Sketches of New England

The real story based on the fanfiction

I have obviously mentioned, for those who remember, that this story is based upon my own. This is a little hard for me to write, so bare with me. What I am about to tell you is the truth, no make-up stuff we writers create- this is real.

The whole thing started when I was 15, the summer of 2004. It was the beginning of my summer holiday, just like this one, but only two years ago. Like any other teen at the time, I was heavily influenced in MSN Messanger. I would stay up to god-forsaken hours just talking- and of course, writing my fan fictions. My best friend at the time was talking to her boyfriend on her msn, and I was talking to her non-stop. Wanting some privacy, she created a three way conversation with a friend of hers I didn't know. She mentioned that we were both talking about the same thing, writing, and that she said to talk together. Soon as the three-way conversation started, she left it, leaving this new person and me alone to talk.

Once I learned his name, and a little about him.. I told myself something I will never forget. I even said it out loud, close to midnight: "I'm going to fall in love with him." I may have said this because I have had an internet relationship before, or the fact I knew he lived really close to me. All I know now is that I was right.

I did, I fell in love with him, slowly, as the summer days passed. I noticed, two weeks into knowing him, that he seemed to hold back in our conversations, not say things a lot or almost nothing at all- always me being the chatter box. So, one night, I asked him, why he was so quiet. I can not remember his reply, but only my next words: "You can talk to me, I'll listen, and I won't hurt you. I'm here."

Since that day he became so open, no normal, so out of this world. It was a little past half the summer holiday, when he told me something that made all the clues come together. I will not repeat what he told me, but I will say the most of it, since it's really personal. He had a really terrible secret, something that happened to him when he was 8 years old- something that changed him forever. He said he was still disturbed by it, but he said he had worse times. Then he went on.

He spoke of how he was like a bully, always physically had no expression, and had haunting nightmares that left him upset in the morning. That during his childhood he had become so lonesome, depressed.. suicidal.. that he was close to committing suicide. He spoke of one day how he almost had killed himself, but told himself to stop, to wait, that life would get better. A week later, he had met me online. He thanked me, for saving him, that he owed his life to me.. all because I was there, ready to love him for who he was. By this time, I was in tears, bawling my eyes out as I read every word of his teal font. He said since then, he's never been so happy, so loved and well thought of. Of course, I'm sure you can imagine what he said next.

He asked me to be his girlfriend.

There, sitting in my desk chair, I stood astounded- sure I knew he would maybe ask, and my best friend at the time always asked when he would.. so being the girl that I was, just sat there for a minute, giving him the impression I would not accept (common, girls, I know that we all have done this- to just feel needed). Once I thought he had enough waiting, I agreed. Not even seconds later, I had told everyone I knew online, I was finally his.

The months past, I had still not met him since he lived about 6 hours away from me, and soon December came. Our relationship became really strong, so much that no matter how deep our feelings and relationship was, and I wasn't scared in the least. We often talked about perhaps meeting during Winter break, even a day if it was all we got. My parents knew of my relationship, and supported it, though we lived so far apart. To my utter astonishment, and still to this day, I am shocked to say that my mother (my mom!), told me that he should come down and spent a week at my home. Within seconds, I told him, and to both of our luck, his parents agreed as well. Because my aunt and uncle live in a city between my town and his, we decided for him to meet us there (on Boxing Day) and then go to my house that night.

I can perfectly remember the day I met him. I recall looking out the window on the first floor, waiting to see his parent's vehicle pull up. When it got passed a few minutes, since when he was assumed to arrive, my aunt's phone rang. It was him, saying that his father needed more instructions to get to my aunt's house- and so I handed the phone to my step-father. Within minutes, a white truck had pulled up in front of the house, and slowly the four doors opened. The first person I saw, was him, walking out of the truck in his black trench coat. He was what I had always pictured, unique, stunning, amazing.. and so damn hot. To say I was nervous, was the least- but then It rose from 80 percent to about a million. Everyone in the house had left the living room, saying that I should answer the door alone while they pretended to be busy.

I shrieked 'mutiny' and 'bloody hell' all the way down the stairs, towards the dreaded door. To sum it up, my aunts dogs attacked the door, so I didn't have to look at them as they came inside. I dragged the dogs into the living room (secretly thanking them), and then turned around to face the family of three. His mother, father, and sister, his other two younger siblings at home. But wait, where was he? Oh, he was already up the stairs, up close and personal. He was talking so much, that I was still in shock from everything that I could even look at him. Basically, I avoided him so much, until we were all downstairs, listening to music and just all comfortably talking. My mother, being the business/gardener/mother she is, was talking up a storm with his mother and my step-father with his father. So his sister was talking with me, while watching the Koi fish in the huge tank, and he sat beside me in a chair just looking at me. I am laughing as I write this, but I remember being so nervous that I was shaking and still not looking at him- though I did look from the corner of my eyes when he wasn't aware. He touched my leg for a second, and the ashtray on the table my foot was by, was on the floor within seconds. I apologized and almost ran up the stairs to get the broom, and once I had found out I turned around- to only face him. I nearly had a heart attack, and with the noise in my ears, I never heard what he was saying to me.

This moment was worse than any report card, or school play I had been in. Once down the stairs and in front of the door to the basement, he stopped me. He stood in front of the door, looking down at me from his 5'6 frame while I stood 5'4. All I remember is him telling me to look at him. I didn't really look at him, more like his eyes.. just drowning myself in them. He had moved forward, in a way so, that I thought he was going to kiss me. Instinctively, I closed my eyes, and once I felt nothing, opened them again. He stood before me, with a smirk on his face- I must have looked really ridiculous or something.. So I pushed him aside in-the-moment-frustration and back into the basement to clean up the mess. An hour later, his parents said their farewells and left, leaving him and I with my relatives. During out farewells we had been sitting on the living room couch, and his mother sat beside us in a chair. Despite not even kissing him, he literally had his hands down my pants. I was so embarrassed, knowing that his dirty arm was positioned behind my back (appearing like he had his arm wrapped around my waist- I was also wearing a big sweater) and his hands was sliding into my jeans from the back, and his fingers crawling towards my front. I mean, I still don't know, but it's like no one even noticed (I probably would've never noticed if I wasn't the one being 'raped'). It of course stopped when I gripped his hand tightly, and continued to squeeze until he stopped- he also whispered that I was 'being mean'. What a retard. After everyone had left or was in other rooms of the house, I slapped his hand away and had a quick nap in the guest bedroom (with him lying beside me). We had gone to a huge grocery store, my parents, him and I, and while my parents were packing up the groceries in the back of the car- I had my first kiss. I mean, it was my first kiss I remember, because my first one was given away to a young boy when I was in preschool- laugh here.

Three days later, I completely gave myself to him- if you know what I mean. Lots of girls want their first time to be amazing, really romantic, with someone they love, or even on their wedding night. Me? Well, I was just a girl, terribly in love with a boy, who I cared for with my soul. It was special enough, even without the rose petals, candles, and silk sheets- It was with him, the person I really loved. Do I regret my choice, of giving my virginity to him? No, never. Do I regret losing it at such a young age? No- I mean, I never felt that it was wrong- we used protection and talked to each other before our decision. My birthday was only 5 days away, and with that in mind, at the time, I felt like an adult. Of course, my parents never found out until I was almost 16- and they still don't know I gave my self to him when I first met him.

I know it may seem wrong, but I would have rather given my self to him, than to some random boy I could've met at a high school party- let alone anyone else. I loved him, and he was the one I was meant to lose it to.

Months passed, we visited each other every weekend possible- every holiday. Yet the heart ache began, despite how much I fought to keep our relationship alive- he needed to see me every day, and the ache had become so unbearable. Almost a year into our relationship, he broke up with me one late night. I cried until my eyes were red, until I dropped the phone, screaming that I hated him, that I was going to hang up and kill myself.

That was how much I loved him, how deep our terrible teenage love had gotten.

The phone rang seconds after I hung up, and I babbled as he cried, saying to not do anything- explaining why we had to stop. He promised me though, that once he finished high school, he'd come back to get me, to start over again. The pain that we both suffered, all the minutes, hours, days, weeks.. years, that I cried in torment.. will never be enough for him.

Though our relationship ended, I would beg for him to visit, so we could talk things over. All those visits ended in tears, rough kisses, and loveless sex. I showered hours at a time, scrubbing every inch of my skin, wishing that I could wash away my sins and his touch. I remember bleeding because I scratched myself in the shower, and crying as the hot water burned my flesh. I even remember picking up every moment of him in my room, shoving it into a box and writing on it: "August 25th 2007- he'll save me"

Over the months over last year, we stopped talking completely- until he called me the night of my friends Halloween party. I was getting ready when the phone rang, and I put it on speaker phone so I could continue on. It was him, he was playing guitar on the phone, like always. He talked to me in soft words, about how he was sorry for not calling, about this new girl called Brittany (whom I loathe with a thousand burning suns), and how in the begging she made him happy- until those days faded away into suicidal thoughts. He spoke of how she became so obsessed with him, always checking his mail, taking over his personal life- and of course, hating me. I told him to let her go, I tried to explain how she was ruining him, and that.. if he still cared, to call me in two days. Little did I know, after I hung up the phone, which would be the last time I would ever talk to him.

That night, one of my guy friends in my group of friends, asked me to the school dance. I agreed, and hugged him as I stood in my high heels. The dance came, and as the music played softly and I danced with my date.. I almost started to cry.

I remembered standing in front of my mother's mirror, on New Years night, with 'him'. It was the first time I met him, and even though the adults and my friends were in the living room having a good time- he found the time to drag me away into my parents room, turn on the television, and dance to a slow song on the music channel. I remember looking into my mother's dresser mirror, dancing the song 'Humdrum', looking at myself as I held him. At the dance, every time my date spun me slowly around, I pictured the bright lights as the mirror in my mother's room- and my reflection, my sad reflection as I remembered that New Years night. Sadly, that's when I realized everything was wrong. As my date held me tighter, I almost felt like crying. I compared his warm strong touch to my dates, which was strained and cold. How he held his arms perfectly around my waist, while my date's just was held there like a picture frame.. And most of all, how happy my reflection looked on New Years, compared to my cold expression in the dance lights.

That's how I realized, now matter how many times I would hate him, have my body used by him, and how many tears I cried.. that I would always love him, through thick and thin. The night passed and soon did the week. He never did call, that Thursday night. He never called again. I talked to his sister over the months, though our conversations weren't what they used to be like. January 2007 came, and the most horrific thing happened.. I hadn't cried that much since he left me.. My puppy died, she had multiple heart attacks in our trip home from my relatives. She had become paralyzed completely, and my friend hugged me as I watched my dog struggle to stand up. I cried for days, I missed work and school.. Finally after 3 days, my puppy finally gave up, and went peacefully. I still wished my parents would've put her down, instead of keeping her painfully alive until she passed. Though I'm glad they didn't- she wasn't ready to leave just quite yet.

I emailed his sister a lot, begging her to tell her brother to call me. Finally after a month later, he finally did. I was loud, upset and rude.. I spoke of how he never was there when my puppy passed away, or the days I truly needed him. I was upset, alone, and heart broken.. Our conversation didn't last long, and the only thing I remember, is him saying he may come here- to my town, to live here after graduation.

I can't remember any of our conversations before that, or any emails he may of sent. All I remember is his promise to come back this summer, and if he is or not indeed coming back or even if he'll come to live here. It took me almost three years to get over him, and yet every time I write this story, it hurt's to remember and find things to add to each chapter. I do not know if he will ever come back, and no matter how many times he had previously asked me- I cannot go from loving him with my whole being, to just being a friend.. I'd rather forget him.

So, my current situation is his promise. It is now September.. I talked to him a few days back, one random day. He emailed me.. and I was so frustrated and angry.. I laid my heart out on the table. I told him I had enough of waiting that I wasn't going to hold back my smiles or my heart; that I was through with him, and never wanted to see him again. I do realize how harsh I spoke then, and I even apologized for it.. but I never apologized for my rash words. He did after all, leave me first.. no matter how strong of a grip I had. I then told him goodbye, and in that instant, a huge weight fell from my shoulders. That little piece of my heart, I had given him, was finally back and mine once more.

He was my second love, my real physical love, he made me experience things I never had.. maybe that's why I held on so long. All I know, it that I dedicate this story to him, Jon, because even though I don't love him now.. I really did back then. He was my first love story.

And I thank him for loving me.

-

In a few days, I will post the ending of S.O.N.E., and trust me, it's pack-filled with action, fights, secrets revealing, and a hard-core romance- This is the ending I wish I had. It's also 30 pages long so far.