This fic is based on one person from the show and her best friend and
roommate, although not as much because it is told in first person.
I will introduce a lot of characters I created, as well as many from GH so
watch out for those. I may be posting a list of characters later just to
help people out. The two main characters in the story are Courtney
Matthews and Emily Morgan. The story, despite what the prologue may have
you thinking, isn't too dark. It may, however be darker than some.
I appreciate feedback! Thanks for reading...let me know what you think.
Prologue
It has always been difficult to see past the worst. Even when there are faint glimmers of light past all of the darkness that surrounds me, something always tears apart that hope. Despite all my best efforts, I could never focus on the good things. It is how I have always been.
Blocking my heart always appeared to be the safest route that I could take. The farther I pushed people away, the less emotion I felt. In fact, the only emotion that I ever noticed was loneliness. Of course that was one of the easiest emotions to abolish, leaving it to be the one of easiest emotions to overcome, or more truthfully put, grow accustomed to. I can remember the exact time and place when I realized that being unattached was the safest course. I was a freshman in college, living on campus in a fairly nice dorm, with a very nice roommate. The second semester had just begun, and my roommate and I had just returned from our winter breaks. That night I got a call from my sister. She was in tears, and her words were muffled by her sobs of pain. My mother was gone. Not dead gone, she was far from that, but from then on, to my family, she was. My dad had walked in on her having sex with her boss. As I sat there listening to my baby sister try and choke out the words, I could almost feel a gate form around my heart. I felt nothing from this news. I felt no grief, no anger, and no strife. I felt absolutely nothing. And it was the most relieving feeling I had ever experienced. It took me years after that to let myself have anyone in my life.
My mother moved out the next day. Apparently my father had been all to upset to attempt to reconcile, and had made a quick decision towards divorce. I received another phone call the next day from my sister. I couldn't help but wonder if she had even stopped crying since we hung up only 17 hours before. But I, of course, did all I could to comfort her because that was my role in the family. I was the counselor. Through all my years living at home, I felt forced into smiling. To appear as if I were the happiest kid there was. I was never happy, though, and never satisfied. It wasn't really because I had something to be upset over, but after I discovered that my mother was never who she claimed, I felt like somehow I must have been different as well. I had found out things about my mother when I was nearly eight. After that, every minor, upsetting detail was devastating for me. But of course, no one could know that. So, I plastered on my grin every morning and giggled and laughed with all the other kids. Everyone reminded me and my parents what a delightful child I was. I remember feeling proud of myself for deceiving everyone, and thinking how nice it would be to deceive myself if only for a short time. And for a short time, I almost did. I can't say that I regret anything that happened in that short few years, nor can I say that I celebrate anything. I can just say that everything happened.
Prologue
It has always been difficult to see past the worst. Even when there are faint glimmers of light past all of the darkness that surrounds me, something always tears apart that hope. Despite all my best efforts, I could never focus on the good things. It is how I have always been.
Blocking my heart always appeared to be the safest route that I could take. The farther I pushed people away, the less emotion I felt. In fact, the only emotion that I ever noticed was loneliness. Of course that was one of the easiest emotions to abolish, leaving it to be the one of easiest emotions to overcome, or more truthfully put, grow accustomed to. I can remember the exact time and place when I realized that being unattached was the safest course. I was a freshman in college, living on campus in a fairly nice dorm, with a very nice roommate. The second semester had just begun, and my roommate and I had just returned from our winter breaks. That night I got a call from my sister. She was in tears, and her words were muffled by her sobs of pain. My mother was gone. Not dead gone, she was far from that, but from then on, to my family, she was. My dad had walked in on her having sex with her boss. As I sat there listening to my baby sister try and choke out the words, I could almost feel a gate form around my heart. I felt nothing from this news. I felt no grief, no anger, and no strife. I felt absolutely nothing. And it was the most relieving feeling I had ever experienced. It took me years after that to let myself have anyone in my life.
My mother moved out the next day. Apparently my father had been all to upset to attempt to reconcile, and had made a quick decision towards divorce. I received another phone call the next day from my sister. I couldn't help but wonder if she had even stopped crying since we hung up only 17 hours before. But I, of course, did all I could to comfort her because that was my role in the family. I was the counselor. Through all my years living at home, I felt forced into smiling. To appear as if I were the happiest kid there was. I was never happy, though, and never satisfied. It wasn't really because I had something to be upset over, but after I discovered that my mother was never who she claimed, I felt like somehow I must have been different as well. I had found out things about my mother when I was nearly eight. After that, every minor, upsetting detail was devastating for me. But of course, no one could know that. So, I plastered on my grin every morning and giggled and laughed with all the other kids. Everyone reminded me and my parents what a delightful child I was. I remember feeling proud of myself for deceiving everyone, and thinking how nice it would be to deceive myself if only for a short time. And for a short time, I almost did. I can't say that I regret anything that happened in that short few years, nor can I say that I celebrate anything. I can just say that everything happened.