This story is kinda weird for me. It just turned out this way, and I know some of you will read it and think 'that's a really weird thing to write about' but it's how it went. I hope I managed to get the point across in the 6000 words that I've used, and that it's okay.
And it's the first story submitted by me for Loliver day! One more oneshot to follow (both of them a lot lighter than this one... this is kinda depressing in places) and another Teenage Kicks chapter and I hope you like them all! SING WITH ME NOW! HAPPY LOLIVER DAY TO USSS, HAPPY LOLIVER DAY TO US, HAPPY LOLIVER DAY TO EVERYONEEEEE, HAPPY LOLIVER DAY TO USSS!
My first thought, when I heard the knocking on my door at some ungodly hour of the morning, was that the house was on fire. Which, if you think about it, was a very stupid thought, because nobody calmly knocks on your door when the house is on fire. Plus, the smoke alarm would be going. And it isn't.
The knock came again, this time a little bit louder, and I realised that it wasn't a part of my dream, and that there was actually someone out there. Opening my eyes, I glanced over at the luminous digital clock on my bedside table. My eyes took a few moments to adjust, before I was able to read the numbers: 3:23. Who wanted to speak to me at 3:23 in the morning? Couldn't whatever it was wait until a time when the sun was up?
"Oliver?"
A whisper from my mom drifted into the room. She'd obviously figured out that knocking may not be the best thing, and so resorted to whispering instead. Then, without even waiting for a reply from me, she pushed open the door and entered my room.
I can't even remember the last time my mom was in my room at this hour. Maybe when I was about ten (... okay, thirteen) and had a really bad nightmare. And she'd come in and watched me fall back into the land of sleep, making sure that whatever monsters I'd been worried about were not going to come after me. She might be strict some of the time (something that she's picked up from her police duties), but she's a good mom. Hardly even complained when I got scared in thunderstorms and went to snuggle up with her and dad. Because I knew they'd keep me safe.
It was this realisation - that I couldn't remember the last time my mom had felt the need to visit me at 3:23 in the morning - that made me first realise that it had to be something important. Otherwise she'd have just waited until I was up. Or at least waited until there was some sort of life in the outside world. At 3:23 on a Wednesday morning, Malibu is hardly the busiest place.
"Oliver?" She whispered again, obviously not realising that I was awake. Well, I do sleep like a log half of the time. Which just made me wonder why I had awoken this time. Because something told me that even without the knocking on the door, I hadn't exactly been in the deepest sleep.
I sat up slightly, my eyes still kind of bleary, and looked over at my mother, who was still standing in the doorway. "Mom?"
"Oh, Oliver..." She paused, before walking over and sitting on the side of my bed, her facial expression unreadable. It was like this a lot with mom though. Being a cop, she had to make sure that her face was unreadable a lot, so as not to give away any information. "I'm sorry to wake you up, but I thought... we need... Lilly."
We need Lilly? What? My face obviously mirrored my confusion at what had just come out of my mother's mouth, and she shook her head as though to dispense what she'd just said from both her mind and mine.
"I mean... oh, Oliver honey. I just got a phone call."
Everything seemed to fall into place. The fact that it was 3:23 in the morning, and the fact that this phone call seemed to have been coming so many times before... I just hadn't put two and two together.
"How is she?" I asked, knowing that it probably wasn't the most obvious question to ask in this scenario, but hoping that my mom would know who, and what I meant.
My mother shook her head, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "Not good. The reaction... well, it was what Ed had expected. And then some."
"Did... was it...?" I couldn't get the words out. Lilly didn't know that I knew anything about it all, but then again, I wasn't supposed to. I overheard my mom on the phone to Mr. Truscott, talking about it all, and was sworn to secrecy. Because neither my mom, nor Mr. Truscott thought that Lilly would be able to handle it.
A nod of confirmation was all I got. I knew that it was hard for her. They were good friends. And now she was gone.
"And... Lilly knows?" I asked, my mind wandering back to my best friend. As it would, in this situation. Of course, it wasn't nice that she'd died, but you've got to keep thinking about the living, and how they feel.
"There was a letter. Explaining it all. To both Lilly and Mike. They were given them after they were told... that she'd... gone."
A few minutes ago I'd been wondering what the hell was so important that it couldn't wait until morning. Now, my mind was buzzing with so many questions that I knew, wouldn't wait until morning to be answered. "How did she react?"
"Screamed a little. Cried a lot." Mom stated, though there was obviously something that she was holding back. "She didn't want it to happen like this. None of us... wanted it to happen like this."
That wasn't strictly true. One person wanted it to happen like this. That same person that signed the 'do not resuscitate' form. She wanted it to happen like this. And honestly... I can see why.
As though she could read my mind, my mom leaned over and put her hand on mine. "I know that you can see why things happened like this. And I know that you will try and explain that to Lilly. But just imagine what it would be like... if it were you."
No.
I couldn't.
If it were me in that situation, I would not be able to see why things panned out the way they did. I wouldn't be able to see the shades of grey. Just the black and white of it all. Which I supposed was what my best friend was thinking right now.
I also knew something else. That if it were me in this situation, I wouldn't care what time in the morning it was. I'd want my best friend with me. To talk things through with. Even if they weren't supposed to know the whole story.
Making my decision, I pushed back my covers - embarrassingly still the Spiderman ones that I'd gotten when I was about five... though they have been washed since then - and swung my legs out of bed.
"Where are you going?" My mom asked, a flash of some emotion appearing in her eyes for half a second.
I stood up and looked around the room for the pair of jeans that I'd discarded the night before. "I can't just let her sit in her room on her own, can I? If it were me, I'd want her to be there."
My mom stood up, walking over to stand beside me as I pulled on my jeans and then stood up straight. Weirdly, it was one of the first times that I even noticed the difference in size. Wow. I was officially taller than my mother. Funny, the things you notice at 3:23 (though it must have been later than that now, because we hadn't had an entire conversation in a minute) in the morning. "If you're going to go and... I think there's something I need to tell you first, then."
The unidentified flash of emotion was back, except this time it lasted for longer than a second, and I was able to tell that it was worry. She was worried.
"What is it, mom?" I asked, the worry beginning to worry me. Before, I wasn't worried. I was just sure of the fact that Lilly would be upset and that she'd need me there.
"When..." She took a deep breath, as though this were one of the hardest things she'd had to do. But she was a cop. She must have delivered bad news all the time. And surely the worst of the news had passed? "When Lilly read the letter, she naturally had a lot of questions. And when the answers weren't... weren't what she wanted, she got angry, and upset... and..."
It was official. I was very worried. Just the fact that my mom kept stopping and having to start again was a very worrying experience. "And what, mom?"
"She ran away." The sentence was uttered in a rush, as though my mother couldn't bear to have it in her mouth for longer than she absolutely had to. And as soon as the words left her lips, she let go, and tears began falling from her eyes.
I barely even noticed. The words kept ringing in my ears, over and over.
She ran away.
She ran away.
She ran away.
She ran away.
"When?" I asked, my mouth out of control of my brain, as the only thing I could think of were those three words.
"Not long ago," my mom managed to compose herself, wiping her eyes. "Ed called almost as soon as she left - after he ran outside and tried to find her - and I came through as soon as I hung up. Not... not long ago."
Grabbing a wrinkled shirt from the chair next to my desk, I was out of the bedroom door before she'd even taken a breath after talking. The words were still ringing, and I couldn't hang around anymore. My mission was obvious: I had to find her.
"Oliver!" My mom called, following me down the stairs, not seeming to care that my dad and Jack were probably still asleep. "Oliver!"
I stopped at the front door, turning to look at her. Somewhere upstairs, I heard Jack's bedroom door open, and a muffled: "Don't you guys realise what the goddamn time is?"
"Oliver..." she said, as she reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked at me, standing in front of the front door, not wearing my t-shirt yet, my hair probably sticking up and getting ready to go outside at 3:23 in the morning.
"What?" I asked, straightening out my t-shirt and pulling it over my head.
She bit her lip, before sighing. "Be there for her."
"What else do you think I'm gonna do, mom?" I replied, a slight grin coming over my face. "Tell her that I need her to give me my HelloGoodbye CD back, and that's why I've come looking for her at 3:23 in the morning?"
I didn't even wait for a response; just pulled open the front door and stepped out into the night, breaking into a run as soon as the lock made that little click behind me.
When you try your best but you don't succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse.
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.
How could they do this? How could she do this? And how could he condone it? She always told me: "Never give up Lilly. Never give up." And then what does she go and do? Give up! And nobody will ever be able to convince me otherwise, because they'd be lying. When somebody signs a document that gives the doctors permission to leave them to die... that's giving up. That's giving in.
She always told me never to give in.
So what is she? A stinking hypocrite? Yeah, that's the last impression I want to have of my mom. That she was a lousy hypocrite who gave up when the going got tough.
Something at the back of my mind tells me that there was a reason. And that the words of the letter that was in the back pocket of my jeans were written with the intention of explaining that reason to me. But then that thought is pushed out by all the other angry thoughts surrounding it, and I'm back to hating her again. Hating her for not having the guts to explain it all to me before she went and died. Hating her for leaving it to dad to tell me what actually went down. And above all... hating her for leaving me. Leaving me here to deal with the aftermath.
That's the trouble with knowing someone who has died. Sure, it's totally awful that they've died, but at the end of the day, they don't have to live with the aftermath. They don't get the apologetic glances, or have to deal with the problems that surround the people that they've left. I have to live with this. For the rest of my life.
Walking has gotten too much for me, and so I'm sat in a deserted area of the beach. Where nobody but me and Oliver ever comes.
Oliver.
He's probably sleeping now. Not aware of the fact that I'm sat here, crying my eyes out for a woman that I keep telling myself that I absolutely hate. If only I could go to sleep. Go to sleep and wake up tomorrow morning being naive again. Wake up not knowing what happened. And being happier because of it.
But would I be happier? Would not knowing the truth make me any happier? She'd still be gone. And I'd still be sat, crying. At...
I looked at my watch.
I'd still be sat, crying at 3:23 in the morning.
I curl my legs up to my chest, and try to block my mind of any thoughts. Like Buddhists do, when they're meditating. Clear the mind of any distractions, and just... be. I try to just be.
Even though I don't know whether I'll ever just be again. My mom is dead. She wanted to die. She gave up the fight. Try clearing your thoughts of all of that. It's near impossible.
So I settled for just sitting and watching the waves instead, allowing thoughts to enter my mind, and then be washed out again. Like water. Letting thoughts wash in and out of my mind, like water washing up a beach. It's there one minute, and retreating the next.
Much more peaceful.
And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
"Just what your worth"
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
I knew where to find her. In the same place that we always find each other when we're going through a rough time. At least, I prayed that that was where she'd be. If she wasn't there... well, then I was out of ideas.
I felt her before I saw her. Don't even ask me to explain that sentence, because I can't. But there was a part of me, that just... felt her there. In a comforting way. I knew that I was in the right place, and so slowed down, keeping my eye to the stretch of sand in order to get the first glimpse that I craved.
There she was.
Her legs curled up to her chest, her head resting on her knees. Her eyes were scanning the horizon, as if waiting to see a ship. A ship that would come and take her away from this nightmare. The clothes she was wearing were the same clothes that she was wearing yesterday, and I wondered if she'd had any sleep that night. And if she had, had she slept in her clothes? Waiting for news?
I was so, so sorry for her. I was. But I knew that if she was still angry - and it looked like she was, even from this distance - that she wouldn't appreciate me saying that. I could almost hear her reply. "Oliver, you're a doughnut. You didn't kill her, did you? She did that herself." And that was a can of worms that I didn't want to open.
Walking slowly along the beach, I saw her tense when she realised that someone was there. Her shoulders straightened a bit, and her expression became even more stony. She hadn't even looked at me, so I have no idea if she knew that it was me who had found her.
Although... it is really only me and her that come to this beach, so she probably did.
"How's things?" I asked, breaking the silence that I already detested. So it wasn't the best thing to say - I knew how things were, and that was not good - but I didn't want to make the conversation too heavy. Not until she was ready for it to become that heavy.
"Just fine, thanks." She replied, in that sarcastic tone that I've come to associate with my best friend. Except there was more to it this time. An utter sadness as she spoke.
I looked down at the sand, before taking a seat beside her, crossing my legs so that I looked as though I were about to meditate. "I think we both know that that was a sarcastic thing to say."
Lilly was silent, her gaze still fully trained on the sea that panned out in front of us.
"Yes?" I prompted, just wanting her to be back to normal. Though I knew that it might take a while for that to ever happen.
She turned her head slowly, robotically, to look at me, and gave me a look of contempt. "What do you want Oliver, a medal? 'I can detect when my best friend is using sarcasm?' Well consider it in the mail. I'll FedEx it to you when it's nice and engraved."
It hurt for a fraction of a second, but then I remembered what had happened, and realised that it was what was to be expected. Her mother had just died. Not just died. Signed the permission slip to just... let her die.
We sat in silence for a few more minutes, though they stretched out in front of us like years. Light years. All that I could think of was that Lilly had to be feeling pretty terrible right now. And that she didn't deserve this to happen to her. What had she ever done wrong? Nothing. And for the past year or so, her life had been disintegrating in front of her very eyes.
Her mom had been diagnosed with lung cancer when Lilly was sixteen. It was tough on them, but the whole family put up a united front. Heather went for chemotherapy, and everything seemed to be getting back to normal. Until the doctors told them that the cancer had spread. And that there was no chance of anything ever going back to normal. It was terminal. That was that.
And now we'd found out that she'd died. Hours before. And she could have lasted longer. A resuscitation could have been done, and the family could have had longer. But would it have been better? Dignity would have been gone, because Heather couldn't breathe properly, eat properly, do much...
I don't know.
"Why did she do it Oliver?"
The silence is broken by Lilly, her voice cracking as she speaks. And my heart almost breaks for her.
I moved closer to her, pulling her toward me and wrapping an arm around her. What else could I do? "I don't know Lilly. You can't ask me. I don't know what went on in her head, but I know she's done what she thought was best. And deep down I think that you know that too. Whether she did do what was best... well, that's still to be found out, isn't it?"
"Don't you think that she just... gave up?" she asked, and I could tell that she thought that. She thought that her mom had just given up. And in a way, she had. She had just signed off her life. But I'm almost certain that Heather thought about it all the time.
"Lilly, I think that your mom did what she considered best. I think that she thought it over, and over, and decided that that would be best. I think that she had her reasons, and I think that if you just... let her explain..." Obviously I knew that she couldn't explain. She was gone. But mom had said that there was a letter. And if she read that letter...
She sniffed, and I realised that she'd been crying. After being shocked for about half a second - Lilly never cried - I figured that it was natural in circumstances like this. Then she pulled away and put her hand in her back pocket, pulling out a crumpled letter. It hadn't been opened. She probably didn't want to read it. And I didn't blame her.
"Can you read it for me?" she asked, looking up at me, her normally sparkling blue eyes, shining in a different way. How could I refuse?
I nodded, taking the letter out of her hands and pulling my arm from around her shoulders so that I could open it. Then I unfolded the letter that had obviously been opened and re-folded again numerous times. Which just made it all the more saddening. Clearing my throat, I looked down at Lilly, who was looking more upset by the second.
"Lilly
I know that you will probably hate me for my decision. I can see your reaction now. You'll have stormed out, leaving your father in despair and your brother upset, and you'll be reading this on the beach that you and Oliver both love. If I can speculate further, I may even dare to say that Oliver is with you, watching as you read this. If he is, say hello to him for me. I sure will miss seeing that boy around the house.
That isn't the only thing that I'll miss though, Lilly. Whatever may be waiting for me after I leave this world, I know that I'll miss everything that I have experienced here. Which will make you even more confused as to why I made this decision. So I'll tell you. And you may not agree, and you may wish that I hadn't... but I thought it was right. I thought that it was best. I thought that this way, everyone would be able to move on.
Because you see, in a few months, the cancer would have demobilised me. I would have been unable to do much by myself. A few months after that, I may have been deprived of speech, or sight, or hearing. And then a few months after that, I'd be gone anyway. I had about six months to live, in all. And those six months were not going to be in my own body. They would not be lived in the way that I'd want them to live if I had six months to live. And I would not be remembered in the way that I'd want you and your brother to remember me. I want you to remember me as the hip mom who rocked out with you to Hannah Montana.
This may not make sense to you. You might be angry with me for years to come, for just giving up. But believe me, I didn't want to give up. But sometimes... giving up is best. Sometimes, giving up is what we have to do in order to allow others to move on with their lives. I want you to move on with your life.
I'm upset that I won't get to see your future. Next year you'll be heading off to college. Getting your first job. Marriage! Children! All of the things that I was so looking forward to experiencing with you, that I no longer shall. But fear not, Lilly-girl. If there is such thing as heaven, I shall be looking down on you from there. And if I am not lucky enough to get into heaven, then I'll look up. I will be with you every step of the way.
One thing I want to say to you though, is that you have to take every chance that you get. Everything that you have ever considered doing (and on the off chance that I am right, and that Oliver is with you, I won't embarrass you by saying something I shouldn't), do it. Because you only get one shot. And you're my daughter, so nobody can ever call you unadventurous. Take chances. Be happy. And remember that I did this because I wanted the best for everyone. Not out of spite. Not out of fear, or giving up. Because I wanted the best.
You'll remember me on a number of occasions. I know you will. And if I have any choice in the matter, forgetting you guys won't be an option.
I love you Lilly. Always will. You're my Lilly-girl!
You too Oliver. Look after her, okay? Otherwise I might have to come back and haunt you sometime.
I'm sorry if this is upsetting. Or confusing. Or making you angry. I thought it was right.
Love you lots
Mom."
The silence that follows is shock on both of our parts. I'm not sure what I expected Lilly's mom to say in her letter, but she sure mentioned me enough. More than enough. Although... I have been her best friend for years. For forever. And maybe she knew that I'd want to be here. By her side. Like I always do. She's my best friend in the entire world. Why wouldn't I want to help her through times like this?
Okay, so I may not know what the heck I'm doing. But... I love her. I do. And not just in a platonic, best friend kind of way. I really love her.
I glanced back at Lilly, watching each single tear as it etched a shimmering line into her face and then fell onto the sand. Words escaped me. What do you say after reading a letter like that? What can you possibly say to make it better?
"She loved you... Lilly."
Her bottom lip quivered slightly, before she lifted an arm and wiped her eye, to free them of tears. Then... she laughed. She actually laughed. "Oh God Oliver, I just got sand in my eye."
It wasn't something that would usually be so funny. But everything around us had been so sad, and morbid... I guess we just needed something like this. To break the silence. Break the monotone.
"Trust you, Lilly," I replied, laughing with her. Leaning forward, I tilted her face up towards me, looking into her blue eyes so that I could relieve them of the sand that she'd wiped in there. Getting it out was no easy task, but eventually her eye looked free of any grains of sand. "Is that better?"
She nodded, smiling at me only slightly. It didn't reach her eyes, unlike normal smiles. "Yeah. Thank you."
I didn't remove my hand from her cheek, liking how it felt against her skin. It was weird, really. How the night that everything seemed to go wrong for her... it felt right for me. It felt wrong, in a way. That I was actually liking something, when she was sat there, crying.
The silence that stretched out before us resumed, but it wasn't as awkward as before. I wasn't trying desperately to think of something helpful to say. My mind was at peace.
And, taking the opportunity that my peaceful mind gave me (because in normal circumstances, I'd have been freaking out right about now), I took a deep breath. Before leaning in and pressing my lips gently to hers.
Tears stream down your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down your face
And I...
He kissed me! Oliver Oscar Oken. The Triple O. The Locker Man. My best friend since kindergarten, who has always been there for me when I need him, like he has some sort of Lilly radar. He kissed me! And I wasn't weirded out by the experience at all. Nor was I pulling away. I might even - dare I even think it? - like it. Possibly. Maybe.
His hand was on my cheek, and his lips were on mine, and my heart was going at a hundred miles an hour in my chest. I didn't know what exactly I was feeling, but it wouldn't be what people would expect me to feel. I know that much. I was happy. Or excited. Not sad. Not acting like I'd just lost my mother.
I'd just lost my mother.
And Oliver knew about it. He felt sorry for me. That's why he was kissing me. Not because he meant it. Not because he wanted to. And I was feeling all happy about it, when it meant nothing to him.
Suddenly devastated, I pulled away like he was suddenly amazingly hot to touch, standing up at the same time. Something in my mind told me that I was being totally insane, but that part, like before, was pushed away as I looked down at him as though he had grown an extra head.
He looked up at me, a mixture of hurt and confusion in his eyes. At least, I think that that's what he was feeling. But it's hard to tell when you're angry and upset and trying to work out what the hell is going on in your head.
"Don't kiss me because you feel sorry for me," I said, trying to sound threatening but totally failing at it. "I'm already totally messed up about everything in my life, and I don't need you making it any worse."
Standing up so that he was at the same height as me (only he wasn't, because he's way taller than me now), Oliver took my hand in his. "Lilly, don't think that."
I wrenched my arms out of his grasp and glared at him. "I can't believe you. I thought you were here to be there for me, not to totally mess my head up even further."
"Lilly, I didn't kiss you to mess you up. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Because I've wanted to kiss you for so long..." Oliver trailed off as though he'd said too much and resorted to just looking at me, giving me that look that only he can. That makes you feel as though everything that came out of your mouth was immensely stupid. Which is weird, considering that I come out with less stupid things than he does.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, my eyebrows knitting together and looking up at him with this inquisitive expression on my face.
I wanted so much for him to say the words that would make me feel like I just had. Like my life hadn't just altered dramatically.
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face
And I...
As soon as she stood up and looked down at me with that horrible expression on her face, I knew where I'd made my fatal mistake. And to think that I'd thought that it was perfect timing. But now that she was giving me a chance to explain... I had to get the words out right.
"I'm talking about... talking about the fact that I've realised that... I've realised that I love you, Lilly." So it hadn't started out how I'd wanted it to, and I was basically just doing a whole lot of rambling, but it was better that I rambled and said everything that I wanted to say, than not ramble and only say about a sentence. That didn't sum up a lot. "I don't know when it started, but I realised it, and okay, it might have been a bad time to show it, but you were there, and you were crying and I didn't know what to do. And suddenly I just felt this urge to kiss you, and so I did, and you took it the wrong way, and I really didn't want you to do that. I just want you to know that I love you, and that's why I kissed you. Not because I felt sorry for you. Please don't think that."
The dilemma in her eyes was evident. She wanted to believe me, I know she did, but I could also tell that she was pretty messed up about it all. And that she didn't feel that it was right to believe that she could be happy after only being sad for a few hours. So I felt that I had to take action. Stepping forward, I broke the gap between us again, and put my lips to hers, less gently this time. I can't pinpoint exactly how much I wanted her to understand what I was thinking; that it was totally okay to be happy. Her mom practically told me to take care of her. And this... this is taking care of her, right?
Breaking away, she leant her head against mine, her eyes shut. "My mom just died."
I know, Lilly. I know.
"I feel like I shouldn't be happy right now."
I know, Lilly. Believe me, I know.
"But..." I could almost see the cogs ticking away in her mind. "I don't know..."
Looking at her; her pale face, her blonde hair, her blue eyes that were shut against the light that the rising sun was giving off... it was as though someone had given me a script beforehand and I knew exactly what to say. "I know you're torn. And if you don't feel that you can... do this right now, then I can wait until you feel ready to be happy. I'm here until you need me, because that's what I'm like."
She smiled, her eyelids fluttering open. "I know what you're like. And I love you for it, Oken."
It wasn't a definite answer. But to be honest, I wasn't expecting one. I've known Lilly for a long time, and I know that she's not one to hang around if she doesn't have a good reason. And the fact that her mom has just died... I'd say that it's a pretty good reason.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I kissed her once more before pulling her down to sit on the sand once again. My watch read 5:00, meaning that we'd been sat here for about an hour and a half. It didn't feel that long. It felt like a much shorter amount of time. Time flies when you're having fun, eh?
"Oliver?" Lilly's head is on my shoulder and she says my name as a question, not a statement. Because I know my own name.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
I don't even have to ask what I'm being thanked for, though I don't think I did anything out of the ordinary. I did nothing that she wouldn't have done for me. I was merely here for her. Here to fix her.
As I always would be.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you