A/N: Yes, I'm writing again. I'm proud, it's only been eleven days. Man, I'm horrible. You know, I used to update once a day. That was on my other account, with another story, but still… Yeah. I'm leaving for camp Sunday, so I can't promise any updates after this until after the 19th. Sorry!!
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That morning, around four o'clock Shannyn staggered into her room almost like a drunk person. Bandaging her wrists with the scraps she had used before she walked towards her mirror. She gazed at the reflection staring back at her. A delicate looking girl with disheveled long raven colored locks tumbled down her back. Piercing green eyes stared back at her, asking, How could such a normal looking girl have so many hidden emotions? So much angst and pain?
But she wasn't normal. Even Shannyn knew enough to know that.
~*~*~*~
"Shannyn? Shannyn?" Mush ran through the streets, searching for the girl he'd only just met a few days before. "Oh, damn, what 'ave I done?" he shouted loudly, but he was only talking to himself.
Multiple people passed by, giving him curious looks as he ran up to them, describing Shannyn and asking if they'd seen her. He'd tried all of the Lower East Side, combing all the alleys and searching the streets. Before trying out any of the many New York City boroughs, he headed back to her boarding house one last time.
"Is Shannyn heah?" Mush begged of the woman at the front desk. She nodded before dismissing him. Obviously she didn't want to associate with street trash like him, despite her being only two rungs or so above him on the social ladder.
Banging on her bedroom door he shouted her name. "Shannyn!" he said loudly, trying to make the girl let him in.
"Go the hell away!" she shouted back.
Mush wouldn't take no for an answer. Quickly, he ran to the front desk and without even asking stole the key to her bedroom, opening it.
"Didn't I tell you to get the hell away?" she screamed at him, tossing makeshift bandage she had created earlier in the day.
"What's dis?" he asked, staring at the blood on the white cloth. "Ya did it again? Shannyn, are ya stupid? How can ya keep doin' dis ta yahself? I thought you's said you's was okay when I met ya."
"What the hell are you yelling at me for? What'd I do to hurt you?" Shannyn yelled back in defense.
"Ya hoit me when ya hoit yahself, Shannyn! I care 'bout ya; you mean da woild ta me. How can I not care when you's doin' t'ings like dis ta yahself? You's gonna die one time, Shannyn. Ya won' always be dis lucky."
"Only you would say living was lucky!" she shouted back, thrashing her arm out and knocking the candle she'd bought to the floor. "You think you care about me? You think my death would hurt you? Did you have to witness your own spouse's fucking death? Do you have any fucking clue what that felt like? No!" Tears were now streaming down her face as she collapsed onto her bed, her tiny frame shaking with heavy sobs.
"Shannyn," Mush said, sitting beside her. He placed his arm tentatively on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
"I'm sorry, Chris, I'm so sorry," she managed to say between tears.
Mush grabbed her chin and pushed her head up until her tear filled eyes locked with his own. "I's da one who should be 'pologizin'. I was an ass to ya earlier, an' I don' know what came ovah me."
Shannyn opened her mouth to speak again but, unable to find any words, she simply reached her arms around Mush's neck and hugged him. She breathed deep, drawing in strength from the strong boy's arms.
Removing his callused hands from around her, he ran his rough fingers across her face drying her tears. Without thinking his brought his lips towards hers.
"No, Mush, no," she said, pulling away.
Confused, he asked, "Then why didja let me do dis befoah?"
"I was drunk last time. This is different. I'm sober, and I realize what I'm doing."
"Are yah too good foah me? Is dat it?" he asked, getting defensive. Chris Meyers was not exactly used to being turned down for a kiss. Or anything else for that matter.
"Mush, you're a great boy, and I really like yah. That's not what this is about. Chris, I can't do this. It's just not right."
Mush was still confused. The naïve natured he'd had as a child had carried over into his early adulthood. "How isn't dis right? I like ya, Shannyn, an' you's like me? What's left ta be right?"
"I promised my undying love to another, Chris. He may be in heaven, but I can't desert that promise. Making out with boys I barely know is a disgrace to his name, and I can't do that. I like you, you're a great person." She paused and took in a breath, removing her eyes from his entrancing gaze. "But liking someone ain't enough. I don't love you, Mush. I'm sorry, I just can't."
"I undahstand," he said, even though his tone made it clear that he didn't really. Without another word he walked out of the room, his head hanging low with sadness.
"Chris!" she shouted after him, but it was no use. The lonely boy walked straight into the street, his shirt clinging to his skin as the rain poured down on his, mixing with his own tears.
"Screw it," Shannyn whispered softly to herself before the crying began again.
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A/N: All right, so it's shorter than I wanted it to be. But this is a good ending spot. In fact, I think I'll start another chapter right now so that I get some stuff in before camp. But yeah, on to the shoutouts..
Shoutouts:
Frenchy- Hehe. You used my word! Wanker! Which is almost as good as bollocks . . . but if you ever go to England I wouldn't recommend using those words. Seriously. Big mistake! Heh. Not that I would know . . .
Ember- Hehe. Praise is special. Glad you like my story! Makes me happy. Makes me feel special!! I like to feel special. OMG I feel so high. And I'm like writing about a depressed person. There's something wrong with me. Seriously. LOL.
Cici- Hehe. I actually don't know why I said that, except I didn't want to break the pattern of my shoutout's for this chapter. Anyway . . . * does the new reviewer dance * * knocks over chair * * frenchy was coincidentally sitting in the chair * Oops. Heh. Anyway, glad you like. Yeah, depression is bad. I had to battle it all through sixth grade, and I still have relapses sometimes.
IMPORTANT NOTE: I realize I should have posted this earlier, but I've been thinking a lot about it after talking to certain friends of mine about stuff. I just want to say that if you suffer depression or you think about cutting or actually do cut or do other acts of self-mutilation then you need to get help. I battled depression all throughout my sixth grade year, but I never got help. Sometimes even after a lot of time I go through relapses, and I know I'm not quite the same person I used to be. I never cut, namely because I was too afraid my parents would find out and force me to go to some sort of shrink. But now I think it would have definitely been better in the long run to have gotten help. So please, if you are depressed or suicidal, please GET HELP. You don't want to do something you'll regret.
