Crimson
Chapter one: Bitter understatements.
Taylor Townsend had trained herself to think of friendship as a truce. An agreement between two (or more) people to protect each other, a selfish act of survival. Maybe she was bitter, but that definition made her feel better, helped her to accept her solitude.
It also helped her to think that she never had friends, because she could take care of herself, because she could make herself laugh and going out on her own was easier, she could maintein endless conversations with herself. It was fun, simple and most of all safe. But the ugly envy that sometimes she felt of the gigling groups of girls that passed her way without bothering to acknoledge her existence, always succed in bringing to the surface of her concience a rather uncomfortable truth:
She could pretend she didnt notice the ever-painful, ever-mean, whispers that followed her whenever she went.
She could prattle with no end about the benefits of getting to know yourself, without other people nosing their way into your life. About how she never felt better, because loneliness was a state of mind, and her mind was anything but void. But no one ever listened, so what was the point?
She´d spent her whole life building this facade, a perfect reflection of confidence and harmony. This girl she pretended to be would never need any friends, would never need a mother, and most of all she´d never cry. So whenever someone came close enough to see the growing cracks of her disguise, she pushed and she hurt them. Making her point clear: Taylor Townsend needed no one.
It was all for protection.
It was all for the best.
And as her high school life detached itself like a dry leaf, her mask was blown to pieces in the shockwave of the realization that it was all for nothing.
There were no embarrasing memories to turn to in case she wanted to smile, no e-mails or letters from friends who wanted to keep in contact with her. And there were certainly no tears in her eyes when she opened her yearbook to find hundreads of sighnings, all black. The same word over and over again: Goodbye.
The sharp edges of their polite indiference cutting her deeper that their words ever could.
But Berkeley was going to be different. Better. Taylor decided to change, to discard her mask of confidence and be herself. Be nicer in a non-fake way.
Sadly for her it´s impossible to wake up one morning and become someone else. She was stuck being Taylor Townsend the eternally smiling and mean bitch her mother had raised her to be. Bu the time college began slowly but permanently her classmates and strangers alike started to avoid her. Once again she was as wanted as an STD.
Girls hated her because of her verbal attacks (The Veronica in her emerging way to often for her comfort).
Boys only tried to sleep with her.
And just when she was going to give up on her hopes of change. It happened.
He happened.
It was something hidden in his words, an underlying damage that she found familiar (and somehow comforting) made Taylor reach out to the blond boy. The ex-jock let her in, perhaps recognizing her bruised nature as the same he was going through. That had been the beginning of Taylor and Luke´s silent truce. An understatement, Taylor needed him in order to regain a sort of social resurrection and Luke needed her to be there, to listen and give advice.
A selfish act of survival.
Yet, nothing during their three months friendship could have prepared Taylor for the sight that greeted her the moment she reached the hospital wing, Luke layed on a bed, he had a nasty cut on his right cheek and a black eye, when her eyes traveled downwards she noticed a bandage on his right wrist. You moron...
"I hope it hurts" Taylor´s voice came out to much like her mother´s but she didn´t care. She´d been on a date. A DATE! With a sensitive guy who didn´t ask her if his biceps turned her on. A guy with enough braincells to understand who Mallarme was. This better be urgent or else...
His eyes were closed but Taylor knew he wasn´t sleep, his whole body had tensed up when she´d entered the infermery.
"Nurse insisted on making me stay the night, something about keeping an eye on me. But the old woman´s just mad with lust" He tried to dazzle her a grin, but her severe gaze stopped him. He was to beat up to stretch the conversation "I... I started it, he got on my nerves..." his features hardened and Taylor froze at the knowledge of who that HE was.
The infamous Ryan Atwood , damn, It was the third time both guys fought over nonsense. And even if Luke had thrown the first punch it was Ryan Atwood´s fault, he had no right to be here.
If trash stands between you and your goal, just ask yourself what would I do? Veronica´s voice commented somewhere inside her mind.
It took her a couple of minutes of staring at Luke´s beaten body, (his explainations not reaching her in the least) to accept that as long as Ryan Atwood remained in Berkeley, Luke would fall into his old habits. And eventually he´d get expelled and she would sink in the shadows of hurful (and lonely, oh so lonely. Who would laugh with her? Who would stand up in her defence?) perfection she´d trapped herself into before meeting Luke.
The situation cleared and now she knew what to do. A plan was traced in her head, it was Taylor´s duty as a friend to get rid of that neardenthal.(He was a public danger and everyone would agree with her) All to do with Luke´s best interest and nothing to do with (How) where she saw herself without the closest thing she´d had to an actual friend..
A few "I´ll fix this" later, Taylor was exiting the enfermery, Luke´s "don´t" shouts dissapearing completely as she went on, searching for Ryan Atwood. Berkeley wasn´t big enough for both blondes, she´d push some logic into Ryan´s barbaric head. Taylor would explain to him that he´d be more comfortable on a different institution and he would nodd dumbly probably unable to understand half of her arguments but agreeing nonetheless.
Because Taylor Townsend always got her way.
Ryan stifled a yawn, massaging his temples as he finished his homework. A quick glance at his watch told him it was to late to call Seth and to early to go to sleep. When the door creaked, Ryan heard more than saw that he was no longer alone in his dorm. He turned around to find the auburn haired girl that insisted on telling him (and everyone who´d listen) that Ryan didn´t belong in here, closing the door behind her. A wide, somewhat smug, smile on her face.
Taylor Townsend, girl gossip said that she was Luke Ward´s whore. Ryan had once called her on it and she´d smiled at him politely, annoyingly. Not denying it at all. And even though she´d made her mission to get him kicked out of college Ryan didn´t hate her, her verbal abuse had become a constant in his Berkeley life. He´d gotten used to her sharp words, and secretly he enjoyed making her face go red at his rudeness. In the last months she´d been the only one to get a reaction out of him.
"Townsend " he greeted her with a smirk he reserved only for her.
Taylor ignored him, thinning her glossed lips into a cool sneer "What will it take for you to understand you have to leave? You´re not like us."
"But i´ll miss you" He taunted, feeling up for some fun, even if it was at her expense.
"I refuse..." Taylor´s eyes narrowed " To even breath the same air as someone like you, an animal, a violent low-life who uses other people´s blood as a hand lotion!, touch Luke again and you´ll regret it" She whipped around making her way to the door.
"If he´s leaving you unsated, no need to vent on me"
Taylor had opened the door but she slammed it shut as soon as his words reached her ears. "See? This is the issue, the catastrophyc issue with people like you" she snapped, enraged. "You cant interact with other humans beings without beating the shit out of them" Dont curse, dont let him get you. "Luke attacked you but he´s the one with a broken wrist, you violent bastard."
She stood there, glaring at him for what seemed like hours, the silence hanging above them like a cloud.
Ryan took a few steps towards the angry girl. "Is that all?"
"What do you mean is that all?." Taylor questioned, scoffing.
"I´m a violent bastard " he whispered, now closer to her. Taylor either didn´t notice or didn´t care because she made no move to step back. "I get it."
"And you are!" She kept on accusing. Her voice lowering.
"But why haven´t you left?" He smirked at her bewildered expression.
"I thought so" Ryan said after she gaped a few times, obviously struggling to find an answer.
"What´s that supposed to mean?" Taylor regained her abbility to talk.
"Ask yourself why are you here, saturday night, dressed like that, in my dorm"
A hollow laugh found its way outside her throat. "I would never consider someone like you in that way. Im not into being beaten everyday by a loser. Not all women are like your mother "
Taylor gave him her fakest smile before turning to leave, there was really no point in talking to someone as obtuse as Ryan Atwood. But suddenly his left hand circled around her wrist, his strong grasp preventing her from moving, his eyes unreadable.
What would Veronica do?
A.N: No freaking idea of where did this come from... First time i read it i liked it, now im not so sure. I´ve just watched a clip from the third season and gotta love mean Taylor!
I´ll try to post soon. And comments will be appreciated.