Chapter 1

Have you ever gazed into the abyss? Ever felt its cold, black claws encasing you? Its clutches are empty and dark cutting off every feeling, every sense you posses, leaving you with nothing. Alone. Some people have found the strength to pull themselves out. While others suffer with no option or willpower to relieve themselves of the torture. This torture being a thing we all call love.

Numerous people have searched endlessly for the answer to one question. A sentence that has popped up and plagued generations of individuals. A question of "What is love?". Some have succeeded, though countless have failed repeatedly in providing a simple answer. The reasoning. Because 'simple' can not even begin to cover this emotional subject. Love is difficult. It evokes an individuals emotions and puts that persons heart and mind at risk. So one could say that a 'simple answer' is not sufficient. In depth reasoning, or logic, is also needed to back it up.

Love is made up of compromises. Each party gives and receives. If one person does not participate equally then they throw off the balance, or mess up the relationship, between the two individuals. Love requires you to believe that your feelings will reach the other and conquer all. It makes you rely on one another. In order to love you must believe in three things, yourself, your emotions, and a second person.

There is only one problem. I, Evangeline Bluebell Cheshire, do not believe in love. Not anymore.

I've been through too many situations in my life that involved love to know that it is utterly disappointing, unreliable, and hurtful. But most of all, love is a fairy tale. I never thought that I could end up being the type of girl who gave up on love. As a child I fantasized about loving someone and having a happy future with my prince. I would stay up late reading romance novels and talking to my stuffed dog Rufus about not being able to wait to grow up and have my first boyfriend or my first kiss. I didn't take into consideration the things happening in my life as I grew up. I was naive. I wanted love, but I guess I was never meant to be graced with it.

As I was getting older I took notice that my parents relationship, their marriage, was worse than shaky. My dad would occasionally tell me he loved me and that he would always be there, and me being a toddler I believed him. But deep down in the pit of my soul I knew he was lying. Grown ups only tell children what they want to hear, right? They would consistently argue or bicker over the smallest of things. My dad would leave for a few days and then come back drunk or angrier than he was before he left, while my mom would stay home and ignore my existence as she cried or over worked herself. The fighting would get so bad that my mom and dad would go so far as to use physical means of action to express their anger. And it soon became too much.

At the ripe age of five my dad packed up and left without so much as a goodbye in mine or my moms direction. I understood then that he had given up on us, on me. In a situation like that I did the only thing I could, I turned to my mother for love and attention. Though she was my mom she never really seemed to care much for me. Not even when my family was whole. She would look down on me if I did not meet her expectations in practically everything. Mom always loved to be in control. So she twisted and directed my life making me miserable as she looked on with disgust. That is, until I turned thirteen years old.

I was on my way home from another boring day from middle school when I got a call to the office. I was told by my principle that the police found my mom. She had been in the shady part of town buying drugs. Apparently the dealer wanted more than the money and proceeded to attack my mother. She didn't stand a chance. Being a woman as well as unarmed, she died. The guy had stabbed her in the neck as she tried to desperately fend off her attacker. She died instantly, leaving me alone. I was given up on again. I didn't cry, she didn't deserve my tears. If my mom had loved me she would have cleaned up her act when dad left and become the parent she should have been in the beginning. A mom I wished so desperately for.

I was soon put into an orphanage and became instantly isolated from the other children. I watched as day by day the kids I'd grown use to seeing gradually left, adopted into great families. I, on the other hand, was not so famous with the potential suitors that interviewed me. Happy hopeful people would come in but later leave with uninterested faces. As time progressed the number of interviews diminished, eventually stopping all together. I lost hope on finding a family that could love me. I grew lonely.

At fifteen I started working to help save for an apartment to move into after I passed the age limit at the orphanage. That was also when I got my first boyfriend and a broken heart in the same year. His name was Jack Romper. He had the sweetest smile, the kindest personality, and was all around fantastic. At least on the outside. I was fooled. Just like Red Riding Hood walked into the big bad wolfs' trap. I believed Jack to be a great guy but he destroyed that sweet facade when he reveled himself to be a back stabbing player who dumped me for "not being pretty enough and for not putting out". I was crushed. I believed that I was cursed to never love or be loved.

So like everyone before me, I decided to give up on love. Why believe if it will never happen? Why love others if, in the end, they don't love you back? It hurts to love. It's disappointing. So I stopped trying and concluded that it was an unnecessary emotion that can easily be discarded without care.

All too soon did I know that my mind would change and I would be forced to give love one more chance. And all too soon did I learn that I would have someone to actually deem me worth loving and not something to be given up on.

That same someone was Shane Christopher Black. Renounced bad boy of my high school and a complete hottie. Unlike me Shane was popular. He had friends, surprisingly good grades, was extremely athletic, and definitely had his looks, which I, and more than half the female population, considered the best of his many qualities. To me he was just another guy with the intentions of defiling girls and dumping them after he got what he wanted. Sex. No love was involved. Actually love was not even in Shane's vocabulary. I may enjoy reveling in his model like looks but I never would want to socialize or bother with him and his...kind.

A shiver slithered down my spine at the mere thought of Shane and his actions. I was seated in my black desk chair trying my best to focus all my attention on the copious amount of homework I received in school today. It wasn't working. School made me think of Shane and his friends. They were messing around with a few of our schools wannabe cheerleaders; probably attempting to get a hook up later that night. Why couldn't they see that the guys wanted nothing but to get in their pants, no strings attached? Well I guess it isn't any of my concern. Let them make the mistake and get hurt.

I dropped my pencil on the desk and got up. I'll just finish the rest in home room tomorrow I thought. I walked over to my dresser and got out a pair of black form fitting sweats and a light blue tank top along with my under garments and a pair of fuzzy light blue socks to match my pjs. I proceeded to my medium sized bathroom to take a much needed relaxing shower.

My bathroom wasn't much to look at but it did it's job. It had a stand in shower in the left corner of the room while the bath tub was to the right. The toilet was across from the sink that stood in between the bathtub and shower. A two doored cherry wood cabinet stood to the left of the toilet, hiding its contents from the world. There were baby blue and white decor accenting the floor, the toilet seat, the curtains, and the sink. If you hadn't guessed I loved baby blue and I just had to have my bathroom and bedroom decorated in these amazing cool tones. The orphanage administrator didn't object seeing as I was the oldest of all the occupants in the whole building. This also meant I got the entire top floor to myself. No one visited me anyway so I took the opportunity to design the rooms to my liking.

I waltzed lazily to the sink mirror and gazed at my reflection. The girl staring back at me looked as if she had been through hell and back. Her grey blue eyes held a deep unexplainable sorrow with speckles of tiredness. Although a broken lonely mess, her heart and face portrayed a fierce tigress ready to fight for her life at any cost. She had raven black hair that stretched to her mid back when down, however it currently sat as a messy rats nest on her head, and her person was dusted with an olive colored skin tone. She stood at a hight of around 5'1" and was estimated to be seventeen years of age.

'How pathetic' I whispered.

I turned away from the mirror and stripped from my clothes and hopped into the shower. I was met with warm water pelting my skin like bullets as I stepped under the showers spray. I lathered my coconut and lavender shampoo into my hair at an even pace then proceeded to wash it out. I did the same with the conditioner until I was sure I imprinted the smell into my hair relieving me of the dirt and grime that had piled up over the past twenty four hours. Afterwards I squirted my favorite peaches and lime body wash onto my scrunchy and began to scrub every nook and cranny. Once done I jumped out, almost slipping and dying in the process, and dried off before dressing for the night. Slowly I made the trek to my vanity to brush my hair then place it into a tight bun.

'As good as it'll ever be' I said as I criticized my handiwork before spinning around and launching myself onto my queen sized bed fitted with white sheets and an overly fluffy baby blue comforter.

Once settled under my covers and the lights already out I fell into a somewhat comfortable sleep surrounded by the warmth my bed provided. I wasn't looking forward to another day of school but what else did I have to look forward to? At least with school I knew I was accomplishing something by getting my diploma. I told myself everyday that it was for me that I worked so hard. But in reality, I just wanted something to prove that I was still here. That I hadn't given up on myself and that I could have a future ahead of me after graduation. What more could I want right now? What more could I HOPE for? Nothing. At least a diploma is a piece of solid paper that I could hold and see was real. It would be something tangible that I could trust knowing I couldn't do that with anything else in my life. With that I went to bed while one thought drifted around inside my brain.

'Would dad be proud if he was still here?'

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWO...MAYBE... (Not sure if I should proceed with the story; depends on what the readers think. :) )