Quote me
Quote me.
Being numb was effortless compared to feeling anything at all. Never feeling happiness again meant that she also would never feel anything toward him, and to Peyton Sawyer that was perfection. Nothing ever truly made her happy anyway, except music, but she'd give that up too. Poor Peyton, give, give, give, never take, never given the option of take. Had she ever been offered anything in her life?
Yes, she instantly thought. She'd been offered love. The one thing life had ever given her. But I didn't want that. She didn't want something that could tear her apart so easily. By accepting that particular gift, it meant that she could lose it. And so, she gave it back and traded it for emptiness: the numb feeling that radiated through her. Sometimes it was such a high that she wondered how she ever got by without it. How did she live with all lose emotions running through her?
This is happiness. Not smiling, and laughing and having a great time out there in the world. No, sitting behind my shield, my wall, so that nothing can ever touch me, that is true happiness, that is a perfect life.
She had lost everyone. After all the years of her best friends promising each other that they would be together forever, they all turned their backs on her. Not that she blamed them. She doesn't blame anyone for anything. Only myself. She was mean, a bitch, it kept people from wanting to know her, to get closer to her. It wasn't a shock that they left. She ridiculed them, and their feelings, their emotions, something she washed her hands of long ago.
Tric was packed for a Wednesday night, what was everyone doing here? Her friends were all huddled in the same corner they always were, when she arrived an hour late. She glanced over at them as she order a drink, 'something that will do the trick' she had told the bartender. He handed her a small glass half-way filled of purple-ish liquid that smelled sweet. She took a sip, leaning against the bar. She couldn't taste the alcohol, that was a good sign, and handed the bartender a bill, she didn't care that it was much more than the drink cost, and much more then you were supposed to tip. She swayed up to them and took a seat by Mouth. Was Millie even here tonight, was she sitting in her seat…whatever. She took another gulp of her sweet concoction and heat spread from her lips to her toes.
"What are you drinking Peyton?" Haley asked from across the small table they were all crowded around. Peyton could remember when the group was small enough to where she could lay down on the couch and everyone would still have a place to sit. Now days there were so many people the Tree Hill gang had acquired it made Peyton Closter phobic.
The curly haired blond shrugged and took another swag.
"That's our girl Peyton. Drinking stuff she can't identify since 2003." Nathan said raising his glass toward her and then took a sip. Don't salute me she thought. She hated when people thought they knew her, even friends that probably did. She didn't like to be known. She liked to be unpredictable and mysterious. She liked having no one understand her and know what she was thinking. It was the perfect life.
She rolled her eyes as her friends echoed a 'here here' and went back to separate conversations. But none were started with her. She focused on her lovely drink. She held it up to her lips. Gone, she thought. She stood and no one asked her where she was going. No one asked if she was coming back, in fact no one noticed her at all.
The bartender winked at her. "Is the drink working for ya?"
She winced at his kindness, she hated when people were kind to her, she didn't deserve it. "Yep. Refill." She slid the glass over the dark glazed wood, and he caught it without ever taking his eyes off of Peyton. While he filled it, he looked at her, as he ran up her bill, he looked at her.
"What!?" She yelled. Maybe the drink was affecting her already.
"Nothing." He slid her glass, and the change that she stayed for this time, across the bar. "Go easy."
"Yea right." As she turned around with her clutch between her arm and breast and her drink high next to her face she gently bumped into someone.
"Whoa there, Peyton." Lucas's blue eyes smiled down on her.
"Ugh." She said and walked by him. A confused look shot behind his eyes.
"What's wrong? Did I do something?" He placed his hand on her arm as she slid by him. She stopped and sipped at her drink wanting the alcohol to make this quick and painless. You don't want him Peyton. Prove it. Prove to yourself that you can live without him; that you don't need him. Prove to us…prove to him.
"Hey talk to me." His voice coed.
"No. I have nothing to say to and you have nothing to say that I want to hear." Pain flew across his face. Then he half smiled as if he was waiting to hear her say "just joking Luc." She didn't. She shrugged his touch off of her arm, he burns her, something from within him flows hot through her, like fire, it always has.
"Peyton, I know that you are going through a lot right now, but listen I am always there for—" She cut him off.
"I don't care. Your friends are over there." She bit off these words so they came out like staccato notes in a symphony. She turned her body to the exit. Please don't follow me…I'm so sorry Luc. This was the last time Peyton Sawyer would ever say those words again 'I'm sorry.' She hated pity when it was fake, used to say something when you didn't know where to start.
"You!" She yelled to the bartender.
"Back for another?" He said holding his hand out for the glass.
"What is this? What's in it?" Maybe it was the alcohol that made her so vicious, maybe.
"Nothing." He smirked. She wanted to slap him.
"What!?"
"It's pomegranate juice. Used for martini's, only minus the vodka." He looked like he had just told the funniest joke in the universe.
For once, Peyton Sawyer was speechless. She had wished that he would have said it was loaded with alcohol that she could forever blame that moment on, but no. She could only blame herself, like always. Give, give, give. Happiness, sorrow, love, tenderness, laughter, she gave that all away. And took the blame.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, nor do I stake any claim on them with the publishing of this piece.