I look in the mirror, a sad face reflected, freckles dotting my small nose and my brown hair framing it. My tan skin was a gift from god; you couldn’t see the bruises as easily. I was tall, but not outrageously so. I could blend in enough to be a wallflower, but stick out enough to not entirely disappear. That had been my goal, a promise to my dead brother for the start of my junior year. I solemnly swear that I won’t disappear, Chance, no matter how hard I wish I could join you. When I look in the mirror I see a pretty girl, not a wanna-be or even a has-been, but a been-there-done-that kind of girl. Sure, I’ve done my share of underage drinking, grinding and tabletop dancing, but now it’s time to be someone else. Someone like Wall Flower Chance and I were close, two peas in a pod, a left and right shoe, he was the peanut butter to my jelly, my bubble to my gum. It was a late night- we had just got done partying at the local main b****’s house, Just Celia. She doesn’t have a last name; she thinks she’s a f*n rockstar. When I met her this is how the conversation went. “Hi, I’m Luce Jasons.” “I’m Celia. Just Celia.“ I remember Chance and I buckled over laughing at her new nickname. Everyone calls her “Just Celia” now. That night I don’t remember much, just that I was dancing with Finn, like I always do, and we were grinding away, like normal. Except I drank a little too much and so did Finn, and we let ourselves get a little carried away. I’m not sure if we did anything or just made out in the corner like some drunken idiots, but I haven’t talked to Finn since the crash. Chance found me doing whatever I was doing with Finn and pulled me out of wherever I was. He seemed to be fuming. “Chance! What the hell?” I yelled at him, realizing a little too late that I was being entirely too loud. “Luce! You were-“ then after that every thing blanks out. I would love to know what I was doing with Finn. Honestly, I had always secretly really liked him, but he seemed to only find our relationship something along the lines of beneficial instead of emotional. I didn’t mind in the least bit, but afterwards it always had felt wrong. The only things I had ever known about the crash were what I read in the papers, the fatal car crash killing Chance Jasons and seriously injuring his sister Lucey and friends Diane Gent and Julie Hardnett. Diane had been Chance’s girlfriend at the time, one of the many girls he had between junior high and his senior year, but she made a big show of how telling everyone how much she had loved him at his funeral. I knew Chance was smirking from wherever he was at how whipped he got the girls he messed around with. He was probably laughing at her too, making fun of her with the dead people he had just met. Chance was always good at that, making friends really fast and keeping girls interested. Problem was, he never stayed interested for long. Julie was my best friend, one that continuously reminded me that f*g around with Finn wouldn’t help anyone and make me feel worse. She had almost died in the crash and hasn’t said a word to me since. It hurt to see Julie laughing with a new best friend and sharing inside jokes and writing initials on notebook papers knowing it stood for something besides names. It hurt to watch her pant after each new guy, knowing I won’t get the dirt about it later. At first, I felt empty and hollow, like someone dug my insides out and filled it with jell-o. I was emotionless, fearless and regretless. I didn’t seem to care. I found myself a new Finn, one I didn’t secretly really like, one that I was attracted to enough to get me through my vacant days and meaningless life. We would get together a couple times a week, going farther than I ever did with Finn. And afterwards I would feel dirty and spineless, nothing like how it was with Finn. I broke it off when school started, he seemed to be a constant reminder of my empty world when I would see him waltzing from biology to math, a flashing sign of how far I’ve fallen. Finn would give me sidelong glances during class, almost like he wanted to say something but he couldn’t. All I ever see him do anymore is open and close his mouth like a fish underwater. I wanted to talk to Finn, to let him know how I really felt, how I wished were something more than f***-buddies, but I silently begged myself not to give into his charming smile and arrogant attitude. Some times I would sit behind him, tracing his neck with my eyes and wishing that I could kiss my way up it and make a trail to his lips. I wish he wouldn’t make me shut down when ever I got the feeling to tell him the truth, but that feeling hasn’t come since Chance died. Diane had her own life now, she was with a boy that actually loved her, no emotional baggage from a dead ex could break that. I would walk down the hallways watching her hold hands with the man of her dreams, smiling at him behind his back and blushing when he told her she was beautiful. I was trying to climb Everest, but it seemed to have too many hidden cracks and not enough footholds. I could almost feel Chance glaring down at me, disappointed that I couldn’t get through a day without depression and that his death seemed to weigh so heavily on my shoulders. It’s gonna be a long climb.

I slam the locker shut. It bangs in sideways because the top hinge is a little broken; I slam it again and again. “Dammit,” I mumble. Then I gently close it.




I make my way slowly to first period, counting my steps and avoiding the glances from ex-friends. They whisper among themselves of my rash comments and blatant escape from their circle. I don’t say anything because I don’t need to.




I have math first, my best and worst subject. Best because I’m good at it. Worst because I share it with a certain someone.




Finn leans against his desk, arms folded over his broad chest, his usual smirk in place as he examines the room. He could almost be classified as a predator, those dimples and blue eyes would do any harmless prey in.




When his eyes reach me, the smirk vanishes, an almost-frown pulling at his full lips. I ignore him and look towards the front, wishing that my eyes would stop welling up.




We don’t do anything that first day of class, just talk about rules that have never changed and discuss what is to be expected from an honors class.




I try to pretend I am taking notes, but I just end up doodling F’s all over my page while tiny hearts surround it. I don’t realize it until I hear a familiar chuckle in front of me.




I breathe in the sight of him, taking in the familiar golden locks and bright green eyes. I drink him in, but the electric feeling never shows up, no matter how much I try to dunk myself in him.




“Eli…” I say, trying not to sound like I’m a panting dog.




He squints his eyes at me, beautiful eyes, and ruffles my hair with one hand. “How’s my best friends little sister doin?”




I look away from him. “I’m fine,” I mumble.




Ely looks down at his converse, “Luce-“




I shake my head, my dark hair falling in front of my face like a show curtain, thick enough to blind but thin enough to hear. “Please… just don’t.”




Ely raps his knuckles on my desk, a nervous habit he picked up after the funeral. “I just-“ he runs his hand through his hair. “Never mind.”




I stare at him for a while as walks his way across the room, his saunter back in full swing as he joins a group of girls. They giggle, grab his arm and pull him in. He smiles his fake smile and tries to join in the conversation, but his eyes dart over to me a few times, giving the distinct feeling that he wasn’t done with me.




It’s like the farther I try to climb and further I fall.

When she walked into class today, there was something off about her. Almost like the girl I used to know died in the car crash. I guess she didn’t know that I did, too. I sigh, tossing my smile at the occasional longing glances from the girls in the room. But I stop when I catch Luce’s eyes. They’re still that piercing green, an almost translucent shade never found. I remember when I looked into those eyes all the time, when banter was friendly and kisses were wild and spontaneous. I used to look into them when I pulled back from a kiss, watching them flutter open before staring at me. I would get so lost in them, so lost that the only way out seemed to be the only decision I wouldn’t allow myself to make. I led her on, friends with f*n’ benefits my ass. I loved her. I still love her. I still wanna pull her into a kiss in the corner of the locker room, I stil wanna stare into those amazing eyes. I wish we hadn’t crashed. I wish I hadn’t ruined it only a few hours before. Rick punches me in the shoulder. “Dude- stop f*n’ spacing out and talk to me.” I stare at him, a bemused smile playing across my lips. “What the f***, man?” Rick disregards it and goes on talking about ‘Just Celia’ and how they did something the other day. I could have cared less, s***, I cared less than less. I continue to stare at him, there’s more to life than you f*n’ Just Celia, Rick. The bell rings then, a sound I had never been happy to hear until now. I take a seat, only three down from Luce. It’s enough room to not be caught staring but just enough to be able to stare. Her hair was down, drapes between her and the world. She was writing in her notebook, trying to look like she was doing something important. I knew her too well, she was just writing s***. Mr. Fretters keeps talking about god knows what, but only about fifteen minutes later he’s done, giving me the rest of the period to terrorize teenage girls. I trace the markings on my desk with my finger, trying to look non-committed and sensitive because girls like that s***. I started messing around with chicks after the crash. I had to get my mind off of it. Just Celia stands talking to Rick, twirling a bad dye job around her finger and smacking her gum like a jersey girl. I can’t believe I had ever done anything with her. She’s just so fake. Across the room I see Ely approach Luce. He had been on her for a long time, more than I had ever been with her, slowly pining away at the idea that she might just start making out with him in the middle of the hallway. He says a few words, but she immediately breaks down, cloaking her face from him and most likely saying it all under her breath. I bite back a laugh at his rejection and continue to trace the indents. I had always wanted to do that, write our initials in a totally cliché kind of way, scraping them into a tree or bathroom stall like some love-struck loser. But I was a love-struck loser, an in- the- closet one who disguised it with random hook-ups and one night- stands, but a love-struck loser nonetheless. The bell rings again, bringing me out of my romantic movie thoughts and back to reality. The school year has only just begun, but its gonna be a hell of a long one.

The bell dings as I enter the small building at the end of Main Street. Karen sits in her usual spot behind the corner, filing bills and receipts into the cabinet.




“Here,” I take the papers from her hands. “I can do this,” I say gently, pushing her slightly off the stool.




Karen turns to me. “Oh, thank god. I really need you today, Luce.” Her cheeks flush and she starts waving her hands in the air. “The benefit is in a few weeks and they put me-“ she points at her chest, “in charge of it.” She throws her hands up in the air, her blonde hair going up with it. “Me! The woman who can barely alphabetize in charge of a frickin’ benefit!” She lets out a groan, making her way to her office in the back.




I started to work for Karen last year after the crash; I had needed some extra money and some time to sort things out and some place to go instead of home.




Karen offered me a job at her charity in town. I still wasn’t sure what exactly the charity helped, but I was getting paid to do easy s*** like file and alphabetize.




I sat down at my usual seat behind the red counter, making room to organize and help Karen. I was off at six, but I stayed till seven, not wanting to go home until I had too.




The bell chimed. I looked up from my work, brushing my hair from my face. “May I help you?”




The woman looked back at me, she had an intimidating glare. Her hair was pulled into a tight bun in the back of her head and business-like suit adorned her body. “Hello.” She holds out a hand for me to shake, I weakly fold into hers as it crushes my bones. “My name is Nicole and I am representing Holmes Real Estate,” she pauses and purses her lips, making her face seem tighter than it already is.





“We want to support this charity.”




I hold a finger up to her, realizing at the last second it was probably impolite and that a lady like her would not take lightly to that inconsideration. I fold it back into my hand. “You’ll need to talk to my boss, Karen Tracey,” I say.




She nods at me slowly, as if digesting every word I had to say. “May I speak with Ms. Tracey?”




I smile and nod. “Sure.” I take a few backward steps before turning around and scurrying into Karen’s office.




She looks up from her desk, her blonde hair ruffled and bed-heady after all the stress she has been through with the benefit prep. “There’s a lady from Holmes Real Estate that wants to talk you out front. Should I-“




“Nicole?” She asks, her eyes going wide.




“I think?” I didn’t remember the woman’s name; her penetrating eyes left me speechless.




“Oh! Send her in!” I take a hesitant step back, unsure of how the whole thing connects, but do as I am told.




I go back out front, “Karen will see you now.” Nicole’s face turns upward, a smile breaking her face into tight planes.




She thanks me and makes her way back to the office, not even asking for directions even though it’s pretty much a left turn and your in it.




The bell above the door chimes again.




Someone cleared his throat behind me. Startled, I whip around into the body that was all too familiar to my hands.




“F***.” We say in unison.

I roll my eyes at her. “You have got to be kidding me.” I scan over her, taking in her long legs and dark brown hair lying unruly on her head. Short jean shorts leave nothing to imagination (though I don’t need imagination) and a men’s v-neck lays slouchy on her shoulders. She’s beautiful. She scowls at me. “Asshole.” I take back what I thought about how beautiful you were. “Touchy aren’t we?” I take a step closer to the counter, leaning on to it. “Just leave, Finn.” I smile at her, not smirk, but a genuine smile. She hadn’t said my name since the crash. I shrug my shoulders, “can’t,” I point to where Aunt Nicole just walked in. I know she doesn’t know what I mean, but she doesn’t ask any questions, just turns back to her work and filing s***. I stay slouched against the counter, taking in the scuffed floors and clean windows, the age-old desktop computer she’s tapping away on and the framed inspirational posters on the wall. After the crash you think that you’ll go back to a life that’s just as shattered as you are, that’s just as confused and dark as the whole thing left you. But it wasn’t, the picture that someone snapped at a party of Luce and me still sat leaning against my laptop, wrappers stood abandoned on the carpet and my closet door stood ajar from the last time I had forgotten to close it. The only things that had changed were Chance, Luce and I, Diane finding her way through it all. “Luce.” I whisper, letting her hear all the pain and desperation and hurt and loneliness and love. She looks to me, eyes glazed over and tear-filled. “Please. Please, don’t Finn.” I nod my head. “Dammit, Luce!” I bring my fist down on the counter, making her leap out of her seat. “Don’t f*n’ tell me that-“ “FINN! STOP!” Luce stands up, hands on my chest as she leans over the counter. We’re barely a breath apart. “Stop.” She whispers. “I c-can’t do this. Okay?” She looks up at me. “I-I can’t f*n’ talk about the crash. I won’t.” A single tear slips down her cheek, I move my hand to wipe the tear away, but the simple gesture makes her pull away. I exhale. “Okay.” I look everywhere except at Luce. I run my hand through my hair, a weird quirk I have always done when I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to be. I don’t look at Luce as I make my way out the door, not bothering to tell her good bye. * The bass is uneven as the house shakes to the beat of the song. The lyrics start to stand out to me… “And we just gonna make you lose your mind…” Too late, I think. WAY too late. I grab the first beer I see, not caring if it’s spiked or somebody else’s. I just know that I have to get drunk. The beers start to pile up, I lose track after the first one. I start to mix shots with it, hoping that I can forget my life for a while. I come to a halt beside the staircase. I allow myself to think. “Dammit.” I chug my beer in hand and make my rounds at the party. Tentacles wrap around me, sucking me up the stairs into a bedroom. I don’t know who brought me up here, but as long as it’s a girl… I’m game. My shirt comes off first, my pants coming quickly behind it. And before I know it I don’t remember anything about that night.

The clock ticked away the seconds, the minutes, the hours until all I had left were memories of a blank wall I stared at.




It was some god -awful time in the morning, a time when most normal people would be asleep and dreaming of sunsets and stolen kisses.




Instead, I was carelessly staring away at a wall that was yet to magically appear into a talking horse or a singing rainbow.




I lay my head on my desk, letting my face rest on my unfinished homework and scattered photos of old friends. I don’t remember dozing off, but I did.




*




A knock woke me up. It was one of those knocks that you got the feeling that something bad happened, like your heart dropped through your ass.




This is what it felt like for my parents that night.





Mom was out cold in her room; slobber dripping down her chin while dad rocked back and forth in the bathroom. I made my way down the carpeted stairs dreading each step by step until I reached the front door.




At that point the door seemed farther away then it usually was, a bright line shined through the side windows, making me want to shield my eyes and run. And never, ever stop.




I reach for the knob, feeling the familiar twist and yank of the door. My heart dropped further. My eyes grew wider.




“Are you Mrs.-“ the policeman checks his clipboard, “Jasons?”




I nod my head numbly, not bothering to correct him.




His nametag said officer Talon on it, a scary name for a badass policeman. His hair buzzed short, brown spikes surrounding his large head, terrifying brown eyes stared me down. “Does a Finn Rogerson live here?”



I must have gasped or something because his eyes looked understanding. I think he though I gasped for another reason entirely. He holds a huge,
imposing hand up. “No, ma’am, he’s fine. Just fine.”




I almost giggle at his “Just fine” but I let it go.




“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, obviously confused at why they brought him here, of all places.




Officer Talon clears his throat. “We found Finn intoxicated and walking around on the streets, we’re giving him a ride home and this is where he said he lived.”




I want to slap my forehead. DUH. Of course, Finn would come here, his parents would go bat-s*** on him for coming home “intoxicated.”




“Yeah,” I agree rather solemnly. “Yeah, he lives here.”




Officer Talon walks back to the squad car, flashing lights over the street and reflecting on windows.




Good, I thought, another reason for neighbors to stare at us.




One drunken Finn stumbles out of the car, crawling his way up the sidewalk and barely into the house. He collapses halfway through the doorway.




I laugh out loud at his apparent helplessness. I grab him around his shoulders and work to get him up, kneeing him in the stomach in the process. I cross my fingers hoping he won’t puke all over the front porch.




Finn’s eyes are glazed over and his black hair is mussed up and his clothes are wrinkled and dirty.




But he still looks beautiful.





I shake my head. Dammit. I can’t think about that.




“Finn…” I wobble him a little as he stands up, trying to get him a little coherent.




His eyes seem to come alive then. “Luce!” he yells, his voice echoing through the ‘hood, “hey.” he whispers to me after I cringe.





“Hey, Finn. Help me get upstairs to my room.” I get a hold of him, holding tightly to his belt loops and the other side of his shirt.




His eyes go really wide, big – blue- UFO- wide. “I’m going to your room?” he whispers.
I smile at him through gritted teeth. “Yes, Finn.”




He rubs his chin. “Okay.” Saying it simply.




We’re almost to the top of the stairs when he stops.




“Ya know- you’re kinda beautiful.”




I glance down at my bare feet, the silver nail polish chipped and tarnished.




“And ya know when we were f*** buddies?”




I cringe, still staring at my feet. I really need to paint them again. Maybe a red or a blu-




“I wanted to be your boyfriend.” I whip my head up at him, needing to look in his eyes if he was telling the truth. His eyes appeared indifferent, like I should have known all along.




I lead him to my bedroom, letting him take the floor with a couple pillows and blankets- leaving out aspirin beside him. He starts to take his clothes out, stripping his shirt and jeans until all he had one were boxers and a small cross around his neck. I blushed at the sight of him; muscles lined his body, built and wonderfully touchable.




He takes a step towards me.




I blush harder, it creeps down my neck.




Another step.




Another.




He’s flush against my body, not making any move to wrap his arms around me or chastely taste my lips.




I clench my fists at my side, gripping my loose pants. Fire burns all over me, that electric feeling is back in full force, magnetizing me towards his mouth.




He bends his head ever so slightly, testing my reaction.




I look up ever so slightly, testing my feelings.




He bends a little closer. His lips are mere air space from mine; I gulp, wanting more than anything to kiss him.




Then he winces. Like physically winces, closing his eyes and running his hands through is hair. He makes space between us.




One single word escapes from his mouth.




“F***.”

I open my eyes groggily, pain pounding inside my skull. I smile at the aspirin sitting beside me. I gulp two down. That’s when I realize where I am. Photos had replaced stuffed animals; the pink bedspread made way for a turquoise one. Where the desk now lay there used to be an overstuffed armchair. I remember telling the police officer to bring me here, but I wasn’t exactly rational at the time. Luce lies awkwardly on her bed, her mouth slightly open and hair mussed up. I gingerly get out of my mess of blankets and pillows, groaning at my sore back. Her eyes slide open, letting my get a look at her sparkling green jewels. She glares at me, fears let aside. Confused I ask her the first thing on my mind. “When did your room change?” “Same time Chance died,” she growls. I wince at her words. I remembered all the times I had to shove her stupid stuffed animals out of the way to make room for the both of us. The blue bear would be perched on top of her pillows, as if silently guarding her. I would always get that one off the bed first. I would constantly make fun of her for having the that stupid blue bear, it could never be tossed off the bed but, rather gently put aside on her night table. I was always creeped out; it seemed to always be watching us. Most of the time I would turn it towards the wall or stuff it in the drawer instead. I don’t kiss and tell. “Finn?” I look at her. “What?” She smirks. “You can go now.” And then for some reason, unbeknownst to me, I pull her into a hug. It was just a hug. No groping. No secret touches. No PG-13. I smiled and whispered in her ear, realizing how dangerously close I was to her. Then it hit me. The closeness, the body against body, how close I was to kissing her, which had been entirely too much. I wanted her lips against mine. I wanted- “Finn.” I pull back and stare at her. She must see it in my eyes or some s*** like that. “Luce, I’m sorry.”

I rip myself out of his grasp. My eyes water up. “What the hell?” He looks dumbfounded. He gets that that thing on his face that says what-crawled-up-your-ass-and-died? “Get out, Finn.” Incredulously, he stares at me. “W-Why?” Because all I want to do I wrap you in my arms and kiss you till my lips fall off! Because you being here makes me want to do the whole f***-buddies thing again even if it meant no feelings! Because you said things last night that I won’t ever be able to forget and things I don’t know that are true! Instead, I settle with, “Because.” A picture sits on my desk, staring at me every night before I go to bed, and every morning when I wake up. Chance smiles back at me, but I know hidden within that smile he’s smirking at me. Slowly taunting, “Lucey’s got a crush! Lucey’s got a crush!” I wince. Finn takes one last glance at me before putting his clothes back on and leaving. “Why did he apologize?” I say out loud. I can’t get much crazier after thinking a picture of my dead brother is singsong mocking me. “Luce?” the muffled voice reaches to me through my door. I tell dad to come in, not realizing what a mistake I just made. He stares at me, the dark hair I inherited disheveled and greasy. Then he says calmly, “Why the f was Finn Rogerson leaving your room?” I try to speak, but nothing really comes out. “Are you f*ing around with him like some kind of cheap whore?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “I will not be the father of-” he stutters and raises his voice. “-of some slutty teenage daughter!” “You were never a father to begin with,” I mumble. I immediately regret it for two reasons, 1) he had been a father before everything went to hell and 2) if he heard that I should expect a couple more punches. He takes a step closer, his sweats dragging on the floor. He narrows his eyes at me, piercing daggers. “What did you just say?” “N-nothin.” I stammer, my eyes go wide as they take in his approaching form. His shadow looms over me, bending down to whisper in my ear. “Guys don’t stay with whores, Luce.” I shutter at his words. Dad stands they’re a while longer, contemplating whether I got the message or if I need a good slap to make sure I understand. He takes a step back, briefly glancing at the picture of Chance on my desk before leaving. I quickly suck in a breath, not realizing that I hadn’t breathed for a while. I sit down at my desk, absently brushing my hands over the frame. “Chance,” I sigh. “I really need you.” I let the tears fall then. I let them come for what Finn just did and what dad has the abilities to do. I let them fall because I’m half dead and I let them fall because climbing isn’t easy. I let them fall because I had to be the girl that fell off goddamn Everest.

Gripping my hair walking out of Luce’s house, I just want to storm back in and scream at her. I wanna pin her against the wall and kiss her face and her neck and her arms. I wanna whisper in her ear and run my hands through her hair. I wanna tell her, “I know I f*ed s*** up, but Luce- goddamit- I love you.” Instead, I march to my jeep and go home. I ease out of her driveway, a million more times cautious then I had been before. I make my way to the stop sign at the end of her road, double-checking before I proceed; I wince as the car behind me gets closer than I intended it to. I had been driving that night, I was as careful as every 3-month old new driver is. I made complete stops and used my turn signals. I checked my mirrors, I made everyone buckle-up, I whispered “ten and two.” But in the end, it wasn’t enough. It never will be. I park in my driveway, taking in my house. All seven-bedroom, eight-bathroom parts of it and nail my head against the steering wheel. I repeatedly do it, thinking maybe it will knock some wires loose and make me a better person. It’s not until the eighth hit that I finally feel the pain. I stop, glaring at my house as if it resembles my life, spitting on the picture it perceives- a perfect family. My dad’s never home. My mom’s never home. My brothers left and never came back after they graduated, refusing to talk to me since I apparently “ruined the goddamn family.” I suck in a breath, preparing myself to welcome the emptiness of my house. It didn’t used to be like this. I used to bring Luce home with me and we would mess around. I would always feel less empty after she left, not entirely full but just not as empty. My key turns easily in the lock, the door opening soundlessly into the marble foyer, the pool looks sad and abandoned through the porch door. I haven’t swum in it since the crash. I don’t allow myself the luxuries anymore. My bedroom is black, walls dark and brooding, my bed gray and dull, matching with a desk covered in photos of pre-crash. Chance and I with an arm slung around each other’s shoulder, smiling at the camera with the pool in the background. Some random chick and me that I had I met at the beach last summer. My family and I a couple of years before the crash, I look young and naïve while my oldest brother, Brendan, smirks at the camera and drapes his arm around mom. Jack stands beside dad trying to look as professional as my dad, but the small curve of his lip gives him away. My mom and dad stand in the middle of the picture, happy but careful enough to hide it. I give the picture a half-assed smile, reminiscing the good times until it just went to all the bad times. I haven’t seen my parents in days, only catching glimpses of them as they sneak there away around their bad kid, the one that ruined everything. It hadn’t been my fault. I still remember it like it was yesterday. * I was singing along with the radio, not caring that everyone in the car heard that I knew all the lyrics to the girly, hip-hoppy song. I tapped my hand on the steering wheel, happy that I had finally told Luce that I loved her. She sat in the passenger seat, holding my other hand and rubbing circles by my thumb. Chance, Diane and Julie hadn’t said anything about the change of relationship, but you could tell they noticed. They were in the back giggling about something, drunk off their asses. I stopped at the intersection, the stoplight red and bright. I had been listening to a new song when the truck hit us. Careening as we had tried to make our way through the green light. Luce’s face, oh god, her face. Her dark hair was plastered around her face, large eyes stared back at me in shock, her hands trembling as the car nailed Chance. We spun once or twice, everything a blur. She dared one look at Chance. The blood running down her mouth mixed with tears, an eerie pink contrasting with her golden skin. I didn’t look back; I simply reached for Luce hoping that I could pull her to me. My seatbelt gave free, giving me couple inches to pull Luce’s shaking figure to me, the truck sat on the opposite side of the intersection, the driver was slumped over the wheel but I couldn’t bring myself to care. I ran my hands through her brown hair, noticing blood. Her eyes wavered and shut. I hugged her tighter, hearing the sirens in the distance.

I slammed my hand on my alarm, already out of my bed and throwing clothes on in a hurry. Sleeping in does wonders with adrenaline rushes. “Luce!” Mom yelled from outside my bedroom door, in a voice that sounded piss-inducing terrifying. I swung open the door, in mid-brush of my hair when she started to scream. Now, I have seen bat-shit crazy. But, damn, this was BAT-SHIT CRAZY. Her eyes started to bulge, as she ranted to me how I never took care of her or the house and how everything was shitty and how it was al my fault. “You stupid bitch,” she sneered, stepping into my room and closing the door. “You think you can live off of us like some f*ed-up leech, but you got another thing comin’.” I had never been scared around my parents, hell, I had never been scared of anyone. But, right now, I was f*in’ terrified of what my mom was. The person she had become was not the stay at home mom that used to bake us cookies every Sunday, she wasn’t the woman who would cradle us to sleep when the monsters wouldn’t go away. Mom turned into this evil bitch of a lady that blamed her daughter for her spiral out of control. I hunkered back from her, shrinking into a tiny ball into the corner of my room as my mom ranted on about how I ruined her life. The first slap was easy, painful but not an unbearable her-hand-to-my-cheek casualty. The second slap was hard, even more so than the punches that I had endured from dad after Chance’s funeral, the ones that left me suffocating on my own air. And the third slap may have been the worst; unendurable was the perfect description for it. The thing about slaps is; is that they not only pack the punch of physical pain, but they hurt just as much mentally. Especially, when you see your mom coming at you with hatred in her eyes that only you could have put there. And, especially, when you realize that the hatred was something you could have never controlled. The third had ended her rant; the only sound coming from her was heavy breathing and my own ragged chest heaving as I struggled to breath. She gently stepped out of my room, but I didn’t dare move until I heard them stop down the foyer, a sure sign she had gone to her bed. Moving my body wasn’t bad; it was just the memories of her weighed down on me enough to make climbing my damn mountain completely and utterly stand still. I sat down in front of my mirror, appraising my face and praying that I looked good enough to go to school. Apart from my eyes being puffy and my cheek a little red, I didn’t have any flashing signs on my body that said ABUSED TEEN HERE. Quietly and stealthily, I made my way down the stairs and into my car. I winced as I turned the key in the ignition and it made this awful grinding noise. Surprisingly, it didn’t make wake up the whole f*in’ town. To get to school I make a total of three turns, one at a stop sign and the other two at a stoplight. I guess that’s what made me mad as I saw a black chevrolet barreling towards my piece of shit. I had been stopped at a stop sign, I looked both ways, but I honestly must have dismissed the other car as if it were a mirage. The impact was hurtling, my car careened to the left side of the road and was hit again by an upcoming car. I was being tossed back and forth like a rag doll, a puppet on strings as some unknown force held my life in their hands. The tears started before I could stop them, before I could convince myself to be brave. This is what happens to those who dare climb their mountain again. They get tossed into something death-worthy and harrowing. They get tossed into something not nearly as scarring as their memories but equally as damaging. The radio kept blaring music I must have subconsciously put on when I pulled out of the driveway, the voice of the newscaster seemed eerie compared to the bang and shift of my collision. I slumped forward into my seat, my seatbelt holding me back as the air bag smacked me in the face. I didn’t move. I didn’t need to. Or, for that matter, didn’t want to. I was falling of the edge. I was falling off that oh-so-tempting cliff. And know one was there to catch me.