Remember Me

Chapter 1

My iPod is cranked up as loud as it will go as I walk down the sidewalk heading home from school. I’m drowning the world out in one of the only ways I know how. I don’t really have friends. I used to. I used to have a really good friend that I spent all of my time with. But, one day a few months ago, he cut me out of his life like it was nothing.  

We had been friends practically all of our lives and then, one day, he told me he couldn’t be anymore. It hurt and stole my trust. I became miserable, empty, numb, and my faith in people faded within a second. I distanced myself from my remaining friends and started keeping to myself. I built a steel wall around my heart and started guarding my feelings, never trusting anyone with either of them anymore. My thoughts come to a halt when I collide into what feels like a brick wall. I fall to the ground, dropping my iPod, where it proceeds to land in the road. Worry shoots through me as I scramble to get it. Just as my hands are about to touch it, I feel myself being snatched back. I watch the screen go black as a car runs over it. 

“Are you insane?” a shocked, concerned voice gasped out, almost yelling.  

After I get over the shock of my dead iPod, I look up in the direction of the voice. Red hot rage pulsed and burned through my entire body. That was my lifeline and I just watched it get obliterated and now this person has the nerve to ask if I’m insane!?  

“Am I insane? I should be asking you that!” I say, standing up and angrily pointing my finger at the boy who just seconds ago I was convinced was a brick wall.  

“Me? I’m not the one jumping in front of cars.” 

Ignoring him, I check the road, making sure it was clear then get my beyond repair iPod.  

“Oh, now she checks,” he murmured to himself, throwing his hands up into the air and slapping them back down against his legs.  

“Do you see this?” I ask, holding up what used to be my iPod, my lifeline, and waving it in front of his face.  

“Look, I’m sorry. It was an accident,” he sighs.  

“Yeah, and that accident cost me my iPod,” I bitterly snap.  

“It’s not like you were paying attention to where you were going either,” he said, getting on the defensive while still somehow not sounding mean or angry.  

“Really? You’re blaming me? You bumped into me! You knocked my iPod into the road! You let it get run over! Notice a pattern?” I harshly bit out at him.  

“Yeah, sure. You like to blame everyone for your problems. Including the person who just saved your life,” he said matter-of-factly while raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, making them bulge even more. 

“Screw you. I guess you expect a thank you when it wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you making me drop my iPod? Hold your breath for it and let me know how it works out for you.” 

“When and where?” he asks, smirking and not at all fazed by the coldness I’ve been continuously throwing at him or the daggers shooting from my eyes.  

I ignore him and return to walking. When I get home, I go to the living room looking for my mom. She’s not there.  

“Mom! Mom, are you home?” I yell while heading to the kitchen.  

She’s sitting at the counter, pouring over papers. 

“What is it?” she asks. 

“I need a new iPod.” 

“What happened to yours?” 

“It got ran over.” 

“Natalie, don’t lie to me. What happened?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and finally looking up from her papers to stare into my eyes, attempting to see if I’m lying.  

“Mom, honestly I’m not lying. I got bumped and it fell into the road.” I answered, eyes pleading. 

I needed her to believe me. I needed my lifeline back. The panic that had settled into the pit of my stomach since it happened only continued to grow at the thought of having to endure walks and school without it. How was I supposed to escape my new reality, escape seeing him without it?  

“You should take better care of your stuff,” she said, looking back down to her papers. 

“I do! It’s not my fault!” 

How was I being punished and reprimanded for something someone else did? She knew how important it was to me. I would never not take care of it. To the point that I didn’t even check the road when trying to save it. Though, if I cared to live, that part probably would have been different. The thought didn’t even cross my mind to check and hadn’t for a while. But she didn’t need to know that.  

“Nothing is ever your fault. You always have some excuse.” 

I couldn’t believe her. I couldn’t believe she could say that. Granted, I had changed drastically over the past few months. But that drastic change didn’t include me no longer taking fault or responsibility when due. For the second time today, someone was telling me otherwise. It made rage boil my blood. I took a steadying breath, knowing my anger would definitely not get me what I’m after. I had to stay calm.  

“It’s not like that. Mom, please, I can’t go without my music,” my voice ached with pleading.  

“You’ll have to. I can’t just go out and buy whatever, whenever.” 

Her tone told me her mind was set. Nothing I could say or do could change it. I was f****d. The panic engulfed me even more than before. Irritation and anger growing even more along with it. Especially because she knew how much I cherished my music.  

“Whatever,” I snap, leaving the kitchen and going up to my room.  

I slam my door shut and toss my iPod on my black dresser, then turn my stereo on and all the way up. I haven’t really used it since I got my iPod, but now that it was gone and I won’t be getting a new one anytime soon, I plan on using it a lot. Maybe she’d get sick of the loudness and eventually recognize the importance and give in to getting a new one. I toss myself onto my bed and look around my room, which is nothing but black. Entirely different from the lavender color it used to be. It’s been that way since Colton.  

Not only did the color of the walls change. So did what covered it. The walls that used to be covered in pictures, random things from Colton that included silly drawings from him or that we did together, and other memories/mementos of our time together were now covered in various different rock band posters and drawings of mine. My closet that once held at least some colored clothing items now only held black and a couple of other dark colors. My mom tried sending me to a therapist for a while, but eventually gave up when she kept setting up appointments and I never went. I look at the picture frames turned over in various spots in my room. They hold pictures of Colton and me. All of them with us smiling, hugged up in some form, making silly faces, and of us over the years.  

I never look at them anymore. It would bring back too many memories. Still, I couldn’t bear to get rid of them for three reasons. The memories are too close to my heart, they’re my entire previous life, and, most of all, if I picked them up I might see them and, if I see them, I know I will crumble back into the mess I had been the day my world fell apart... 

Flashback 

 I walk up the steps leading to Colton’s front door. Our plans for the night: watch a terrible movie at the theaters and joke about it the whole time. We do this a lot. People tend to think we’re dating since we’re always together but we’re not. We’ve just been friends ever since he taught me how to swing in kindergarten. I go into the house without knocking. I never knock. He doesn’t either.  

“Colton! Are you ready?” I yell for him while running upstairs toward his room. 

His door is open so I walk in and see him sitting on his bed, staring at the floor. 

“What are you doing? We’re going to be late,” I say frowning. 

“We’re not going,” he replies in a monotone, quiet voice. 

“What? Why? Do you have something else for us to do?” 

“No,” he answers, again, tonelessly. 

My gut clenches and ties itself into knots while my heart starts to pound out of my chest, knowing something is off and wrong. 

“Colton, what’s wrong?” I ask, concern and worry taking over. 

“We need to talk.” 

The fact that he hasn’t once looked up from the floor at me doesn’t do anything to calm the fears and worries running throughout my entire body.  

“Okay? What about?” 

The room falls silent. The air prickling with tension around him. I continue to study him. His black hair falling even more into his face than usual. His hands clenched together along with his jaw. His feet anxiously tapping on the floor. The muscles in his back tensing underneath his navy-blue t-shirt. I watch him gulp and struggle to speak. I know him. I can read him better than myself. I can see him trying to force his next words out but struggling to do it. This isn’t good. Whatever is coming next isn’t good. And everything I’m feeling amplifies even more. I didn’t even think that was possible.  

“I think we should stop hanging out,” he finally says, the sentence coming out in a rush and sigh.  

My heart dropped to my feet, shattering. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at the boy that I had spent my entire life with, the boy who had fixed me when I was broken, the boy who had renewed my faith in people, the boy who knew me better than I knew myself, the boy who had always, always been there for me and stood by my side, and my absolute best friend in the world in disbelief. This had to be a joke. A prank. Something. He couldn’t be serious. I spent the next minute trying to convince myself and come up with any possible explanation that wasn’t what he was telling me. But, as I said, we knew each other better than we knew ourselves. And I could see that he was serious.  

“What? Why?” I ask, fighting back tears. 

He finally looks up at me. I almost see a pain that I’ve never seen in him before flash in his eyes. But they quickly glaze over and look back down to the floor. 

“We depend too much on each other. We spend all of our time with each other-” 

“I thought you liked that!” I yell, cutting him off. “Geez, I feel like you’re breaking up with me and we’re not even together.” 

He flinches slightly. “Please don’t make this harder-” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m making this hard for you? Because from my understanding, you’re the one doing this, making this decision, wanting this. Not me. How inconsiderate of me. Let me make it easier for you then. Goodbye, asshole,” I bite out, anger and betrayal overwhelming me. 

I run out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the house for the last time. I don’t look back. Can’t risk or afford to. As soon as I get a good distance away from the house, I let the tears fall freely. No longer able to contain them.  

My chest hurts. A pain like I’ve never known before consuming every ounce of my being, heart, and soul. I run the whole way home then up to my room where I proceed to shut and lock my door. Before I realize what I’m doing I wipe everything off my dresser, rip everything off of my walls, pick up a random picture, throw it at the wall, then slam the others face down. I sink onto the floor in the middle of all the mess, sobbing so hard and uncontrollably that my legs crumble underneath me, no longer able to hold me up. My sobbing continues for hours but feels like a lifetime. After I’ve finally managed to cry every tear in my body and calm down to a somewhat reasonable state, I crawl over to the picture I had thrown at the wall and pick it up. 

It’s a recent one, only two weeks old, where he has an arm thrown over my shoulders and I have my arms wrapped around his waist, both of us with big smiles, me looking at the camera, and him looking down at me. A c***k ironically runs down the middle between us. My heart shatters all over again if that’s even possible. I put it back on my dresser face down with the others then clean up the rest of the mess before my mom can see it and question me. I’m not ready, not capable, of talking about it right now.  

After I’m done, I go to my bed and pull my comforter over my head and go to sleep. I stay in bed for the rest of the weekend and I stay out of school for the whole week. I don’t get out of bed until Sunday afternoon when my mom threatens to take me to the doctor. I get up and convince her I’m fine then go out and buy black wall paint. When I get back and start painting my room, I use that time to work on building a steel wall around my heart and mind, numbing myself to any and all emotions, and vowing to myself that I would never let my guard down or put faith or trust in anyone else again. That I would never feel this hurt again. That I would never be in the position to be betrayed or hurt again. This wasn’t the first time. It was the worst and most painful but not the first. But it was damn sure going to be the last. Lesson learned. 

********* 

The next morning I’m woken by my alarm. I slam my hand down on it and groan. I get up after a few more minutes and start getting ready for school. I throw on a black off the shoulders Bring Me the Horizon shirt, ripped black skinny jeans, and converse shoes then brush out my long black hair. After I’m done I grab my messenger bag and reach for my iPod only to remember it’s broken. I sigh in frustration and throw my messenger bag over my shoulder. As I’m about to go out the front door I hear my mom yell, “Have a nice day!” I stop and turn to her, putting on my sweetest smile. 

“You want to know what would make it nice? A new iPod.” 

“Natalie, please don’t start,” she sighed, pinching her forehead then taking a sip of her coffee. 

“I need my music.” 

“I need my daughter back,” she replied quickly, her eyes meeting mine again and challenging me.  

I roll my eyes in return and turn to the door but her voice stops me from leaving. 

“You can’t let that boy ruin your life. I know it hurts but you need to move on. It’s been months. I tried to understand in the beginning and give you your time to heal and tell myself that my daughter would make her way back once that was done. But she’s completely gone now. Nothing left of her. It breaks my heart. I just want you back. You used to be so happy and full of life. I miss that you.” 

“Yeah, me too,” I whisper under my breath then walk out the door.  

The disadvantages of only being 15 are numerous. One disadvantage is obvious. No driver's license. So, I have to walk to school. Colton used to pick me up and take me home when he turned 16 and before that he would walk to my house, a block from his own, and walk with me. But that clearly doesn’t happen anymore for obvious reasons.  

When I get to school, I go straight to class and take my seat in the back. I feel a tap on my shoulder and I look up into striking green eyes. I couldn’t stop myself from checking out the rest of him. He had stylish, messy blonde hair. A strong, set jaw. Firm but soft-looking lips that weren’t too big but definitely not too small. And the rest of him was pretty built. I actually had to catch my breath. I then realize that it’s the guy from yesterday.  

“What do you want?” I ask, glaring up at him, my voice cold and hostile. 

“Do you have a pencil I can borrow?” he asks, entirely unphased when anyone else would have been and walked away.  

“What? My iPod wasn’t enough? You want to break my pencil too?” I ask, my voice still cold but thickly laced with sarcasm as well. 

I knew I was being petty. I didn’t care. Just yesterday, he was saying the things he did after he had just made my life a thousand times harder and now, he had the nerve to ask me for something. What’s with this guy? And why is he not fazed by me and leaving me alone like everyone else? 

He sighs and seems to control himself. “No, now can I please borrow a pencil?” 

“Sure, no problem,” I say, taking a pencil out of my messenger bag. 

I smile sweetly up at him, making eye contact knowing my eyes are still just as cold as my voice, while I hold it up in front of him, break it in half, then drop it to the floor. 

“Keep it,” I told him, the fake sweet smile now gone and replaced with my cold, biting words. 

He bends down and picks it up. “Thanks.” 

I look back up at him and nod. “No problem,” I reply just as Colton walks in. He glances at me, probably shocked to hear my voice. I never talk at school anymore unless a teacher calls on me.  

“I’m Riley, by the way,” he says, shooting me his best smile, which admittedly was dazzling. 

“What makes you think I care?” 

“Nothing, just letting you know,” he replies simply, shrugging. 

“Obviously,” I say, rolling my eyes.  

“Fine, whatever,” he mutters before walking back to his desk. 

I frown down at my desk, not paying attention to anything or anyone around me. I think of the old me. How happy she, or I, was. I don’t even feel like the same person. I don’t recognize that person. The old me is a stranger. A long-gone stranger. A stupid, naïve one at that. I glance around the room, taking everyone in. A group of girls was in one section of the room passing notes and texting their boyfriends or friends that didn’t share the class. One guy was throwing paper balls at a nerd. Colton and his friends were whispering to each other.  

Finally, my eyes make their way over to Riley, who was goofing off and barely containing laughter. I feel like such an outcast. I used to know my place in the world. I’ve never been outgoing. The only reason I made the friends I did was because of Colton, and that’s where I thought my place in the world was. With him and by his side. I walked into a room and knew where I belonged the second I spotted him. I was happy and content as long as I had my best friend.  

Now, I don’t have anything. Riley’s eyes meet mine and hold them, a smile still playing on his face from trying to stifle his laughter with his friends. I realize I’m still staring at him and I realize he knows it. But I can’t make myself look away. Not yet anyway. He smirks and I look away. He doesn’t. I can still feel his gaze burning my face. The bell rings and everyone jumps to leave. 

“Get your fill?” 

I look up to see Riley grinning perfect white teeth at me. 

“What?” 

“Did you get your fill?” 

“I heard you,” I snapped as I stood to leave. “Fill of what?” 

“Staring at me. Enjoy the view?” he replied, his lips turning up at the corners. 

“I wasn’t staring.” 

He chuckles. “Are you trying to make me believe that or yourself?” 

“Are you always such an arrogant jerk,” I asked, annoyed and already done with this conversation. 

“I didn’t know I was,” he said, humor tangling with his voice and that stupid smirk still playing on his face as he continues to burn holes through me with his relentless staring, watching, and observing of me.  

“Liar.” 

“Sure, I guess I can be. But who can’t?” 

I pick up my messenger bag and walk past him, but he comes into step beside me. I groan internally. Why? Why me? Why has he become so set on annoying me? 

“I’m trying to make an effort here,” he said, stepping in front of me and making me come to a stop in the crowded hallway.  

“Why?" I asked, the disdain and annoyance clear in my voice. 

“Why not? You intrigue me.” 

“Should I be flattered?” I ask, raising an eyebrow and putting all of my force into my steely gaze as it bore into his bright, open one. 

He shrugged. “If you choose to be.” 

“I’m going to go with no,” I say, my voice hard and cold as I sidestep him and continue walking. 

And again, he just falls into step beside me completely undeterred. 

“It’s not the worst thing in the world to intrigue an attractive, nice guy, is it? 

“Cocky much?” 

“Only a healthy amount.” 

“Try a lot.” 

“What’s your next class?” he asked, ignoring me and changing subjects. 

Does he quit? Does he give up? Why was he so interested in me all of a sudden? 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“I would. That’s why I asked,” he said, still looking down and staring at me. Something he hadn’t stopped doing since he caught me.  

“That’s why I’m not answering.” 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a look light up his face. Like he’d just had an epiphany dawn on him and everything made sense to him now. Good. Now he could leave me alone. 

He smiled down at me brightly, nodding, and said, “I see what you’re doing.” 

Suddenly thrown off and confused, I asked him, “What am I doing?” 

“Playing hard to get,” he replied easily, smirking down at me. Even when he smirked, it reached his eyes and lit them up.  

My face turned to stone as I met his eyes and said, “No, just impossible.” 

“Are you still mad about your iPod?” 

Was he serious? It just happened yesterday. How the f**k could I not still be pissed off to the max that one of my biggest lifelines and escapes was stolen from me because of him?  

“Majorly,” I replied shortly.  

“It was an accident.” 

“An accident that could have been helped,” I corrected him, irritated and quickly reaching my limit and quota of infuriating and irritating conversations for the day. Correction: for the rest of my life. 

“How? Please, tell me. I’m dying to know.” 

“As much as I would love to waste even more of my time by telling you, I have to go,” I say, speeding up until I knew he had stopped following me. 

*********** 

I walked out of my math class as soon as the bell rang. I’m just about to look up from the floor when I feel someone bump into me. Their strong hands wrap around my arms, keeping me from falling. The scent coming off of the person is familiar. I look up into light blue eyes and catch my breath. My mouth falls open, speechless. 

He bends down to pick up the book I had dropped then hands it to me. He shakes his jet-black hair to one side and out of his eyes, but not really. The motion is probably more from habit than actually trying to get it out of his eyes.  

“Sorry,” Colton mumbles with his eyes meeting mine.  

He always used to make eye contact with me. Most people feel uncomfortable with making eye contact with anyone for more than a short time, but he doesn’t. Never has. I’m the same way. He walks away after another awkward-filled second and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.  

“Maybe it was you who wasn’t paying attention,” Riley said, walking up beside me. “I mean, that’s the second time in two days you’ve bumped into someone,” he said, shrugging while sounding teasing and smug at the same time. 

I bit the insides of my cheeks, holding back my bitchy reply. Maybe if I just kept my mouth shut and didn’t give him anything to go off of, he would take the hint and f**k off. For good. I glare at him, not being able to stop myself from doing at least that much, and continue to ignore his existence afterward while I continue walking. Just pretend he isn’t there. It would be a hell of a lot easier to do that with my music blaring and blocking out the world for me but, I didn’t have that option and would just have to try to make do.  

“That book you dropped could have just as easily been your iPod, you know,” he stated, attempting to make a point and clearly thought he was being clever. 

Okay, maybe not as manageable as I’d hoped it would be when he’s being as persistent and irking as he is. I shoot him another glare even more lethal than the last. 

“Actually, let’s say you didn’t kill my iPod, it still wouldn’t be murdered from that bump. Notice, there aren’t cars here to accomplish your not so amazing feat,” I reply snarkily, my mouth forming a grimace.  

He dipped his head in a nod as he said, “Touche. But, also take notice that these hallways are extremely crowded and it could have easily been stepped on by, at the very least, one student, if not more than that, and still destroyed. Or murdered, as you like to put it. But that seems kind of extreme and personal to me. Especially since it came down to you or the iPod and I made the absolute best decision in choosing you to valiantly save. Not the iPod,” he replied, flashing his brilliantly perfect smile at me, his eyes twinkling and his entire demeanor coming across as happy, open, and innocent. 

I scoffed and rolled my eyes in annoyance at his statement, his stupid smile, and his attitude that was so different from mine. The smile that he was probably used to making girls swoon and using to charm them with, and people in general, when the situation called for it. The kind of attitude that was probably intoxicatingly inviting to most and made most people comfortable, secure, and feel safe.  

Not me, though. Nope, no way. It had the exact opposite effect on me. It terrified me. He terrified me. He always seemed so happy and so open. He was my complete opposite. So, him trying so relentlessly at whatever his goal was with me completely baffled me. It didn’t make sense. 

I didn’t trust him. It had to all be an act. No one was this good. No one was this happy all of the time. He was perfect at the part, though. He was perfect at being perfect. Keeping it up every day, all day, and for everyone. Just the thought of that exhausted me. 

“Should have picked the iPod,” I said under my breath.  

His eyes shot to me as soon as the words left my mouth, his body stiffening slightly, and his face dropping and taking on an expression that was completely out of the norm for his usual carefree, happy, bright, and open one. His mouth formed an almost tight, grim line. My words had affected him or upset him in some way or another. But, in what way, I didn’t know. I’m usually pretty good at reading people, having spent so much time being silent and just watching. 

 But I didn’t know him and he was different. He threw me off in more ways than one. I instantly regretted voicing my indifference to my own life out loud. The last thing I needed or wanted was his or anyone else’s pity. Or some kind of speech about choosing life and persevering or some bullshit like that. 

“Anyway, you’re talking hypotheticals here. Hypotheticals that hold no weight and don’t matter in absolutely any way seeing as you already took care of the murder yourself,” I added, attempting to make him forget the words I hadn’t expected him to hear to begin with.  

If it didn’t work, he didn’t let it on to me. His face and demeanor went back to normal and his mind seemed to clear of my previous idiotic mishap. He even rolled his eyes and grinned at me using the word ‘murder’ again. I let out an internal sigh of relief. That was too close. Too close to being open.  

Too close to letting my guard and walls down, even if it was just the tiniest bit. I couldn’t allow any more close calls or mishaps of any sort. That was too personal and the closest to any form of feelings that I had left, so it needed to stay locked up behind my wall and safe. Even that could be used to hurt or betray me. That couldn’t happen. I’m not strong enough to go through that again. I’m already as broken as they come now.  

“So, you and that guy. You have a thing for him or something?” 

I arched an eyebrow at him and felt the tiniest of smirks trying to tug at the corner of my lips. 

“Why? Jealous?” 

He shrugged and broke his stare for the first time, looking away as he replied, “Maybe. Is there anything to be jealous of? Seemed like there was something there.” 

“Have you ever tried minding your own business?” 

My mind swirled with confusion, trying to make sense of him, his reaction to Colton, his words, and his end goal. Trying to make sense of how it all was trying to make me feel. One thing I knew for certain, it made a large part of me even more scared, unsettled, and wary. My mind screamed at me to run while I could. Yet, I didn’t. I didn’t even speed up. Frustration grew and bubbled inside of me. Frustration at him, myself, my confusion, and everything else to do with any of this.  

He clutched at his chest, feigning shock and hurt as he said, “Wow, defensive much?” 

“You don’t know anything. You and me, we’re not on speaking terms. Stop acting like we’re best friends or something. Just leave me the hell alone,” I finally snap, my fear taking over my fight or flight. Though I wasn’t entirely sure if this was a fight, flight, or some of both.  

“What is your problem? You really need to chill,” he replied, finally sounding the tiniest bit frustrated himself.  

So, he wasn’t entirely immune. Good. He deserved it if he was going to continue to put me through this torment for whatever end goal he may or may not have. I felt a little satisfaction that I was finally able to put a c***k in whatever act of his this was. Small victories.  

“You really need to find someone else to annoy. Maybe you can go run into someone else,” I shot back, filling my voice with as much venom as I could muster.  

I was almost there. I had made him c***k. I had to be. I hadn’t witnessed anyone else able to pull off the same feat with him since he barged his way into my once safe existence. I may be a miserable zombie just going through the motions of everything with no regard for my life or safety, just waiting for it to all be over for good but, I was at least a miserable, safe zombie.  

He had just shown me that it wasn’t impossible to get under his skin and bring out a not-so-perfect version of him. If I managed to keep doing that then it would have to deter him, make him give up, and make him forget I ever existed.  

“Oh, like you did me?” he shot back, that infamous grin already back on his face, unprovoked, and unthwarted again. 

Okay, so maybe I was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as I had started to think and convince myself it was about to be. I could scream. How? How is he doing this? Why? 

“No. Like you did me but continue refusing to acknowledge,” I say, my words almost sounding like a growl. 

“Yeah, sure. If that’s the story you want to stick with,” he replied, brushing me off. 

Now I definitely felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. I know my anger is completely misdirected. But I can’t help it. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t completely misguided, but mostly. I know I only feel this way because of what just happened with Colton. But Riley is the easiest person to go off on right now. And the most deserving as far as I’m concerned. 

“Riley, I’ve been waiting on you man. What are you doing?” 

Riley and I both look over at the guy standing in the middle of the hall, holding one book and nothing else. 

“Sorry, got distracted,” he answered, turning back to me. 

His lips curved up into his picture-perfect smile and he winked at me then turned to his friend and walked away, not even glancing back. It’s not that I wanted him to look back at me one last time. I just assumed he would since he is making it a hobby of his to pester me now. The rest of the day is agonizingly long. I don’t see Riley again and Colton acted like what happened earlier didn’t happen, reverting back to acting like I don’t exist.  

I try to ignore the sting of pain I feel from the emotional wound trying to open back up. This is when I needed my music the most. As I’m walking up my driveway, I see a small box lying on the doorstep. I quicken my pace a little, my curiosity peaked, and stop at the box when I approach it. It’s wrapped up and has my name on it.  

I pick it up confused. I unwrap and open the box to see not only a brand-new iPod, but the iPod touch 7. My previous one was only the 5th generation. I suck in a small gasp and my jaw drops for a second as I continue to stare in amazement and utter disbelief. I look around as if the person who put it there would still be around.  

They weren’t, of course. It’s not that I don’t know who did it because I do. I guess a part of me just hoped I’d see him so I could thank him. This was a lot. He didn’t just replace what was broken, he made it better. 

 I still wasn’t his biggest fan and he is the reason a replacement was needed, but he just made my day. He returned my lifeline, my escape back to me. I couldn’t help but be extremely grateful and touched. A small smile forms on my face for a second and a happy tear escapes my eye, leaving its trail on my cheek. Once I collect myself, I head inside. 

“What is that?” my mother asks, nodding at the object in my hand.  

“An iPod.” 

“Where did you get it?” 

“The guy that ran into me got it. I think that’s who did, anyway.” 

“Why do you think?” 

“It was on the doorstep. The only thing that was written on it was my name. He’s the only person that makes sense.” 

She smiled, looking happy for me as she told me, “Oh, you should thank him. That was very nice of him.” 

“Yeah, it was,” I say, more to myself than to her.  

She breaks my train of thought when she suddenly asks, “Natalie, do you like this boy?” 

I internally groaned and rolled my eyes at her. Of course, she would try to go there. Of course, she would try to insert herself in things that didn’t concern her. I really wasn’t up for her line of questioning. I’d had well over my fill of obligatory or any other form of social interaction for the day. I blow out a long breath and sigh before meeting her expectant and trained gaze. 

“No, I don’t. I don’t like anyone. Stop being so nosy.” 

“Stop being so closed off. I’m just trying to have a nice mother-daughter conversation with you. It’s not insane to think that you might like each other if he’s going to the lengths of getting you a new iPod. And if I’m reading the box and remembering correctly, the newest version at that,” she said, a knowing smile teasing her lips. 

“We’re not talking about guys. There’s no guy to talk about anyway,” I gritted out at her. 

“Do you know how many girls wish they had a mother that would try to talk and bond with them like I do with you? Instead of always being so cruel, cold-hearted, and shutting me out maybe you should try being thankful and giving me just an inch to work with.” 

“Then maybe you should try with them. It’s not needed nor wanted by me,” I spat at her, about to turn to leave the conversation altogether when she started to talk again and stopped me in my tracks. 

“I used to love that you and Colton were such good friends since you were kids. I didn’t worry about you because I knew you two would always have each other in whatever situation may come up. I just knew you two would end up together and get married. A happy ending for everyone. I thought you two had something I’ve only witnessed in movies or books.  

Something I thought could only be true in fiction until I watched you two. I was so happy for you. So happy that you had that storybook or romance movie life with him. I even felt lucky and blessed that you were granted something in real life that most people only get to experience through fiction. But now...now I hate it. It’s ruined you and it seems as if you’ll never be who you once were.” 

Throughout her entire speech, her eyes had glazed over and focused on nothing. She even had a small, ironic smile. Until those last two sentences. Those last two sentences are when she decided to meet my eyes again, and I could see the tears she had been holding back trying to spill over the red rim of her eyes. Those last two sentences are when her voice cracked with pain, no longer able to remain strong and conceal her own feelings of hurt and betrayal. 

 I felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. I studied her blue eyes that matched mine, pain shining and glinting in them. Her brown wavy hair that you could tell she had run her fingers through in frustration a hundred times today alone falling to her shoulder blades. Her thin lips set into an even thinner line. Her forehead creased with a mixture of worry and wrinkles from age and stress. 

 I could see it clear as day now. When she had found out what had transpired between Colton and me, she had felt stupid, hurt, and betrayed as well. She had believed in him. She had loved him and welcomed him into her family. She had apparently even dreamed and made hopeful plans for our future.  

The minute I started to feel myself sympathize with her, anger rushed through every vein in my body and overwhelmed any sympathy I may have had left in me. Who was she to feel those things and come off like she had been feeling them just as much as me? I still felt all of those things all the way through my bones to my core. I was the one that was put through it. I was the one that had to experience it and live with it.  

She’s just an outsider that had been looking in and watching from the sidelines. She didn’t know and couldn’t understand. She’s the one that chose to think, hope, dream, and plan those things when it wasn’t her life to do that with, to begin with. Now she was just disappointed that she had been so wrong and that what she had hoped for didn’t and would never come to fruition.  

“Mom, you’re delusional. Our relationship was never like that. He was my best friend. That’s it. Nothing else and nothing more,” my voice came out hard, but I still managed to contain some of the usual coldness and venom that had become normal for it over the past few months. There’s the inch she wanted. 

“You didn’t notice the way he looked at you,” she said, shaking her head slowly and keeping her eyes locked on mine even when a few tears finally manage to break free. “Everyone else did. He loved you so much. Probably still does.” 

It felt like she had just stabbed me straight in the heart. Even now, she was still holding out hope and trying to believe in him. Even though he had shown there had never actually been anything to believe in and she had watched me pay the price for it. She was blowing my f*****g mind and only making me angrier with every word that fell out of her mouth. I didn’t want to talk about this. Never talking about it again couldn’t come soon enough.  

There was too much pain waiting for me in any conversation concerning him, us, and how it ended. Even now I could feel the gaping emotional wound clawing at itself, fighting to engulf my entire body, mind, and everything that I am. Even now, I was struggling and fighting an internal war with myself to keep the wound as closed as possible and sealed away. Couldn’t she see that if I lost that battle then it would swallow me whole? That I wouldn’t be able to come back from that?  

That it was killing me and too much for me to handle in any sense of the word? That I was only barely keeping myself together to the extent that I am now and numb to the wound and everything else without being forced to acknowledge, think, and talk about it? I closed my eyes, shook my head in disbelief, felt a smile that wasn’t actually a smile appear on my face, and heard a dark, harsh chuckle come from my lips. I opened my eyes again, meeting hers, and knew from the horror that crossed her face that she tried to hide almost instantly, that my blue eyes had turned to icy steel and were burning yet freezing her cold all at the same time. She kept making such a big deal about wanting her old daughter back, yet insisted on doing things like this and only driving any hope she could have had left in getting just that into oblivion.  

“Yeah? Well, obviously not enough! He’s not here, is he!? If he loved me so f*****g much, he’d be here! If he loved me so goddamn much, he would have never done this to me!  

Tell me, mom, if he loves me so much then how can he live with himself knowing the immeasurable f*****g pain that he has and is putting me through! Do you think I didn’t see how he looked at me? I have a f*****g picture of how he looked at me in my room with a c***k between us that has haunted me every goddamn day since he tossed me away like garbage! And if that isn’t some kind of sick sign from the universe confirming everything then I don’t know what is. He doesn’t look at me like that anymore! He doesn’t look at me at all! He doesn’t f*****g love me. He never did! You can’t do this s**t to someone you love as much as you’re trying to claim he loved me! You just can’t! It’s time to face reality and stop torturing both of us. It’s time to realize that it was all a lie. He’s gone and he’s never coming back! And Jesus f*****g Christ, it’s time to face the fact that the daughter you keep talking about missing and wanting back is gone! She’s dead! She died 6 months ago. And I wouldn’t hold my breath for him or your dead daughter to come back. You want me to give you an inch? How about you stop mourning the loss of who I used to be and start accepting and loving your daughter for who she is now. Things happen in life that change people to where they’ll never be the same again. That’s not always a bad thing. Hell, me growing up is going to change me. You can’t just keep me the same forever. Harassing and trying to guilt-trip me when I’m not. You need to move on. Just get over it! I have. He’s living his life and you need to let me live mine now!” I finally reply to her, screaming relentlessly and going on such a rampage that I’m now out of breath and working to get it back to normal.  

I probably shouldn’t have talked to or yelled at her like that. I probably shouldn’t have just cursed my mom out. I lost it. I just can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the constant reminders or conversations dealing with anything Colton-related. It wasn’t fair to me. She had tears running down her cheeks now. Her face a mixture of shock, horror, and pain. The sight should probably make me feel guilty and awful, but it doesn’t. You can only put a person through so much before they blow. And I had become an atomic bomb.  

“You call being a zombie, having no friends, and closing yourself off from everyone around you being over it? You’re not over it, Natalie. You’re very far from it. The sooner you see that the better off you’ll be,” she replied, once she had reigned in her emotions. 

“You don’t know. You can’t tell me what I feel,” I shoot back, disgust filling my words. 

“I can’t even talk to you about him without you going off on me and yelling at me.” 

“I don’t need a constant reminder of what I had and lost. I already have to see him at school, completely happy, unchanged, enjoying life and friends as much as he used to. I don’t need you reminding me as well,” I said, my voice quiet but hard. 

“Do you need to transfer schools? I’ll let you. I’ll do anything to help. Just tell me what you need me to do.” 

“Leave me alone. That’s what I need you to do.” 

She slumped in her chair in defeat. In a way, I finally felt somewhat bad for her. She tries so hard but to no avail. I can’t help it, though. I’ve tried to live as much as I can. But when you don’t care about life and your will to live is gone, there’s only so much you can do. I go over and kiss her cheek then go to my room and hide under my covers with my iPod cranked up. My sweet escape.