The park. Such a peaceful atmosphere. Even though it was late on a cold, winter night and the ground was covered in snow, I savored every moment being out there, breathing in the chilling air and sighing with a slight shutter.

I walked on, following the path that had been cleared for those walking.

Every once-in-a-while I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw, with great amounts of envy and depression, pairs of people walking with each other, keeping each other warm by being close to one another.

I myself kept myself warm by blowing on my numb fingers and hugging myself.

Despite all of that, I loved walking at night in the cold, looking up at the sky and admiring the stars.

As I began to notice the clouds coming, threatening to cover the clear sky. I turned to walk back, only to step to the side as a couple walked on the path I was on. They were so busy with one another that they never noticed me.

But I continued to watch them.

It hurt to watch the boy I had had a crush on for three years walk with that girl...his girlfriend of four months.

I finally looked away as I felt the prickle of tears in my eyes.

I wouldn't cry over this. I had already known that I didn't stand a chance with him...

...but still...but still...couldn't he have at least...noticed me? Just once?

I quickly walked in the opposite direction, hugging myself and holding back the tears. I wouldn't cry. It was stupid to. I refused to.

...but they fell on their own.

I was suddenly so cold, so lonely. All I wanted...all I ever wanted was someone to notice me, to hold me when I felt sad and alone.

All I ever wanted...was something that I could never seem to grasp.

I didn't stop walking until I was near the pond. The reflective surface of the water showed the quickly accumulating cloud-cover behind my pathetically small and broken figure.

Of course, I wasn't physically small or broken at all.

Still, I kicked at the soon-to-be-frozen surface, breaking the image before sitting down and curling myself into a ball, crying into my knees, my glasses pressing into my nose.

At this, I began to feel my anger grow. I looked up from my knees long enough to pull off my glasses and toss them away.

I hated those things.

My eyesight was horrible and I need them...but my dad had promised to get me contacts when I turned sixteen. Now here I was, halfway to the age of seventeen and still wearing those dreadful things.

Another promise broken.

"I hate this," I managed to say into my knees. That was the only sound I made save for an occasional sniff. I had long ago learned and mastered the art of keeping my tears quiet.

There was no sobbing, no whimpers of pain from the unfairness of it all.

Then...another sound came, and I quickly froze, holding my breath.

"Steph?" a boy's voice asked as footsteps came closer. "Is that you?"

I quietly sniffed and brushed my eyes quickly before I finally said, "How'd you know it was me?"

"Well, you're the only one I know that sits in snow willingly," was the answer the boy gave as he sat next to me.

I looked at him from the corner of my eye. Charlie Rystoud. The boy I had known since we were five, who out-grew me in the sixth grade...

...all of my guy-friends had...

I looked away again, not wanting to look at him anymore. I had also had a crush on him one time...before he also got a girlfriend.

For almost a year and a half, Charlie and Recca Jones had gone out; and from what I knew, they were still going strong.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I spoke.

"I live just outside of the park--"

"I know!" I exclaimed with frustration. I had been to his house before. I had been there every time I took a walk through the park, remembering times when it was so easy to get along with people.
Charlie was quiet for a long while.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, "I know...that you know...or I should know...

"Steph, I know that you have been friendless for a long time," he suddenly said without preamble, "and I have to finally admit...it's partially my fault."

I looked to him, eyes flashing. I ignored the humbled way he had bowed his head, his dark hair falling slightly into his face. I ignored the fact that he had his blue eyes closed and looked to be very sincere.

I had been through this act too many times to go through it again.

"I don't want your damned pity," I spat, making him jerk to face me.

"That's not--"

"You are all the same!" I shouted, forgetting about the delicate calmness of the park. "You pretend to understand how I feel! You don't! You were never suddenly abandoned! Never ignored by people who were supposed to be your friends!" He winced at that. "You don't understand shit!"

I suddenly realized that I was crying again. "Where were you, Charlie, when I needed a friend to help shield the hurt and pain of others' harsh words and actions? Where were you when I was stabbed in the back by the one person I thought I could trust?"

He didn't answer, and I looked away.

"You weren't there. You were with your friends, watching them hurt people like me. I saw you...so many times at school...just watching."

I looked up to him again. "We were once friends, right, Charlie? I've dreamt so much about keeping all of the friends I once had that I don't know if it really happened or not."

He was silent for a long time. I bowed my head in defeat and readied my arms and legs to push myself up when I felt myself entrapped in something that made me freeze.

A hug.

"It wasn't," Charlie said softly. "It wasn't just a dream, Stephanie. We were friends. You...you were loyal, thoughtful, kind, innocent, naïve...I...I wasn't any of that..."

I didn't say anything.

"I only...turned away because I was scared. I didn't want you to change. The guys that were my friends...they understood why I was the way I was...but they didn't understand why I gave up our friendship..."

Realization hit me. "You..."

"I...told them you were part of the reason," he continued, "but they didn't understand what I meant, and I...I didn't know that they started to spread things about you that wasn't true. I thought that you would be fine..."

"But I'm not," I said, pulling out of the surprising hug before looking to him. "This wasn't planned, was it?"

"What do you mean?" he asked with confusion.

"I mean what you're saying," I answered, looking to him. "I don't care if you did that back then. I don't care because it's too late to make a difference. What I care about is this being an act, a joke on me--"

"Stephanie, I wouldn't--"

"Don't tell me that!" I shouted. "I've heard that too many times to believe it anymore!"

He quickly stood up, suddenly towering over me. "What am I supposed to say then?" he demanded. "Do you want to hear that this is a joke? Is that what you want to hear?"

"Ye--no!" I shook my head, bringing my hands to my ears, a reflex action that I used whenever someone raised their voice at me.

"Which one?" he questioned. "Yes or no?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed.

"You just said 'no!'"

"I know!" I cried, suddenly feeling very lost and confused. "I just--I just don't want this to be another dream!"

"But it's not," he insisted, grabbing one of my arms and pulling my hand away from my head. "Why do you think it is? Do you want it to be?"

His touch seemed to have a calming effect on me, though I was frightened at what that could mean.

"No, I--" I stopped for a moment, looking away. "I'm just...used to it being that way. Used to having no one seeming to notice me..."

"People notice you," he objected.

I shook my head. "No, they don't. Not even if I were to--"

I gasped when I felt his hold on my arm tighten, and when I looked up to tell him it hurt, I saw that his face had a grave look upon it.

"Don't," he said lowly. "Don't even think that way, Stephanie!"

"Charlie," I whimpered, quickly becoming afraid that he would become violent, "you're hurting me."

He froze at those words and released my arm so quickly that it looked as though he had just realized he had been holding onto a poisonous snake.

"I-I'm sorry. I just--"

I rubbed my arm with my other hand, watching him. "It's okay...I shouldn't have been saying things like that."

He quickly shook his head, acting as though he hadn't heard me. "I didn't mean to. I--" He sighed and plopped onto the snowy ground, putting his face into his hands. "This is all wrong. I didn't want to--"

"Charlie?" I asked uncertainly, catching his attention. "I-I'm okay. Really. Look. See? I'm fine."

He winced and looked away.

I saw why.

"Oh," I said, staring at the bruising marks that were forming from his fingers' grips, "it...it doesn't hurt...really..."

"I was scared," he said suddenly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He hugged himself, leaning forward, watching the water of the pond before answering, "That's why I got new 'friends.' I was scared of...not being able to defend myself from..."

He looked up to me. "Steph...I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I'm not a stereotypical 'punk' in a 'gang.' I just needed someone to show me how to protect myself.

"You didn't need a friend like me--you still don't. I...I'd hurt you without thinking, like I did just now. I don't want to do that." He looked away again.

I was silent for a moment before stepping closer to him.

"Charlie?" I asked uncertainly. "Why were you walking around here so late at night?"

He then was quiet for a moment.

"I needed...to cool off," he answered slowly. "My dad and I...we were fighting again. We fight all the time now...since Mom left...

"He blames it on me. That I drove her off." He snorted. "He didn't know she left because she was having an affair."

"O-oh," I said, shocked to hear this from the same boy who had such loving parents six years ago, "I'm sorry..."

"I'm not," he said. "Mom's happier away from him. I just wish she'd hurry to get me out of here. Of course" --he paused, glancing to me-- "I'm almost old enough to get my own place now..."

I felt guilty. Here I had been, not ten minutes ago, wallowing about how it was unfair to have my life when all along someone had it worse than me.

Much worse.

I sat in the snow next to him. "You left me because you didn't want me to know?"

He didn't look at me this time. "You're a nice girl, Steph. You don't need someone like me as your friend. I...I'm not like you on so many levels...

"I'm dirty, soiled...corrupted...whatever you want to call it. But you" --he finally looked up-- "you're anything but those things. You don't cheat, you don't con other people to do your dirty work, you don't watch people beat on other people and not do anything--"

"But I'm not completely clean myself--" I interrupted, only to be interrupted myself in turn.

"No, but you're more of a...pure person than I am," he said, hesitating as he spoke. "You may have...dark thoughts. Thoughts about hurting others...or yourself...but you're...strong enough not turn those thoughts into actions."

I felt goose bumps at these ominous words and didn't ask him to specify what he meant.
So we sat there in the dark, in the snow, neither saying anything.

Then, I felt something land on my nose. I looked up to see peaceful snowflakes falling from the sky, drifting lazily onto us and covering us with them.

The I spoke, "Why did you tell me all of this tonight?"

He looked to me, a kind of sad smile on his face, a face that didn't match the description of a 'punk' at all.

"I've been having it weigh down on me for a long time. I just never had the chance..." he answered quietly.

I silently mouthed an 'oh' before shaking my head. "So...how's Recca? You two still going out?"

Again their was a long pause. "No...she moved in with her aunt in Florida a week ago."

"Oh...I'm sorry to hear," I muttered.

"Doesn't matter," he merely said, "it was my fault anyway."

That was when I decided to look to him.

That was also when I realized how pale he was for someone who had been sitting in the snow for over half an hour.

I reached out a hand that I uncovered and touched his face with the back of my fingers. He didn't seem to notice or care.

"You're cold," I said with concern. "Maybe we should get home--"

"I can't," he said without looking to me. "I'm too afraid."

"Of what?" I asked, puzzled that he would be afraid of facing his father when he had said himself that he fought with him.

I heard him laugh a bit, a cynical sound that gave me goose bumps.

"You're...you're so naïve, Steph," he said, shaking his head as I drew my hand away. "I've given you so many clues and you still don't get it."

"What do you mean 'clues?'" I asked, confused, only to be surprised by him turning toward me with my glasses in his hands.

"When you go home, look at my house at the end of the park," he said as he slipped the metal frames onto my ears and setting them on my nose.

"Why?" I asked.

"You'll see," he just said but then added, "Just promise me three things, Steph. Don't cry about what happens. There's no reason to waste tears on that."

I nodded uncertainly.

"And...I want you to come by the pond once in a while. I'll be right here waiting, okay?"

Again I nodded.

"Last of all...don't ever be this sad again, Steph. You've got a lot going for you. I know you do."
For a third time, I nodded.

Another sad smile appeared on his face. "It's too bad I was such an idiot. We could have still been good friends, couldn't we?"

I didn't say anything, still surprised by this. Then he stood, brushing snow off of himself and looking around. "It's getting late. You should head home."

I stood up. "What about you?" I asked, concerned.

"Don't worry about me," he said, "I'll be fine."

I hesitated before nodding. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"If you feel up to it..." he said slowly.

I nodded, not realizing he was looking doubtful, and turned to go home.

I did as Charlie had asked me and passed by his house on the way home. I expected to just see the two-story house, just as it had always been like for the past six years.

What I didn't expect was the sight of lights and police cars and ambulances.

What...happened?

I ran over to the nearest police officer and, forgetting my manners, demanded, "What's going on? What happened?"

The officer stared at me for a minute before shaking his head. "I'm sorry but--"

"Charlie's a friend of mine! Is he okay? I was just talking to him in the park--"

"That would be impossible," the officer said seriously.

I froze, suddenly feeling chilled. "What do you mean?"

"Both Charles Rystoud and his father were found dead more than an hour ago."

Everything froze.

"What...?" I heard myself ask.

"Seems as though Charles Rystoud killed his father and then himself," the officer answered, though I could barely hear him. "We've been getting reports of the father abusing Charles, but there wasn't any evidence of it."

He sighed, "So sad that this had to happen to them after already losing Mrs. Rystoud two years ago."

'He didn't know she left because she was having an affair...'

'Mom's happier away from him. I'd just wish she'd hurry to get me out of here...'

"Why...?" I whispered, not taking anything in.

The officer was still talking, but I couldn't hear him as I saw men pushing a gurney with an object on it out of the house. A body in a black bag, nothing showing...

...except for the face.

I numbly stared at the face of the ghost I had been talking to at the pond.

'I can't. I'm too afraid...'

'You didn't need a friend like me--you still don't. I...I'd hurt you without thinking, like I did just now. I don't want to do that.'

This couldn't be real...

'What am I supposed to say then? Do you want to hear that this is a joke? Is that what you want to hear?'

Yes, I wanted to hear that. I wanted to be told that it was all a joke, that I was dreaming.

'But it's not...'

Yes it is! It's just a dream!

This couldn't be happening!

'Don't cry about what happens. There's no reason to waste tears on that...'

I didn't cry.

I screamed.

End