I capped my pen and threw it across the room; I was tired of the same old words spewing on to my paper. Nothing fit just right about how much I loved him; about how much this was going to last.
Again, my cell phone buzzed with another pointless text. I decided it would be for the best if I didn't chuck my cell on the floor, so I just turned it off and sat it on my beside table. He was dancing around in my head, making me miss him even more, if that was possible.
"Emma; are you still in here?" the door slowly opened and my mother slipped in, her thin frame lathered in tanning oil and full of a new bathing suit she had bought last week.
"Yeah, mom, I am." I closed my notebook, running a hand over the bumpy orange cover.
"You've been in here all afternoon. We leave in a few days, won't you come outside and enjoy the sunshine?" She smiled at me.
I sighed, "I'll be out soon."
She stared at me for a few more minutes, the mindless smile still on her face, but then disappeared back through the door.
Slowly, I pulled myself off the floor and slid my notebook under the twin bed that was scratchy and felt like it had a mountain of sand in it. I pulled on my skinny jeans, even though it was sure to be burning up outside. They hid the scars that were up and down my thighs; it was a part of my life that I had closed out, but the scars had never faded enough.
There was some sort of turquoise band shirt hanging over my open suitcase, so I grabbed it and pulled it on, not caring how I looked. I took a glance at the mirror and raked over my curly black hair and green, green eyes. My skin was snowy white and I was very thin, like my mother.
I knew I hadn't taken care of myself like I should have in the past; I was still trying to gain the weight back that I had lost so easily, it had seemed. Ryan had made me care about everything; I wanted to be healthy for him.
"Mom, have you seen my purple-" I yelled.
"Converse high-tops; they are right here." She pushed open my door gently and handed me the beat up shoes that had got me through everything. They fit loosely when I tied the checked laces.
My mom pressed a spare key into my slender fingers just before she left the house. After she was gone, I put the key in my pocket and grabbed a water bottle for the go and left the beach house.
It was sand everywhere when I stepped onto the sidewalk. I bent down in front of the house and drew a heart in the sand with my finger and stood back up to admire the deformities of it.
Every time a car passed me, a scream would echo in my head from my memory. It was a weak scream, from my own dried out throat. Every time my ex boyfriend hit me, tears would well up in my eyes. My heart had been repaired by Ryan.
One more step and a torrential downfall attacked the beach. I stayed where I was and marveled up at the sky, squinting my eyes. My mom then came around the corner, at a quickened pace, beach bag and towel tucked under her arms.
"Emma," she called out to me, "it's pouring the rain, get inside, you'll get pneumonia."
"I'm not going to get sick mom," I rolled my eyes, though she couldn't see; I would have to be blind and stupid if I didn't know it was raining. "I'll be in later, mom." Then I was gone, walking down the sidewalk as fast as I could.
Within minutes I was soaked and wet sand covered the bottom of my shoes. So much had happened; so much in my short life.
"She's so far gone." All of my friends had whispered to one another as I passed them in the school hallway, eyes on the floor. My jacket always hid the cuts from myself and the red marks from him. My hair fell over my tear-filled eyes but I heard everything they murmured in the halls.
It was a particularly bad day; I was all alone. Tears slid down my cheeks endlessly and it took all I had not to run down the halls until I got to the door, releasing me for the day.
I reached for the door, but a hand caught mine. I had looked up, completely startled.
"You almost ran into me, there." He had me by the smile. A brilliant, laid back smile on his long face. He was looking down at me, but his brown eyes were so warm, making his height comforting. "You don't look so good."
"What's your name?" I whispered, feeling so vulnerable, but so alive for the first time.
"Ryan. So they say you're the girl that's gone." I blushed and wanted to cry again. Any kind of escape I craved. "But I could swear your not."
I looked at him good then, wander in my eyes. He took my hand again and led me out of the school. His smile was still on his face:
"Dare to prove them wrong?"