Prologue
The most understood people in all stories are the people with the most meaning behind their existence. It's the bad people who are born to leave a mark, more bad than good, but there will always be good marks left behind. Sometimes you just have to look harder to find the good in the bad.
Penelope looks down at her red skirt as the bus honks loudly in front of her.
"Are you getting or not girlie?" the driver yells from the bus.
Tears billow over her eyes as she nods. Knowing that it would be the last time she'd see the luscious green forests of Forks, Washington and the beautiful starry night dazzling from the scattered clouds, Penelope closed her eyes and smiled shakily. Her eyes scan the forests one last time, praying silently that he will come out from behind the trees and pull her away from the bus and into his arms but is instead greeted by the chilly breeze that embraces her in an icy kiss.
Shivering, she turns towards the bus and drags her feet up the stairs, ignoring the impatient driver's glare. The door shuts behind her.
-/-
Somewhere, miles away from the worn out bus station erupts a painful shaky howl, one after one, more broken than the one before as the bus that bore the girl drives further and further away from his shattered heart.
Somewhere, miles away from the worn out bus station lays a girl sleeping in her beloved's stone cold arms, with silent tears racing down her pale ivory cheeks as she dreams of her childhood, blessed with days at the gray skied beach, tossing sand, running from their fathers' fish, russet skinned boys, and a little girl blonde girl donning a red dress.
~ Liya
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