Rogue

by AntiheroLion

"Throughout this entire time, no other boy had fascinated me the same way he had. I would watch him joke with his friends and kiss his girlfriend and just have fun. I envied him so much for doing the thing that I could never do: live." Predominantly OC.

There was nothing that I wanted more than him; all through middle school and high school I pined after those deep, black eyes. I would follow him with my eyes constantly, hoping that one day he'd notice me. I tried to convince myself that it was just a school girl crush. That I'd grow out if it as soon as I got off this God forsaken reservation and into a bigger pond where I would see that there was a greater selection of men out there. I didn't really believe that, though.

We'd been in class together our whole lives, having gone to the same elementary school, middle school, and high school. Throughout this entire time, no other boy had fascinated me the same way he had. I would watch him joke with his friends and kiss his girlfriend and just have fun. I envied him so much for doing the thing that I could never do: live.

When he would walk down the halls it was like what I imagined Hollywood was like when a star walked by. The girls would all giggle and watch and the boys would be in awe of him. From an outsider's point of view it might seem like the worship of an undeserving idol, but there was just something so charismatic about him. He was so kind to everyone, he was so helpful and respectful and never went out of his way to be cruel to people. He was widely liked and, in all honestly, extremely beautiful. To a stranger he was nothing special. To the people on the reservation he was inspiring. To me he was completely remarkable.

I was so drawn to him. He was the epitome of everything that I would love to have to myself, someone I would love to have love me. Oh, if only I could draw his eye. I'd talked to him a few times, mostly on accident or when we had to in class, but in those few times I had grown even more extremely attached to him, yet he showed no signs of interest at all. He seemed barely even platonically interested, like he wanted nothing to do with me at all. It was crushing and intolerable.

It was devastating that he didn't seem to care about me at all. Like I said, he was very kind and was never purposely mean to me, but his disinterest was obvious. It hurt to see the uncomfortable look on his face whenever we spoke. He had a forced smile and his eyes were constantly moving around, looking everywhere but at me, as if he were searching for an escape. It killed me.

I wasn't so conceited or presumptuous enough to believe that I could have him any second I wanted. I was average looking, nothing too spectacular. I looked a lot like everyone else: black hair and tanned skin. My hair was long – at about my waist – and my skin, well, no, there was nothing special about my skin. Just plain skin. My eyes were the same chocolaty brown as most of the people around, but a bit more hidden by my wide, thick glasses. I was shaped average as well – average bust, average height, average weight. I was nothing special.

Or maybe I was, but not in the good way.

Maybe it was because I wasn't some absolute beauty. Maybe it was because I was shy. Maybe it was because I wore thick glasses and thrift store clothes and old, scuffed shoes. Maybe it was because I was shy and awkward and too afraid to ever stand up for myself. Whatever the reason, I was always singled out. I was always picked on and shoved into lockers and tripped and ridiculed. Everyone seemed to hate me. I had no friends; no one wanted to be subjected to what I was for associating with me. I was constantly tormented. Every day of the week, even if I was in the store. I could be walking along the beach alone at the wrong time and have sand thrown in my face. I was the reservation punching bag and I didn't know why. Maybe it was because I was a useless waste of life like everyone said I was.

Every day I tried to convince myself that I was worth something and every day I couldn't find the strength to believe it. How could that be true when I held no value? How could that be true if no one could care less if I lived or died? Every at school hated me. Everyone at home was too busy to care about me. Hell, I didn't even care about me. My body was swathe with scars of my own doing. It felt like every other second I was searching for cover and privacy be able to tear apart my own skin once again. I was constantly bleeding from both my body and my soul.

That could've maybe been another reason that my crush – bordering on obsession – grew. He was everything that I wasn't. He was loved and accepted and wanted and respected. He had everything I wanted. He had friends and family that cared for him, he had a job, a significant other, and, like I said, the ability to do the one thing I couldn't. He could live. Still, though, I harbored my care for him deeply.

I remember how distraught I was when he disappeared for two weeks from school. I was so scared that something had happened to him like he had gotten hurt or he di—…or worse. I couldn't sleep. I could barely eat. My homework suffered greatly during that time because I kept thinking about him and if he was safe. I even contemplated driving around and looking for him myself, venturing into the forest if need be. Everyone was worried, everyone was scared for him. Everyone drove themselves crazy looking for him.

But how worried people were for him was no match for how confused they'd become when he'd return.

My heart leapt at the site of him and I had to rush into the bathroom to hide my tears of joy and relief that he was back. I had been so scared, so worried, so deathly afraid for nothing! He was back and he was fine. He seemed fine. When he came back everything was different. He was quiet, kept to himself, barely talking to anyone. Even his girlfriend seemed jilted by his new behavior and there was many a time where they'd fight from the tension of it all. The people that once so admired him, adored him, grew suspicious and began to fear him.

He was always out and away and missing school. His temper was so now easily provoked that it scared many of his friends away from him. His grades began to slip and his teachers were constantly keeping him after class to talk about his precarious position and how close he was to not even graduating. The school called his mom and she tried to talk to him, but he remained stoic and unrelenting. People all whispered about him saying that he was in some kind of trouble, drugs most likely. No one wanted anything to do with him. No one wanted to be around the fallen star that used to shine so bright. I wanted so desperately to reach out to him then, but I never did. I was too afraid.

From my fear, I missed my chance altogether.

Life, sadly, went on and I was still treated like a pariah and he was avoided like the plague. I would constantly dream and daydream about us being together, about us finding each other in our pain and loneliness and growing into one. I knew that I could understand him if he'd let me. I knew that we could be happy together if he'd let himself. But, he continued on with his girlfriend and I continued on with my solitude all the way to graduation.

After graduation, the true monotony and despondency of my life began. It was barely the summer after graduation and the majority of the graduating class remained in La Push, either starting their lives here or waiting for their lives to start elsewhere. I, myself, began work at a small convenience store on the reservation that was frequented by almost everyone since it was much closer than Forks. I knew that I could get into a decent school with my grades, but I hadn't even bothered to apply anywhere. I knew I should've, but I couldn't bring myself to do it for two reasons. First, people are people no matter where they are. If I'm treated like a maggot here I'm sure I would be anywhere else. Second, because he wasn't leaving.

I couldn't leave if he stayed behind.

So I remained in that dismal place and got that pathetic job. That place was hell to work. There were always, always people from my high school coming in and tormenting me. As if I didn't get enough of it while we were in school. They'd always come and be rude to me, give me snide remarks, makes messes on purpose so I'd have to clean them, and just be overtly cruel to me. I stayed, though, because I knew I'd never be able to get a job anywhere else. I remained at that job and in that town and as miserable as ever.

There were many times I considered dying, but the thought of him kept me going.

He would come in to the store every now and then and take my breath away without even knowing it. He had changed drastically. He was taller, much taller, and had gotten so much more fit and muscular it was ridiculous. He was constantly walking around shirtless and there was no way that I could avoid staring at him and fantasizing wildly about the things we could to. If it were up to me, I would hand him my virginity on a silver platter and my heart in a pie tin right next to it. I tried to be friendly, even flirty on one occasion, but that had turned out disastrous.

He still couldn't stand me.

It broke my heart that, no matter what, he'd still see me as that weird outcast from high school that sat alone and didn't talk to anyone. I had tried my hand at cutting out my self-destructive tendencies, but to no avail. No, they had only grown worse. It had gotten to the point where it had become a struggle to keep myself from going too deep or attacking my face when I got too upset. Lately, though, I had taken to walking on the deserted beaches to try and keep myself calm.

Today was one of such days. It had been worse than usual. My family was a more of a wreck that morning. Work had been more of a hell that afternoon. And "customers" had been crueler than ever before. I couldn't take it. I played sick and asked Mr. Cameron to let me off early which, thankfully, he did. I made my way to the beach, took off my shoes and left them in the sand. I walked over to the water and stood, looking out over the waves.

Sometimes I wondered what it would be like if I just jumped into the ocean and let it carry me away. I wondered what it'd be like to be pulled underwater and to drown. I wondered what it'd be like to let go of everything in my life and just give in to the pressures of the world and just die. I watched as the waves crashed against the craggy shores and receded, calling me into them. They mesmerized me. The cold waves seemed like the only place that I'd ever be happy. I'd never be happy as long as I was here. I could never live—

My reverie was caught short by an impact of something heavy against my head.

I grabbed at the back of my head, checking for blood. There was none. I heard the laughter and the jeers and I turned around to see a group of kids I went to school with. One of them had grabbed one of my shoes and chucked it at full force at my head. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying.

"Aw," cooed one boy, "what's wrong, little Hannah?" They laughed, but I didn't respond. "What? Now you don't want to talk to me?"

I just looked away. Suddenly I was shoved hard and stumbled back a couple feet.

"He asked you a fucking question, retard." There was a fierce eyed girl in front of me, staring me down with a look of pure loathing. Another boy walked forward and grabbed her shoulder.

"Whoa, Maddie, just chill out. She didn't do shit—"

The girl snapped at him but remained staring directly into my eyes. "Yes, she fucking did, Jay. She existed. She fucking existed. I'm sick of seeing this sad, little waste of space walking around like she belongs here!"

A couple of girls behind her cheered.

Jason laughed, letting go of her shoulder.

"Whatever, Mads." He stepped back, away from her, and back to the group behind her. She shoved my shoulder again, hard.

"So? Are you gonna fucking do something about it? I'm sick of you existing. I know a few ways you could fix that for me." She smiled sadistically and I looked away. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you, bitch!" She grabbed my chin and pulled my face back to look at her. The force with which she held my face was excruciating. "Now, are you gonna fix it?" A tear rolled down my cheek. "Stop fucking crying! Are you going to fucking fix it, you piece of shit!?" More tears. She released my jaw and pulled her hand back then swung it forward, slapping me. "Answer me!" I let out a strangled sob and she hit me again. "Answer me, you fucking retard!"

"I-I don't know!" I put my hands up and covered my face.

"You don't know?" she repeated, mocking me. "How could you not fucking know?" She and her group of friends laughed. "You are so fucking pathetic, Hannah." She shoved me hard. "You are a waste of a life." She shoved me again. "I bet even your parents wish you weren't born." Another shove. "Stop pretending that you matter at all and just fucking kill yourself. The world would be better without you." She shoved me again and this time I fell onto the sand. She laughed. "Oh, Hannah, you sad, sad piece of shit. When will you understand that your existence is pointless?" I looked up at her and she kicked sand into my face. They laughed. "Guess you'll never learn. Not unless I teach you a lesson of course."

Before I even knew what was happening, she was on top of me.

Her blows were hard and directed straight at my face. At first I struggled to get her off of me, but, as it proved to be futile, I resigned to try and protect myself as best I could. Which turned out to be not very well. She pulled my hair viciously and I could feel chunks being ripped out. She scratched and slapped and punched at my face. She landed one serious hit to my mouth and I could feel the blood begin to flow from my lips. After a few more minutes that felt like hours, she got up off of me and looked down on me laughing. I curled my body into a fetal position, sobbing. She spit on me.

"Look at you! You are the stupidest fucking piece of shit I've ever met in my life! Seriously, Hannah, just fucking kill yourself." She began to walk away from me with her friends, all of them laughing at my expense. "Oh, hey." She grabbed my shoe that one of them hand thrown at me earlier. "You dropped your shoe." She threw it at me as hard as she could. It slammed into my shoulder and I flinched. All of her friends started laughing riotously and walked away, talking about how pitiful I was.

And I really was.

I waited, listening to them leave. Once I was sure they were gone, I rolled over and got onto all fours, coughing and spitting as if I were going to vomit. I didn't. I slowly pulled myself up off of the sand and stood, wobbling on my feet. I felt at my face. It was sure to be bruised tomorrow, but the only real damage she had done was to my hair and mouth. There were chunks of my hair in the sand as I looked around the scene and a small trail of blood dribbled from my mouth. I swiped at it with the back of my hand, making myself flinch from the pain. I looked at the back of my hand covered in blood and broke down.

I grabbed sand and threw it in frustration. I screamed over and over again. The tears poured down my face as I raged at the beach. I yanked at my own hair in anger, multiplying the pain that she had caused me, but I didn't care. I needed the pain. I pulled at my hair as hard as I could and, when that no longer sufficed, I yanked up the sleeves of my shirt and scratched at my arms as severely as I could, drawing blood from cuts I was causing. I screamed out again and stabbed my nails into my face, dragging them across my cheeks and creating cuts in the same way.

I would never be able to understand any of this.

"Why do they hate me!? Why do they fucking HATE ME?!" I was screaming again, but this time I had fallen to my knees with my face in my hands. "Why do they hate me…" I was moaning to myself and I could feel my body rocking back and forth. Why? Why did they feel like I deserved this? Why did they feel like they needed to do all of this to me? What was it about me that was so easy to hate and hurt and literally destroy? Why was I so worthless to them? I never did anything to them!

I stood up and grabbed my shoe, shoving my wet, sand caked foot into it. I ran as fast as I could across the sand and grabbed my other shoe, putting that one on as well. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I needed to get away. Far away. I looked to my right and saw the vast expanse of the forest and, without any prior thought, ran straight into it. I sprinted through the trees, trying as best I could to avoid stumbling over small plants or fallen branches. I continued deeper and deeper in, my chest heaving as ran, not bothering to allow myself to catch my breath. I looked behind me and saw nothing but trees. Good. I was hoping to be lost forever.

I wasn't sure how long I ran for. It could've been minutes, it could've been years. I finally stopped, bent over with my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. Yeah, it had definitely felt like years. My breaths came in wheezes as I tried to calm my heartbeat enough to be able to think straight and not feel like I was going to pass out. Soon my heart began to calm a little, as did my breathing.

"What're you doing here?"

If I wasn't having a heart attack before, I surely was now.

I stood straight and spun around, looking at whoever had spoken. The voice had sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure if— My heart stopped completely. There he was, standing before me. He was shirtless of course and had on a pair of grey cut-off sweats and no shoes. Curious. "I-I was just—" I couldn't think of anything. I looked up into his eyes, feeling my face flush. I looked into the shining, charcoal orbs and noticed that they were rather red and swollen. I felt my heart crack and my chest clench.

"You shouldn't just run around the woods, you know. It's dangerous. You could get lost or attacked by a bear, or even—"

"Are you alright?" I hurt me deeply to know that he was in any way sad. No one deserved sadness. No one except me.

He looked at me curiously. "What do you mean? Of course I'm alright. Are you? You're the one running like a mad woman through the woods—"

"Were you crying?" I blushed as soon as I said it. I'm not sure why I did or why I was being so direct. He seemed to tinge a little pink, too, his face growing hard.

"No, I was not crying. Now will you get out of the woods? It isn't safe in here." He pointed to his right. I swallowed heavily and began to walk in the direction he had pointed me in.

"You know, I could probably understand more than anyone why you're so upset." I continued to walk away, but heard his answer still.

"I don't think you would…" If the words weren't bad enough, the tone of his voice alone was enough to shatter my entire heart. I turned and looked at him as he spoke. He was looking down at the ground and even from my angle I could tell he wanted to cry again. I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He looked at me and I was confirmed correct: his eyes were watering again.

"What's wrong?"

"I broke up with Leah." He turned away from me and a single sob shook his body. I moved around to face him again, not able to deny the hope I felt in my heart. Maybe I could salvage some happiness after all.

"Why?"

"I-I couldn't be with her. Especially not now that I've met Emily. And Emily, sh-she won't even look twice at me. I need to see her and speak to her, but she won't even be near me." Well, I guess that happiness is a no go as well. More sobs wracked his body and I rubbed my hand up and down his arm. Even if I couldn't be happy, I guess I could help him be.

"Do you feel really strongly about Emily?"

He groaned. "Yes, yes I care about her more than I've ever cared about anything."

The tears burned at my own eyes. "Well, I guess all you can do is just be honest with her. Tell her how much you care and hope that she sees the truth. You can't be afraid of what she'll say. If you care about her enough, she'll believe you." He nodded. I let out a small laugh. "I'm such a hypocrite." I walked away from him.

"What?"

"I'm such a hypocrite." I looked back at him. "Here I am telling you to not be afraid when I've been nothing but afraid my whole life. I'm telling you to be honest with her when I was never honest with you—" I stopped myself there. What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just keep my mouth shut? I've always been quiet and I've always be alone and I've never opened up to anyone and I choose this moment to open my idiotic mouth?

"What do you mean you were never honest with me?"

"Nothing." I began walking once again in the direction that he had showed me before, but he grabbed my arm. I winced and he quickly let me go.

"Sorry."

I nodded.

"Now what did you mean?"

I shook my head, 'no.'

"Tell me, please."

I bit my lip, fighting back the tears, looked him in the eye and again shook my head.

"Tell me, damn it! I think I deserve to know why you're lying to me!"

The dam broke and my tears began to fall. "What's my name?"

He looked taken aback. "What?"

"What's my name?" I asked again desperately. I watched his face as he searched his memory for some recollection of me.

"H-Hann…Hannah? Hannah."

"Hannah what?"

"Oh come on, I don't know! Hannah James?"

"Hannah Miller. See? You barely even know my name. Even the people that hate me know my name. Maybe you know me better by 'Hannah Kill Her.' That soon turned into, 'Look, there's Hannah! Kill her!' which soon turned into 'Hannah Kill Her? She should just kill herself.' Come on, I know you've heard the names." His face looked guilty, but he didn't nod. "Why should you care if I'm lying to you if you don't even know my name?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just wanna know why you singled me out to lie to—"

I laughed lightly. "What do you know about being singled out? You were the golden boy until you disappeared! Then they only avoided you because they were afraid of you. Me? I was singled out. I was tortured daily by everyone in that damn school and they still harass me now. They've never left me alone and they never will. They never will." My tears were flowing freely now.

"I'm sor—" He was going to say he was sorry, but thought better of it I guess. I'm not sure why he'd have apologized anyways. "What did you lie to me about?"

"I didn't lie to you about anything-"

"Then what were you keeping from me?"

"Why does it even matter? What does it matter now?" I couldn't tell him. My heart had been full of hope when he said that he had broken up with Leah, but at the mention of Emily… no.

"I just want to know. It's about me, so…"

I shook my head.

"Hannah, tell me."

I shook my head again.

He stepped closer to me and put a hand on either of my arms, looking down carefully into my eyes. "Hannah, please. Please," he whispered.

I shivered and knew that I couldn't deny him anything. More tears fell from my eyes.

"I wasn't lying to you, I just wasn't telling you. I-I've really cared about you for a long time and I had always been too scared to tell you. I always thought that you couldn't stand the sight of me in high school and so I figured I wouldn't bother. I wanted to talk to you when everyone else had abandoned you, but I was too afraid; I was too much of a coward to do it. I've felt so strongly about you for a long time and I really do love—" I don't know what possessed him to do it and I'm positive I never will, but he did it none the less.

He kissed me.

I was shocked and stiff at first, but, as his lips moved against mine, I reacted. I wasn't sure how well I was doing considering it was my first kiss, but I hoped well enough that he would continue. I felt his tongue flick across my bottom lip and, by some blessing, instinctually realized what that meant and opened my mouth. When his tongue touched mine, my body ignited in fire. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he tightened his grip around my waist. Our kiss deepened and, though I felt scared and awkward and worried that I was doing everything wrong, it was amazing.

His hot hand felt its way up my side and it slid underneath my shirt. My heartbeat increased and I froze slightly.

He stopped kissing and looked at me. "Is that okay?"

I bit my lip and nodded. He still looked apprehensive, so I stepped a bit away from him, took my arms from his neck, and pulled my shirt over my head and off completely. I stared at the ground, sure I was red as a tomato, but when I looked up at him again his eyes were devouring me hungrily. He grabbed me and pulled me to him and began kissing me again, this time not hesitating to move his hand right to my breast. The feel of his scorching skin against mine sent a shiver down my spine and I moaned lowly. I felt the flush grow on my face as I realized that I had just moaned. But, as our kiss continued, a small one escaped from his mouth as well.

I felt both of his hands travel to my shoulders and softly slid the straps of my bra down. He stopped kissing me again and looked into my eyes. I nodded. As soon as I did, he pulled the straps down completely, pulling my bra down to the middle of my stomach, and placed his mouth to my chest. He took one peak into his mouth and thumbed the other, pinching and nipping lightly at me. I bit my lip to prevent another embarrassing moan from falling between my lips, but I couldn't stop my back from arching in pleasure.

Soon, his mouth was back on mine and our tongues tangled together. I could never get enough of his taste. He pressed his body firmly against mine and I felt his excitement press against my thigh. If I wasn't nervous before, I sure was now. Still, I knew that this was the only opportunity I'd have and I wasn't going to let my fear get the best of me again. I slowly slid my hand down his chest and down to his member, rubbing it lightly through his sweats. He made a deep, throaty noise of pleasure.

I felt his hands slide to my own jeans and undo them. He pushed them down so that they were around my knees and rubbed my core softly over the material of my panties. My breath hitched from the sensation. I was able to kick my shoes off and somehow shimmy out of my pants altogether, using my feet to pull them off. I felt Sam's finger slide under the material of my underwear and he circled the little bundle of nerves slowly. I moaned, spreading my legs a little wider. I moved my hands from his shoulders to my own waist. He moved his hand and watched eagerly as I slowly slid my underwear down my legs and off.

His eyes roamed my naked body and I had to admit that it was one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life. What if he was grossed out? What if he thought my body was ugly? What if he laughed at me and said he was kidding? That he'd never lay a finger on someone like me? I looked at his face as his eyes roamed over me.

He could see the scars and fresh cuts all over my arms and thighs. There was even a few blood smudges from where pulling off my clothing had rubbed off the new, weak scabs. I looked into his eyes and he stared back into mine, the sadness evident. His hand ran softly over my ridged skin, softly thumbing the lines on my body. I looked up into his eyes and he stared down into mine sadly. He pulled me to him, slamming his lips onto mine. His hand went back to my center, moving in a sudden frenzy, continuing my please me. I moaned against his mouth, my body involuntarily grinding against his hand. I moved my hand back to him and slid it beneath the waistband.

He wasn't wearing anything underneath.

My hand went to him immediately and stroked slowly but firmly. He jumped from excitement at my touch. I continued to work him to the best of my obviously extremely limited ability, but lack of skill or nay, he seemed to be enjoying it. I felt the burn in my body grow deeper and deeper and I knew that my end was coming, but I didn't want it to be by his hand. I wouldn't have much time to think long and hard on this. I knew that my feelings for him were strong enough for it to be a wonderful possibility, but was I ready? I had no real time to know and either way I wouldn't let this opportunity slip. "Take me," I whispered softly into his ear. He looked me sincerely in the eye and I nodded nervously.

He pulled off his pants in one quick, fluid motion – something he seemed to have practiced and down to a science – and threw them to the side. His mouth was on mine again and his hands slowly slid down my back, over my behind, and down to my thighs. At my thighs, he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. He carried me easily like that and placed me against a tree. He pulled away a bit and moved himself so that he was aimed at my entrance.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he entered me.

It was agonizing at first, I'll admit, but I breathed past it, finally able to sense the pleasure he was giving me. I moaned out loudly as he had his way with me against the tree. I could feel every painful bump in the tree as they dug into or scratched my back, but the pain was no matter. If anything, it added to the sensual factor of our deed. My back slid up and down the tree as he thrust into me, his sounds of satisfaction equally as loud and content as mine. Soon his thrusts grew harder and I felt my hips' nature to begin to meet his in motion.

I could feel my muscles growing tighter and tighter, as did his, and I knew it would be over soon. My breathing was short and shallow as I focused intensely on everything that I was feeling. Almost immediately a scream ripped through my throat as my walls tightened around him in my orgasm. He continued to thrust, but I knew he was coming to the end. After three hard, final pushes, he came as well, filling me entirely with his hot seed.

He held me there, panting heavily as he tried to regain his breath. He looked up at me. I smiled at him and moved my hand to his cheek. He studied my face, seeming wholly uncertain. He suddenly exclaimed, "Shit. SHIT!" He put me down and quickly walked over to his pants, pulling them on.

"Wh-What're you—"

He turned back to me, looking furious. "That should not have happened! What the fuck was I thinking!? I'm sorry. I need to go. I'm sorry, Hannah. I'm sorry. Emily. Shit. I'm sorry!"

I stood there, frozen in shock, watching him as he ran away from me and into the forest. "Wait! I-I-" I watched his retreating back as he disappeared into the trees. "Sam, I love you," I whispered.

He was already gone.

I couldn't move. What just happened? He made love to me then…he left. I felt the tears burn at my eyes for the thousandth time that day and the billionth time in my entire lifetime. I gathered my things as quickly as I could and put them back on haphazardly, pulling them on just for the sake of getting them on. What had I done? How could I have been so stupid? Emily. He said, "Emily." Of course he would feel bad for having sex with me just then. He cared about Emily. He loved Emily. Not me. I felt a sob rattle through my body.

I needed to get away.

He ran in the direction he had originally showed me, which I assumed was out. Well, I wouldn't be going that way. I began in the complete opposite direction, running as fast as I possibly could from tiredness and soreness. I ran and ran and ran thinking about everything that had happened, how stupid I had been. After a while I could hear the ocean again and realized that I must've made some crazy turn in direction and was at the beach again. It sounded close so I walked slowly forward. When I got out of the trees, I looked out in awe.

It wasn't the beach, but a cliff.

I walked to the edge of the cliff and looked out across the ocean. It was beautiful. The waves crashed noisily against the rocks below, making the mist spray upwards and hit my face. I could smell and taste the salt on the wind. The sun was beginning to set beautifully, but a little further out I could see storm clouds.

What the perfect metaphor for my life: just as soon as I thought the sun would start to shine, the rain clouds would settle in.

I laughed, shaking my head sadly. What kind of existence had I led? Not much of one, that was for sure. I had no one, I had nothing. There was nothing left for me. That is, if there was ever anything for me in the first place. My family didn't care about me from square one, only enough that I didn't die or get taken away. I had no friends at school or out of school now that it was over. I had no car, no pets, a dead end job, and no future. I was going nowhere and I was getting there fast.

A single raindrop fell on my cheek.

I put my hand to the drop to wipe it away and felt the scratches across my face – some caused by the girl, some caused by myself. They weren't sore now: either I had gotten used to them or the pain had numbed entirely. I wonder why he didn't ask about my face, I mused to myself. It's a wonder he didn't. I'm sure I probably looked like a bloody, terrible mess. I wonder why he didn't ask about my face, I wondered again. Did he not care? Was he too upset to notice? …Why did he kiss me? A smile came to my face at this thought. It didn't matter why he kissed me, just that he did.

I thought about what happened between us and I didn't regret it one bit—not for me, not for him, and not for Leah or whoever this Emily was. I didn't care. For that short time, I was all he cared about and that was enough for me. That was the only good thing that had happened in my life and I'd be damned if I let myself be upset about it. It was amazing and fulfilling and with him, so it was everything that I could hope for. I smiled.

He, in that moment, was like my sunshine before the storm.

I walked closer to the edge of the cliff and looked down. There were plenty of rocks and the water was extremely treacherous. I looked back to the horizon and sighed, thinking about him again. He had made me so happy – happier than I had ever been in my whole miserable existence – but I couldn't have him.

That struck a chord.

He was my moment of sunshine that would of course be taken away by the rainclouds. Of course he would. He was the only thing I wanted, the only thing that could make me happy, but I couldn't have him. He had loved Leah instead of me and then he loved Emily instead of me.

I shuffled closer to the edge.

I'll never be able to hug him or kiss him or sleep with him again. I would just constantly see him in the store, see the pity and regret in his eyes whenever he looked at me. I'd get to watch him and Emily walk around town hand in hand, smiling like only two fools in love could because I knew that she would grow to love him as I had. Who wouldn't? Who would be able to resist him? No one and that was why I'd never be his choice.

I stepped to the edge, my toes hanging off of the cliff.

He would be able to move on and be happy and I'd be the same wreck I had always been. No, I'd be worse because I had had a glimpse of what could've been mine but was ripped from my hands. I wouldn't be able to live like that. I wouldn't be able to let go of the pain of having my only chance at happiness—at life—taken away from me. I couldn't live like that. I wouldn't live like that. I looked down over the edge once again, knowing that I had only one way to escape this pain, only one way to escape my disgusting excuse of a life.

I looked up, held my breath, and stepped over the edge.

Even as I fell, I could feel the rain hitting my back as I wheeled freely through the air into the ocean. My hair whipped wildly around my face. I didn't fear and I didn't scream as I fell and hit the waves. The water was rough and pulled me under immediately, but I didn't fight it. I let the powerful waves pull me under. I was just glad I hadn't hit a rock on the way down. The water was freezing and I could feel the effects instantaneously on my body. Everything was taking its toll: the cold, the rough waves, the constant lack of oxygen from being pushed up from the water then abruptly pulled back under. I could feel my body slowly failing as it fought futilely against the raging ocean. Not being able to breathe had caused a panic to settle in my mind as was instinct, but still, I made no move to fight. It didn't matter; nothing mattered, because he would have never been mine.

As I slowly fell into the welcoming abyss of darkness, one thought crossed my mind: Why did he kiss me?

..::;;::..Author's Note..::;;::..

Hi, hope you liked it. Just a one shot that I wrote. The idea randomly popped into my head, so I thought I'd put it down. If you have any constructive criticism, it is greatly appreciated, but please keep in mind that this is my first one-shot and first time publishing.

Also, I'd just like to say that I am not, in any way, applauding or endorsing her obsessive feelings, self-destructive behavior, or suicide. If you ever feel like hurting yourself or like you have nothing left to live for, before you do anything, take a second and think about it. Even that one second could be the difference between ending your life and knowing that there are other options out there for you.

Please visit this site for phone numbers to a local suicide hotline: wiki/International_Suicide_Prevention_Directory

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