Okay guys, this is chapter one, I hope you guys like it, I don't own Hannah Montana, and I guess that's about it (: enjoy.
I looked at her, and I actually believed that if my ribs weren't made up of bones my heart would have exploded. An almost painful feeling settled itself in between my lungs and every time I looked at her it intensified, making my heart throb like the wings of a hummingbird. God she was beautiful. Not fit, or hot, or fine, she was beautiful. Everything about her made me want to go and confess my love to her. Not that, that would be a particularly brilliant idea considering I'd never had a conversation with her, she looked over at me almost as if she could feel me staring at her and I quickly averted my eyes. I suddenly found my nails fascinating, and chose to examine them with a new found vigour, willing her to stop looking at me. I could feel her walking in my direction and hoped she wasn't going to start anything, accuse me of staring at her, accuse me of being a freak, but she just stood next to me and waited for me to acknowledge her presence. I looked up at her and met her stare; she suddenly looked shy and shuffled her feet before speaking.
"Umm...hey Lilly, I was just wondering whether I could maybe, sit next to you?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing; she wanted to sit next to me? I thanked anyone looking down on me with a silent prayer, before realising that she was standing there expectantly, waiting for an answer. I felt as if I were to open my mouth the butterflies that were pounding in my stomach were sure to pour out in a whirlpool of colours, but I forced my mouth to form some words before she walked away.
"Err, sure go ahead," Her eyes lit up at my words and she immediately sat down next to me, thrusting her hand out in my direction.
"Hi, I'm Miley, it's nice to officially meet you" I smiled as I took her hand, and felt my heart flutter at the contact.
"Well hi Miley, I'm Lilly, it's nice to officially meet you too,"
And that was the first time I spoke to her, almost three years ago now, since them we've pretty much become inseparable, I guess she's the only person I've really ever opened up to, don't get me wrong it took a lot of work. I knew pretty much the whole of her life story before I felt comfortable telling her about my, "situation" I suppose you could call it, but soon she knew everything about me as well. She was the person I would call in the middle of the night who would tell me that it was all going to be okay, she was the person who would put up with me while I was going through one of my moods, and she became my best friend.
Sure sometimes when I turned to look at her and found she was looking at me already I would feel a rush of blood to my cheeks, and the next works I would say would normally come out in a jumble, sure I felt my heart flutter everything she hugged me for that second longer than usual or she complemented my outfit. But there was no way I was going to put our friendship in danger because of these feeling I'd been feeling since the day I met her, if it meant I would have to stand back and just be her friend as I watched countless boys break her heart just so I could put the pieces back together during one of our sleepovers, I would do it. I would be whatever she needed me to be, and right now she needed me to be her best friend so that's what I would be.
I'm snapped out of my day dream by the sounds of a door slamming. And I curl up on my bed waiting for it.
I'm sitting here, just sitting here, tracing the lines on my arm, not consciously but doing it all the same, thinking of all the stories that come with the scars, thinking about how many of them ended up there because of what was going on as I sit here. They start off quiet kind of trying to yell whilst whispering so I can only make out some of the words that they're saying, not that it actually matters I mean I've heard it all before, but as they lose patience with each other, they start yelling, things start breaking, and eventually I hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, I brace myself for what I know is coming, but it doesn't make it easier, no matter how many times I hear it, and no matter how many times I try to convince myself that it's not her talking it's just the anger, the drink, the stress, it still hurts. She storms into my bedroom and I see her not the mother in all our family portraits, or old videos, but a woman that has been formed by stress and spirits and anger.
"What are you doing?" she demands. I shake my head knowing that nothing I say will make her happy and try to make my mouth form any words so this is over and down with as soon as possible, I see her eye widen the longer she has to wait for my answer and quickly force out an answer.
"Umm nothing, I was just getting for bed," I see a smirk make its way onto her face and once again brace myself for the onslaught of insults that is bound to come.
"Nothing as usual, you're just like him you know, useless, completely useless, I wouldn't even care if I knew you were destined to be rubbish, the trouble with you is that you've got potential, not that is matters, it just goes to waste on someone like you, such a lazy waste of my time, call yourself my daughter? Anyone who knew me when I was younger would laugh at the sight of you not top of the class, hasn't got any friends, hasn't had a boyfriend, all you sit is there, writing and drawing in that pathetic little book of yours,..." Her words slur together, as she gets nearer to the end of her speech and I still hear her mumble curses under her breath as she stumbles into her room. Tears threaten to fall from my eyes and a burning pain builds up in my chest but I take a deep breath in and refuse to let them fall, it used to be worse, when it first started, and when I was younger I would cry and scream and beg her to stop , but now I just clench my jaw and wait for her to get it all out of her system, after all it isn't her that's talking, it's the bottle of cheap liquor on her bedside table that's putting all them thoughts into her head, at least that's what I've been telling myself for the last three years.
I wait until I know that she's asleep before I get up, pulling on a pair of battered converse some jeans, slipping into an over sized band t-shirt, and slipping out of the house. It's only some nights I sneak out, some nights I'm okay, I manage to convince myself it's all going to be okay, and it's not really what she means. But on nights like tonight when it all builds up I normally head to the beach, the beach always helps me think, plus I can see Miley's bedroom from there, so if the lights are on I normally give her a call and we'll talk about everything and nothing, until I can face going back again.
My feet pound the familiar trail down to the beach until they start to sink into the ground and I'm there. I walk a little into the beach and find a spot where I'm comfortable, there's no need to worry about whether I'm blocking someone's sun or in the middle of a volleyball game, because I'm the only one on the beach, and it feels like for a while, I'm the only one in the world.
I let the sand run through my fingers as I look out at the sea, probably my favourite thing to do and my favourite place to be, it lets me imagine how my life would be if I wasn't stuck living in the same town I was born in those 16 years ago, as I look out on the sea I let my mind wander, let it create a world where I don't have to come home to a broken family, let it create a world where I don't have to hide everything about me, let it create a world where people don't believe in stereotypes, where racism doesn't exist, and love isn't restricted by anything, least of all religion or gender. I looked at the waves lapping at the sand, and smile wishing I could be one with them willing them to just wash away my troubles. Leaving me free, when I'm here I feel free for a while, it lets me escape reality for a while, lets me just b r e a t h e.
I guess that's why I rely on writing and drawing so much, they let me escape reality, it's my way of not giving up on life, sure not everyone has much money, sure not everyone has a perfect lives, sure not everyone is loved, and not everyone has someone to love, but one luxury everyone has, is the ability to dream, and that is the one thing keeping me sane in this world, the fact that one day I promised myself I would be out of this town, and I'd be free.
I hear footsteps behind me, and ignore them until I feel that they're approaching me, I look up and see her looking down at me, her blues eyes meet mine and I see something flash behind them, something I don't quite recognise, then I see concern, and she's kneeling beside me, wrapping her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder, her mouth by my ears.
"Oh Lilly," she breathes into my ear, and I shiver in her arms at the emotion in her voice.
"How did you know I was here?" I manage to croak out, my voice sounds hoarse, and I realise that I've been crying.
"I saw you walking down," she replies, then just pulls me tighter to her body as if trying to show how much she cares through that hug. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and let myself go, let all the tears come out and just let her hold me until my sobs turn into whimpers.
Alrightly, so that's chapter one um I hope you guys liked it, it's my first Liley story so I hope I've done okay, reviews would make me real happy (: