Our Little Secret.
AN: Originally, this was going to be chapter three of 'I'm Not Edward' but, then it morphed into 'Our Little Secret'. It's rather odd, I will admit that – my life is a bit screwed up at the moment, and I would guess this is where it comes from. I don't really even recall the ideas appearing…just typing like a mad thing as my mind ran away with itself (or the spoon, either works). Hope you like it. The character may not be who you think it is either...*ehehe*
Have you ever felt something so strongly, that you know that if you don't act on it you'll go on wandering for the rest of your life? Perhaps, even after that? The feeling of being inexorably drawn to something you know you can never have, which doesn't belong to you – marked and in keeping of another? But, does it stop you…that's the important question.
Do you see the boundaries you are crossing as you fall deeper? Hear the things you say, and know that they are not the words of someone without feeling, a heart? Understand the thoughts that cross your mind as you wander through life and see how they are, as ever, somehow drawn back to them? You do nothing; because you know it's wrong to feel the things you do, a figment of the imagination – you already have all you need in life.
So, why do you do anything for them? If they ask, if they mention it in passing…do any little gesture to show that you care and wish that they would notice you. Anything at all, the tiny hints at your true feelings, murmurs, comments, and the avoidance of physical contact. Because you know that if you even so much as touch their arm, you'll be gone –you'll want more. To be with them forever and you can't have that. You will lose them; they will never love you, you are not worthy.
Just the same, even though you know in your heart of hearts that nothing will come of these feelings that suffocate, know that they will not notice you as anything more than a friend – you hope. Every day, every night, whenever you're with them, when they smile directly at you and you know they're happy to see you. When they ask you to meet them out of the blue, and your heart skips a beat because you wonder if they do feel something.
They never do, it's all just irrational hope, and they're leading you on – maybe, on purpose. They never said love was easy, the sick feeling you get when you think you know how they feel and it's what you always knew. The way your heart skips a beat, your mind goes fuzzy and you feel faint when you see them…how when they're with you your heart won't stop hammering in your chest. You know it's stupid, and you don't want to feel what you do, but, you can't help it. You promised yourself to not let it grow, the tiny flower that's now a rose – your love for them.
It's impossible for you to stop feeling this, every smile they give you warms your soul and makes you feel special, and you understand that they love you in a way which is different, but, not as perfect as the one you posses. You want more, so much more, to let them know what it is that makes you do anything for them, watch them as they sit next to you, need their company, but, rejection is what you're scared of. No matter what they say, it's easier said than done to tell someone your darkest fears, and your burden of love. All you are is a burden, you know this, you feel it and you worry they will one day walk from your life entirely….though, after that you still can't bring yourself to walk away yourself and leave them. Abandon this unrequited love you don't quite know the answer to and move on. You're under their spell, you may have tried not to be, to vanquish this from your mind, but, it's ever present. Eternal.
Don't speak the words out loud, don't acknowledge, that, the thing you hoped was just a crush is in fact the most powerful thing of all. Something consuming and that would hurt them beyond measure. Submit to your fear and move away, it's the only thing to do.
They don't love you.
Creeping doubt, or, maybe they do.
Your name isn't known by many, you're rather unnoticeable if anyone is honest. Even with your striking beauty, you keep to yourself and that is what makes an impact on people. Do you remember anything of who you were before all of this? Can you?
All you know is that your heart no longer beats, but you do not crave blood, and nor do you posses extreme abilities…you are a human who lives and breathes without a heartbeat. It's impossible, but no vampire…what has happened to you - you do not know, but one thing is clear. You are alone. There is no one else, you woke in the forest…and since then you've been alone.
Nothing from your old life takes hold as a memory, mere strands catch at your temples and breathe the essence of something lost into your eyes…you know no more than what your are is not natural.
Each and every time you close your eyes you see their face. Who they are, that cannot be answered either…they haunt you during sleep and you feel like they follow your during the day- watching, waiting for something extraordinary to happen. Something…fantastic. Or, maybe, something darker, evil, creeping…a darkness spreading over you, which freezes your already stagnant blood.
What is your name? Can your write it down? Do you even know how to hold a pen? There are question you cannot answer, your mouth dry, parched, too scared to try. You don't even know what a voice is, and whether you have one. It doesn't scare you though, because some part of you knows that if you don't know these things but are aware of it you were in possession of knowledge, it is just out of reach. You cannot pin a cloud down, and that is what this is, wisps of smoke, tendrils clawing at your very soul…they cannot reach you any longer. You're lost to something…and you have nothing to know.
Things went very wrong, that's what you know…and you find the letter on the third…no, was it the fifth?, day since you woke. You haven't slept since then, too scared of what may lie in wait…of the face…you are terrified of the numbing sensations which make you feel even more unreal, a ghost, the walking dead…unnatural.
You wandered aimlessly as you had done in past days…you have nothing to hold you anywhere. Curious when you see the tattered paper, the scrawling, looped handwriting, the slightly burnt and peeled corners that you bend down and pick it up in dirt encrusted hands. What it means, you are unsure.
You slide the paper open, and the words mean very little to you…even though you can read them. Because the letter is not to you, and you find it uninteresting as you'd been hoping for something to save you, a salvation of nothingness.
It's a love letter, the words are pure and beautiful but you take no notice, no one loves you –you know no one…have nothing, how can you crave another's words? Touch, smile? And, somewhere deep within you, you know you once did, so uncontrollably that it hurt sometimes. Sometimes it made you cry you loved them so much. Though, at that time, you don't want to acknowledge you may have lost something, you can only gain from here- you are without connection, feeling, manner and attachment. You can move anywhere on this plane that you feel drawn to. You can do anything…anything except live. You push the thought from your mind, as you don't know what it is to live, you do not remember, though your body does. Are you dead? Are you a Ghost? A Deamon? Has time been frozen? Nothing makes complete sense to you, but, nothing baffles you either. It's a logical puzzle…held in an illogical situation…one which you cannot escape until you do solve the matrix which lies before your disillusioned eyes. The world is cruel, you can sense it, and much more which you do not realise is unnatural, though you expect it. You find it frightening, daunting…irritating even to have a sense of being nothing. You feel nothing hold you to this realm…but, you want it to. More than anything.
If you remember nothing, all you know is that you want to stay here, for something, for security, for the person you do not know – for the fear of what may lie ahead. You don't want to find out. Will you die…that question is only a matter of thought…you don't know a thing, you need and crave the understanding of something you do not realise is even present. You want more.
You stare back down at the yellowed paper, burnt round the edges for a second.
"My Dearest Mary Alice,"
And, you sigh, almost wanting love again, or to know what it was and you drop the letter to the ground, walking away. Your feet are bare and bleeding, your hands are as cold as ice and you're covered in grime and mud. It doesn't mean a thing to you…nothing hurts anymore.