched as I sadistically held it, pierced by stick, over the trembling flames that grasped, cried, and lashed out onto this poor helpless marshmallow. They just kept reaching for it, smacking it, as if trying to pull it downward into itself like a black hole. One of them a free force, though still a victim of how I abuse it. The marshmallow is dying, and it is my fault; the fire will live and die, and that is also my fault. Everything that interests me either falls to ash or burns out. Of all of the things, I thought I should have but didn’t feel: remorse, sorrow, pain; the one thing I did was undoubtedly worse. I felt like my mother. Also, it all made me wonder what it’s like in Hell where she’ll eternally lay. It was almost peaceful to think. I wondered if it was all it’s cracked up to be, or if she’d made it safely, or if Hell maybe refused to incriminate someone who

rightfully pleaded insanity and they just ‘dropped’ her off somewhere else. All of these thoughts may very well make you sick of my voice, or the curve of these letters as I have them written, but it soothes me. It makes me feel not helpless, or lonely. I almost feel, “okay,” in the loosest sense of the word, while just contemplating the possibilities. I pondered there for a moment, on the center of a seesaw wavering back-and-forth between what Hell was like and what it must feel like to live it. And then something I didn’t fully understand occurred to me; a thought I didn’t have the strength to either shape my lips to form my words or the breath to push across my vocal chords to carry it over the deafening sounds of reality to my “friends.” “I think that... I wasn’t running in the sense that I was leaving one place or going to another, I think I just became so lost within myself that all I could do with my impatience was run. I feel like there is no way to run away from something or to leave a piece behind. Because no matter how fast we are, how strong we’ve become, how far away we get we can never truly escape ourselves, and I think that is a fate worse than death.” I took a moment to absorb what I was saying, to try and make sense of it. I couldn’t though, so I just chalked it up to another meaningless rant of a dumb teenager.

That’s how I was starting to feel about everything I’ve had to say lately: meaningless. “It’s like; we are the Hell we’re escaping,” Noah whispered as if to answer my thoughts somehow and deem me to be sane. “Yeah,” I mumbled back comprehensively. “Hell.”

FOURTEEN Hayden I sat alone in my small corner of the luggage tent feeling the suffocating forces of nature like never before. I used to think of the world, in reference to space, was like a snow-globe. It made sense when I was younger because the night sky had an apparent dome shape and all that we could see of the Earth was flat. I could hear the low roar of the campfire from outside my tent, and the hushed voices of my friends whispering things together. It only took a few seconds of looking at the night stars through the mesh, of hearing the burning of innocence, the interruption of silence, to entrance me. One slow blink followed by another and the world quickly rushed me into a state of helpless comfort. I would’ve begged the tranquility for mercy for I knew what the next step of this peace would be; the agonizingly dreadful reminisce of the things I try so desperately to forget, to no avail. And then it was gone, and I was trapped

alone in my suffocating little space caught in a daydream like death, and no one was the wiser. There was a ripple in reality. It was as if someone was running their finger through the different shades of darkness, bubbles floating up to the surface carrying my breath in them along with my last trace of life. My body was sinking, deeper and deeper into the world unknown, unrecognized. I was drowning in my subconscious, and I halfexpected Rod Serling to freeze the displayed scene and announce that I had just entered the Twilight Zone, but instead it was silent. I sank until I was gone; all used up like a lighter without fluid. *** For a moment I was still consciously aware of how embracive the memories were becoming, and then it was all too real to separate from myself. I stood parallel to my mother, her back facing me while she sat at the table. Hues of gray shaded the kitchen as I once recalled seeing it. Her hand was trembling where it rested on the table beside her glass of the night’s alcohol. I clenched my jaw, preparing for her rage that typically followed a night of drinking. A puff of smoke went up, and she put her cigarette out on an old pizza plate, I cringed. “Mom,” I spoke softly, sympathetic.

Nothing. “Mom, are you okay?” “What?” Her voice was sharp and apprehensive. “I don’t-“ I shook my head though I knew she couldn’t see it. “You called me down here.” She paused a long while, taking a swig of her poison while the anticipation killed my shaky legs. “Oh... right.” She stared out the window rather than explaining; I was almost tempted just to leave her to herself, but something in my forced my stay. I’m not sure if it was fear, or curiosity, or pity maybe? But instead of walking away my feet brought me closer to her. In fact, they took me all the way to the seat across from hers. “Mom, are you okay?” Her eyes fogged over; she gazed blindly outside through the back window, so I slowly moved my hand toward her drink to slide it away, but she grabbed my wrist like a hawk gripping its prey so that it couldn’t escape. “DON’T YOU DARE! I’M FINE!” “No!” I yelled back. “You’re not fine!” I took the glass and the plate and dumped them into the sink, running some cold water over the cigarette before I returned to her. “YOU BITCH, NOW I HAVE TO BUY MORE!” She went for her keys, so I rushed ahead of her, turning it into a game of tug-of-war.

She continued screaming cuss words at me, her voice slurred until her grip slipped from the keys and she fell on the floor. “Mom!” I yelled, throwing the keys on top of some high cabinets, I would have to remember to get them in the morning. “Are you okay?” I begged, helping pull her up. “I’m fine... I’m... LET GO! I HATE YOU!......You....you should’ve told me...” And then she started crying uncontrollably. “I know.” I soothed. “I know. I know. It’s okay, I know.” I held her in my arms, running my hand through her hair like you would a child. “I hate you...” she just kept mumbling. “I know, it’s okay. You’re okay. Shh, shh, I know.” And I just kept repeating that until she was silent again. Finally, after my arms had grown tired and my knees were surely bruised on the tiles, I could feel her falling asleep. Her eyelids fluttered a moment, and she was gone. Even with her there I was at last alone, and it was my turn to cry. A part of me wanted to scream, and kick, and fight and beg, but instead I just sat there. I just sat there and held my drunk, snoring mother in my arms like you would a delicate child. I almost prayed, I almost did it, but then something inside of me clicked. It must’ve been a bomb because it

set off a million different thoughts in my head, but they all had the same basic principle. Why would he put me through such misery, knowing how I would take it? Knowing that I would hate my life, that I would feel a pain that no one else I knew had ever felt? Why would he surround me with such few people and even THEY abandon and destroy everything I know to be joy? All I have is Eric, and he’s moving to New York. “I have nothing. You gave me nothing!” I cried. “I try so hard, and you give me nothing! I just want to know why. Why, God, must you be such a cruel bastard?” I instantly regretted saying it, or thinking it, let alone questioning Him. I was just so tired, all sometimes it felt like maybe I didn’t want to die but things would be so much easier if I could just sleep and never awaken. *** Unfortunately, though, I did awaken. I awoke to the sound of someone unzipping my tent causing me to gasp very loudly. “Woah, hey! It’s just me!” The dark mass announced with a hint of humor. He came in, though there obviously wasn’t enough space for the both of us and all of the luggage to fit into the small shelter, he insistently zipped it back up with him

inside. It was as if he challenged the laws of physics. The side of his body pressed against mine; the anticipation coursed through my veins like religious plasma, simultaneously good and evil. I avoided looking directly at him as if he were the sun itself. “What are you doing?” I asked, a little too loudly. He placed a hand over my mouth and shushed violently. “They’re sleeping,” he whispered, pulling his hand back apologetically. “I’m sorry.” “No, it’s fine. I was too loud, and-,” “No-,” he said cutting me off. “Not that, I mean about everything else. I really am sorry, Hayden.” His gray eyes pierced through mine in a way, I fear, could never be replicated and so instead of glancing away I studied them. They were light around the pupils, a ring around the iris nearly as black as the pupil itself. It sent jolts of electricity down my spine, so much so that I actually shivered. “Are you cold?” He started pulling at the sleeves of his black jacket, but I put my hand on his abdomen to stop him as if there were any space for me to have done otherwise. “I’m fine,” I said while my mother’s drunken tone echoed through my sober thoughts. This time I did glance away in fear that he just might read my mind.

Out of nowhere his thumb came up and wiped away a tear I hadn’t known I’d cried. He watched me with sympathetic, unwavering eyes. “I yawned,” I lied. “I’m tired.” “Bullshit,” he said quickly. “You’re crying.” “I’m not,” I whined pathetically, ruining the chance of anything becoming of us. “It’s late, and I’m tired. It was a long drive, and I’m tired. The stars are out, and I’m freaking tired,” my hands were shaking, but there were so many things it could’ve been I didn’t bother wondering why. “You can leave,” I told him steadily, not wanting him to go. He just sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry I keep hurting you.” I didn’t respond. Instead, I just watched him awkwardly huddled opposite of me. We both sat with our knees close to our chests, though his arms held him up awkwardly beside him and mine crossed protectively in front of my chest. I hadn’t realized no one was wearing his jacket until he ran his hands through his black hair, his arm flexing beneath his sleeve. He sighed again, “Do you really want me to leave?” His voice was drawn out and sore. I thought about it and forced my brain to string the words, “Yes, please go. You’ve done enough,” together, but just like I couldn’t help myself from

falling for him slowly, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “no.” Even in the faint moonlight, I could see him smirk. “You know, Chloe would’ve slapped me the moment I came in.” His voice was low and rough. “Are you comparing me to your girlfriend?” I nearly yelled. “No. Ex-Girlfriend, and no. There’s no comparison.” “You two fighting again?” I asked jadedly, not in the slightest interested in his ‘relationship’ status. “Yeah.” “Ah.” I looked up at the stars; it was too much to look at him directly in the same way it was too much to look at the sun. “So that’s why you came in here, huh; to tell me about your healthy strobelight relationship?” He stretched his legs out then, crossing one foot over the other and placing his hands behind his head for support. He had joined me in looking up, ignoring my question. “You know, it’s much more beautiful outside of this thing. The sky I mean.” I cautiously stretched my own feet toward him, only a few inches but it wasn’t about the space, it was about the thrill of letting myself get too close. “I figured. But, it’s not about what you see, it’s about how it makes you feel.” I felt him look at me for a moment, and then back at the sky, “And how does this make you

feel?” “Squished.” I joked. I felt his body jolt beside me as he chuckled. “The sky I mean.” “I don’t know. Scared.” “Of what?” “Of not knowing. Of realizing that none of this is important in the grand scheme of things. Of the fact that the larger infinity becomes, the smaller I feel that I am. Of life, death, and everything in between. I’m just afraid.” I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I accepted it all. My voice choked out a final whisper, “I just am.” We were both silent a while before he spoke again. “Free.” “How so?” He took in a breath. “It just does. I mean, everything with my parents, and life. It just, almost feels nice that we can look up whenever we want to and see, for a fact, that it doesn’t matter, and that we aren’t important centers of everything. We just are, and I’m okay with that because anything more would be too much.” “Why are you here?” I asked him sitting up, even though I hardly wasn’t before. “What do you mean?” He asked as he lifted his head. “’Here’ as in camping, or ‘here’ as in alive?” “‘Here’ as in my tent, maybe?”

He let out a breath and sat up completely now, bringing his knees closer to him but not the whole way. “Oh, that.” “Yeah.” He bit his lip while he thought. “You never told me what you were running from, specifically. It just seemed a little unfair considering.” I know he didn’t mean it that way, but “Unfair?” “Wrong word, just. You know what I mean.” I did, and I understood why he didn’t want to say it, so I didn’t make him. “I do.” We were both quiet while I thought about how I would say it, about how much I would give away. “My parents,” I told him quietly, the sounds of nature suddenly dull and lifeless. “They died.” “Both of-?” “Yeah. Both dead. In a fire actually.” I let the words out in a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “So that’s why you-?” “Yeah. I ran.” “Oh. I’m so sorry-,” “Don’t be. It happened. It’s whatever.” I desperately need for it to be less of a big deal as it seemed to be; if he thinks it’s any worse than I do, then I’m the bad guy. If he thinks I should be more broken than I am, then maybe I’m more messed up than I thought I was; maybe I’m worse than my mom after all.

Silence. “Cancer,” he said finally. I stole short glances at his sullen face; I’d never seen someone so distraught and heavily weighed on by the destruction of his thoughts. No one, except my mom. “Dad was a drunk,” he smiled and let out a broken laugh to hide the shards of glass he felt peeking through behind his eyes. “He was abusive, to our mom mostly, and he left one day with his band because somehow that was more important than his own-,” he sighed slightly, his chest barely rose as if it pained him to breathe. “It’s just been Cam and me for a while, and I never got close to her before she... passed.” His gaze looked lost by the destruction of things that were beyond his control. I openly stared at him for a second, the perfect words floating into my mind, “You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.” I told him, quoting someone who found a way to perfectly place the emotions in my head better than I could. “Yeah?” “It’s a quote. Ernest Hemingway.” I said quietly. “What from?” He cocked a single eyebrow, seemingly just going through the motions. “Don’t know; I’ve never read his work, to be honest.” It was my turn to tell him about my

parents, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I didn’t know how to. “You don’t have to-,” He assured me, reading the expression on my face. “House fire, it killed them both. I snuck out, and when I got back it was already up in flames; everything was gone. The whole house. Ashes.” “Oh. Do they know how it started?” “I don’t know.” I lied. I mean, I didn’t know, but I had a pretty good guess. “I don’t remember much of what happened, I sort of just... left.” I wasn’t lying, necessarily. “Haven’t turned back since,” and then I was. Every night, every flashback, was a stab in the back trapping me in this endless emotional Hell. “I’m sorry, but wouldn’t you like closure? Like, just to know?” His words were hesitant, slow and reluctant. “Yeah, well, the more you turn back, the more knives you wish you didn’t see stabbed. It’s all just much nicer to slowly fade away not knowing than to be haunted by a truth you can’t change.” “I guess. But wouldn’t you just be haunted then by what you think happened rather than just know something that could be a simple truth,” He asked simply. “If there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that nothing in life is simple.”

Somehow his face had gotten closer to mine while we were speaking. I hadn’t noticed before, but now that I did it made sense of my skipping heart. I could feel the strength of gravity from our faces being inches apart; his breath against my face was warm and almost frantic. I could even feel his hand as it found its way onto my arm, shooting electricity through my veins as he held it in place. “Sometimes things are simple,” he whispered, his face coming closer to mine. “We just find ways to make them complicated when they’re important to us.” I could feel his eyes studying me like he was watching and waiting. “So what is this?” I asked my voice barely audible. I could practically feel his face against my own, the anticipation like fire, burning like Hell as his hand brushed up against my bare arm. “Complicated.” He said in a muffled voice. I leaned in closer to him, but before our skin could touch he whispered, “Can I kiss you?” I was so taken aback by the suddenly increased anticipation I couldn’t help but whisper back, “please.” He kissed me. But I couldn’t stop my mind from working, from plotting the stars in the sky while feeling his lips pressed against mine and the sound of the other campers’ low hum of sleep. I felt the crisp warm air seeping into the tent, felt my own heart beating at

an even pace, and mentally plotted our moment in grave detail on the map in my head. I pulled away from him worriedly and rested my forehead on his shoulder; the thought of Drew sprang into my mind. “We can’t do this,” I said quietly, my heart now fluttering to the sound of his shaky breath. “I know,” he whispered against me, and we kissed there in my little tent, under stars, among the flames.

FIFTEEN Hayden I found it hard not to flinch when we sat beside each other in Alesha’s VW stopped at a gas station and he grabbed my hand. His fingers found their way woven between mine, wrapped tightly around my hand. Only his thumb was loose to gently stroke my hand, and it was... My heart fluttered, eyes glued to his silhouette. I almost wanted to say something, but the words weren’t coming out of my mouth; I thought about Drew and how this would hurt him even though we weren’t officially together, and I thought about Eric and how something about everything still bothered me, but I didn’t know what. He didn’t look at me. It was as if the actions weren’t his own and he was simply acting purely on instinct rather than personal intent, but when the van doors opened, and the others appeared my hand was alone again, lying cold and limp beside me. I still wasn’t sure how I felt, but I hoped one of us would figure it out soon.

“See,” Kara blurted from the front seat. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Tony said nothing and glared at her. Shortly after Noah kissed me, his gray eyes piercing through the veil of darkness that once consumed my disastrous thoughts, Tony was “bumped” and fell into the lake. It was incredibly funny for anyone who wasn’t Tony, understandably. “Yeah,” Noah agreed, not looking at me. “It was alright.” What, I thought uncomfortably. Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough? Doesn’t he like me anymore? A lump caught in my throat, did he ever truly like me? “Hayden,” Alesha was calling back proudly, “what’d you think?” Now I could feel his eyes were undeniably fixed on me as if he were waiting for an analysis of how he did. I facially shrugged, “It was fine,” I said nodding nonchalantly. “About as cool as I remember it to be.” I smiled, feeling his disappointed stare slowly dissipate. The short distance between us was filled with agonizing silence while everyone else either slept or remained physically rested. Occasionally I would give up and assume he was sleeping right before I’d see his eyes flicker while he stared at the things we drove past the daylight dimming.

We rode smoothly past a man, looking maybe early 50’s, mowing his lawn in a ratty old wifebeater stained by sweat and dirt. His skin was like old leather, dark and wrinkled but still beautiful in an old-person kind of way where you understood each wrinkle was the product of something significant. He kept to himself, just as he did after we’d met and he’d decided he hated me at that moment. Outside he looked so peaceful and centered with his thoughts, while inside I felt like a prisoner to my own mind. I could’ve screamed, and I felt he’d not notice. I could’ve cried, and I felt he’d not care. I could’ve confessed every sin of mine, and I felt he’d put a mirror to my scars and call them scratches. I felt dead inside, at any other time I felt like nothing more than a pile of bones held together by tissue paper slowly [ripping/tearing] at the seams. But at this moment, looking at him, a spark ignited in my chest. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough to feel almost alive. I almost felt like there could be something that made it almost worth it to live. *** The apartment was warm when we got back. “Damn,” Noah said when we entered, “it’s way too

hot in here.” He made his was quickly over to the knobs to change the temperature. I watched him moving, taking each stride anxiously before turning the knobs with deliberate, determined hands. “So aren’t we going to talk about this?” I blurted randomly; I almost hoped the words were just a trick of my mind, my ears playing tricks on me, but then I almost wanted to know the answer. At first, I thought he couldn’t hear me, or maybe he was just ignoring me, but then his shoulders fell while he tilted his head. “At least,” I was starting to feel breathless. The last thing I wanted to do was ‘talk’ about it. “At least look at me,” I instantly regretted my request when he turned slowly to face me, expression unreadable. “What’s there to talk about?” He said shrugging his shoulders carelessly. “You’re kidding.” I could feel the disappointment welling up in my chest; I don’t need this I thought pitifully. Just drop it; it’s obvious he doesn’t even care. “Fine,” He said slowly reading the expression on my face, “What do you want to talk about?” Noah stepped closer, just far enough to be comfortable. But I want him to stand closer... I stared at him until I felt more anger than curiosity, and the games he played with my head became a means for war. My insecurity levels were high, but looking at him now I didn’t see all of my

faults, my mistakes, my demons; instead, looking at him now, all I saw was him. All I saw was his dumb expression; all I saw was a person outside of myself, and I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about that. “I’m not playing games anymore, Noah. You kissed me, and I’d like to talk about it,” I blurted forcefully, awkwardly watching his expression change from his casual poker face to surprise. “Ok,” he said eventually, moving slightly closer. “What about it?” I felt my breath as it caught in my throat, I honestly didn’t think I’d get this far. “What... did you think?” NO, I change my mind! I don’t want to know the answer to that! “I mean..., why did you do it?” He smirked while he leaned himself against the back of the lay-z-boy and crossed his arms smoothly, “What do you mean ‘why’d I do it,’ you’re a pretty girl and I’m a single, good-looking guy. Think.” I wanted to be mad at this pathetic excuse of an answer, but instead my heart fluttered a bit in my chest, and my stomach twisted into knots. “Pretty?” I asked with more than a hint of disapproval. And suddenly, I found a word that hurt me more than ‘nice.’ He nodded, “Sure; you’re pretty. Blue eyes, nice hair, and a decent body. Pretty.”

All of my emotions were hatching out from within me; it was as if there was this hidden cave deep inside my mind that was uncovered for the first time. I wanted to scream, I wanted to reach across and strangle him with every ounce of strength I possessed, I wanted to run and leap into his arms, but I also wanted to cry, I wanted to hug someone who truly cared for me, and most terrifyingly I just wanted to run. Instead, mustering up whatever was left, I spoke slowly. “So you don’t like me.” I smiled sadly, tears in my eyes ignored. His face dropped from cocky to almost sympathetic and self-aware, just a second before it went back to his casual deadpan that was nearly indecipherable. “I don’t,” he said softly. I thought back to when he held my hand just after when he had apologized to me for hurting me just moments before, but I was too weak to assume he meant anything other than what he had just said. So instead I just accepted it as the only truth I knew, “Good,” I mumbled nodding knowingly, “right, because it would be awkward if you did,” I mumbled thoughtlessly trying to salvage any pride I might have left. It didn’t feel like anything, to be honest, “You know,” I laughed a fake, pathetic little chuckle. “Because we live here together and.. yeah.” I brushed my hair out of my face and crossed my arms, wishing I could just shrink into

the smallest spec of dirt I felt like and become invisible and not exist anymore. I don’t know why I thought someone could truly like me, I laughed quietly to myself, ridiculous.

Noah I watched any pride or sense of wellness evaporate from her eyes the second I smiled. It was only downhill from there watching the light in her eyes be further vanquished by the words I decided to say. Every ounce of beauty and innocence, every drop of purity masked in her youthful exuberance died, and I was the one who murdered it. I was the one whose simple forming of meaningless syllables and expressions and movements killed and broke the tiny sliver of hope for security she had left. That was me, no, that was my father. “Pretty?” she asked with disappointment bleeding through her lips like poison. I remembered when her tiny voice cried out weakly for help when she slept, “Sure; you’re pretty. You’ve got nice blue eyes, soft hair, and a decent body.” The guilt screamed inside of me for lying to her, well, for withholding the whole truth. I shouldn’t have kissed her, I thought dumbly. But there was something about it that almost made it seem like I didn’t have a choice. “So you don’t like me,” she said while staring blankly, eyes filling with heart-wrenching tears that took the strength of gravity itself to keep from falling, and yet there they were.

“I don’t,” I mumbled softly, watching every inch of her break finally. It was the hardest thing I’d done. I lied to a girl, who made me feel whole, and stared blankly as I let her fall apart. She began talking thoughtlessly, babbling. She nodded numbly at my silence; I watched her dimming eyes sink solemnly to the ground. After a few more moments of silence, she walked away, carrying her suitcase with her, into her bedroom. I waited; almost hoping someone would drive through the wall and run me over, saving both of us from my mistakes. Instead, I just sat alone with the low hum of the AC. I don’t understand how anyone so innocent could be interested in my pathetic self, I thought pitifully, ridiculous. I slowly stalked over to my room, pulled out my notepad and a pen from my dresser, and wrote. I tried to keep my tyrant to bound pages, because even when they cut the sting isn’t nearly as severe as the thoughts and emotions being laced in black ink and malevolence. Even though I'm writing this through tears, I feel nothing, and there is no way to truly describe it without you thinking I'm something And something awful at that because the words

I have chosen to make me seem sad and lonely without hope But I am only alone with the thoughts that tug and pull at this tightrope I tied around my neck, to see if choking felt as bad, as sitting in the corner of a crowded space not knowing where your head's at.

SIXTEEN Hayden With the help of Kara, Drew and I sort of became a thing. It felt strange like I was greedy to expect a guy to like me or for me to keep his interest instead of other girls. We have another date set up, but it still almost feels unreal. Like, I almost feel somewhat comfortable in my own skin, but should I? It’s like whenever I start to feel good or happy I can’t help but wonder if I deserve this life at all. Should I even have the right to be happy after everything I’ve had to endure? Hell, maybe I don’t even deserve to be alive right now, my parents aren’t. Mid-thought there was a knock at the apartment door; I could hear Noah standing up to open in from where I remained hidden inside my bedroom, the door open just a crack. I watched his shadowy figure cross across to see who was there; I half expected it to be a break in as maybe God’s way of taking away another person or thing I hold

close to me. Maybe I was just being punished for something I haven’t figured out yet. I listened to them talking. “Hey man,” Noah said calmly. “What’s up?” The person at the door was too far for me to hear any more than muffled deep tones. Finally, I saw Noah’s shadow back up and let another one join him, “Drew’s here,” he yelled out before making his way back toward the living room. I took a deep breath, not sure I was ready for this occasion. If there was anything I grew to dislike, it was intimacy of both physical and emotional sort. I tugged at the layers of my jacket, pulled the ends together like a security blanket to protect me from my deafening thoughts that had the potential to drown out any positivity of this moment. Somebody wants you; I told myself, you can be happy now. But deep down something about it still didn’t feel right, and I had to admit to myself that I still wasn’t happy and I would have to accept that I wasn’t quite sure why. I walked quickly past Noah, refusing to make eye contact with him, “Ok,” I said soberly, “let’s go.” I was already through the door when he stopped me, “But wait, isn’t Noah coming?” “What?” Noah and I both said simultaneously.

I glanced at him, but refused to give him too much of my attention, “No, I don’t think that he is.” It could have been dropped and that would have been the end of the conversation, the mood of the situation would have changed and everyone would have forgotten what made them uncomfortable, and life would have gone on, but it didn’t. Instead, he continued to explain to us why he thought this was going to be a thing. “But, Kara said this was gonna be a group thing,” He said questioningly, the nervousness becoming more apparent on his lightly freckled face, dark brown eyes masking a false confidence that he chose to hide behind. “Since when,” I wasn’t sure if it was Noah or me who asked, but I’m pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing at that point. “Uh, she texted me yesterday,” He looked indubitably uncomfortable, and started fidgeting awkwardly with his watch. “I mean, it’s fine if that’s not what you wanted to...” I could feel Noah standing behind me, full of the same surprise and confusion as I was. I shook my head, “No, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal; we’re all friends here, I’d just like to talk to Kara,” but I don’t have a phone. I walked over to the corner where the counters intersected, hoping

to find a house phone or something like it, but nothing. “Do either of you have a phone I could use to text Kara?” I asked them both. Drew stood there looking dumb for a minute or two, so Noah offered me the house phone. He came up casually to where I was, reaching around me to dig through the drawers. “Oh, sorry,” I said getting out of his way, suddenly feeling my cheeks burn. “No, it’s fine. I was just-,” He shuffled through the drawers a second more, glancing at the side of the fridge before giving up and reaching for his phone out of his pocket. “Oh well, you can use mine, no biggie.” I looked down at the dark, plastic object as he held it, I silently refused to touch it, and “Do you have her number?” He nodded, gesturing for me just to take it. It was a black flip phone in good condition; I just thought they were extinct. “Thanks,” I mumbled carelessly, refusing to look up at him, and grabbed it quickly from his hands. “Oh,” he said sounding somewhat thoughtless, “you touched my hand.” “Yeah, I didn’t like it either,” I lied quickly, ignoring his seemingly uncomfortable expression.

His screensaver was him hugging some blonde girl with what looked like green eyes, on a beach. It looked like a modeling picture in an ad; I didn’t like it. It didn’t feel real. “Who’s the blonde?” I asked when I finally got Kara’s number dialed. The phone buzzed in my ear periodically. He shrugged, “Ex.” I nodded a silent “Ah.” I almost felt bad for asking, but then Kara picked up the other line, so I pushed it away. “Are you guys coming? Is she ready?” she asked somewhat frantically. I gasped, “You knew?” I scorned Noah. I felt slightly betrayed, like what was the point of playing along when Drew got here if you knew the entire time anyway? He looked at me wide-eyed for a minute, considering if he did, in fact, know before now. Finally, something sparked, “Oh. Crap.” He mumbled. “Uh, Drew’s coming over later for a group thing... My bad.” He looked genuinely pained. “Oh! Hayden? What’re you doing on Noah’s phone?” “Wondering when we planned a group date,” I responded. We talked a few minutes longer; she explained that the whole thing was some ploy to try and get her and Cameron back together and she thought

one of the boys would tell me before. So we agreed that the few of us could just go out and meet up at the coffee shop down the street to hang out. At first, Drew was a little uncomfortable about going to his work on his day off, but I was also dreading spending more time with Noah and pretending we didn’t kiss and he isn’t a shitty guy; so I guess we would just both have to be miserable as a couple. *** On the way there we passed a music store, I held my gaze, remembering when my dad first got me my guitar. I also remembered my grandfather; he was an old, brittle man, but he sure could play some guitar. My dad said that Pap used to play for him when he was a kid, and they would sing together and such. Pap, I would say, was a lot of the reason I got into music just because he was the reason my dad loved it so much. It was our thing. It was a good thing. I guess that’s why they’re right when they say, “All good things must come to an end.” But, in reality, everything does. We just learn to accept that happiness will leave us because it makes losing everything else so much easier. I was thrown out of reality by the simplest bump in the road, jolting me slightly forward to catch against my seat belt.

*** I tripped over my own feet causing me to land heavily on a couple of stairs ahead of me. The loud thumping sound my elbows made when they hit the third stair from the top was what startled me more than the actual act of falling. But I was able to catch my balance on one of the steps, my parents arguing quietly downstairs. They were too absorbed in their dumb arguments to even ask if I was okay when surely my elbows made a thumping sound against the edge of the upper step. With attitude, I responded anyway, “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for asking!” I called down. I waited for a second or two for at least some sort of response, but things remained at their low mumbling roar. So instead I gave up and hid away in my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I didn’t bother taking a second even to glance at the books on my bookcase, I had already known which of the two overused, and slightly worn, books from my dresser I would grab. I lifted my personal copy of the Great Gatsby from under my songwriting journal and gripped it tight before laying down in my bed, picking a random place in the book, and reading. The book was a gift from my Honors English teacher in tenth grade right before he retired

because he said that inside of me he saw a “potential to write as beautifully as this.”

Continue this flashback to maybe 500 words... fill with parents fighting right before she sneaks out and goes to Eric’s crying. (Some parts might be missing) and this didn’t happen with the kerosene in the scene at all!!! Left off writing...

SEVENTEEN Hayden I unintentionally sighed, Noah noticed. I was sitting in the back of the Taxi with him, while Drew sat in the front. Cam and Kara were going to meet us there because Kara is trying to get Cam to be ‘healthier’ and is making him walk with her. My heart goes out to the guy; I tell you what. “You okay?” He whispered. I nodded mindlessly. “Just thinking about my dad,” I whispered back. It almost sounded unreal when I said it; I could have sworn I remained silent, and the world was still a harmless place for a second. However, the feeling quickly left me beside the boy who simultaneously stole and broke my heart without batting an eyelash. I stared into his light gray eyes and saw more than just some person, an awkward union of flesh and bone, sitting before me. Instead, I saw the sympathetic stare that overtook him the night he kissed me... I couldn’t help but blush, feeling the

confining [blah, blah] of his stare. “It’s whatever,” I quickly added. He nodded understandingly, switching his gaze out the window. “So,” He spoke loudly now so the entire Taxi could hear him. “You play guitar.” “I do,” I said. “And you?” “I do,” he said awkwardly. “So, what motivates you? I thought back to my first night, “Life.” I said simply, “You?” He sat thinking for a moment, and then shook his head softly with innocence and question, “I’m not sure yet; it kind of just happens.” I nodded at him understandingly, shifting my gaze out my window and then back to him. His body seemed heavy against the soft seats, his right hand fidgeting mindlessly with his seatbelt button while the other rested on the door handle. A part of me wanted his hand to slide across the seat and secretly hold mine again, but instead I just clasped my hands together in my lap. He’s not worth it; I thought indecisively tilting the band around my fedora to sneak looks at him, he doesn’t even think that I am. I smiled pathetically, hating every little piece of myself that thought this whole thing might work. Drew likes you, I thought pressingly. I glanced back over at Noah, who had fallen silent, plus Drew is an overall warmer person; Noah is just too closed off

to you. You need someone who’s better to you. He caught me staring when my eyes fell back onto his burn, “So how are you liking the city,” Drew asked from the front of the cab. I studied Noah a moment longer, our gazes overlapping meaninglessly. “I mean, it’s pretty,” I said carelessly. “Oh, yeah?” He asked again, trying to keep a conversation going. I don’t deserve him, I thought as my stomach began twisting into knots. “Sure; it’s pretty,” I said mimicking Noah. “It’s got nice shops, long sidewalks, and interesting people.” I could feel my hands becoming cold and sweaty; if there was a God, he was currently glaring at me for quietly retaliating. I could feel his slightly hopeful stare deteriorating as his eyes wandered back out the window. Guilt twisted in my chest; I really am a shitty person. My cheeks reddened, “Yeah I guess it is pretty great,” Drew agreed while smiling broadly. *** When we finally arrived at the coffee shop Noah lagged behind to pay the cab driver; I rummaged quickly through my pockets, having completely forgotten about that part of taking a cab. I found about ten dollars of spare cash, but Noah brushed

his hand across my shoulder as he went by me, “I got it, no worries.” It did make me worry, though; I don’t like people thinking that they have to take care or responsibility of me. Drew held the door for me, but I politely took it from him, “Thanks.” I smiled awkwardly into his deep brown eyes; I hadn’t noticed before that they have golden flecks just around the pupils, and specs of choral blue on the outer edge of the irises. I scanned my eyes over the people in the shop, partly studying the strange faces I would probably never see again as well as trying to find my ‘friends’ at their table. Noticing all of the people in the packed space caused something to crack within me, creating a sort of shard-like glass inside my chest. With every movement, it felt like a string of blades laced with poison floated within my chest carelessly around my heart threatening to damage whatever pieces of it remain. I haven’t been around this many people all at once in ages, I quietly realized. The second my eyes fell on our table I expected some flood of relief, but instead, I saw Noah standing with his back to me and shoulders tight in an authoritative posture; my chest tightened. As I carefully stepped closer, Drew at my heels, I saw why.

Chloe Kristine Owens, Noah’s ex-girlfriend. She was even more dazzling in person, and she knew it. She sat straight up with confidence, long blonde hair cascading silkily down her back between her smooth, revealed shoulder blades. I was, needless to say, jealous of her and her twinkling green eyes. Cameron and Kara collectively looked up at me like helpless animals, as if they were passing on a message. However strange that may seem, I got it. I got it loud and clear. “Noah... James... White...” She said slowly, making sure to emphasize every syllable in his name before returning her fingers to their place playing with her lips. She spoke in such a casually taunting tone; it made me progressively self-conscious. Judging by the wide-eyed expression on Kara’s face you could tell that she was getting the same vibe, but Cameron and Drew seemed more or less cool about her tone. Cameron mostly wore concern if nothing else. It was as if Chloe had this weird sonar that only other girls could pick up on, but it had the ability to magnify all of our present insecurities by a million and adding a few on for good measure. “What are you doing here, Chloe?” Noah said finally, spitting out her name like poison. Kara quietly patted the seat next to her for me to sit in; it almost made me feel welcome, if not,

balanced. “We feel free escaping – even if it’s only from the frying pan into the fire,” I whispered to her, my inner nerd applauding. “Something like that,” she whispered back, “Hoffer.” Our smiles quickly faded when we returned to the unpleasant situation that Chloe was creating. Drew sat down next to Cameron, leaving Noah and me on either side of Chloe, wishing we weren’t. We shared an uncomfortable glance, she noticed. She turned to look at me and formed a broad smile across her face, “So what? You’re like my replacement?” She laughed, but I felt my body go cold and hot all at once, embarrassment consuming me. I was almost angry, but a part of me wanted to see where it would go. I contained a sadistic smirk and waited, listening patiently and hoping I wouldn’t allow her to frustrate me. “Geez, Noah. And here I thought you could do better...” She spat smoothly, her voice soft and smooth. Within seconds of hearing this, I stood; it was a habit I formed when Eric or I would get picked on in grade school, and I’d need to be up to fight the second confrontation presented itself. My stool pushed behind me effortlessly as my legs straightened out. Mentally, I saw myself knocking her teeth down her throat while her smug little face

twisted in horror; instead, I decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead, I let out a breath and smiled, “Getting a drink,” I quickly mumbled before I walked off toward the counter. “Wow,” I heard her grating voice as I walked away from the table, “That was dramatic!” I could hear her laughing at my expense. I made my way quickly over to the counter, feeling emotions flowing within me so powerfully I worried it might overflow and I would explode. I absent-mindedly ordered myself a drink. The next thing I knew was Drew was walking shortly behind me, “Hey, don’t listen to her. You’re amazing. She just likes attention, and she feels like you’re a threat,” He said putting a hand gently on my shoulder blade before ordering soda for himself. “Do you want something? Like, anything to eat?” I shook my head, “I’m not hungry.” “And you don’t know that,” I mumbled childishly back to what he had said before, turning myself around to face the rest of the coffee shop and watch our table. I leaned my back against the counter; my elbows rested on the cool Formica. “I do know that,” he reassured me. “I know girls like that; they’ll do whatever it takes-,” I cut him off, “No,” I clarified, “that I’m amazing. You don’t know that, yet.”

He smiled at me, and I could feel him staring somewhat longingly. It made me uneasy; I had to fill the silence. “I don’t get what he sees in her,” I blurted, and I could instantly feel his expression change under the weight of his newly found disappointment. He looked back at the group, staring at them for a second. “Do you like him?” He asked finally. He didn’t say a name, but without looking at him, I knew who he meant: Noah. “No,” I said quickly, feeling doubt expanding in my chest. “It’s just...” I couldn’t think of anything, so I shook my head, “Who does she think she is?” I asked eventually, my frustration overcoming me. “She’s just jealous. Hayden, you’re amazing.” There he went again, throwing around the a-word. Then he grabbed my hands from my sides and held them in his own. I was genuinely surprised, and to be perfectly honest, a little uncomfortable. I instantly felt the need to rest my forehead on his shoulder to keep him away... He’s moving too quickly, I thought timidly. Then again, Noah kissed me, and that was okay. Maybe I'm just hypocritical and close-minded. Finally, a nice guy, someone who actually cares about and about me, is treating me well and I’d rather have feelings for someone who couldn’t care less if we never met? No; not this time. I will not push him away so quickly.

The moment seemingly lasted hours in front of everyone, though I’m sure most of them had better things to do than watch two teenagers canoodling. However, even with a logical mind, I felt like my emotions were on display to the world, especially when he whispered, “Hayden, you are beautiful.” He then leaned forward and kissed me gently on the cheek; I wasn’t sure how to react or what to think. “Oh, okay,” I said pulling away awkwardly. “Thank you.” I had no clue how to process the entire situation, I just felt, wrong.

EIGHTEEN Noah I sat back in my chair, feeling the annoyance within me rise like hot air. I watched her leave from a distance and allowed the discomfort to continue as Drew went over to talk to her. I don’t get what she sees in him; I thought bitterly while the conversations at the table continued. I should just stand up and go over there to her; I should reassure her that Chloe was just stupid, and jealous, and Chloe. I could feel my legs standing to walk over to her, I could feel the tingling of my body making the motions while I saw myself striding across the shop, and I could just picture her hesitant smile as I greeted her. I watched cravingly as Drew picked up her hands from her sides and held them, he shouldn’t be touching her. It makes her uncomfortable to be in situations like that; I watched silently. I felt my body tense as he leaned forward and kissed her, she

took a step back. He actually kissed her. It shouldn’t bother me, I thought again. Rage boiled within me, though; my fists clenched at either side. I stood up savagely, staring into Chloe’s eyes while I spoke, “We can’t keep doing this.” My voice came out shaky and uneven as I whispered. I couldn’t help but glance back at Hayden, just catching her gaze for a second. I shook my head, “Really can’t,” and got up and left. I swung the door open dramatically, my vision flooded red. I had no reason to get angry the way I did. I could feel my jaw clenching as I impulsively ground my teeth. I’m doing my part; I’m playing the hand I was dealt and Hayden... My heart fluttered slightly in my chest when I thought about her short red hair capped off with a fedora. It’s just beauty; I persuaded myself. I don’t even know her, nor do I want to. I need to get myself together, get my life together, for me. That’s first.

Hayden I wanted my heart to melt; I wanted to fall into his arms and feel like there’s no place I’d rather be, but I couldn’t. I didn’t feel that way, not in the slightest. In fact, there were plenty of places I’d rather be. For instance, at a park (both child’s playground or amusement), back in my old bedroom with Eric reading crappy jokes off of used candy wrappers, in the school library where instead of studying for a test, I would sneak off to read and reread my favorite books. Sure, he’s sweet, incredibly attractive, totally into me, and overall amazing, but it’s wrong. It’s just hard to let someone else love you when you’re still fighting to like yourself. I just wasn’t there yet. Drew still held my hands, interlocking our fingers; I squeezed his hand tightly, forcing myself not to let the intimacy cause me to wince. I pushed all other thoughts aside; this is nice, but I couldn’t let myself believe it. Why can’t I be happy? Why can’t I just let myself? “You know, I’ve been thinking about us lately,” he said in a ‘right moment’ kind of way like he’d been waiting all this time just for me to listen finally. “Oh yeah?” I asked curiously; anxiously I watched the table to find Noah had been looking at

his with his eyes fixed particularly on Drew and our hands. “Yeah, and I – I really like you, Hayden.” He said forcefully like the emotion made it too much for him even to speak. “Oh,” I said only half-heartedly paying attention, half watching Noah walk out the door and wanting desperately to follow him. Did Drew just say he likes me? “Wait, what?” “Will you be my girlfriend?” Shit. “I – I don’t know,” I said uncomfortably pulling my hands out of his to push loose strands of hair away from my face. “I just need some time to, to think about it, you know?” I didn’t want to let him down, but his face already dropped with disappointment. “Yeah, I get it.” He said solemnly through a forced smile. I raised a hand up to caress his cheek, leaning in to kiss the other side of his face. “I’ll think about it,” I said when I pulled back and smiled. Finally, we grabbed our drinks off of the counter behind us and made our way back to the table, “What happened?” I asked, but nobody had an answer. They all just said he snapped, and Chloe was crying, which would’ve made me happy ten minutes ago, but now it just made me feel bad. I mean, talk about dramatic. “Are you okay Chloe?” I asked sincerely. Everyone looked at me in shock.

That’s right; Hayden Ann Harlow is the bigger person here. Get some. “Okay, okay. It’s okay.” I cooed. I grabbed the napkin from my spot and used it to clean some of the mascara running down her cheeks. I asked Kara to come with me to take her to the bathroom and get her cleaned up. I grabbed my Venti-Vanilla Bean Frappuccino off the table and held it uncomfortably on the way to the bathroom. They explained that Chloe and Noah broke up again and he just left. That was it. “Uhh, weren’t you guys already... you know—separated?” I asked curiously. She paused, staring at me. “I mean, yeah. But it wasn’t official.” She claimed with irritation overtaking the sadness in her tone. After she was finally content she awkwardly thanked us and we all started going our separate ways. I wanted to hold off going back to the apartment with Noah as long as possible, but I had to leave eventually. Drew took me back to my room; Cam and Kara lived on different floors entirely, so it was just the two of us. When we finally got to my door, he tried to kiss me, but I moved my head, so he only kissed my forehead and pretended it was accidental. I apologized and kissed him “Goodnight,” on the cheek.

“C’mon, Hayden.” He sighed throwing his hands down disappointedly. “I need to know.” I watched him wildly, not understanding the severity of the situation as it was apparent to him. “Look, I need to know, is there anything between us, or do I need just to give up now?” He asked heartbrokenly. You should give up; I thought before he sighed. “I’m sorry,” He said holding my hands again, only this time it wasn’t as forced and nervous. Instead, it was more familiar and determined. “I just really do care about you, Hayden, but every time I try to get close to you – you,” “I push you away,” I said finishing his statement. “Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “Look, I’m not going to try and rush you into anything you’re not ready for,” he assured me. “I just want you to know that I’m there for you, but first you’ve gotta let me in.” His voice was pleading, and as he kissed my forehead and told me goodnight before walking off down the hallway my heart pounded. Naturally, I did what any girl would do when faced with a guy she felt might be able to care for her and he starts slipping away. I watched him just about to slip through my fingers, and then last second, “Drew, wait!” I called out to him. He turned around slowly to face me, his expression becoming hopeful. I shook my head,

“I’m not ready for this,” I said slowly. “But I’m willing to try.” A smile formed across his lips, his brown eyes lighting up gently. “Me too.” *** Before I completely made it through the apartment door, he slipped me his phone number, which I thought was a waste of time considering I didn’t have nor plan to have a phone, but I took it anyway. I gently closed the door behind me, biting my lip anxiously as I tried not to disturb Noah. It seemed like everything was just becoming a roller coaster I couldn’t control. Life was becoming confusing, complicated, and I didn’t like it one bit. But at least I was distracted... I was shocked to see Noah sitting calmly on the sofa watching TV when I turned around. Not that it was weird seeing a guy watching TV, but that it surprised me is all. It was the concept of thinking about someone and then having them appear seemingly out of nowhere that gave an odd feeling. I went over, against all of my better judgment, and sat next to him. “So,” I started, pretending I was even slightly interested in what was playing on the screen.

“So,” he said repeating me. We both just sat there waiting for a few minutes before either of us said anything else. “I called Chloe; our strobe light is ‘officially’ back on.” It was meant to be a lighthearted attempt at a joke, but neither of us seemed in any kind of mood to laugh. “Oh,” I said, painfully submerging disappointment. “Well, she is pretty, and I guess if she makes you happy...” He looked at me now, his expression serious and thoughtful like he was finally seeing me for the first time and I was a stimulating object that sparked question and imagination. I knew she didn’t make him happy; but he didn’t deny it, so I didn’t call him out. “Yeah...” He turned back to the TV, guiding the channels with the remote limply beside him. “So, why did you leave early?” I pressed, secretly hoping it would be something about me, but I was disappointed. “You know,” he shrugged, “she and I hadn’t seen each other in a while, and it was just stressful and surprising.” “Ah.” “Oh, and I’m sorry about the whole, you know... You and her...” He tried saying it without actually saying it. “No, it’s fine. I should actually be thanking her. It’s kind of the reason Drew and I have a thing now,

so.” I watched carefully, but his expression remained unbothered. “Well,” he started slowly. “He is pretty, and I guess if he makes you happy...” At first, I was confused, but then he looked at me and smiled. Then I didn’t need to understand, I just laughed. He looked away and started pulling fuzzies off of the sofa cushion, still smiling lightly to himself. I pushed myself up to make my way toward my bedroom, taking that as a silent goodbye; but instead, I stopped suddenly and turned to face him, my hands still pressed firmly into the sofa cushion. “She was right about one thing,” I told him, causing him to cock his head to the side like a puppy, revealing the burn on his neck. “You can do so much better,” and then I quickly rose to get to my room, intentionally avoiding his reaction expression. “Night,” I whispered quickly before disappearing behind my bedroom door. *** I waited, leaning with my back against the wood; part of me secretly wanted him to do something, anything. Instead, without so much as a response to “Night,” I sat down on the floor and locked the door. I brought my legs to my chest, pressed my lips

against my knee and felt the sick twisting in my stomach and chest and let it envelop me. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if kissing him would be more like Heaven or Hell, but it sure felt like it could be both. It felt like the weight of everything had finally toppled onto me: I missed Punchy, I wanted my parents to be alive, and I wanted Noah to like me. At least, that’s what I thought I wanted. Wasn’t it? I grabbed my guitar by the neck and slid it toward me, slowly making sure not to bump it off of anything. Or did I just not want to be alone? I started strumming random chords in succession until I found the right ones I thought sounded nice together. I was going to grab my notebook, but suddenly I found myself unbearably weak and unmotivated, so instead I just strummed. At first, I hummed aimlessly, I closed my eyes and pleaded for the treacherous memories to devour me and take me away from this, from everything. I craved distance, sanctum, and oblivion. The past consumed me, the present wrecked me, and the future terrified me. I filled the space I occupied with tears and selfloathing, as I continued to strum mindlessly. The strumming mixed with my disastrous thoughts were enough to distance me from the silence, which scared me more than anything else. More than I

wanted companionship, I needed distance. I feared, it would be the only thing left that could save me. “Yet the frantic abolition of all distances brings no nearness; for nearness does not consist in shortness of distance. What is least remote from us in point of distance, by virtue of its picture on film or its sound on the radio, can remain far from us. What is incalculably far from us in point of distance can be near to us. Short distance is not in itself nearness. Nor is great distance remoteness.” – “The Thing” by Martin Heidegger

NINETEEN Hayden I trudged out of my bedroom, my neck still stiff from accidentally falling asleep on the floor. I took each cautious step silently praying I wouldn’t run into him. Realistically, to him, everything should be fine and dandy because he is the one who has a girlfriend and shouldn’t have to worry about the ‘crazy girl who got too attracted when he kissed her’ because she has someone now too. I knew, though, that the second he’d look into my eyes, all doubt would be lost. Judging by the silence, and lack of movement in the rest of the apartment, it was safe to say that I was alone. As I always was. I took a deep breath and walked barefoot over to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath the soles of my feet felt like freedom, and yet there was something discomforting about being in the seemingly shrinking space alone. It almost felt like I wasn’t.

I glanced around the tight space questioningly, and then returned to getting a snack. There’s no point in being paranoid, I thought dubiously to myself. I quickly snatched a pack of gushers out of the cabinet nearby and proceeded to make my retreat back to my own personal shelter when the front door to the apartment started unlocking. I panicked; my heart began racing and goose bumps formed along my arms and legs. It’s Noah; I thought fearfully, he’s going to see me! I searched hurriedly for a place to run to, for a place to hide, but it was too late. The door was already opening, and I had no chance, so instead I just stood there staring blankly at the door, regretting myself ever giving in to the simple basic human need that is hunger. So I was, of course, surprised when I saw it wasn’t Noah coming in at all, nor was it Cameron or Kara. “You?” She asked with a tone of both confusion and superiority. Her blonde hair was wrapped up in a scarf, bright green eyes framed by lashed drowning heavily in mascara. Her waist was tight and small, slim figure delicate and taunting. “Chloe,” I said hesitantly. The longer we both stood there in confusion, the more uncomfortable I felt about what I was wearing. I had on cupcake pajama shorts and a thin tank top. It was moments like these I wished I was wearing socks. I just really

didn’t like my feet. “What’re you doing here?” I asked finally. “Oh, well I am Noah’s girlfriend,” she stated authoritatively. Unfortunately, I accepted sadly. Did I expect he’d lie to me? “So, who are you?” She asked again, apparently wanting my occupation. My mind raced, apparently just someone who kissed your boyfriend. “I live here,” I said instead. She just crossed her arms, waiting for me to elaborate, so I didn’t. My mom always used to do the same thing; it sickens me. “What do you mean you ‘live here,'” she asked finally, her green eyes bulging slightly behind her thick mascara. “I mean, I rent out a room here and don’t die,” still too soon, a little unsympathetic if I might also add. Finally, she uncrossed her arms and looked at me a little helplessly, “You can’t live here,” she stated, but there was a slight affliction in her voice that almost made it sound more like a question. "And why not," I asked with a genuine curiosity, desperately wishing I hadn’t left my room. She threw her hands back down by her sides, “So are you two like a thing now?” Wait, I thought, so are they dating? “Um, what? No...” My heart seemed to stop for a moment, his

gray eyes staring thoughtfully into mine as he kissed my lips... “But you like him?” Her expression remained unchanged. “Why would I?” Could it be because his eyes are like the dark coal that ignites the flames in my chest? But no, it was because he kissed me that night and I wish, every time I see him, I had the courage to do it again. I was panicking; my heart continued to pound hilariously as my nervousness overtook me in a whirlwind of fear and emotion. But he doesn’t feel the same way. She seemingly noticed how bothered I was by the topic, and to my growing discomfort, acted upon it. She made slow, cat-like movements toward me, an evil smirk creeping across her face as if she knew what she was about to say would destroy me. But in all of my innocence, I didn’t question her intentions, and let her. “So, you don’t think his dark, messy hair is even the least bit attractive?” She asked dumbly. “I’m renting a room here, Chloe; nothing more, nothing less,” I said strongly, watching her make her way casually over to my room and open the door. I followed curiously behind her. “And, you don’t find his gray, full eyes the least bit charming and mysterious?” She asked coolly as if she knew exactly what she was doing while she

made her way over to my guitar and twisted her face up in disgust. “Roommate,” I repeated, watching her carefully. She picked up the guitar delicately between her thin fingers, raising it up and strumming the strings lightly. “So,” she tilted her head slightly, “you mean to say you’ve never wondered what it would be like to kiss him?” This time my heart felt as if it had exploded, all of the air had escaped from my body. And then I just smirked, “Why wonder?” I asked casually, “I already have.” The moment I thought it I knew it shouldn’t be said, the moment I said it I instantly regretted it being thought. But somehow, it just felt like the right thing. However, I was undeniably, unbearably wrong. At that moment, her face twisted horribly into a mix of desperate, fearful, angry expressions I could particularly decipher. She held my guitar tightly by its neck and brought it down heavily onto the sharp edge of the wooden bed frame. I watched in horror as the back busted slightly, while she continued to raise it above her and repetitively smash it, watching my dismay with bitter amusement. After a few more hits a small, crumpled brown bag fell out of the base of the guitar. I could feel my entire body trembling, my legs falling weak beneath me causing my arms to flail a

little for something to hold myself up. Her eyes widened with curiosity and delight; we must’ve both had the same look in our eyes, the look that we both wanted to run at the bag and grab it as quickly as possible before the other person. Lucky for her, I stood frozen in fear. What if this gets out? What if she tells Noah? The thought spun around fearfully in my head. What would he think of me then? “Is this...” she stared, eyeing the crumpled bag gripped tightly in her hands as she studied the outside, almost seeming as if she preferred the curiosity rather than opening it to find out. “Is this.. drugs?” She asked with an almost sudden spurt of excitement, pulling the bag toward her chest quickly as if I was going to try and snatch it from her and that would stop me. “What,” I asked quietly, my face still flushed with my fear continuously growing while I continued to imagine false scenarios of what they would assume of me. “No, of course not...” I shook my head lightly. The anticipation built as she slowly peeled open the wrinkled bag, “OH, ho-ho!” she laughed as she looked into the bag. “Wow,” she mumbled to herself as she reached her hand in and pulled out a roll of cash, “this is great.” I wanted to reach out for it and take it from her, I wanted to snatch it directly out of her hands and

run in the other direction, but instead I just stood there watching helplessly. And then I remembered where I recognized this familiar pain. “The loneliest moment in someone’s life,” I read carefully, feeling the words beneath my thumb as it stroked the page, “is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly.” “So, what? Did you steal this?” she asked looking at me, finally. I took a step back, appalled. “I earned it,” I stated simply. “Then why were you hiding it?” I squinted at her all-knowing, smiling face. She is really pretty, I thought bitterly, no wonder he’s with her. “I was traveling; I didn’t want it to get stolen.” “Hm,” she said thinking, seeming to accept this. “Know what,” she started and then left hanging blankly. “What?” I asked, growing increasingly irritated with her dumb little games. “Which one of us do you think Noah would believe?” She asked, refusing to look up at me, instead staring at the money. I could feel the blood rushing out of my face, my skin going disgustingly pale. “Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered, eyeing the money and

thinking desperately of ways to grab it from her and run. “Well, let’s just say I found out you were selling drugs and lying to him this whole time...” She said smoothly, smiling up at me to check my horrid expression. I wanted to roll my eyes and say, “That’s ridiculous, he would never believe that,” but would he? He did already accuse me of doing drugs, and we haven’t known each other very long, and if he still doesn’t want anything to do with me... “Please don’t,” I pleaded instead. Now she was grinning, her small teeth showing proudly behind her clear lip gloss. She shrugged, “Well, I mean, I don’t have to...” I felt pathetic, weak. There was no reason for me to feel like she’s in any way stronger than or above me. Ever. But, oh God, I did. “What do you want?” I asked angrily, finished hiding it. She started walking toward me slowly, the word “PUNCHY” written in large sloppy letters showing on the bag from behind her fingers. It was the money I started saving the day mom took him off to the shelter; I was going to buy him back before we moved. I was going to save him, save me. It seems both of us are nothing more than a dead memory now, unfortunately. “Leave.” She said in a harsh tone, her expression fading to clear anger and

determination. She slammed the bag into my chest, causing me to stumble backward. I held a straight face, feeling the tears and memories of Punchy welling up inside of me and ignoring them both. I held the bag lightly; my limbs were weak from the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. “OK,” I said quietly. The lump in my throat continued growing, so in a choked whisper I finished it with, “I’m gone.”

TWENTY Noah It was almost odd seeing the two of them getting along again; I thought as I watched Kara sitting on the armrest of Cam’s chair. ‘We’ were all, as a ‘group,’ talking about wanting to go bowling later this afternoon with Kara and her ‘friend’ Sarah. The whole thing was very confusing to follow, but a part of me wanted to go bowling. There was a knock at the door that broke them away from their ‘just friendly’ talk. “I’ll get it,” Kara mumbled irritably as she got up to get the door. I sat up slightly, waiting impatiently for Hayden to get home. They said she left some time last night and she still hasn’t gotten back. I felt the hairs on my arms pricked up, there are clearly two female voices, I thought hopefully, adjusting my shirt. Just then Kara threw up a few of the fingers that were holding the door in place, showing her

frustration. “Who is it?” I wanted to ask, but the words came from Cameron first. “Nobody,” she said turning around, obviously lying. I stared curiously at the door behind her, standing up to defend her if it came to that, but really I just wanted to see if it was Hayden. “Here, let me get it,” I mumbled kindly, brushing her back in Cameron’s, who was now sitting perked up as well, direction. It was, in no way, Hayden. “What do you want, Chloe?” I asked carefully, becoming entirely disinterested. Her face was panicked, blonde hair a mess. But it wasn’t anything I wasn’t already accustomed to seeing. Her life is, as she describes it, “one big dilemma.” “It’s Hayden,” she said sadly, her face remaining pale and untouched by makeup; that part was foreign. I wanted to yell at her that Hayden was none of her business, but at the same time, I felt something twist in my stomach, possibly concern or interest. “What about her?” I asked plainly, avoiding saying her name out loud as if it might make her appear, and I wasn’t yet ready to face her. “Well, last night I was walking home,” she whined weakly. “Why were you walking home so late,” Kara interrupted from beside Cam. She winked playfully,

“Had a hot date, did you?” She laughed to herself, watching Chloe get uncomfortable and angry. “Hey,” I said with slight defense, cocking my head lessen Kara’s dirty looks implying her being a victim of betrayal. I wasn’t standing up for her because she is my girlfriend, but because Hayden hasn’t come home yet. “Anyway,” she said ignoring Kara’s suggestive remarks. “I saw her, and I asked what she was up to walking around so late.” “What did she say?” Kara asked, becoming slightly concerned under the assumption that Chloe wasn’t just making it up for attention. “Well that’s just it, she pushed me!” Chloe claimed, eyes widening. “And-and so I followed her, and-,” She started shaking her head. “She was selling drugs.” She cocked her shoulders confidently; eyebrows arched as if she was expecting more of a reaction. “Yeah, I don’t believe you,” Kara said plainly, instantly she became bored again. “Yeah,” I shook my head in agreement. “That just doesn’t sound very much like Hayden, Chloe. Maybe you had the wrong person...” “Are you calling me a liar?” Chloe snapped. “I mean, Jesus! Noah, are you blind?? How long have you known her?” I cleared my throat, looking at the shocked faces of Kara and Cameron, both studying me for

my next response. “Long enough,” I mumbled. Kara shook her head, but Cameron spoke, “Yeah, she wouldn’t do that.” Even on her side, you could hear and see the doubt. We didn’t know her, just slightly of her. It’s only really been a couple of months, but was that long enough to know someone really? I could’ve sworn I saw Chloe smirk, but maybe that was just what I wanted to see. Maybe I was so caught up in the idea of Hayden that I forgot where my place was. “Alright, well you guys can figure out what you want to believe on your own, but I would do it soon unless you’re comfortable being this close to a druggie.” She said making her way back out the door. “Anyway,” she finished, “Later, Babe!” and she winked, closing the door behind her. “Babe?” Cameron asked sickly. “I don’t trust her one bit,” Kara said referring to Chloe. “Are you really buying any of that, Noah?” To be perfectly honest, I didn’t believe her. Not even in the slightest. Instead, I just kept thinking about the night Hayden, and I kissed, the stars reflecting in her eyes. Even then I couldn’t decide; I wasn’t sure if kissing her was Heaven or Hell, but it damn sure felt like both. New poem

Hayden I didn’t get back to the apartment until it was already after dark. I could feel the emptiness settling in the pit of my stomach, probably should’ve eaten something today. I quietly unlocked the front door. But I wasn’t hungry; I thought weakly. I tried to move to my room silently; I knew it was already late and I was nervous to accidentally wake up Noah and have to deal with what he must think of me. The fear of what Chloe might have said was enough to fill my gurgling stomach. But the fear of how he must have taken it, how he might have reacted as if he had shared such an innocent moment of sadness with someone who he now knew to be someone so hideous and wrong... I could only imagine. I packed my final things into my suitcase while my broken guitar stared at me from its place leaned up against the wall. Leaving was the right thing; I convinced myself. It’ll be better for everyone after this. The more I thought it, the more it seemed true. I clicked the clamps into place and lifted it from my bed only to sit down it on the floor. I stared down longingly at the warped leather casket that contained every piece of me I didn’t want to

believe I still was. It’ll be easier once I get back on the road; the thoughts came across so purely I almost didn’t want to believe that they were mine. Maybe they were Chloe’s. I stood up slowly in front of the bed that would no longer be mine; a bed that would, upon my absence, become someone else’s. I reached down carefully and picked up my money from underneath the corner of the bedspring; somehow my eyes caught a glance of the guitar once again. This time I felt the impact on my chest as it slammed against my weak body, throwing me back onto the bed in a silent, savage sob. Once I started I wasn’t capable of stopping on my own; I would just have to wait until I ran out of more tears to produce. Once I was out I continued a short while longer silently heaving, body convulsing painfully. I think it was after I stood up blindly; finally numb to the fact that I was leaving and would never see this place or Noah again, I was able to wordlessly admit I was suffering. I reached back for my suitcase off of the floor, adjusted my fedora, but was stopped without warning by my bedroom door slamming open. “Hey, you’re awake!” I cried out in surprise, my voice groggy. I watched as Noah’s strong figure stood motionlessly in the doorway, contrasting with my own delicate, emotionally feeble self. “Yeah,” he mumbled through his clenched jaw.

I tried to avoid looking at him directly; his appearance was menacing and disapproving. “Um,” I said searching for words. “Why’re you still up?” “I heard you packing,” he said without missing a beat. “You weren’t sleeping?” “Wasn’t tired.” The short answers made my body feel lighter and slightly more nauseous. “Why are you here, Noah?” I asked, finally giving into my chaotic emotional instability. He shrugged casually, “I figured I’d see you before you go.” A spark set itself in my desolate, small chest, sending a shock through the emptiness as it coursed through my veins. “She told you,” I choked out in a whisper. “Didn’t have to; I’ve been abandoned enough times to know when someone’s about to take off.” He said it so plainly that if it weren’t for the stiffness in his shoulders, and the tightness of his jaw you could have assumed he was speaking of something that had little significance to him. Then he took an unexpected step forward, my heart did a little jump causing my breath to catch in my throat, and squinted his eyes at me. “What was it, though? Was it me?” His voice sounded truly curious, but he eyes spoke of only a sincere misery that was all too familiar.

A lump formed in my throat, choking me off from speaking anything more than a whisper. “Of course not.” He shook his head in disbelief, slowly stepping nearer. It’s as if every step he takes carries a vacuum around him suffocating me, choking the death from my body. “Then what?” I just stared at him, his body close to mine. Some way or another, I found my voice through staring into his glassy gray eyes. I mentally traced the circles beneath them finding that they resembled imprints of the moon as if to remind him to sleep. “I shouldn’t be here; it was wrong of me to assume I could start a new life while still dying in another...” His hands were beneath my elbows now, as if he was the only thing holding me up and keeping me standing. “But I want you to stay,” he said in a plea, swallowing shallowly. I felt the corners of my mouth turn upward slightly while I stared at him, watching the thoughts race past his pupils as I listened to the frantic way he breathed. I didn’t want to forget it. “But I can’t,” I said still smiling painfully. My body had entirely lost its capability of deciphering emotions and presenting them, so through the light tears that felt like warm gasoline I smiled, while his eyes were the match that ignited the flames.

Everything inside of me wanted to stay. And as close as he was, I remembered our first kiss, but this time I didn’t want to kiss him. I mean, I wasn’t opposed but I felt...differently. It was as if I didn’t need for us to be something, I didn’t need for him to touch me, I didn’t need to hear the way the words begging me to stay fell from his lips; I just needed to be near him, and that was enough. His presence was the flame that was enough to keep my body alive and from freezing alone in the Hell my mind has created. Just being near him was everything I needed to keep from falling apart completely and somehow that alone was enough. I felt it all happen in slow motion, but somehow it wasn’t slow enough. His hands crept past my elbows and behind my back, pulling me toward him in a needy embrace. Instinctively I held him there, my fingers digging into his back so that he wouldn’t let me go while my body shook uncontrollably. His hands slid up and down my back tenderly, “You can stay.” I shook my head into his shoulder but said nothing. “I can’t just let go,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

TWENTY-ONE Noah “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Noah,” she said after she finally backed away quietly from my embrace. Her voice was somewhat muffled and soft. I wasn’t sure how to react, so I kept my thoughts to myself while my teeth scraped over my bottom lip. I wasn’t even sure why I just wanted her to stay. “I left a lot behind,” she sighed. Her eyes were glued to the ground as she refused even to pass the slightest glance in my direction. “And clearly, Chloe doesn’t want me here, and you two have a thing, so I just don’t think it’s my place...” He voice trailed off slightly; her face was still puffy from crying. “No,” I shook my head, my voice finally returning to me. “No, it doesn’t even matter. We want you here; I want you here.” Why was I so pathetic?

I could see her smirk slightly while her fingers pinched and twisted the bottom hem of her t-shirt. Her expression was just on the verge of breaking while she shook her head sadly, lips still tugging at a smile. “I just can’t stay,” her voice cracked. With every step, she got closer I could feel myself craving her essence, and wanting desperately to draw her in, like a drug. Her beauty glowed with the effulgence of stars, but I feared my darkness was going to consume her. “Look,” I started, grabbing her tiny hands in my own, trying not to crush them, but I held them tightly so I wouldn’t have to let go. “I know what you’re running from; I get it. But you can’t just keep going-.” I could already feel her radiant smile dwindling beneath my grip, and with every second we spent together I felt more and more like a black hole, suffocating her until there was nothing left. “And what’s stopping me?” She snapped, her hollow eyes now staring blankly into mine. Her eyebrows rested calmly now; the corner of her mouth only twitched slightly before her entire face fell into a blank stare. The best way I could describe it was that she had finally done it, she had finally gone numb. I watched the light inside of her scream in terror as the world around her had finally collapsed.

I honestly didn’t know what to say, I kind of just hoped the words would come out. Why couldn’t she run? Who was I to try and stop her? I thought of the different ways I could explain it, but nothing seemed like a good enough reason. I guess she assumed I had given up; she picked up her guitar case and put the broken reminisce of her guitar back inside before closing it gently, as if she was afraid she might damage it. She then slung it over her shoulder before picking up her suitcase, ready to walk out of my life and never turn back around. She stopped and stood in front of me, close enough to touch, close enough to wrap my arms around her and tell her she needed to stay because I needed her here. But she brought her delicate hand up to the side of my face, close enough to see the callusing on the tips of her fingers from pressing them against the strings of her guitar. Gracefully, she held my cheek in her hand and almost without effort pulled my face close to hers where she planted a light kiss on my forehead. She’s close enough; I thought as she pulled away, her blue eyes hazy. I could tell her I need her, she walked to the door, pushing her fedora down on her head as she turned around in the doorway. Stay, I wanted to scream it to her. “Goodbye, Noah.” She said quietly with a loose smile hanging from her lips; she lifted her hand

halfway to wave before she was completely out of the bedroom. “Please stay,” I whispered, just low enough so that she couldn’t hear me. She was gorgeous like a star, full of wonder and light; but the closer she got the clearer you could see that it was all an illusion. From a distance she was a star, shining bright and strong, but up close it was evident that the star was inevitably dead. She was beautiful, but like all stars, she’s best admired from a distance. I had her, just close enough to touch, and I couldn’t do it.

Hayden I took quick steps out of the apartment, a small part of me almost disappointed he didn’t fight for me to stay. At the same time, though, I understood just why he couldn’t. And frankly, I wasn’t feeling very worthy of the fight. Finally stepping into the hallway, I turned around slowly to shut the front door, taking even more time as I realized it would be the last time I ever did it. I walked halfway down the hall, toward the elevator, right about where Noah and I met for the first time. I stopped dead in my tracks, remembering the key I still held in my pocket, “Dammit,” I mumbled to myself. I turned around and ran back, a part of me wanting just to go back through the door and hug him and tell him he didn’t have to worry about me leaving him. Instead, I watched a shadow under the door pacing steadily; just before hearing the lock on the door click. My breath caught in my throat; I must have gasped because the figure on the other side of the door stopped moving. It would be too much to go inside; I thought even though every part of me desperately wanted to. Instead, I bent down and slid it under the crack beneath the door. I waited there a moment, maybe

for him to take it, but nothing happened, so I just left. The elevator was as slow as it had ever been. Every piece of me was trying not to shatter under the deafening pounding of my heart; the loneliness of the elevator was almost enough to make me comfortable with breaking down. Instead, the doors opened, and it dinged. I could stay on, I thought hopefully. Just one button and I could take it all back, but I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t worth staying. I grabbed my suitcase as I had sat it down beside me and walked carefully into the gray lobby; it looked just the way it did when I had arrived here. I directed myself toward the front desk, shutting my eyes tightly, hoping this was all a nightmare and there was still a chance I could wake myself. Just then a heavy hand rested itself on my shoulder. I turned around to face him; he had come to stop me from leaving. I couldn’t help but smile as I turned around to face him, “Cameron?” His bright blue eyes were wide with surprise, I noticed as I craned my neck up to look at him. “Hayden,” He said, his words coming out breathy as if he had just run. “Why are you leaving?” I shook my head, “How did you know I was leaving?”

He just ignored me and shifted his gaze to a small figure rushing toward us from behind me. “Good, Kara, you’re here. I’m gonna go up and check on Noah,” he said quickly before leaving us. “Hayden,” she said in the same breathy tone as he had. “Why are you going?” I shook my head again, “Wait, no. How did both of you know I was leaving?” She rolled her eyes, “How do you think? Noah texted us that you were moving out. Plus, you’re carrying your suitcase.” I’d become so used to it I almost completely forgot I’d been holding it. “Okay,” I shrugged, hiding the spark in my chest at the sound of his name. “Well, bye I guess,” I said walking around her. But she awkwardly skipped around in front of me. “Nope, I can’t let you do that.” She was smiling an odd smile. I furrowed my thick eyebrows back at her, “You can’t stop me.” She squinted at this, “Look, I like you. But I’m not doing this for me. And whether or not it’s your intent, you know this is going to hurt him.” I flinched at this as if she had physically struck me with the palm of her hand. “He needs me to go,” I said in a small voice. “No,” and she just shook her head. “He most certainly doesn’t need another person to walk out of his life.” Her voice was rough as if a lump had

formed in her throat while she chewed the inside of her cheek, sucking it in. “He doesn’t deserve that kind of a disappointment, again.” I could feel my lip quivering, and a single tear rolled down my cheek. “But what if he doesn’t take me back?” Now she wrapped her delicate arms comforting around my shoulders, “Trust me,” she whispered. “He will.” “And if he doesn’t?” I asked, my voice muffled from in her shoulder. “Then you can stay with me for a few nights. Just don’t worry about it,” she reassured me. “He will.”

Noah There was a heavy banging on the door, “Noah, let me in.” Cameron cried from the other side. I was already beginning to feel the room spin. I held the half-empty bottle tight in my fist; I didn’t even both with a glass. My entire body was burning, it was already too late. “It’s too late,” I told him. My words were already starting to slur. “I let her go like I let Dad go too, and now they’re both gone.” I took another swig, feeling each sip make the bottle lighter. He continued banging his fist against the door, “Look, you didn’t let her go. Please just let me in,” he begged. Instead, I ignored him and dropped down onto the sofa with all of my weight; he has a key. I tugged my phone out of my front pocket, incidentally pouring some of the dark liquid onto my lap in the process. “Oopsies,” I said chuckling a deep, throaty laugh. I opened the phone slowly; it took a minute to find the right numbers on the buttons. There were so many of them. I heard the key jiggle in the lock; he was able to open it only to the extent of the chain. “Noah, open this damn door.” He commanded me.

I smiled at him, “Nope.” I raised the phone to my ear, resting it against my cheek. She took multiple rings to pick up, but when she did, I was beyond pissed. “Hello?” “Chloe?” I asked, spitting her name out like poison. “Noah? Are you drunk?” She asked back, her voice annoyed and bored. “Yes, and yes.” I laughed. “But you forgot one,” I waited for a second, feeling myself swaying slightly. I wanted to give her just enough time to think she could respond so I could cut her off, “Single.” And I shut the phone, Cameron still yelling from behind the locked door. “I will break it, Noah. I swear to God, I will break this goddamned door down.” I took slow, wobbly steps toward the door. It took maybe a few minutes to grip the chain between my fingers, so I lifted the bottle back to my lips, chugging it like water on a hot day. Finally, I got it unlatched, and within mere seconds he had me pinned up against the wall, using his height as an advantage. I forced my tippy toes to just barely graze the floor beneath me, “Dude...” I laughed. But his face remained serious. “You need to cut the shit, Noah.”

“Woah,” he’s never spoken to me this way before. It was discomforting, to say the least. “Look,” he said through clenched teeth, refusing to break eye contact. “I know it was hard for you when dad left. Shit, it was hard on all of us. But that doesn’t give you any right to give up on this girl.” “She’s just some girl,” I mumbled through the blurring intoxication. “Bullshit.” I could feel my lips curling into a snarl, but instead of clenching my fists I dropped the bottle on the floor. I let my arms hang limply, and he loosened his grip on my shirt. “Look, man. I know this isn’t easy, but you can’t just keep letting every person who walks into your life walk right back out.” I could feel my stomach turning over, “But she’s already gone; she left.” Now he let me fall back to the ground, the distance between us steadily increasing. A sliver of a smirk formed on his face. “She’s gone,” I said again, only this time with less certainty. He sighed, his large shoulders dropping slightly. “She’s gonna stay with Kara for the time being so that the two of you have some time to get things sorted, separately.”

I could feel my bottom lip starting to quiver; instinctively I brought both of my hands to my hair, chewed on my lip to stop it from shaking, and I could feel the burning in the backs of my eyes as they slowly filled with liquid. “So she’s okay? She didn’t leave me?” He took a step closer, watching me as if he’d never seen me before, and put his hand on my shoulder. He nodded slowly, “She didn’t leave you.” A small spark ignited itself in my chest, it could’ve been the alcohol, but it was just almost enough to make me think that maybe I wasn’t a black hole; maybe I was still a star...

TWENTY-TWO Hayden I woke up a few hours later, only a short while before the sun had risen. Last night Cam had messaged Kara that I would have to stay with her for a little longer while he managed to get Noah back on his feet. I stepped slowly out of her bedroom, careful not to create any extra noises that might wake her up. The way the atmosphere in Kara’s room differed from that of Noah’s was startling. For one, it smelled a lot less like the ocean, but I guess that was due to how frequently Cam was there. The living room smelled a lot more like incense; it was very sugary. Also, the furniture was strikingly different. While the basic layout was mostly similar, her choice in furniture left a much less masculine vibe. Instead, she had large, golden cushions on a dark wooden frame. Her pillows were small with various shades of gold and brown creating elaborate floral designs across each of them. The backs were shiny

like silk, and various strings lined the edges of some of the pillows. Others were left bare, and solid gold. “Those are Jennifer’s,” she said when she came out of the bedroom, voice groggy and body overall slumped. “She’s my roommate.” Slowly, I realized, she was walking into the smooth looking kitchen, preparing herself a cup of coffee. “Oh,” I said, not paying much attention. “Is she nice?” I mumbled, paying more interest to the pictures and decorations on the walls. Everything was so intricate and bright. “I dunno,” she shrugged. “We both have different schedules. She sleeps when the sun's up and is out when it goes back down. I probably know as much about her as you do,” she plopped down on the big cushions, hardly making a dent. “Oh,” she said when she realized I was watching her mug, “did you want some?” “No,” I laughed. She didn’t say anything, just sat there sipping at the dark liquid while steam piled up against her face. “Are you sure it’s okay that I stay here?” I asked timidly, for nearly the 50th time. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder, “yes.” It was only a few seconds later that she pulled out her phone and became fully engulfed in it. “So,” she said seemingly, “what do you want to do today?”

I shrugged, making my way over to the loveseat, it sat on the wall that, in Noah’s apartment, had the TV. Here, they had the TV on the wall where the window in Noah’s room was. It was very confusing. “Well,” she said, finally looking at me over her coffee. “We could always go talk to your boyfriend,” I could feel her judging me silently behind that smirk. “Shit.” “Yeah,” she said sitting up slightly, “I forgot about him too. How are you guys, anyway?” My eyes were slightly bulging, my mouth hanging open limply. “I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’m the worst person in the world.” “Probably,” she laughed. “But it wouldn’t be because of that.” I raised an eyebrow at her, “What do you mean?” “I mean,” she said bored. “I know girls that have done plenty worse. You and Drew,” she shrugged, “just didn’t have a connection.” “I guess not.” I was still wearing the clothes I had on last night; they almost felt heavy against my skin from the guilt alone of what they meant. They meant I was giving up, that I was going just to keep running and never come back. “C’mon,” Kara said, noticing my expression. “Let’s go get you changed and see some stuff.” She

smiled hopefully at me, and I didn't have the heart not to return her joy, even falsely. “You can borrow some of my clothes,” she added, noticing my choice in pajamas. And so I smiled at her, even though every doubt in my mind was dreary enough to make me feel as though I’d lost all hope and all chance ever again to live a normal life. “Okay.”

Noah There was a particular color of chalk on the pavement where we walked; it was almost a purple and yet it could have just as likely been a red. I ignored it though and kept my pace with Cameron who was walking feet ahead of me, in a hurried drudge. “Hurry up, Noah.” He said almost angrily. “Look,” I told him again, for nearly the millionth time, “I don’t need for you to babysit me.” “No? Because you had such a healthy way of dealing with your problems beforehand.” His sarcastic tone was also bleeding disappointment; he didn’t know I drank. “And I’m sorry about that; I’ve learned my lesson-,” I tried explaining. “Shut up.” “But-,” He turned around to face me this time, not saying a word. “Okay,” I said avoiding looking into his pale, sun-stricken, light calmness of the lake baby blue eyes.

Hayden “Do you want to talk about it?” Kara asked cautiously as she draped a maroon dress with little pink-white flowers spotted on it in front of the mirror. She made and odd face before pulling the spaghetti straps over my arms on top of the t-shirt I was already wearing and going back to her closet to look at other things. “Talk about what?” I asked, admiring myself in this color. It popped interestingly against my skin that was only now a shade darker than paper white. She returned with a white, lace sweater and laid it casually over my shoulders. “About why you all the sudden decided it was time to leave.” She raised her eyebrows suddenly, “This is a really good color on you.” I could feel the blood rushing from my face, my stomach whining for someone to fill its void, “Thanks,” I mumbled awkwardly. “And no,” my head remained aimed at the floor now, unable to face myself in the reflective glass, “I’d rather not talk about it.” I heard her make a small noise, but I discarded it as something minor. Maybe she was just clearing her throat, “Do you wear heels?” “No.”

“Converse it is, then.” She mumbled more to herself, returning once again to the bottom of her closet to rummage through mountains of fabrics and large accessories. “So, Chloe said you deal drugs,” she spoke in flat tones, not anticipating a response so much as stating random facts. I shook my head wildly; I can’t lose Kara now. “I do not deal drugs,” I assured her, fear gripping in my chest causing my voice to shake. “I didn’t think so- ooh, here they are!” She was referring to a pair of burgundy sneakers. “Try it on.” She tossed them casually to my feet, plopping herself enthusiastically onto the corner of her neon purple bed with blankets shrewd across it like someone had just built a fort atop it. I turned around to face her glittering smile, “All of it?” She nodded violently, her smile not moving even the slightest centimeter. I slipped awkwardly into her bathroom; the sink littered with various beauty products; makeup lay in mysterious placed on the edge of the tub from shelving above the toilet. It was as if a beauty bomb exploded in the tiny space. Reluctantly I slipped off my skinny jeans and tshirt, revealing my pudge, but instead, my eyes were wandering across the photos on her mirror of her and Cameron. They looked so happy, both of them standing so close together; it made me wonder

if Noah and I would ever be that close. Then it hit me. I wasn’t sure why, or what it was, but I didn’t need to for the colossal tears to start raining down my cheeks like it was hurricane season. At first, I brushed it off as a casual teenage girl insecurity upset. But I wasn’t looking at myself anymore; I wasn’t thinking about anything sad; I was looking into the happy moments of others. I was looking at images of two people who loved each other and thinking hopeful thoughts about someone who didn’t make me sad. I was standing in an air conditioned room scented by candles that smelled like cookies with clothing that made my eyes pop, and a friend outside the door who only wanted me to feel happier than I was feeling. But that was before my weak body crumpled onto the bathroom floor; half of me rested on a towel that must have fallen from its hook. My back pressed against the locked door, and every weight from every direction was forcing the sadness out of me. It was like when you got a cold, and your body tried to heat you up to kill out all of the bad germs. Only my “cold” was depression, and my body’s way of funneling it out was making me tremble, and become as small as I could humanly become, and cry.

I was just starting to feel like I might possibly have a life here and now I was tugging at clumps of hair and pushing them against my forehead, now I was silently screaming and pleading that the pain would go away. Noiselessly, I sobbed on the bathroom floor, ignoring Kara’s muffled concerns about whether or not I was okay. Those concerns then became her slapping her open palm against the door, which eventually graduated to the frantic yelling of my name and a furious pounding. Finally, I could hear her leaving the space as if she had given up. With whatever strength was left inside me I forced a smile, it was quickly drowned in tears but then all of the pain mysteriously vanished, and I was left alone with a cold, crisp numbness that felt like an emotional blur. I could visibly see my eyes glaze over as I brushed the wet off of my cheeks and finished putting on the ensemble she had picked out for me. Calmly I opened the door to find her frantic body slumped over at the end of her bed dialing something with nimble fingers into her phone. She looked at me, terrified as if the concern had been so overwhelming that she was sure I had died. “I, uh,” my voice was broken and soft, “I couldn’t get it to zip.” Instantly she wrapped her small arms around my shoulders and buried her head into my

shoulders. I could feel myself gasp slightly, but it wasn’t at the abruptness of her embrace; instead it was the ever-so-slight glance I had gotten of her wrists before she came toward me. In those tiny white scars, she held more sadness and secrets than I ever would have guessed from someone who wore a smile so brilliantly. But maybe I just didn’t know her story; but as of this moment, I still didn’t even know mine.

TWENTY-THREE Hayden “Noah,” I called for him mindlessly. “Can we talk?” I yelled over the steady hum of the AC as it blasted cool air above me. I pondered it carefully; every aspect of reality shifted to a slightly lighter shade of gray. The world as I had seen it, up until this moment, has been many things; but now it was only one. I couldn’t give him credit for me feeling somewhat less hopeless because it wasn’t him who fixed me. It wasn’t him who lived through my seemingly inescapable thoughts; it wasn’t him who felt my insufferable pain and taught me to deal with it. But he did make me happy, and that wasn’t something you let go; whether you be someone who feels joy normally or someone who’s lost everything. You don’t let go of someone who makes you see things in a slightly more hopeful light, someone who understands and accepts you, someone who makes you want to try to be better.

I thought about the way I’d tell him, assuming that I would tell him at all. I mean, what if he doesn’t feel the same way? I thought, slowly becoming anxious; no, correction, quickly becoming anxious. Jesus; am I really this terrified of admitting my feelings for him? I wondered. “You rang?” A cocky voice said from behind me jokingly. I spun around carefully, feeling sheer terror and embarrassment flooding my veins with both freezing cool and hot blood. Evidentially none of that blood was heading for my heart because upon seeing him it stopped dead in my chest. I’m not going to tell him, I decided. “Right,” His arms were crossed casually across his chest while he leaned collectedly against the inside of my doorframe. My breath caught in my throat just watching him stand there in front of me; I could’ve sworn he could hear my heart as it heavily pounded like rain. His expression fell slightly, faltering weakly between concern and sadness. “Hayden,” he said decidedly standing as a break from his casual lean, “are you okay?” He walked slowly to me, but I couldn’t help my silence. I just watched him, suddenly frozen. He placed his hand gently on my shoulder, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach exploding into a fireworks display I felt only I was currently capable of seeing.

It was as if, all at once, the universe was both expanding and contracting; but then, at once, it all halted the second his hand was there to steady me. I’m not going to tell him, I thought honestly. “Noah,” My lips said, betraying me. “I have to tell you something.” My voice was uneven and breathy, but his protective stare remained unchanging. I could see the specks of fear lacing his irises, the brightest most beautiful shade of gray I could ever imagine myself to see. I swear I almost suffocated under the weight of his stare. “What is it?” He asked carefully, both hands on my shoulders now. The weight of his stare, the color of his eyes, the gravitational strain, the fire coursing through my veins... and I couldn’t think of a single word to say to express it all. I couldn’t begin to even fathom what individual words I could string together to let fall out of my mouth and best express these things, these feelings. My mind couldn’t even begin to think of the words to use to describe it, but apparently, another part of me did, and that was the part that spoke next. “I love you.” Dammit, I thought immediately. I didn’t mean that, did I? No, I couldn’t have. I didn’t say that. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Does he hate me now? “What?” He said simply. I could feel him retreating, his hands lifting, like clouds of smoke,

away from me. His entire composure shifted. He leaned on the back of his feet instead of the front, all of the sudden. His hand immediately rose to run his fingers through his hair as he always did, or so I had thought, but now I saw he was just sliding them down gently toward the burn on the back of his neck; carefully he caressed it in a curious and awkward stroking. There was a split second I thought I almost saw a slight smile, but maybe that was just the tiniest sliver of hope slipping away from me. I shook my head; he hates me. But instead of denying it, I came to odds with it and accepting that it already happened and now something else needed to follow that. “Please don’t make me say it again...” I choked out in a timid whisper, finding it suddenly harder to look into his eyes. “But,” he whispered. I could just see him shaking his head, and I was suddenly glad I had looked away. “You can’t.” His voice was pained. “I can’t?” I couldn’t help but come across like a wounded animal. I felt betrayed, but not by him because evidentially I damn well could, and better yet I do. “With how everything is going with me and Chloe...” Now I looked at him, but he refused to look back at me. “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I forgot you two must have a plan to get back together” I pretended to

check an imaginary watch on my wrist, using the intense sarcasm to hopefully take away the pain that was forming tears in the corners of my eyes. “Wednesday? I’ll just tell myself not to have feelings then; I’d hate to inconvenience you.” I had no reason to be mad at him; it was unjust. But when there was such intense emotion flooded throughout the body, it was impossible to just get rid of it all. The best way to describe it was that emotion was like energy. Emotions cannot be created nor destroyed; instead, it simply transforms from one form to another. I think that was why heartbreaks hurt so much because the love is so strong when it’s replaced with sadness. “That’s not what I-,” He muttered. “No, it’s whatever,” I said feeling whatever was left of my ‘calm façade’ crumbling and shattering under the weight of acceptance that I might have ruined it all for good. “You just don’t feel the same way, and I get it-,” Now he was directly in front of me, seemingly closer than before. His hands had returned to my shoulders, his gaze had returned to my eyes, and his voice had returned to an audible tone that was even. “That’s... Not... What I meant.” He said slowly. “Then... What?” I said mimicking his tone with a slightly uneven breath.

I could feel his light breath against my cheek as he sighed, his head shifting back-and-forth ambiguously. “I don’t,” he choked out surely, pain causing his words to seem hesitant. “Deserve you.” Finally, I was broken from my painful overload of emotion. “But you deserve her?” I squinted at him, desperately fighting for understanding, but he said nothing. “Does she even make you happy?” His unresponsive stare said it all. “Then why do you deserve that?” “Because I’m weak,” he said finally. “Because I’m broken, and she’s broken, and it just works that way because she doesn’t expect me to fix it any more than I expect her to. There is no loss or gain; there’s just perfectly stable instability, and we’re both comfortable with that.” “You’re weak?” I asked him, mostly without question and just to repeat him to express how little I believed it to be true. He nodded slightly, his glances shifting around the room to mask his apparent shame. “And you don’t deserve me because you’re too weak,” I said simply, fighting the urge to laugh to myself. He looked at me, his dark eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t need you to be strong for me; I don’t need anyone to do that because if I need strength, then that’s something I can figure out on my own, for myself. You think you’re weak? So what? You

think you’re broken? Join the club. I don’t need you to be perfect, or to think that you are. I want you because whatever you’re doing, you just make me happy. You make me want to be a better version of myself. You make me feel alive and consider living not to be the worst choice of my options. Seeing your strength somehow makes me stronger, and seeing you weak makes me feel something and want to do something outside of myself for someone else. You make the world clearer,” I could feel my voice shaking, but I didn’t care. I needed to say it just as much as he needed to hear it. “I love you,” I repeated. “And by saying that I don’t expect you to drop everything in your life and love me too. I don’t expect anything from you. But I do; I do love you, and you should know that.” Now he was close to me, and I could feel that we were both shaking uncontrollably. The AC must have shut off while I was speaking because the only sound filling the otherwise silent room was our uneven breathing. “So what does that make us?” He asked, his hands finding their way wrapped around mine. I took my left hand away and steadied it on his forearm, “Complicated.” I whispered jokingly. He smiled, still breathing heavy. “Can I kiss you?” I asked suddenly, my entire body a ball of nerves.

After everything I still expected him to say ‘no,’ but instead he just smiled at me, got really close to my nose and whispered, “Please.” And so I did, I kissed him while my hand wrapped comfortably over the scar on his neck. I found it was the place that connected us, in the most perfectly imperfect way.

TWENTY-FOUR Noah Her hand rested smoothly on my scar; it was the part of me that Chloe had always avoided. But she wasn’t Chloe; she was different. At some point, we pulled away from each other, and she lightly rested her forehead on my shoulder. “Noah,” she said in a hushed tone. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling; my cheeks actually hurt from being so happy. It was the best kind of pain. “Yes, Hayden?” She didn’t respond. Instead, her body just fell limply against me. “Hayden?” I tried to stand her up, but it was no use. Her eyes had shut, it was as if she had just fallen asleep. “Goddammit,” I mumbled to myself, laying her gently on her bed. I ran from the room, searching for where I placed my phone. “Dammit, Goddammit, Goddammit...” I mumbled in a hopeless chant. “Hayden!” I continued calling her name while she laid unconscious.

Finally, I found my phone lying uselessly on my dresser, and without thinking I dialed my first number on speed-dial. “Cameron! Hayden passed out, and I don’t know what to do!” I whined helplessly. “Please come over, she won’t wake up. I need you!” and I shut the phone, not considering who else I could call. The police didn’t even occur to me as a second thought. Instead, I just ran back to her, calling her name and waiting for her to wake up. She was everything I had left. I was a dying match, and she was a firework display. Take me instead! I cried, and then, I prayed. Something must have worked, because minutes later, she opened her eyes. Tears leaked from them like a faucet, but she was awake. Her lip quivered as she struggled to whisper something to me. “What is it?” I begged her, “What’s wrong?” “I remember.” She muttered. I wanted to ask her what, but just as I was going to Cameron rushed into the apartment. “What happened? Is she okay?” “She just woke up.” “I remember.” She said again quietly. “I did it, it was my fault. I killed my parents.” And that was the last thing she said that day. That was the last thing she said to me.

Everything else I heard through Kara, the only person she spoke to.

Hayden “I shouldn’t have left.” I whispered gently to her. She looked at me as if I had betrayed her, I still wasn’t quite sure why. “It wasn’t your fault-,” “IT WASN’T MY FAULT? I was the one that snuck out that night. I was the one that used Eric’s kerosene lamp to get home. I threw the keys so she couldn’t leave, and I was the one that left them there to burn. I did that.” Finally she was quiet. “My dad, he found out.” I said slowly. “Found out what?” “My mom’s affair. When we were gone, that’s why he tried to run him over.” There was a long break of silence, “Are you okay?” My best friend had an affair with my mom, the reason they were fighting, the reason she drank, the reason they died. “I’m okay.” “You don’t have to be,” she whispered. “It is okay to not be okay.” She rested her hand gently on my shoulder. I shook my head, “It’s not okay. I’m not.” I need to run. I need it all to go away, and disappear. “Do you want to talk to Noah? It’s been days, he’s been worried sick.”

“Not now,” I choked out, the sadness taking over, “not yet.” *** It took days to find the right one, without internet, lanterns like this one were hard to come by. Flashlights just weren’t the same. Footsteps made their way closer to my door, I hadn’t been back here since I remembered; Kara’s apartment just wasn’t the same, though. He noticed. The lights were off but he slowly pressed the door open, “Hayden?” I sniffled, not ready to speak yet. “I’ve missed you.” “I miss you too.” I flicked on the lantern, letting it illuminate the room in harsh oranges and blues. He looked at me for a long time, studying my expression illuminated by the light. “I love you, Hayden.” He whispered, stepping closer. “Do you want to get lost with me?” I asked, ignoring him. “Where? Let’s go.” I stared into the light, “Among the flames.”

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About the Author Lya Lively resides in the southern United States with her family and three dogs. Her first standalone book Among the Flames, a New Adult novel that will keep readers guessing at every turn, will be released in early 2016. Vacant, a novel about a teenage girl learning to cope with the loss of loved ones, will be releasing later in the year. Read more at Lya Lively’s site.