2

My life is not a fairytale. Far from it, in fact. But with all my heart I wish it was. I wish everything was perfect. That my family was rich and my life was wonderful. But It is not. And nothing in the world can change that.

My Mother killed herself after having me; post pardon depression got the best of her. So me and my Father reside in a quiet house in the suburbs, where nothing interesting ever happens. Well, nothing until now.

I think of it as this, I have now killed two people in my life. My mother, who would not have become so depressed if she had not had me. And my Boyfriend, Matt. If he hadn’t tried to save me from the large black truck, he might still be alive. Even if it meant I was dead.

After the accident I woke up in the hospital with a broken leg, three broken ribs and sprained wrist. At first they wouldn’t tell me what had happened to Matt. About two days later my Father explained it to me. That Matt was dead on impact, and that he had gave his life up for mine. His whole family had come to mourn him, and they all looked at me in a disgusted way. They all thought I should have been the one to die. And they were right. I should have been.

Matt had a full scholarship to NYU. He could have gone places, done a lot with his life. I was doomed to stay in this miserable little town for the rest of my life. I had nothing going for me.

I could see what I had done to people, how I had broken there hearts at his loss. I couldn’t bear to look at the crying people at his funeral. I stared at my feet the whole time.

The weather fit the mood perfectly; pouring rain. Thunder rumbled in the distance. They grey sky loomed over head like a sinister shroud, consuming the graveyard in it’s gloominess. When I finally mustered up to pitiful bravery to look up, I saw Matt’s mother, sobbing into her hands. I saw his sister biting her lip to keep from crying. I saw his best friend, Trevor Langly with his head turned down in respect.

I bit my lip as hard as I could and looked away. What have I done?

More then anything, my heart longed for him, like a unbearable ache in my chest. It was worse then the pain in my leg, or my ribs. It was worse then being hit by a truck. I loved him, and missed him more then anything.

My best friend, Alana, was letting me lean against her. She was crying too, but she was stronger then I was, she was willing to comfort me in spite of her own sorrow.

The ceremony was over, and Alana was ready to drive me home. I limped across the graveyard on my crutches, and was about halfway to her car before I felt a warm hand stop me.

When I turned around, I looked directly into cerulean the eyes of Trevor. He smiled gravely, and pulled me into a hug.

And the strangest sensation came over me. He looked beautiful to me, even though his eyes were stained red, and his warm chocolate brown hair was drenched with rain. I wanted him to hold me.

What a sick, horrible, selfish person I am. I enjoyed the hug. And I wished he wouldn’t stop. How dare I let him comfort me, when I should be comforting him. But I selfishly let myself drown in his body warmth. I wished he hadn’t pulled away. I wished he had held on to me, because even though it was all my fault there were tears running down his face, I wanted him to ease my pain.

For about two days I refused to go to school. I lay in my bed, under the warm blankets, where I could cry as hard as I wanted. I couldn’t sleep, because whenever I shut my eyes I saw him, pulling my into his arms to protect me from the car racing toward us.

I finally decided that I didn’t deserve to sit there and wallow in self-pity. I got up, took a shower and went to school.

It was unbearable at first. I kept my head down so I couldn’t see the looks people were giving me. Even though Alana assured me otherwise, I knew they were disgusted with me.

“Here,” Alana set a tray of food in front of me, and the smell made me slightly sick to my stomach. She sat down beside me with her own tray. “You look starving, now eat.”

I glanced at her. “Thanks,” I mumbled, and began to pick at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich set in front of me. I couldn’t believe what the next thing that came out of my mouth was.

“Have you seen Trevor?”

She shook her head. “Not since the funeral. Why?”

I shrugged. “No reason,” I wanted that hug.

The rest of the day moved by in a haze. Teachers were being nicer, many offered their condolences, but I wasn’t paying attention. I came to school to get my mind off of what had happened, not to be reminded of it.

For a very strange reason, it bothered my that Trevor wasn’t there. I wondered why. I wondered if he was having the same problem I was.

It wasn’t until last period, that it really hit me. It was my art class, where I usually sat at the same table as Trevor and Matt. But instead I sat by myself, in the corner of the room, with tears slipping down my cheeks.

Part of my soul was lost, destroyed. A part of me died. And everyone could tell.

Sorry this chapter is so short, I just hadn’t updated in so long I kind of felt like I needed to put something up. Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter! Please review, and any constructive criticism is welcome!