I'm so happy with this chapter =) It actually made me cry while writing it, that's just how much of a sap I am. Sorry for the long recap, kinda hard/confusing to just start it in the middle of the dialogue. Also sorry for the Twilight-esque-ish (don't you love that word I just made up? Haha) theme of this chapter. Anyway, enjoy =)
-CheckItOutGirl=)
A/N: Okay, you know what I'm gonna say. Jade's p.o.v. As always. Alright, proceed.
. . .
Previously on VAL:
A flood of happily flustered confusion painted him. "What are we even doing, anyway? Seeing a movie?"
I playfully tapped my chin in thought. "Too tacky for my taste."
"Going to lunch?" he questioned thoughtfully.
"Seen it a thousand times before. Embarrassing and sloppy."
"Then what?" His voice had dropped low and sweet, a teasing seductiveness hidden behind the little laugh he added to it.
I looked right into those judgment free, warm, passionate eyes that I had come to find my safe haven.
Taking his hand again without shame, I said simply, "I guess we're going to have to find out."
. . .
After what seemed like hours of mindless bickering, we finally decided on a sort-of picnic. Well, he did. Not a full-on-checkered-blanket and all that, but just a few snacks and bottles of root beer. That was his idea, modified to the point we both agreed. But I made it my duty to pick the place.
Giving him the directions, I told him the specific directions to the place I wanted him to go. It was slightly hidden, so you had to be strict with when and where you needed to turn and veer, otherwise you'd either pass it or, if you went to far, wind up lost. I'd experienced that the hard way.
"Okay, follow me; this'll take just the smallest bit of effort." Beck gave a pretend whine and picked up the bags containing our little groups of food.
I started up the incline, brushing away branches mindlessly and my feet led the way. Dim memories flooded to the surface, threatening to take me. But I was good at pushing things away—I did it all the time. So I took a deep breath and, realizing I'd stopped momentarily, and pushed forward.
After my moment of weakness and hesitation, I didn't look back at Beck, didn't stop to admire remnants of memories that kept creeping into my consciousness; just kept pushing forward, throwing deadened branches out of my path and stepping over logs and rocks.
Before I knew it, there it was before me. My place. The place that I was letting someone else invade for the first time since…since the person who brought me here.
Thankfully, it was one of those days that made this place seem less ugly. The day where the sun shone overhead, causing the strange flowers to bloom and cover up its dead, grayish-brown state. The peculiar flowers were everywhere, and after coming here so often, I decided to call them "bleeding roses". The very bottom of the rose was a pale-ish pink color, like the color of skin, and then as you traveled up, turned into deeper and deeper shades of red until it finally melted into black at the very tops of the petals. Other than this rare trace of beauty dotting the browning and graying grass, the general area of it, I'll admit, was hideous. Everything was scarred with smoke from the fire that took it many years ago, dead, or dying. It was lifeless.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around slowly, waiting for Beck's inevitable reaction.
My blue eyes looked for his immediately, knowing there would be no bodily movements giving away a sense of shock, or anything I seemed to be expecting.
His warm brown eyes showed nothing of what I thought they would. Shock, confusion, hurt, sadness, pity. I certainly didn't expect what I did see.
Okay, I had to face it. As much as I hated the word, it was there, and it was true. Love. I resisted outwardly cringing at the pathetic word, a word that had never been able to enter my vocabulary once in my whole life. But it was defiantly shining in his steady gaze as Beck took in every inch, every centimeter, of this deformed and wounded patch of meadow. And then they finally rested on me, and they crinkled just ever so slightly when he broke a large smile.
Quickly covering up his very characteristic action, he shifted it into a sense of admiring criticism. Looking around thoughtfully, he said, "Interesting choice. Not exactly what I had in mind."
"Oh yeah, and what was that? I lush, green meadow or park, with butterflies fluttering by pitifully and birds twittering annoyingly? With sickeningly cheerful little kids running by and bothering us? So sorry to disappoint." I smirked, knowing he was joking, but feeling a bit offended for some irrational reason.
Slowly putting down the bags of snacks, he crossed over to me and braced his hands on my shoulders, his brown eyes boring into mine. There were those pitiful butterflies fluttering inside me, again.
"No, you didn't. It's perfect." His hot breath brushed my face, his sweet scent intensified in the close space in between us. But that wasn't what got me the most; not him taking my hands in his gentle, strong ones; not him smiling so much just because he was here, with me, of all people to be happy with. The simple implication behind that phrase is what made my knees practically give out, what melted my insides to hopeless mush. The fact that he thought I was perfect.
I smiled back genuinely, and looked down at our connected hands, not able to control myself anymore. And I did something then—so foreign, so hard to accept that I actually was doing it—that I nearly broke down and wept like a stupid little girl.
I, Jade West, blushed.
Yeah, I know, it's not really much of a significant milestone, but it was for me. I'd never had anyone be able to penetrate all my guarded layers so deeply and nearly irreparably that I was so unbelievably vulnerable. But Beck wasn't the kind of person who would ever take advantage of that. After just 2 days of knowing him personally, there was just something about him. I couldn't put my finger on what I liked about him so much. Normally, if this were anyone else, their undying devotion and unwavering kindness would sicken me and cause me to lash out against them just to stop its overwhelming foolishness. But this wasn't any other person. This was the first person in my life to care about me as an equal person, maybe even more. Not a bully, not the all-powerful 'ice queen', as I'd heard one of his little posse members call me one day. Just me. Jade West.
With the intense, unfamiliar hotness heating my face like an oven, the effect it had on me was something neither of us expected: I let two single teardrops roll down each cheek.
Those gentle, caring eyes of his immediately witnessed this rare event. But instead of immediately bringing me into a comforting, safe embrace like I knew he wanted to, he distanced the space in between us by just the smallest inch, but enough that he could reach up a thumb from our intertwined hands and wipe each delicate drop of salty water from my face. A curtain of hair separated his sight from me just enough so I could quickly compose myself under its temporary protection. But before I could take that one deep, quick, steadying breath of finality that usually helped me back to my guarded self, Beck moved his thumbs from stroking my face to under my chin, and pulled it up gently but strongly to meet his. Not able or willing to struggle out of his compelling face, I felt my bottom lip quiver just ever so slightly. Though I didn't think it was possible, he somehow saw it, and finally pulled me into that protective, reassuring embrace he had so ready all the time.
Instead of just standing there and taking it like a statue like I did the first time, I leaned gratefully into the hug, pulling myself against him, wishing that I could blend myself into his never-ending aura of care.
This time he was the one to pull away first, and I knew he could plainly see the hurt on my face. He took my hand and, tugging it gently, asked, "So, aren't you gonna show me around?"
Smiling, I replied, "Sure." Turning around and pointing out things as I pulled him towards the middle of the 'dead-ow', I joked, "Okay. So there is a burned tree, over there is where a bird's nest was, I think, that's the sky, that's the sun, and all around you are bleeding roses."
His face turned confused and inquisitive. "'Bleeding roses'?" he asked.
Plopping down on the crunchy, fragile grass, I reached over for the bags of root beer and food and cracked open a bottle. I took a big gulp. "Yeah. Or, at least, that's what I call them. Y'know, cuz it looks like they're bleeding…" My voice trailed off as I realized how creepy that turned out sounding. It sounded perfectly fine, normal even, in my head. Then again, I had been coming here since I was little and named them myself. Of course they sounded normal to me. They must have sounded dark to anyone else. Suddenly I was uncomfortably self-conscious.
But instead of looking at me like I was a total freak, he swiftly plucked one and stuck the interesting flower in my hair. Brushing a nearby strand of pale pink back, he whispered, "Beautiful." I couldn't help thinking he meant the flower.
After several minutes of mindless munching, sipping, and silent admiration of this place's lost beauty, Beck finally asked what I could tell was eating away at his brain.
"So, why are we here?" His voice was quiet and cautious.
I stopped chewing immediately and looked down, thinking over my answer. I already knew why, but I wasn't sure how to open up to anyone verbally. I suppose several coerced trips to the guidance counselor's office should've prepared me for something like this; then again, they were never very successful in getting me to talk, either.
I started with Beck's main argument in his childish devotion. "You said you wanted to get to know me, right?" He just nodded, listening carefully.
And so I began. "There are probably so many questions you have about me, many that you've already addressed. Why I'm always so angry and on edge, why I push everyone away. Why we're here." I gave a hard laugh at the last question, memories pushing their way to the front of my mind. But I quieted them until I was ready for them.
"It all starts with when I was a little girl. Pigtails and frilly, bright dresses. If you can imagine that." Another harsh chuckle from me, while Beck remained silent and breathing in every word. "My father. No, I guess you could say my father started it all. He was who I looked up to. He was my favorite person in the world."
I got lost within myself, barely remembering that I was sitting in the middle of a meadow with Beck. Instead, I was a small child again, a bright yellow, polka-dotted dress billowing out around me, hair in curly pigtails tied back with ribbons. My mother was hopelessly in love, young, and juvenile. My father was the same, but more responsible and down-to-earth. But despite his firmness with the very real responsibilities he had to fulfill in life as opposed to the happy, perfect world my mother and I created for him, we did everything together. He took me to his job at the auto-body shop, showed me how to fix up cars, what kinds of cars there were and how they were built. We watched TV together. We played games together. He took me out for ice cream and a walk downtown every day.
"And he took me here," I said, barely realizing I was still narrating a story to Beck. "While everywhere else was very public and buzzing, this was our place. Back then, this place was lush and green and full of life, just like it should be. Just like it was." I sighed, reveling in the memory of how it used to be as I clenched a fist around a patch of crunchy, grayish grass. I watch as it crumbles practically to dust in my grasp.
"This was our place," I repeated, momentarily losing my train of thought. "He took me here every day, and we'd make up and play games, sometimes just lie in the grass and watch the clouds roll by or try to spot some animals.
"It was three days before my 7th birthday. Mom and Dad got into the worst possible fight my innocent mind could believe. It was at night, so I was supposed to be asleep. But I had stayed awake all night, unable to shake the sounds of their yelling from my brain. And then I heard my door creak open," I continued, my voice almost a whisper. Turns out this opening-up thing was easier than I thought.
"Not wanting to anger either of them further, I pretended to be sleeping like a good girl. I heard my father set some heavy things on the floor, and then he crossed over to my bed. I remained perfectly still and quiet. I was terrified, not able to think about what was happening. He planted a stubbly kiss on my forehead, and whispered in his husky voice, 'Goodbye, princess'."
I had one arm wrapped around myself, my knees up to my chest, my chin resting on them. But I never removed my right hand from Beck's. Hot tears were burning in my eyes, but I refused to let them spill over.
"I never saw him again. I don't even know where he is today. But needless to say, after that, everything spiraled downward. My mother went into a state between depression and shock, just sitting in bed every day of her life, heartbroken, ordering takeout and installing a mini-fridge next to her bed stocked with snacks and drinks. I was left alone, to fend for myself. I learned never to let anyone inside, because all they'd do is hurt you."
Beck's hand squeezed mine reassuringly. I knew he wanted to say something, but he didn't dare interrupt me, knowing he'd never get a chance like this again.
Coming back to reality, I looked Beck straight in the eyes as I finished my elongated anecdote. "You want to know why I hate the world? Because everything reminds me of him. The cheerfulness on everyone's faces, reminding me how happy he made me. The vanilla blondes and chocolate brunettes in our school remind me of the ice creams he bought me every other day. Everything, Beck. Everything. Have you noticed how I like to pick on guys the most? Because it gives me a sense of revenge, like I'm getting back at him. For leaving me alone. For ruining everything."
I felt those burning tears on the brink, and unwillingly let one fall. But one was all I would allow. Beck caught it, and tugged me fiercely into the most comforting embrace of all the ones he's given me. He sat me on his lap like I was a small child again, and buried my face in his chest, listening to his heart beat as he kept an iron grip on me, stroking my hair. I bit my bottom lip so hard it should've bled, just to satisfy my pride and keep myself from sobbing.
Still not letting go of me, his body shielded me protectively from anything that dared to harm me, physically or mentally.
With all the passion from every fiber of his being, he said, "I will never hurt you."
