Disclaimer- You recognise it, I don't own it.
-Except for the box set. Does that count?
A/N- Sorry guys, shorter chapter this time. But hey at least it's better than nothing!
Thankyou to all those beautiful people who have bothered to waste thirty seconds of their life to give me some feedback! It makes me one happy writer! :-)
My aim for this story is to present a small example of how stereotypes and influences from others are basically making people lie to themselves in order to 'fit in'. In highschool I see people change and pretend to be someone they're not just to escape from bullying or to gain a higher social status. I absolutely hate this. I hate how people can't be comfortable with being who they are because they fear about what others think of them. I liked Peyton because she was different to other cheerleaders that have been portrayed in movies and TV.
-There's a fair bit of swearing. Sorry!
Keep those reviews coming!
And please enjoy!
-Lexii xoxo
Chapter 3- Chained to Your History
'Ohhh-kayyy, someone's a little PMSy…' Brooke fake-smiled at the group as she once again wrapped her arm through Peyton's and dragged her closer to her. 'What the hell is wrong with you Peyton?!' Brooke darkly whispered in Peyton's ear so only Peyton could hear.
Adrenaline and anger pumped through Peyton's veins and she could feel her whole body shaking. 'Don't touch me!' she hissed at Brooke, snatching her arm quickly away from Brooke. Brooke recoiled back in shock. Never had Peyton spoken to her like that.
'Peyton what's wrong with you?' Brooke asked, her voice a mix of concern and disgust. A group of onlookers were now every interested and crowded around the group waiting to see the situation that was forming.
Peyton let out a sarcastic breath of air from her nose. 'What's wrong with me?! What's wrong with you?!' she exclaimed pointing, circulating her arm at the members of the group. 'You're all nothing but selfish rich man-whores and sluts who don't give a crap about how other people feel. I'm sick of pretending that I actually belong around you. Why the hell would anyone want to be one of you?! All you do is get drunk and hook-up and throw up then get drunk all over again. It's complete bullshit! I'm sick of pretending to be some mindless cheerleading slut who has a completely meaningless relationship with a boy who doesn't even know the difference between left and right. I'm sick of pretending to be one of you!' She screamed the last line in pure anger, and she felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest; only for it to be replaced with a sickening feeling of dread and regret tied together with chains and shackles.
Peyton! You've really screwed it up this time. What the hell are you doing?! Do you want things to go back the way they were?! Do you want everyone to hate you and continuously make your life a misery?! Do you remember how awful you felt day after day? Do you remember how practically every-night you would cry yourself to sleep? Do you remember the sickening feeling in your gut that you use to carry around with you every second you were out of the safety of your room? Do you remember how everytime you saw what lies hidden behind that wristband you would immediately break down into tears? Do you remember how your heart stopped for over three minutes in the ambulance after you got drunk and lost control of your car? Stop being such a bloody idiot and apologize or something! For fucks sake Peyton don't throw away everything you've worked so hard for, for so long. This is the life you're meant to have. If you throw it all away things will go back to the way they were…
Don't make things go back to the way they were….
The anger and determination melted away from her body as the effects of what she just said became perfectly clear. The disgust and hatred were obvious just by the look on each of their faces, not to mention the uncomfortable tension that had formed.
The strong and angry Peyton had disintegrated; leaving behind the broken, fragile Peyton that Peyton wished never existed. Her whole body started shaking and she felt the tears beginning to form in her eyes. She glanced around the group; all had the same stern, repulsive look etched into their face as they glared at her.
Do what you're best at Peyton;
Run.
And with that she did. She pushed past the group of onlookers, wiping away the few stray tears that had fallen down her face. Her breaths were heavy and ridged as her heart yearned for just the slightest chance of forgiveness. But all that flashed in her mind was each member's faces, scolding her, hurting her with the mere use of their eyes.
Her steps may have been strong and in stride; but she felt like her whole body was crumbling beneath. All the pain and confusion of what had just happened a matter of seconds ago was eating her up on the inside. She could feel the hundreds of eyes burning into the back of her. Some fuelled with disappointment, some fuelled with shock, and others fuelled with hatred.
Why Peyton? Why.
Why are you such a failure? Why must you always manage to fuck everything up!
The tears fell faster as her inner thoughts disciplined and confronted Peyton. She just couldn't escape.
'Peyton! Hey Peyton!' an exhausted voice ringed out.
Run Peyton. Get out of here as fast as you can.
Ignoring the pleading voice she continued on in her stride, wishing what had just happened could be erased as easily as a failed sketch.
'Peyton!' the voice ringed out once again.
Faster.
She drew a deep breath in as she attempted to quicken her pace, only to be pulled backwards by her shoulder. She gripped her eyes tightly shut, fearing for the worst as she was spun around.
Fists or words?
'Peyton are you okay?' The voice questioned, gently holding onto either side of her arms. She hissed in pain as his touch triggered the bruises that Nathan had given to her just hours before.
'I'm sorry.' He whispered as he slid his arms downwards, until he was holding her hands. She relaxed slightly as the touch was almost soothing; it was not rough, but warm and comforting.
'Are you okay?' he asked again, quieter this time. The mere sound of his voice instantly calmed the fear from Peyton. She savoured the calming feeling she had gained for a moment before she slowly opened her eyes.
Piercing blue eyes looked directly into hers, and she felt herself melt into them, unable to look away from them, as if she were stuck in a trance.
'Are you okay?' he whispered even quieter again, while wiping away a stray tear that had fallen with his thumb. The feeling of his touch sent electric bolts throughout her body, knocking her out of her subconscious state.
'Lucas?!' she gaped, shaking off his hands away from her.
'Yeah?' he asked clearly confused.
'What the hell are you doing?!' Peyton hissed, suddenly becoming aware of the attention they were receiving from the remainder of the school. Hundreds of eyes still burned into her, but none more infuriated then those of Nathan and Brooke.
Lucas glanced to where Peyton was staring at. 'What's wrong?' he asked, even though he already knew the answer; it was him.
Peyton, he's already on Nathan's radar. Talking to you is just going to make things worse for him. Don't make him suffer the same fate. Don't make him suffer the same pain and torment you did.
He doesn't deserve it…
Do what you've been doing for the past year;
Pretend.
'Get the hell away from me Lucas. I never have and never will want you to have anything to do with my life. You're nothing but a bloody loser who will never accomplish anything in your pathetic excuse for a life. I will never care about you. I will never want to care about you. How do you except me to love you when your own father can't?!' She spat at him before abruptly turning around and storming away. She was barely able to look at him and see all the hurt and pain she caused on him.
As she turned around she could have sworn she saw Nathan wearing the largest smile she's ever seen on him; even bigger than the one he wore when he scored the winning basket in the finals last year.
Peyton struggled with her car keys as she attempted to unlock the door. The walk to her car seemed to take an eternity. It was excruciatingly slow and painful, even though it may have taken her only forty-five seconds, it felt more like forty-five minutes.
Peyton collapsed into her seat. Tears were still streaming down her face as she started the car and sped off out of the school's car park. She tried not to look at his face; she just decided to make meaningless eye contact.
Stupid Peyton, stupid.
Looking into his eyes was the stupidest thing she could have done. Eyes were the windows to the soul.
Yeah you can say that twice.
As soon as the first seven words that escaped her mouth she saw the hurt and pain she had caused him flash before her. His once soulful eyes suddenly became lifeless and full of hurt and pain in just a matter of seconds.
It had to be done Peyton.
Did it really? Did I really have to hurt him that bad? Did I have to hurt myself along the way?
It was for the best.
Was it? Does he too feel this agonising pain I'm feeling in my chest? Does he really believe what I said to him? What happens now? What will he do now? Will he do what I did? Will he start torturing himself like I still do to this day?
One day he'll thankyou….
Yeah. If he ever speaks to me again….
Peyton gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter.
You're a fucking horrible person Peyton. At least when you went off at the group you said the actual truth.
Great. Just great.
She inserted a random mix CD and turned the radio on, her cheeks becoming stiff from the new and old tears that kept falling.
Music makes everything better.
A perfect melody that withdrawals any access fury or vitality.
A loud, obnoxious ballad that intensifies anger or energy
Music; the thing any person can somehow relate too.
Lyrics that hold special memories that come flooding back when you hear that particular song.
Lyrics that describe memorable moments of your life.
Lyrics that describe the exact emotion you're feeling.
Lyrics that describe the exact situation you're in;
And the lyrics that were belting out of Peyton's speakers seemed to fit Peyton's situation completely.
I really fucked it up this time; didn't I my dear?
