No one is happy with me right now... That is, if anyone actually remembers me. It's been almost a year since my last update on Daily. I am working on a chapter. And I know, it must be kick-ass. I'm a senior in high school, and this last year has been crazy. I suck at updating, and I tend to be "responsible" and put my school work in front of my FFing. I know. I'm a horrible excuse for a writer. But, maybe, this little ditty will buy me a few more weeks. Enjoy.

(It's a little rough... and short. You guys deserve so much more, and I feel terrible)

Golden

Her world is crashing around her.

And it was all his fault.

As everything blurs around her, one thing stays clear in her vision. Him.

His beautiful face envelopes her, drowning her in his soulful chocolate eyes. Those eyes that kept her awake one night too many. Those eyes that bade her to follow, even when all the while her feet firmly planted her. He is her drug; her own personal brand of heroin.

And just like the drug to the druggie, so he was to her. Every time he came there was an inexplicable high.

She was on top of the world.

She was beautiful.

She was his.

But as soon as that high began, it seemed that a low hit. And the heights she had reached? That and more is what she fell. The impact with reality is always what got her—knocked her unconscious, till all that mattered was never seeing those eyes again.

Yet here he is, eyes and all. Here he is promising the world.

I've changed.

Sure he has. The worst part in all this was that she wants to believe him. She loves him.

He stands in front of her, watching her open heart beating for the world to see. How many scars had he left upon that heart?

Too many.

Their history was fraught with breakups and breakdowns. That they made it out with both minds intact was surprising enough. That their hearts were mangled was simply a fair trade for healthy heads.

What do you want from me?

Her heart back.

She wants to fold herself up so her heart is no longer available for him to grab up. His strong fingers had made their impressions before, and the bruises have yet to heal.

Why is he still standing there? Does he not realize what he has done? Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I never loved you.

Liar, he calls her. Not denying anything nor offering any affirmation of the stated fact, she hangs her head. How can she deny the truth?

Her bearings are still somewhere other than in her possession. She wants desperately to retrieve them. There is just one little problem, and he is standing in her doorway, reaching out for her.

She loves him. He knows it. She knows he knows it. She also knows there is no use in contradicting him. He always did have her figured out.

But there is something else they both know. Something of equal importance.

He has hurt her too many times before. The ugly truth.

Silence fills their ears.

Some say that silence is golden. They say that silence is wonderful.

But they're wrong.

Because silent fails to be anything but what it is. Silence is silent.

It is that big elephant of pressure in any and every room in America.

They still refuse to break, to be the first to bend in the war of tongues. As he gives up, turning his back on the one person who ever cared about him, her head floods with thoughts and memories and she remembers something else about silence.

It is the loudest thing of all.

The sounds heard do not matter. It is the sounds that should be heard, but are not. Those sounds are what make silence so loud.

Those sounds are all she is left with as his car pulls out of her drive.

Those sounds are all he is left with as her form fades in his rear view mirror.

Silence is golden.