Ok, new story. I know there's the other one, Yesterday's Tomorrow, that I haven't finished. But I don't think Will. Atleast not for now because way too much has happened since I started writing that and I really don't know where I want it to go.

This story is very different. I don't want to give anything away because this is one of those stories which I just want to build itself and for you guys (the awesome readers!) to unravel slowly. The story focuses on Nathan and Haley but Peyton, Brooke and Lucas will be involved whenever I feel necessary. This story is very AU, so characters will also be different, however I will keep certain basic characteristics the same.

So, here is the prologue. The next chapter won't come for a while (about 3 weeks) because I've got exams but I promise you, it will come. I was just so excited to get this chapter out!

Therefore, without further ado…

Before.

She's never been much of a talker. She doesn't make small talk, doesn't tell people in detail about all her courses at school or what she likes to do in her free time. But that day, she couldn't stop. She talked to every aunt, every uncle, every distant cousin in the room. What she talked about, she had no idea. All she knew is, it wouldn't end.

She thinks the word vomit must have started when they carried the black coffin out of the room. And took her mother in it. She heard whispered conversations about the body, but she for one could not understand how anybody could call it a body just seven hours after the body had been a person. She watched them carry the coffin out of the house, the priest – her father's best friend – at the front. Her eyes turned to her father, whose own eyes bore no expression as usual. Even at that moment, she almost laughed and rolled her eyes at this, her fourteen year old self wondering what it would take for this man to be a little more human. Tugging slightly on the awfully girly black discount dress that she and Peyton had bought as a joke only a couple of days ago, she thought about how ironic it was that she should wear this dress today, when things were, to put it bluntly – so fucking far from a joke.

Following the procession out of the room, she looked to her left. Her five year old cousin Melissa looked back at her, green eyes wide and cheeks rosy from the cold. Melissa's little hand stretched out, clasping her own and the little girl's mouth turned upwards into a smile. Haley didn't offer a smile back. She began to talk.

She must have spoken complete nonsense to Melissa but the five year old didn't seem to mind. The rest of the procession did, however. Great aunts and uncles turned to look at her, giving her stern looks but not saying anything because she was, after all, the daughter of a woman who had just died. Her chatter to Melissa stopped for a few minutes when they reached the church. As the church doors opened, she took in a breath, then shook herself out slightly. Letting go of Melissa's now slightly sweaty hand, she prepared herself.

The rest of it is a blur. She remembers only snippets of the funeral service – a collage of pictures made by her mother's sister Karen, whom she hasn't seen in about 9 years because her mother stopped talking to her. A sonata written by her 12 year old musical genius of a cousin, Emily. And then there was her father's speech. She definitely doesn't remember any of that, instead remembering his one expression and monotonous tone. The actual burial is even more of a blur. All she remembers is that she didn't know why the hell she couldn't cry and why the hell she couldn't stop talking (mostly to herself).

She remembers the part afterwards, though. It's like those cheesy carvings on trees. Etched into her brain for all of eternity. It isn't the loud, stupid rambling to cousins who didn't understand why she wasn't standing in a corner crying, that she remembers so well. No, it's after that, when she grabbed her coat – realising she was done with all the funeral party crap – and left the house, running in the cold towards the park. She remembers sitting down on the swing that had seemed like it was going to break for the last six ears but still held up. She remembers the wind whipping her face. And then she remembers the boy who came and sat next to her.

He came quietly, sitting on the swing beside her. He didn't look at her and offered no greeting to her. She accepted that, realising they were complete strangers and therefore, he had no obligation towards. And looking back, she thinks that may be the reason she said what she said next.

"My mother killed herself this morning. And I'm not sad."

She looked at him then and he looked back. His features were prominent, his jaw line strong and his lips a soft pink. His eyes draws him to her most. They're a mixture of blue and green and the colour seems to move inside them, swirling slightly, like a whirlpool.

When he gave no answer, she stood up abruptly. And ran. And as she ran, Haley realised, it was the most truthful thing she had ever said.