Save Me

Eleven

“You really should let that out.”

I froze. I slowly turned around and let out a breath of relief when it was only Danielle, “What are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same question,” she replied, tossing her wavy black hair over her right shoulder and sitting on the big rock in front of the lake. I sat beside her and was relieved that she didn’t tell me to go away.

“I just wanted to clear my mind over some things,” I mumbled, “You?”

I was surprised to see her sigh and close her eyes momentarily, “Same. I just wanted to breathe.”

“What’s wrong?”

She looked at me, her blue eyes boring into my gray ones, “You first.”

I bit my lip. I can’t exactly tell her that I was frustrated because my family thinks I’m dead. But maybe I can tell her a few of the truths instead, “I just miss my family.”

She raised a brow, “You can always visit them.”

I sighed, “You don’t understand. I don’t exactly have a pretty good family life. My parents are separated. My mom remarried and my dad basically dictates my life. My brother’s deranged. My sister, gosh I didn’t even say goodbye to her.”

I was surprised when she let out a bitter life, “So you’re bummed because that’s what’s going on in your life? There are thousands of people out there that have it worse than you and others don’t even know what they’re going through!”

The anger and resentment in her voice took me aback, “But you’re here too. Don’t go all clean on me and tell me that I’m being selfish.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through Falen.”

I suddenly felt angry at her, she didn’t even know what I’ve been through too! And she was just going to tell me that? “Oh but I do. Scott told me. When you were a freshman you’re friends changed and you were living too much in the past to accept them. And he also said you hurt yourself because of that. And Daniel’s father? Will? He left you, and you grew so depressed. See, I know what you’ve been through.”

She looked at me and I immediately regretted the words I said when I saw how glossy her eyes were, “That’s thoroughly predictable.”

“What the hell?” The anger I felt towards her heightened and I didn’t know why. Why was she just so complicated? Why was she speaking in riddles? Why can’t she just tell me what the hell is wrong with her so we can get this over, and done with.

“You wanna know the truth?” she said icily, “You wanna know my story?”

“Yes,” I replied, “Maybe it can clear a few things up.”

She took a deep breath and then I watched her smile, “But before I dive in it, why?”

“Why what?” I asked, impatience clearly heard in my voice.

She bit her lip and then chuckled, “Seriously? Why do you want to know? And Rose? Patience is a virtue.”

I caught myself rolling my eyes and involuntarily chuckling, “Because, I just, I just feel like I should know.”

That was truth. That was my reason why. I myself didn’t understand why I wanted to know her, why I’m so attached to her. It’s like she’s supposed to be a part of my life, and if I don’t understand her story, I will never understand her. And there was this part of me that tell me that I really needed to know her badly, that if I don’t, I will forever be having an empty feeling.

“That’s not a valid reason.”

I let out an agitated exhale, “Please, D. I just want to know, okay? If I don’t know your story, I don’t get you, I would never get you.”

She sighed and looked at me, her blue eyes looking distant for moment, “Give me one good reason why I should trust you.”

The words flew out of my mouth before I could even stop myself, “Because I won’t hurt you.”

She gave me a bitter smile, “All you guys say that.”

“Then I’m different,” I said quietly, “I mean what I say, D. I’m a man of my words.”

She sighed and for a moment, I really thought that she’ll never tell me, that I would never get to know her, that this rare chance of us alone and talking to each other in a civilized manner will never repeat again in the future.

“When I graduated in middle school, I’ve always thought that life would be so amazing and so easy to begin with. I thought that everything would be perfect. Sure, I expected the dramas in high school, the b***h fights, and the inevitable heart break,” her voice so soft, so distant and I felt like being told a bedtime by my mother, “I guess I was wrong. When I stepped foot in high school, at first everything was fine until it wasn’t. My friends started to change, they started to hang out with different people and slowly, they all fell perfectly into their place, into their cliques while I was stuck there, wondering where I belonged.

“It was also a rough year for my family. Mom and Dad, they were fighting and arguing a lot at that time because business was slow and Mom was usually out with friends and spent most of our money for things we didn’t need. Patrick was like a love-struck puppy because he was in a relationship with the wrong girl. Shaira was so busy with school because she was a senior and it seemed to me like Mom and Dad always compared my grades with hers. There were rumors going on about Monica. Edwin acted like I didn’t exist in school. I was lost. I thought nobody loved me.

“So the blade became my best friend,” she whispered softly and looked at me. All I saw in her eyes was pain, anger, and a raw emotion that I couldn’t quite point out, “I hurt myself because I felt so alone. I wanted them to realize that I wasn’t okay. That my life was pretty much going downhill. It was a pathetic cry for help.”

“But they heard you,” I said, my voice so quiet that it was almost inaudible.

She smiled a bitter smile, “They did. But they were too late. I’ve already stood back up. But I closed myself on people. I became more of a b***h than I already was.”

“But you were okay again.”

She nodded, “I learned that I couldn’t please everyone. That change was the only permanent thing. And that my friends, I’ll always lose them and only a few will stay. I knew I had to let them go and not attach myself too much on them, like I’ve attached myself to my best friend.”

“Aren’t best friend’s supposed to be the person that you are supposed to be attached with?” I asked, wondering why she made it seem like her best friend was her worst enemy, “Surely, like family, your best friend was an exception.”

She shrugged lightly, “She was an exception. I was really attached to her. She was like my little sister. Like family. And I swore I’d never hurt her. But I did. There are just some things that are out of my control, things that I can’t undo. And they just happened. So when she got fed up with our arguments and stopped being friends with me, all my façade of being so brave after my freshman year cracked. And I was that broken girl again.”

“I don’t get it,” I said running a hand through my hair, “Could you explain it further?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. I stared at her and when she opened her eyes, tears were glittering around it, she bit her lip, “You don’t have to explain it further if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she murmured, “During sophomore year, my best friend and I didn’t really have many classes together. But we still spent time. I was already stronger then, and not that lost little girl during freshmen year. A few months later, we just grew apart. Actually, that was my fault. I was usually the one to distance myself first. But we were okay. Junior year, it was still the same. Until it went haywire. We got into an argument. But we patched things up, thank God. But senior year, that’s where it all ended.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, a smile that was so distant, so fake, a smile that would’ve fooled anyone and I almost fell for it too, “It was my fault. Like I said, I always distanced myself first. And the only reason I could tell the others was because I was fed up with her behavior. But that wasn’t exactly it. I was pissed because it seemed like I didn’t exist in her world anymore. Like I wasn’t the unbiologicalbig sister she entitled me with. And I often got hurt. Because she’d spend time and make time for other friends while I’m always the one making time for us. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s your entire fault,” I said softly, wondering why she’d just blame herself.

She looked at me and at that moment, I saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the glimpse of the lost girl that she had been once, “I thought so too. But when we got into this argument, she told me that she would always think why I would distance myself from her. What she did wrong. And I guess she realized that she didn’t exactly do anything wrong. I was just being selfish, I even admitted that to her. And at the heat of our argument, she told me to stay away from her if that’s just what I wanted.”

“Is that what you wanted?”

She looked away, closing her eyes for the briefest instant, “No. It still isn’t.”

“So you guys made amends?”

“Not exactly.”

I didn’t want to press her further because I could see the pain etched in her features. It was one thing to be heart broken over a relationship, but to lose a friend is like losing a family member, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’re already asking one.”

I rolled my eyes, “Why does it seem to me like you despise me?”

She chuckled, “You just remind me of a boy I used to know.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Who? Will?”

She scoffed, “No way. William was way more sweeter than you, nice and charming and kind. And he didn’t have your short temper. Come to think of it, you are nothing like him.”

I scowled, “Seems to me like he’s your prince.”

“He is,” she replied.

“Was,” I said staring at her, “He hurt you.”

She bit her lip and I knew I hit a sore spot, “He is my prince. Something just got on between us.”

I stared at her incredulously, “Scott said you almost went mad after he left and you can still say that he’s your ideal guy? Did Rachel drop you when you were a baby?”

“I find your humor amusing, Rose,” she said smugly, “But none of my friends or my family know the real reason why Will ran away. They just assumed that he wouldn’t take full responsibility of Daniel. Will’s not stupid or a coward.”

“You are so frustrating, Danielle!” I said, shaking my head, not seeing the reason why she should defend a guy who had hurt her, “He hurt you. Badly. Left you and DJ and you’re defending him?”

She gave me a cold smile, “And you are so much like him.”

“So much like who?” I demanded.

“So much like Seth Andrews,” she said, her tone cold and bitter, her blue eyes glaring at me icily, “May his soul rest in peace.”

My mouth hang open slightly, taken aback by her answer, “How do you know him?”

Her lips curled into a cold smile, her eyes were blank and her voice was so nonchalant, “He was one of the people who had hurt me.”