Time & Distance
Rating: PG13 for suicidal themes
Disclaimer: Everything's borrowed from Josh, I don't think he minds.
Feedback: Very much appreciated. If you have additional questions or comments, please email me at GabrielaJames mail.com
Summary: "Time and distance can't keep us apart. No matter where you are, I know I'll find you." Summer's gone, but two intertwined souls destined to be together will find each other, no matter how long it takes or how far they have to go.
A/N: Does Aida ring a bell? I went to see it on Broadway a few months back, and was thinking about the last scene in the tomb, and then at the museum. If you haven't seen it…I don't want to give it away, but for those of you who have, you'll know what I'm talking about. (Only a slight similarity will appear, though)
Seth's words chilled Summer's bones and sent a trail of goose bumps down her back.
Time and distance can't keep us apart.
No matter where you are, I know I'll find you.
A tear, followed closely by another, spilled onto the letter, big, angry splotches of Summer's.
She hadn't even had a proper goodbye.
A note? Was her life, her effect on Seth's life, really that insignificant that he couldn't be bothered with more than a letter?
Summer was worthless.
Her father was away again on yet another business trip, and her step mom was in L.A. at a Kabbala center. Apparently, she'd met Madonna in rehab, and the Material Girl had invited her to a Kabbala session. And Summer's step mom had become addicted to the mystical teachings. Yeah, okay.
Neither of them cared about Summer.
Her father said he loved her, but did he ever call to check up on her, see how she was doing? Did he ever buy her a gift, instead of giving her a credit card? Had he ever been home for more than a week at a time?
Summer wasn't sure that her step mom even knew her name.
Marissa had enough problems as it was.
Best friends in name, but not really. Summer knew that they'd grown apart. It had been more of a growing up, and a we-let-boys-take-over-our-lives sort of thing.
And Seth…the one person Summer thought she could count on, he'd left. And with just a note to explain his sudden absence from her life. He'd been Summer's last hope. If he didn't care…then it was true.
Summer was worthless.
She cried freely, blindly stumbling into the bathroom.
She was sure of this, she could do it. It wouldn't matter to anyone, anyway.
Summer reached under the box of Q-Tips and didn't even wince when the sharp blade pricked her skin.
All of the other times, it had hurt. Badly.
This time, Summer would be numb to the pain.
She closed the door to her girly pink bathroom, although nobody was home. She had no one.
No one to hear her cries.
No one to comfort her, to tell her that she did matter.
No one to see her slip away.
Summer slid the folded note under the door, praying that someone, anyone, would notice the stench after a few weeks and search her room.
They'd be shocked.
Disappointed.
Ashamed that they hadn't seen the warning signs, that they'd ignored a daughter, a friend's pleas for help.
They could all burn in hell, as far as Summer was concerned.
The blade was cool against her flushed skin. It was only a matter of time.
Seth would be crushed, of course. Maybe he'd be inspired to do the same.
He deserved to be hurt. Summer wanted to stamp his cruel existence out. But of course, she couldn't, for her life would be gone long before she had the chance to destroy him.
In one swift motion, Summer slit the wrist of the girl she'd once loved to be.
She'd always loved the color red. Seeing it drip down her arm, drops splattering the floor.
Flashback
"So you're not upset?" Marissa asked for the fourth time.
Summer twirled the phone cord around her finger. "No," she promised. "Ben's all yours."
"Really?"
"Really. I'm fine with it," Summer assured her best friend.
Ben Fader had broken up with Summer that very day.
She couldn't believe that he'd had the nerve to ask Marissa--her best friend--out, on the very same day.
She couldn't believe that Marissa had said yes.
Some best friend she was.
Summer had a new best friend. She'd stumbled across a website that had pictures, videos, and instructions. Some of the people on the message board gave out advice, such as which brand was better--Gillette or Schick, and so on.
"I have to go, dinner's ready," Marissa said. "You're the best, Summer."
Summer shut her door and locked it. Her father and stepmother weren't home, but the help sometimes came into her room unannounced and uninvited.
She decided she'd ask her father to get her room re-done. The pink was nauseating, with its girlish innocence. Summer was no longer naïve and not quite so innocent.
Red was better. It was bold, brash, and brave. Three things Summer pretended to be, but really wasn't.
Red was the color of blood.
Summer crept into her bathroom--also pink. Already her head was spinning; she hadn't even picked up the tool that took all other pain away.
Summer preferred Gillette herself, the Mach 3 Turbo. Three sharpened blades just waiting to be put to use.
The Venus was too girly. Just like her room, and just like her life. Summer had always felt a preference towards men's grooming apparatus; they weren't sugar-coated, and didn't come in 10 different colors. The Mach 3 got the job done, even if it wasn't pretty.
Summer's life wasn't pretty, not underneath. It was ugly and full of despair. She lived in a shell. The only time she could break out of that shell was when she was reminded of what her life really was.
Empty.
There was no meaning to it. She'd etched the words into her skin, hoping it would make them less true, but all they did was burn with a red flame that drained Summer.
Summer let her pants drop to the floor, then her pink and yellow striped panties. She didn't want to have to explain the blood on them to Juanita, the housekeeper, again. Last week she'd placed the blame upon her period. But it wouldn't work again this week. Summer couldn't take any chances.
Razor in hand, Summer carved a new name into her tan flesh.
Ben Fader
Her satisfaction increased as she went over each letter, the blood gathering just below the surface of her skin, ready to break through the wall of thin tissue. One more time and she'd set the blood free, and with it, hopefully, her misery and feeling.
All feeling lost in her leg, Summer began to feel weak, and slowly sat down on the closet toilet seat, shuddering at the cold porcelain surface.
She sobbed softly until she bled dry.
End Flashback
Swimming in a sea of red, Summer gave the knife one final job, then slowly slid down the pale pink wall.
She pulled down her pants, and with them, the lacy red underwear she'd purposely worn. They gathered around her ankles; she had no strength to remove them further.
Seeing the name etched into her skin, Summer managed a smile.
Seth Cohen
He'd done this to her. He'd pushed her over the edge.
She'd find him again, and make him love her.
Summer found it easier to stay awake when she closed her eyes.
A fat tear trickled off of Summer's face, merging with the pool of blood surrounding her.
She'd always liked red.
Summer bled dry, merely a stain on her cold bathroom floor.