Teenage Rebel

I stare at the walls, blank and unmoving. From what I've gathered in the past, love hurts like hell. I mean, really dad? You just had to play around, messing up our terrible-to-begin with family. Yeah, like this move was really going to give us all a new start. Well, my applause to whoever decided on this brilliant plan, it really was a life changer.

Then, of course I just had to let somebody in, past my so carefully placed bricks of thick walls, protecting me. And that was it. Love was the end of me- of all of us. Now we're all stuck here, in this dark, dingy hole. Leave it up to me to fall in love with a no-good, murderer slash rapist teenage rebel.

I guess now my parents have finally figured it out- their darling suicidal daughter isn't really this innocent little thing. Nope, she's stuck in this corpse-like state with no return. I've heard them, first, it started out with the banging on the door, the threats. Please Like they could really do anything to me now. And later, hours, days, weeks later, they've finally given up. Left me. I think I was most surprised at my mother- the woman I once knew who would never give up a fight. This fiercely loyal lady who held her head proudly. But then again, we all sink and drown sooner or later.

I lay, curled in a fetal position on the floor. All the cds are old, boring even. No games to play, and I've read all the books on the shelf. No sense in going outside. What am I gonna do- sit there waving to Constance? Yeah like that would ever happen.

I'm lost in my hopeless self-pity puddle of my own sorrow until I am interrupted- interrupted by a lloud, obnoxious knock on the door. It certainly wasn't my parents, they would've sat there whining at me to open the door.

No, instead a rough, husky voice called out my name. Great.

"Violet? Are you in here? Please, let me in. I get that you probably really don't want to see me, but I really need to see you," He pauses. "look, Vi, I don't know if you know this or not, but it's been 5 years…" Wow… five years since the breakup. And not a day has passed that it hasn't left my mind. "I'll just leave you now… it's what you want…" he quietly says, I can barely hear him, but his voice is hoarse and sounds like he's been screaming. I know for a fact that for a bout a month after our breakup he was screaming so much that he coughed up blood- it's true, I watched him.

I hear him lingering on the other side of the door, I know this because if he had left, I would've heard his footsteps on the old wooden floorboards. He huffs in and out, and I know he's not going to give up- he never would. He was stupid and stubborn like that.

" Violet Harmon, you listen to me. I love you. I want you so bad and every minute of every passing day my heart throbs more and more for you. My beautiful, beautiful light. I'm crazy without you… and I don't want to be- not at all. I want to be good. I want you to see me, a loving,smiling good-boy. It isn't fair. And I'm gonna be greedy and selfish when I say it but I really don't care… I need you. I need you so much and… that's it, I'm coming in." he declares. And I want to kiss him and put my hands through his hair and taste his salty lips and feel him hugging me and my ice cold skin.

The lock slides, its unfaithful click pulling me out of my thoughts. I don't dare look up, for I know who's face I will see. He quietly closes the door behind him, and he looks around the room. I know what he sees, an almost-dead Violet shaped body on the bed, surrounded by a heavy layer of dust. The air is thick and suffocating, and the light shines through the curtains, revealing the floating dust particles in the air.

"Violet?" he asks, his voice the only sound. I don't respond. How rude of me. "Violet?" he asks again, edging closer to the bed, as if I'm a ticking time bomb or something. But I am, I am. And he should stay away. "Wholly shit, Vi!" he exclaims when he sees me. My dead eyes, sunken in and lightly purple around the bottoms. My skin, transparent. I'm nothing. My hair is an uncombed mess, from those restless nights of nightmares, or plagued thoughts of him. I am ugly.

He comes on my bed. I guess he thinks he has the authority to or something. At least he still smells good.

"Talk to me, Vi." His voice is so demanding, so luring. I almost open my mouth to speak. Almost.

"Tell me what's on your mind. Help me out here, I love you and I want to fix you." I almost snort. I want to retort so many things to him, but instead I keep my mouth shut. And then I write on the chalkboard. I don't get up and grab some chalk. No, I somehow get the chalk to write for me. I guess it's just one of the undiscovered perks of being dead.

Stupid boy, I write. I look at him, and see his eyes stuck, fixated, at the chalkboard. Broken things can't be fixed. The look of despair on his face. He opens his mouth, to say something- I think. But he doesn't. instead, he closes his mouth, and looks at me. You're probably wondering why you waste your time on broken girls. I write, fast but turning out neat. And I keep scrawling, the chalk scratches against the board furiously. I'm on a role, and I'm not stopping. I mean, come on Tate! You could really do so much more- stuck with me, please. I am next to nothing. A little bit of nothing in this whole wide world full of wonders you can't even comprehend. Leave me be.

Tate looks at me, stunned. "what did they do to ya, Vi?" he asks in a hushed whisper. A tear rolls down my cheek. It makes a small line on my face, cold and salty.

He takes his thumb, and wipes it off, removing it from where it ended up, my jawline. And that's all it takes- for me to break.

First my lips start quivering, and I feel instantly cold. My eyes get watery, and my vision is blurred and soon I fall into darkness and nothing.

I wake, sniveling and warm. My face is tear stained and the pillows are warm and snuggly, I burrow deeper, hidden from the world in my pile of comfy blankets. Until an arm snakes around, pulling my closer.

I gasp, knowing who it is. I look up, and find that my guess was correct. I start hyperventilating, remembering exactly what happened last night.

I couldn't catch my breath, and my vision was all blurry and Tate was freaking out, he didn't know what to do. He stayed, though. I was surprised that out of everything, my ex would still stay with me, even when my parents had their backs turned to me, focused on the newest joy in their lives- the weakling of a brother I had.

I sobbed a bit, as Tate rubbed my back, soothing me with easy shushing and lulling sounds, until I quieted, sinking back into his chest with realization. I hated admitting it, but sitting there, with him, was perfect. I still didn't say anything, but I had a feeling he knew, somehow.

He sat there, concentrating on the chalkboard. Hey, he wrote, in his familiar messy scrawl that I knew so well. How are you? He asked me.

Tainted. I replied. I think he would know. I remember when he wrote that single word on the chalkboard, everything to come back to him, in my thoughts. No, Vi… how are you- really? Both he and I knew that he could handle whatever I threw at him- well, maybe not everything.. but most of it. I sighed. I knew he wasn't going to give up… might as well give him what he asked for. But just to check, I asked Are you sure?

Anything for you, my love. He responded, somewhat quickly. I bit my lip, and watched his eyes now trained on me, steady. I still had the dull look in my eyes, I knew there was no life to them. For, even if I wasn't on the outside, I was deader than ever in the insides.

I hate the effect… of being dead. I hate how I am left here, not a second glance my way. I hate how conceited I am, and how actually expect that people are going to care. I am long gone, and I hate to break it to you, but I'm probably never coming back. He looks at those words, inspecting every inch of them, by the looks of it. Vi, what are you saying? He asks, lost in my metaphors and I get it, I probably sound crazy. Heck I probably am crazy. I get up, walking to the door.

I'm saying you should probably pack your bags, Tate…

I say, pushing him out once more. "No!" he shouts. "Never again am I going to leave your side, Violet! I am sick of goodbyes and leaving. I want to stay, can't you see? It is killing me in the insides and making me hurt so bad when I'm not with you. Don't you get it? I need you!" he howls, making a ruckus that everybody can hear. In the back of my mind I can practically see the gays rolling their eyes.

Then you're just going to have to deal with me.

I write, delicately. He's sobbing now, and for the first time in five years, I speak.

"Come here." I say, holding my arms out. He walks closer to me, dropping to his knees resting his head near my stomach. "I love you so much Vi, God how I love you." He repeats, nuzzling his head in my stomach. I place my hands on his back, rubbing circles. He gets up, sliding against me, till he's looking down at me, and I'm looking at him. And like the spell is broken, we just rush into each other, and kiss.