Some minor edited have been done as of October 16 2017, who it'll make it an easier read
'Disclaimer: (for fanfiction) All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Trigger warning: Brief mentions of troubling subjects such as child abuse, cutting and suicide.
"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wound remains. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."
-Rose Kennedy
Chapter song: Red – Hymn for the missing
Prologue
It was a sunny day, which was right on the opposite side of my state of mind.
The air smelled of last night's rain, and every time the breeze rustled the leaves above my head a shower of raindrops splashed me in the face. It was a quiet morning, only the birds singing and the crunching of gravel underneath my converse disturbed the peace
I sat down across from Jon in the shadow of the old oak tree and took a deep breath. "Hi, Jon," my voice quivered. "It´s been a long time, I know. But so much has happened lately."
I straightened my back and put my hands up in front of me as to keep him from interrupting me with an angry retort.
"Yeah. I know that´s not an excuse. But I have news." I cleared my throat before continuing. "We're moving. I´ve known for three weeks now, but didn´t know how to tell you."
I paused, more to collect my thoughts than to wait for a response, because I knew he wouldn't give me one.
The lump in my throat made it difficult to continue. "Mother have decided that homeschooling no longer is an option, that I need the full 'High school experience'." I made sarcastic air quotes. "You know how she gets, as soon as she sets her mind to something there is no turning back."
Tears filled my eyes, I blinked frantically, desperately trying to keep them from falling.
The rickety, old bench to creaked ominously every time I nervously shifted my weight. "We're moving to a small town on the other side of the fucking country." It was becoming harder to breathe as I fought to find the right words. "Can you see me in a small town? Mother thinks it will be good for us." My breathing hitched and I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting out what I thought about that. "I´m not sure how father feels, he doesn't say much. But I know they think we have to get away from the memories."
A tear trickled down my pale cheek, followed by another and soon I was crying. I dried my face in the crook of my hoodie-clad elbow, but they kept coming.
"I haven't touched a razor in six months. My therapist keeps talking about the progress I'm making."
I slumped down and buried my face in the palm of my hand. "I stopped going to group. I guess… I-I just don't deal well with people anymore."
I could hear his laughter and almost caught myself smiling at the joke. I had been the most popular girl at school, the center of every gathering. The classic Queen B, with the personality to go with it. I'd had a large group of followers, and everybody had wanted to either be me, or be with me. Conceited, vapid and thinking myself better than everybody else was just the tip of the iceberg.
"Mother finally agreed to let me get the tattoos. I did the last one yesterday. Three in one week... I think the guy at the shop was impressed, considering my size and all…." I became lost in thought for a moment and shook my head to clear my mind.
Wrapping my arms around my torso I rocked back and forward, wishing they were his arms me more than anything.
"He called me Little Red the whole time, like I haven't heard that one before.
My lips spread in a tiny smile and I rolled my eyes.
Despite my popularity, or maybe because of it, kids at school used to come up with nicknames for me. The most common had been Red riding hood, Pippi Longstocking and Strawberry Shortcake, said with more or less affection. Jon had been the only one to call me Candy Cane, because of my red hair and practically white skin. My smile fell. I hadn't heard that nickname in a long time.
"Do you want to see them?" Without waiting for an answer I shrugged out of my hoodie and stood before him in only a pair of distressed skinny jeans and a green tank top, the color of my eyes.
First, I showed him the intricate tribal that covered my upper arm and proceeded to lift my top to give him a good look at the crying angel than covered the left side of my ribcage. "That one hurt like hell," I told him, tracing my fingers lightly over the uneven skin. "And this is the last one," I slipped off the wide leather cuff that covered my wrist and showed him; there in black ink his name would mark me forever.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us and I looked down at my hands and realized I barely recognized them. My once perfectly manicured nails were chewed down practically to the bone and the skin around them was red and chapped. I clenched my fists and shoved them into the front pocket of my hoodie. A hiss escaped from the sting of nails biting into the heel of my palms, and I relished in the pain. It wasn't anything I didn't deserve. As a matter of fact, I deserved much worse.
"God, Jon…I'm just so, so sorry." I whimpered.
Sobs I had been fighting to hold back wracked my body.
Later, I would be strong, I promised myself. When I walked through the door in the new house, in my new town, I would make sure that no one could see how broken I was. I would smile, laugh and make friends. I would go on dates or dances, and all the other things that had been so important to me at one time, things that my parents had decided should be important, still.
But right now, in front of the only person who ever mattered, I would let all the guilt and agony through.
One last time.
The honking of a car horn scared the birds and the sound of flapping wings echoed around me.
It was time. But I wasn't ready.
I'd probably never be.
"I have to go." I got to my feet and wiped the wetness from my cheeks in a futile attempt to hide my tears. I hated that I had to leave. I hated my parents for making me move and I hated them for forcing me inside of a car for the first time in almost two years, even for the short ride to the airport. I hated them for everything. But most of all I hated myself.
"I miss you, Jon. All the time. I´ll come back to see you as soon as I can. I promise. I love you."
Turning my back at him I walked to the car, without so much as a glance in his direction.
When the gates closed behind me I couldn't help but steal one last look at the sign. It read: Milford Cemetery.
Thank you for reading