Disclaimer: I am NOT Stephanie Meyer. Thanks.

Disclaimer Dos: I am just putting this out to see how people react.

Life After You

The life drained from my veins as I lay on the burning asphalt. I didn't want to remember the last two years. The pain from the heat on my back helped steer my attention away from the thoughts. Why did things have to end this way? Why couldn't he just let me go?

I forced myself to get up and noticed a decent sized crowd had gathered to stare at me. "What are you looking at? This isn't some kind of freak show!" I screamed at them. I little girl towards the front dropped her ice cream and began to cry giant sobs. Ha! I thought to myself. I never used to be so cynical. He made me this way. The more I pushed him away, the tighter he held on.

The crowd began to dissipate as I finished my internal monologue. I decided that I should go and find somewhere else to continue my masochistic hobbies. I was drawing too much attention to myself here. My mother had forced me out of her life. My parents had separated a year ago, my brother didn't talk to me, and I was out on my own.

I am 18 years old. I have only a few possessions and I live in a tiny decrepit apartment on the edge of the city. All I could do was run from my problems when everything blew up. I had spent the last three months going from guy to guy trying to kill the guilt that only seemed to accumulate.

In my tiny apartment I kept no photographs, paintings, and letters, nothing that could tie me back to anyone. They all burned with my memories of him. Mom told me to get as far away from him as I could without anyone knowing. So I moved to New York and spent the last six months in the Bronx creating a new me. I colored my once chestnut brown hair black and wore colored contacts to change my hazel eyes to dark brown. I always wore my hair away from my face. My wardrobe transformed from shorts and tanks, to jeans and sweatshirts to cover the scars and the muscles that nothing else could hide.

I kept no landline, just a cell phone with some emergency numbers. I had no one to call and gave no one a reason to call me. I lived alone for a reason; I could pick up and go whenever it was necessary.

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