back at square one
Chapter 2
Peyton Sawyer sat on the edge of her long bed. Ever since the psycho Derek she had to have all the walls of her bedroom painted bright red, regardless of whether she spent those nights alone or not. Somehow she had this reasoning that the fear, passion and emotion she felt radiating from the walls would scare all the nightmares away. So far it had worked, except... the nightmares in herself.
Enter freaky-alter-angel-of-death-ego.
'So, we're back where we started aren't we Sawyer,' the white and black streaked leggy gothic wannabe seated on her chair taunted, brushing her teeth. 'Oooh... Lucas and Peyton, Lucas and Peyton, Lucas and Peyton, oh wait! He's still not with you.'
Peyton looked over and rolled her eyes. Long ago she'd given up ignoring her or screaming against the existence of the inner consciousness. Her inner consciousness existed – any boy was she a character.
'So I guess you need a new tagline,' she spat out her toothpaste. 'Oooh wait I've got it – people always come back... too late! You geddit?'
'Shut up,' Peyton said pulling out a drawing pad and pencil.
'I don't know why you bother, you haven't drawn anything for 4 years and let's see, 9 months?' her alter ego shot her a beaming smile.
Peyton shot her back a withering look. She scratched down a few pencil lines before tearing off the page and crumpling it aside. She tried again – and crumpled. And again. And again.
'See, I told ya?' she winked. 'Remember I'm you – I'm in your head!' She threw back her white and black streaked head and laughed a hysterical laugh. 'Only I'm much much more honest.'
Peyton breathed heavily and frustratedly. She looked around at her blank red walls. She'd always felt she shouldn't have got rid of all her artwork. But it had been so hard – everything had reminded her of him. People always leave, and now we can't have it, even ellie's stuff. He'd been there, injecting his presence into her inspirations, filtering her paper with his fingers, filtering her fingers with his touch.
'Yeah I know,' said her 'honest self'. 'Life's a pain. Which reminds me of why I'm glad I don't really exist. Anyway – what'd you say to him?'
'Get out.' Peyton opened the door, her hand shaking.
'Peyton, I need to know, I have a right to know... he's mine isn't he, ours... from that day...' Lucas gripped her hand firmly.
'Let go of me,' she said gritting her teeth. Lucas dropped her hand, he looked shocked – hurt even.
'Peyton... I just, I just want to know. If he's mine...' he said.
'He's not.' she interrupted.
She looked up into his blue eyes – those very same blue eyes that had saved her so many times, knowing that now she was letting go of the possibility of him ever saving her again. But she had to, for everyone's sake. In those eyes she saw what she had seen the night Brooke broke up with him, the night he lost Keith, the night she had walked out of his room, scared to say goodbye. Hurt. Hurt that she had caused, she and she alone. And the recognition of that fact was eating her up inside.
'He's not Lucas.'
She looked up at the blonde stranger in front of her, ignoring the sound of her own heart.
'Please leave.'
The sound of her own heart, breaking.
'I don't know why you care so much,' she was filing her nails now. 'It's not like you haven't got anything to remember him by, I mean you have...'
'Mums!'
A blonde 4 year old boy came running into her room Peyton threw her things aside, scooped him up into her arms and lavished him with kisses.
'Oh my little man, I've missed you.' she blinked back her tears – for the umpteenth time.
'I love you too Mums...' he said. 'But you're making my face all icky!'
Peyton laughed. 'Where you good to Daddy?'
'Yup, tell her daddy tell her!' he climbed down and ran towards the legs of a tall man standing at the doorway.
Peyton wiped her face with the palm of her hand and watched her little bundle of joy with a burst of maternal pride.
'Hi Mrs Scott,' said the man at the door.
'Hello Nathan.'