Sweet Colors of Twilight

In My Dreams

2009-10-10T00:24:00.003+08:00

In My Dreams
By Li Lin

Rated: NC16

A hundred days have made me older
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face
A thousand lies have made me colder
And I don't think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face

He caressed the wrinkled surface of the photo gently, tracing the outline of her flawless face. Beautiful. She was his universe. Without her, he was nothing but an empty shell with an empty heart, only air flowing in his veins – no blood, no passion. The photo slipped through his fingers and fluttered gently to the floor. He made no move to pick it up, fingers tightening around the stem of his wine glass. It had been so long, so long. Was it possible for someone to suffer from withdrawal symptoms after missing a person too much? He was certain that the painful cramps assaulting his heart and the impossible craving for her touch and kisses were signs that he was slowly being driven mad. Slowly, he reached over to pick up the fallen photo and brought it close to his body, cradling it against his chest, feeling his heart beat against the paper.

“She’s no good for you,” they had said, their voices earnest. “Leave her before she leaves you.” They had urged, their eyes pleading. “We’re just trying to help you.”

“Lies!” He had snarled in response, pushing past them just so he could return to her side where he allowed himself to drown in her lies and empty promises. He swallowed whatever she said – that she loved him with all her heart; that he was the first man who had ever stepped foot in her apartment and stayed; that he was her everything, and drank in her every action – the way she tossed her head, the dark silken strands falling back in place; the way her fingers pressed down on each ivory piano key to produce the sweetest music that ever graced his ears. He listened even when she told him that she was having her girlfriends over on a Monday night, so could he please stay over at his parents’ house for one night? It was only when he turned back to retrieve his wallet that he heard the thumps and the moans and the bed springs squeaking under the desperately moving hips that spoke of her cruel betrayal.

With his head spinning and his heart hurting with an unexplainable ache, he had let himself collapse onto the couch only to suffer in silence until the creaking ceased and long moans turned into deep breathing. He had thrown the door open to see her bare beautiful body sweaty and shaking, tangled in sheets, and encased in another man’s embrace. Taking a long drink of the deep red liquid from his glass, he remembered the feeling of silent tears trickling down his cheeks, and the way his vocal cords stopped working altogether when that man gave him a triumphant smirk. He remembered how her smoky eyes met his furious, devastated, betrayed ones as she sat up slowly, one hand placed casually on the other man’s biceps, “We’re over.”

The day he walked out, he never saw her again.

The day they broke up, he knew he would never forget her face.

I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight it's only you and me, yeah

He woke up with a start, jolting into a sitting position, his breathing ragged and unsteady. Slowly, he slid back down onto his back, knowing that he had just had one of his regular dreams. Of her. He groaned; the ache in his groin was surely not allowing him anymore sleep until he took care of it. Tossing his covers aside, he found the images of him and her, holding hands, walking along the beach filling his mind - her in her white tank top and pale blue skirt. He had no idea why he found her so breathtakingly beautiful that way.

He slipped one hand down his boxers and gripped it tight.

Her eyes sparkling, curved into the prettiest crescents, her hair flying behind her in the salty sea breeze that whipped at her ankle length skirt. Such a corny, clichéd picture… which took his breath away each time it came to mind.

His hand began to move as he remembered the way she ran her fingers through his own dark hair, her sharp nails digging painfully into his back, painful, oh so gloriously painful, clawing their way down his back, scratching against his tanned skin, her fingers clutching his arms, her wonderful scent when he dipped his head down to bite lightly at her neck to mark her as his, her sharp gasp, the frantic movements, her scream, and her desperate whispers of his name colliding with the hoarse, harsh, rasping sounds from his throat that struggled to form her name.

He exploded in his boxers, falling back against his bed, not even realizing that he had been arching off the surface in sheer desperation for release. He blinked and shook his head slightly, turning to look at the clock. Three in the morning seemed like just the right time for an ice cold bath. He stumbled when he got up, finding his legs weakened. He extracted the wrinkled photo from beneath his pillow and brought it into the bathroom with him.

It was going to be just him and her, until the sun came around.

The miles just keep rollin'
As the people leave their way to say hello
I've heard this life is overrated
But I hope that it gets better as we go

“It’s okay, man,” his brother was saying as he uncapped a bottle of Heineken before offering it to him. He blatantly ignored it. “She’s just a chick. You’ll get over her.”

“And we told you she was no good. You just needed time on your own to figure that out,” his best friend added, slinging a comforting arm around his shoulder. “It’s been two months and she’s flirting with anything that has a dick. She’s moved on, so you should stop moping.”

She’s not just a chick! He wanted to shout at them. And I would stop moping if I actually could.
The first few weeks after they break-up had been torturous. When he called off their engagement, there had been concerned calls day and night, offering sympathy and uttering supposedly comforting words that did nothing but serve to fuel his misery. It took a lot of convincing on his part, but his family and friends finally took his advice and left him to his own devices before he whipped out a chainsaw and committed a massacre. Naturally, he had spent his time alone reminiscing and trying to get over both her betrayal and the fact that he had completely given up his heart and soul to her… And there was no way he was getting them back. He was perfectly content to remain that way but his brother and best friend decided to take on the duty of breaking him out of his shell, adamant on making him join them on their weekly conquests to the seedy nightclubs. Everything went downhill at an alarming rate thereafter.

Idly, he wondered if there was any way his life could get any worse. Love had surreptitiously slipped rose-tinted glasses over his eyes. For twelve months, he had truly believed that there was no other couple more in love than them. He had trusted her when she murmured sugared words of her affection for him, but the day he never got to saw her again, everything changed. The world had seemed like a beautiful place, like nothing would ever rip him apart the way she so brutally did with her affair. Now, it was as though the skies were perpetually gray and tumultuous, looking as if they were about to pour forth rain the way tears had poured from his eyes for days after the incident. Stupid. He was so damn stupid.

He shut his eyes in exhaustion, letting their chatter wash right over him. He wanted them to leave him alone to wallow all he liked in self-pity. He wanted to die, because she was his everything and she was gone, which meant everything that mattered was gone and there was no point in living any longer. But above all, he desperately wanted to see her again, to run his fingers through her hair and plant kisses all over her body and mark it as his. Only his.

He wanted her, fuck it.

I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight girl, it's only you and me

He struggled to open the door with her cradled in his arms. Staggering into the apartment and straight to the bedroom, he laid her immobile form onto the bed. Backtracking to the front door, he closed it and hurried back to her side. Her eyes were closed, eyelashes dark against her pale make-up. It had been ridiculously easy to locate her at the club she frequented, dancing against eager male bodies. Anger had swept all his good sense away in a wave – if he could not have her, no one else could. The moment she settled down at the bar wearily, he sent over a drugged drink which she accepted without question. That was her problem – always expecting guys to be at her beck and call, only giving her the finest things in life. She knew she was beautiful, and she exploited that fact.

It wasn’t long before she started to stretch and yawn, setting her head down to drift into a deep sleep. That was when he swooped in to carry her home, to where she belonged – next to him. He brushed a finger down her smooth cheek, smiling slightly when she stirred and became motionless again. He straightened and proceeded to seat her in the wooden chair he had prepared, humming as he wound the silk ties around her limbs and the chair’s legs. She stirred once more and her eyes fluttered open to focus in on the man kneeling before her. She tried to move, only to find that she was immobilized. Her eyes widened and she let loose a wild scream.

“Let me go! Let me go! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He stared at her in fascination. Her eyes were wild as she strained against the tight knots. That was not the girl he knew – the one he loved was sweet and always so composed. Her words were always silky, sending trembles down his spine when she purred them in his ear – never shrill, not like that. She shrieked once more, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. His gaze darkened as he took one step nearer. He bent over until he was at eye level with her.

“Kiss me,” he whispered. “I’ve been dreaming about your kiss since we last met.” He gripped her chin tightly and tilted it towards him. She started sobbing quietly as she fought to turn her face the other way. He held on tighter, hard enough to bruise. He leaned in closer. “Kiss me.”

A tingle shot through his body when her lips brushed his, only to have sharp pain shooting through his lips when she bit down hard. He pushed her back roughly, “Fuck! Bitch, you made me bleed.” He licked his bottom lip tentatively, tasting the coppery blood seeping from his wound. He wanted her back. Not physically, per se, but the girl who had been him for a year. The one who would stroke his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, who would work the knots in his muscles out with her massage skills, running her hands down his muscled back, down his arms…

He gripped her arm and forced her to look at him. Her gaze was defiant, as she opened her lips to scream again. He swallowed any sound she made with a fierce kiss, working his tongue into her mouth past her teeth and sucking on her lips, waiting, praying for some form of response. He half-expected her to bite down on his tongue and render him mute but she did not. Her struggling stopped after a few seconds and her shoulders sagged, surrendering her lips to him. But they were motionless. He pulled away, breathless.

“Why?” He asked weakly. He reached over to grab the glinting razor on his desk. Her eyes widened when he brought it down on her in one sharp slash. Instead of a bloodbath, her satin top fell apart. He ripped it right off, tearing it in half vehemently.

“What… What are you doing?” She choked out, sobs working their way up her throat as she began to cry loudly. Her cries were muffled when he scrunched up the fabric and thrust it into her mouth. With one swift motion, he had her top half naked and shivering. She had her eyes squeezed shut and tears were making their way down her face.

“I just want you again. I dream about you all the time, do you know that?” He murmured, beginning to cut through her denim skirt with a pair of scissors. He noted the goosebumps on her skin and blew hot air on it. Removing the skirt, he kissed her bare thighs. “I dream about us, and the memories, the times we had together.” He began sucking on a patch of her silky skin. “You’re here with me right now, physically, but you’re not here with me the way I want you to be.” Her muffled crying only seemed to grow louder and louder. “Why did you have to leave me broken like that, babe? You were my universe. I loved you so bad. I still do, so bad that I don’t want anybody else to have you. Do you get it?” She nodded frantically, praying that if she went along with whatever he said, he would perhaps let her off. A sad smile played across his lips. “You lie.”

A dark look swept across his face as he stood up, his voice suddenly turning dangerous, no longer wistful, “Did you like it when he touched you?” He ran a hand along the length of her body. Her trembling increased tenfold. “When he fucked you on the bed we used to make love on?” She began shaking her head from side to side, her hair sticking to her face where sweat and tears had made her skin damp. There was the feel of cold metal on her skin and then piercing pain. He was drawing on her skin, that fucking bastard. “I need you.” Another slash of the knife. “I love you.” Another slash. She felt warm liquid running down between her breasts. “Do you love me too? I guess not. You’re not even you anymore.” Yet another cut. This time on her forearm. She winced in pain. “Does it hurt?” He pressed his lips to her arm, hot and wet, and licked at her wound, divulging it of any blood stains. “Does it feel better?” He leaned over to suck on the wound at her collarbone. She tossed her head back, trying to shake him off. He pressed her hips down against the wooden chair. “You used to like it when I do that. Kiss you like that. Not anymore, huh?”

He reached up to remove the now wet top from her mouth. Low gasps escaped her as she struggled to speak, but each time her sobs kept her from saying anything. Gently, he wiped away the tears falling down her cheeks.

“Tonight, girl, it’s only you and me.”

Everything I know and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls, when it's all said and done
It gets hard but it won't take away my love, whoa

He untied the knots around her wrists and ankles, freeing her from their constrains. She seemed to melt into the wooden surface, barely any strength left. Shallow cuts and pale bruises from his nips all over her body, a mutilated art piece quite different what it looked like originally. He swept her up in his arms and set her on his bed. She hung from his arms limply, not even bothering to fight back anymore. It was a nightmare. A crazy nightmare. Her eyes sank close and more tears seeped out uncontrollably.

She felt the bed sink when he crawled in next to her. Familiar arms wrapped themselves around her, circling her waist and cushioning her head. Her cuts stung. She felt lips on them once more, licking, kissing, trying to remove the pain he had caused. It was too late. His strong fingers stroked her back idly. She found herself wondering why exactly she had decided to leave this man, who was so good looking he could have been a model, who had been so perfect that he would drive a mile to get her a chocolate cake if she asked, who loved her so much his life revolved around her. But that was the problem, he loved her too much, and he was too perfect. Too damn perfect. Not anymore.

More tears. His gentle hands again, wiping them away.

“I still love you, girl. I really do.” His voice was halting. She remained silent. “It’s so hard but, I can’t stop loving you.”

His voice caught, “I’m going to kill you tonight. And I’m going to kill myself.” She reached upwards weakly to touch his face softly. He was crying. The chest she was lying against began to rise and fall. “I love you.” She inhaled sharply when she felt the knife enter her flesh deep, and pulled out again slowly. Her fingers curled around his hand to show him that… That she understood. She understood him perfectly. Her eyes rolled up to meet his one last time, the sorrow in his eyes so heartbreaking that she could almost forgive him for… Killing… Her… And before it all went black, she distinctly heard him murmuring,

“I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you….”

I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you baby
And I dream about you all the time
I'm here without you baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight girl, it’s only you and me

Credits: Here Without You – 3 Doors Down

2009-02-13T23:05:00.001+08:00

They were everywhere - in the hallways, in the classrooms, in the canteen. Holding hands, exchanging gifts and smiling sweetly at each other. So sweetly in fact, that she felt irked and sick to her stomach. Were they trying to freaking kill her by making her diabetic? But really, the truth was that she was jealous. Everyone had someone. Even the birds in the trees were flying around in pairs. All the girls were flaunting their pretty presents and lovely roses but no, she missed him too much to gush along with them. She stared moodily at the rainbow charm hanging off her phone.

Red, was the color of the love she had for him, of all the passion there was in their relationship.

Orange, was the color of the warm, fuzzy way he made her feel when his fingertips brushed her skin.

Yellow, was the color of the joy he brought into her life by doing all the little things he did.

Green, was the color that clouded his vision when she smiled at other guys - jealousy rearing its head in the cutest way possible.

Blue, was the color of the gentle manner he treated her and her fragile heart, always afraid that he would hurt her.

Indigo, was the color of the mutual respect they held for each other.

Violet, was the color of the protectiveness in his eyes and the way he made her feel safe.

Her emotions were running amok, like colors clashing on a plain white canvas, like a rainbow painted across a clear blue sky after the rain. Two years ago, he left her side. Two years ago, he promised her he would return in another 730 days. Two years later, she was still alone, and still waiting. For him.

She really missed him. Had he forgotten?

"Hey," someone said, tapping her on her shoulder gingerly. She brushed at her damp cheeks and turned, only to come face-to-face with a bouquet of red, red roses. She looked up in surprise. He smiled, still holding out the bouquet. "I'm back."

She choked back her tears and tried to speak. No words escaped her lips. She delved into his arms, crushing the roses between their bodies. But she did not care.

"You're back," she whispered finally. "You're back."

"I'm back. I'm here," he said simply, holding her tight. "For good. Happy Valentine's Day, love."

She cried.

Disease

2009-01-31T16:13:00.003+08:00

The following story addresses a controversial topic. I have nothing against homosexuals and if you do, I hope you don't get riled up over nothing. Please give comments on my writing and not my stand on a topic which opposes yours. Read at your own discretion.

Disease
By Li Lin

PART I.

This town is colder now
I think it's sick of us
It's time to make our move
I'm shakin' off the rust
I've got my heart set on anywhere but here

“I don’t know. What d’you think?” Damon glanced over at his best friend sprawled across his bed. “Do I do it today? It’s not like I’m ever going to start lovin’ her again. The feeling’s really gone.”

Brandon removed the open comic book from his face and peered up blearily at him. He raised an eyebrow lazily, “Break your girlfriend’s heart on her birthday, why don’t you?”

Damon laughed drily, pulling a black shirt over his muscular frame. He grabbed his phone and wallet, tucking them into his pockets before making his way out the door. Before he kicked the door shut with his foot, he popped his head into the room and grinned, “See you at the car, sucker.”

Five minutes later, Brandon sauntered down to the Ford Mustang parked in the driveway, twirling a pair of car keys in his right hand. He smirked at his fuming best friend and tossed the keys at him. “Guess who’s the sucker who left his car keys on his bed?” They climbed into the car with Damon flicking the radio on.

“Lindsay had better like her birthday present,” Damon commented casually as he backed out onto the main road, driving in the direction of his girlfriend’s house, where her birthday party was in full swing. “I spent ages picking it out. I hope she doesn’t try and murder me if she doesn’t like it.”

“Says the guy who’s about to dump his girlfriend,” Brandon snorted, rifling through the box of CDs. “I still don’t see why you want to break things off with her. I mean, you guys are like the Golden Couple and…”

Damon was saved from coming up with a reasonable reply as he pulled into the driveway of Lindsay’s sprawling mansion. He reached into the back to bring out a present concealed in a paper bag. The two of them made their way to the open front door where music was blasting in the living room.

“Hey, hey! Look who’s here!” There was a sudden shout from the corner of the room where the stereo system was being handled by a guy with neon purple hair. Damon grinned. Danny the DJ had changed his hair color for the third time that month. The room erupted into cheers as people caught sight of the two newcomers. All eyes seemed to be turned upon them as a few guys went up to hand them drinks. He scanned the crowd for the person he came for. The scene was familiar, it happened at every party. Those were the perks of being a jock – everybody knew who you were, and nobody dares to not give a damn about you.

“Damon!” A sweet voice called out as his girlfriend squeezed her way through the crowd. She was wearing a sapphire halter and a dark denim miniskirt. He grinned. Her dark hair was cascading down her back as she collided into him. “You’re finally here, huh?”

He smiled mysteriously and withdrew a snow white teddy bear from the paper bag. Tucked between its arms was a bouquet of fresh red roses. A combined gasp from jealous girls rose from the crowd as they watched the school’s most popular guy lean forwards and kiss his girlfriend gently on her lips. He put the teddy bear into her hands and grinned. Lindsay had to bite her lip to stop herself from squealing. She gave the teddy bear a kiss on the nose before wrapping her arms around Damon.

Damon encircled her slim waist with his own arms, but that was a tugging feeling at his heart strings. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he pulled her closer, much to the envy of the female population. Behind him, Brandon chuckled heartily and made his way towards the backyard where a barbeque had been set up. After he had passed through the crowd, people started mingling again, going about their own business.

“Hey you,” he heard his beautiful girlfriend whispering. He looked down at her deep blue eyes, but he didn’t feel the rush of adrenaline he used to feel. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything; he didn’t know what to say. Moments later, a commotion broke out in the backyard. Frowning, Lindsay pushed him away and stalked quickly through the kitchen to the backyard. He followed her, pushing past the people who were trying to get a look at what was going on. At the barbeque pit, a group of guys were gathered around something… Or someone.

“Damon’s here!” Someone shouted. All at once, the tight circle of guys broke apart to let him have a good look. Brandon was squaring off with a blonde guy. The blonde guy was slim, with startling green eyes. He was, to put it bluntly, more pretty than good-looking. He glared at Brandon defiantly, pulling his shoulders back. Damon blinked as his heart lurched within his chest. Hearing his best friend approach him, Brandon turned around, his hazel eyes blazing.

“Damon, what’s the deal here?” He had never heard his best friend sound so angry before. “Who the fuck is this guy?”Damon barely spared the newcomer another glance as he met his friend’s eyes, “How the fuck would I know?”

“He says that you invited him, and he wants to talk to you in private.”

“FAG!” A random guy standing amongst the crowd roared.

“Yeah! You gayshit!” “Lily-livered asshole!” “GAY!” “FREAK!” A chorus of obliging shouts was emitted from the crowd listening on in rapt attention. Damon quirked an eyebrow and looked at the blonde guy.

“Do I know you, Blondie?” A few on-lookers tittered at his insulting question. A look of hurt passed over the guy’s face. He took a step closer to Damon. Damon looked into his green eyes and backed away. “What do you want?”

Blondie placed a gentle hand on his forearm, “Damon…” His eyes widened as he shook his hand off.

“Go away. This is my girlfriend’s birthday party, and I won’t have you disrupting it,” he snarled, taking one menacing step towards Blondie. He watched as tears welled up in those startling green eyes. “Get lost.”

Behind him, the crowd began chanting his last two words. He watched as Blondie took a step back, anger and pain washing over his striking features. He watched as Blondie turned and literally ran away. He felt himself turning to face the cheering crowd. He felt himself breaking into a cocky grin and enveloping Lindsay in a hug. He felt his conscience screaming away inside of him.

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years
Steady hands just take the wheel
Every glance is killing me
Time to make one last appeal for the life I lead

PART II.

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving, but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be

His own mother was a counselor. Tall, slim and with striking good looks from which he obtained his good genes from. She was sitting on the small couch in his room in the basement, folding the freshly ironed clothes. He lay back against his pillow, glancing up from his book every few seconds, wondering again and again if he should ask.

“Is there something you need to tell me, son?” She asked calmly, placing a folded shirt aside. Damn, her and her freaky sixth sense. He put down his literature novel and cleared his throat hesitantly.

“Mom...” She looked up with a pleasant smile. “What... Would you do if a student visits you telling you that he’s gay?”

She raised an eyebrow slowly, her expression becoming unreadable, “Are you trying to tell me something here, dear?”

“Hell, no!” He gawked, horrified that she would even think that way. Her shoulders seemed to relax as she adopted a contemplative look. She gave him a sideways glance, “Is there a reason why you’re asking me this?”

“Mom, please stop using that professional voice. It gives me chills,” he told her blankly, cleverly avoiding her question. “I really need some advice here. It’s just... You know it was Lindsay’s birthday last night, don’t you?”

His mother “mm-hmm”-ed and continued to fold the seemingly endless pile of clothes. Damon chewed his lip and ran his hand over his hair a couple more times before continuing, “There was this guy... Gay, whatever, who turned up looking for me for some unfounded reason and although it wasn’t entirely his fault for being born that way, I kinda turned the whole crowd against him.”

He paused to give his mother a look. She nodded to indicate that she was still listening.

“And yeah, that kind of terrified, hurt look on his face really left an impression on me after he left.”

“He deserved it,” someone replied sternly. Damon looked over to the source of the voice. His father was standing at the base of the stairs leading to his room, a disgusted look on his face. How long had he been standing there? Damon cocked his head enquiringly. “Long enough to hear about your predicament, son. That boy deserved it. Homosexuality is illegal and simply wrong. He is merely misguided. Maybe the prejudice with which you and your friends treated him with would give him a wake-up call and make him realize what sort of man he should be.”

Damon gaped in surprise at his father’s short but heated speech. He had certainly not been expecting that. Who was he kidding? His father was against homosexuals as though they were the scum of the Earth. From what he knew, he had been in a very bad experience with one in his younger days. Something pulled at his heartstrings as he nodded slowly to show his father that he had been listening.

“Good, I’m glad you understand,” his father beamed, a drastic change in his attitude. He placed a warm hand on his wife’s shoulder. “I don’t want you mixing around with sinners like him, do you hear me?”

Damon nodded dumbly again, clenching his fists behind his back and tensing his muscles to calm the boiling rage within him. His mother who had not spoken a single word for a long time finally folded the last piece of clothing and got to her feet with a gentle smile, “Time for dinner, dears. Isn’t that what you came down for?”

She directed the last question to her husband who nodded in affirmation. They beckoned to Damon who grabbed his cellphone off the table and trailed after them listlessly towards the car. Well that went well¸he thought moodily. At least now you know what they think of gays. And what they will think of you.

In the car, he sat in silence while his younger sister and his parents talked about getting her a new cellphone… Not that Damon cared. He was too busy contemplating about the guy who had crashed the party. Blondie.

Blondie’s name clearly was not Blondie, and he certainly knew Damon personally. Much too personally in fact. Blondie’s name was Nigel and the two had bumped into each other in the alley behind the local clubbing area. Such an interesting meeting place, Damon thought wryly. He had had too much to drink that night and his friends were either passed out in the 24/7 club or had been driven home by the sober survivors. He seemed to be the only drunk one standing, albeit swaying violently. Lurching towards the drain, he had hurled up his dinner, along with the copious amount of alcohol he had downed. He felt a warm presence next to him and a slight hand patting his back, with another handing him tissue.

“Thanks,” he had managed to croak, wiping his mouth with the proffered material. He looked up to blink hazily at the blurred image before him. Pretty green eyes. Pale blonde hair. Fucking thin body. Was this girl anorexic or what? “Hi, sexy. I’m Damon.”

The image cocked a fair eyebrow, “Are you gay, and hitting on me?”

“Fuck, no,” Damon slurred, blinking a few more times before he realized that he had been flirting with a guy. A very feminine guy. “Dude. You’re gay.”

“Hell, yeah,” the image shrugged before taking his new companion’s arm and leading him towards the dry curb. “You should sit down. I’m Nigel.”

“Hi, Nigel,” his words came out fuzzy as his brain tried to focus. Gay. Touching. His. Arm. Why wasn’t he pushing him away? “Y… You got a twin there?”

“No, sweetheart,” he could swear he saw the image roll his eyes. “You’re drunk and hallucinating.”

“You should come to my party,” he heard himself say again. “At… At… That big house on the hill. This F… Friday night.”

“Are you asking me out?” The image sounded bored, as though he was used to supposedly straight men hitting on him all the time. “I don’t think your girlfriend would be pleased.”

“You got pretty lips,” was the last thing he heard before he kissed the image. Passionately. And he liked it. A lot. The next thing he knew, he was lying on a couch wondering why the hell he had had such a weird dream. He shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the blinding headache that had nestled between his temples. He forced himself into a sitting position and slumped forwards to cradle his head in his hands, only to see a piece of white paper in his lap.

He squinted as he tried to read the words floating before him, “Damon… Work…? Kiss… Night… Bye…? Love… Nigel?!”

He leapt to his feet and looked around the room wildly. No shit, this was certainly not his room. No shit, it had certainly not been a dream and no shit, he was certain he had been straight a moment ago.

Damon remembered the way he had panicked when he realized that his love for Lindsay had not depleted because he simply lost interest in her, but because coupled with his sudden obsession for studying his teammates’ toned bodies, it meant that he was no longer the person he thought he was. That sudden kiss with Nigel had simply broken through his barrier and made him realize who he was. He groaned softly and banged his head against the car window softly. Thud. Thud. Thud.

“Bro?” He turned to see Delia giving him a weird look. “We’re here. You can get out of the car and stop trying to kill whatever little brain cells you have left.”

“You…!” All worries were forgotten as he chased his little sister out of the car and towards the restaurant.

Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, can you see what I see

PART III.

They're tryin' to come back, all my senses push
Untie the weight bags I never thought I could
Steady feet don't fail me now, I'm a run till you can't walk
But something pulls my focus out, and I'm standing down.

She was crying, and the scene was worse than what he had imagined when he had come to a final decision. Part of him wanted to hold her close and wipe away those tears, but another part of him reminded him that he did not feel anything but cordial feelings towards her, whereas she would take it all another way. Lindsay faced him off, her defiant face still tear-stained.

“I hate you, Damon James Saunders,” she hissed, her blue eyes flashing. He had to applaud her for managing to keep her cool, enough to speak to him in a low tone. He honestly had not meant to break up with her right in the middle of the hallway. “Why don’t you turn around right this moment and walk out of my life forever?”

Their surroundings seemed to freeze. Students walking towards their lockers slowed down their footsteps to look at the Golden Couple standing at least a foot apart in the middle of nowhere, with the female in tears and the male looking passive. It was like a freak accident – something which they had no wish to get involved in, but were too intrigued to move away.

Whispers broke out as Lindsay took three strides towards Damon, but he made no move to get away. Silence fell across the gathered crowd once more as she gave him a resounding slap across his face, spinning around and stalking away. He did not need to see her face to know that there was a fresh surge of tears running down it. He watched her go, guilt welling up in his chest. He turned on his heels and resumed his walk towards his first lesson before changing his mind and walking straight out the school door, blatantly ignoring the heated stares from the numerous students behind.

-
He stared straight ahead at the gigantic pin-up of Madonna on his opposite wall. It had been a birthday present from Brandon, most definitely meant as a joke. What his best friend had not expected was that Damon would really pin it up on his wall. His couch was empty this time, safe for the couple of cushions his mother had put there to make the place look more ‘homely’ and less like a pigsty.

Of course he had not meant to break it off with her so quickly like their relationship had meant nothing to him. The break-up would have been inevitable, it was just the way he chose to end it that irked himself to no ends. He slid downwards to lie motionless on his bed, hearing his cellphone buzz to indicate the third voicemail.

Lazily, he reached out a hand and grabbed the phone, hitting the green button.

“Dude, you make me feel like slapping you! What were you thinking when you broke up with her right there, man? I’m all for being a chauvinist but that was way out of line.” Brandon, his own best friend.

“Hey, you. I’m Stephanie, I’m sure you know who I am. You fucking jerkbag, Lindsay’s a total wreck now! What the fuck was going through your mind?!” Stephanie, Lindsay’s best friend.

“Honey, will you please unlock your door? Why are you home so early today? Did you take a day off like I did, hun? Alright, dumb joke. This is ridiculous, I’m calling you using our house phone.” His mother.

He rolled off the bed and stumbled towards the door, throwing the latch open, hearing it click behind him as footsteps followed. A cool hand was placed on his neck, “Son, what’s the matter?”

“I broke up with Lindsay,” he swallowed before choking out, flinging himself onto his bed again. “I... Yeah. I broke up with her.”

“Oh, baby,” his mother said, sitting next to him and completely missing the main point. That her son was as straight as a rainbow. “It’s alright, dear. Lindsay’s a sweet girl and judging by how upset you are, the break-up must be just as tough for you. You can always find a better girl, and Lindsay will find a guy who suits her better than you do. Relationships come and go, you can’t expect to find...”

“Mom,” he began.”

“... stay with you for the rest of your...”

“Mom, listen to me.”

“... always someone else before you find your true...”

“Mother.”

“... spend the rest of your...”

“Mom, I’m gay. I’m not straight. I broke up with Lindsay because I realized I was gay.”

“... What did you say?”

“I...”

“No, I heard you the first time. This isn’t a joking matter, Damon. Are you kidding around with me?”

He sighed, gritting his teeth, “No, mother. I’m serious. I’m completely serious, goodness.”

“Well,” her eyes suddenly turned into chips of ice as she stopped stroking his hair and got off the bed. “You’re not entirely certain. We’ll see about that when your father gets home. Be ready by dinnertime. You have the rest of the day to think carefully about what you just told me.”

She left, just like that. As though being homosexual was a crime and that it was contagious. As though her son had a fucking disease. He moaned and buried his head into his pillow – it felt like it was going to burst. What the hell was he thinking when he decided to confess to her something so important?

Time passed and went so quickly despite the numerous missed calls and messages from his friends who were either a) asking him if he was neurotic for dumping his hot girlfriend, b) asking him if he was still alive or c) asking him if he was going to return to school. He ignored each and every one of them, waiting apprehensively for dinner time to come. All at once, there was a short rap on his door and Delia poked her head in, “Bro, Dad looks positively livid. Dinner’s ready now.”

She gave his hand an encouraging squeeze as he walked past her. She had probably already heard the news from their mother. His father was sitting at the dinner table, his shoulders tense and his back ramrod straight. The moment he sensed Damon’s presence, he got to his feet, whirled around and gave his son a solid punch across his already sore cheek.

“Are you sure you are gay?” He snarled.

“Yes.” Damon swallowed and lifted his head high, daring to look his father in the eye. He received a second punch on the other cheek in response.

“Are you sure?” His father asked again.

“Yes.” He received one more punch.

“Are you very sure?”

“Yes, I’m very sure. And I don’t see why I should be ashamed to admit it.” He mustered up the courage to say defiantly, looking at his father right in the eye. Mr. Saunders’ hand fell limply to his side.

“Leave,” he said coldly. Damon’s heart constricted in a way that almost made him gasp out in pain. Dismay, dejection, devastation? His father’s words continued to pierce his heart. “I don’t have a son like you. I want you out of the house by tomorrow morning or you will be sorry.”

Damon looked over to his mother pleadingly. She looked away icily, her face an impassioned mask. She slowly folded her arms and refused to turn her head back until Damon’s gaze left her. Was this how they were going to accept the truth? By cutting him out of their lives? He gritted his teeth to stop himself from lashing out at them and slinked out of the kitchen wordlessly. Behind him, there was somebody following him towards his room nervously.

“Delia,” he uttered tiredly as he descended the stairs to his room. “Stop following me. You can’t change their minds and you know it.”

She stepped into his room gingerly, “Bro, is it true?”

“You heard my confession earlier on, babe,” he threw an empty duffel bag onto the bed and opened his closet. He swallowed the gigantic lump in his throat and forced back the tears threatening to spill. Dashing at his eyes angrily, he chided himself, Sissy. “I’m well and truly gay and it’s fine if you can’t look at me the same way again after this.”

“Look, bro, I just wanted to let you know that whatever happens, I’ll still be on your side. Dad will calm down soon and he’ll let you back home...” Her voice sounded slightly choked as she reached over to pull him into a hug. He returned it gladly, thankful for the good relationship he had with his sister. He ruffled her hair affectionately and gave her a comforting smile, picking up the duffel bag to leave. She sniffled dejectedly, unaware of the immeasurable pain tearing at his insides. “You’re the best brother I have.”

“I’m your only brother, you silly girl,” he gave her one last smile and hurried out of the house, refusing to look back and barely even thinking about where he could go. All he wanted was to satisfy his father’s wish and get away from the house... So that he could find a quiet place and let his emotions free. He broke into a run, a mad dash out of his familiar neighborhood. Even his mother who had seen the weirdest situations during her job as a counselor could not accept the truth, much less his staunch father. What had he expected, exactly? It was an impossible feat to ask them to ditch their already set morals and warmly welcome their son’s homosexuality with open arms. He had even braced himself after his father’s words the day before – but nothing he felt then came as close as what he felt when his father gave him that look of disappointment, fury and worst of all, disgust.

Finally, he could hold it in no longer. As he rounded the bend into a completely foreign neighborhood, he fell to his knees and skidded along the tarmac floor, leaning over to put his head in his hands. His wet hands. He was crying, like a goddamned sissy, but try as he might he could not stop the onslaught of angry tears.

Why?

PART IV.

Stop and stare
I think I'm moving but I go nowhere
Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared
But I've become what I can't be

A few days ago, he had been one of the most popular guys in his school, the captain of the school’s varsity basketball team and one-half of the renowned Golden Couple, largely famous for his friendly deposition. A few days later, he was a dazed wreck, having crashed at Brandon’s house for the night. He wondered what his best friend would say if he had found out that the reason why he had gotten into a heated argument with his parents was because he had turned gay. Brandon had been sympathetic upon hearing of his fight with his parents, but had not probed further to ask about the reason behind the fight. Would he still have allowed Damon to sleep on the floor of his room?

He went from class to class silently, slipping in and out between the crowd of students to hide from the sights of his teammates and friends. He had no wish to let them find out about his ‘epiphany’. If they were so prejudiced against Blondie, what would they do to the once-famous Mr. Popular? Perhaps he would be discarded with contempt and be forced to be part of the social reject crowd. Now, he sat alone at the corner of the canteen, getting irate at the rumors floating around the school that Lindsay had not been a good enough girlfriend, and that was what prompted Damon to break up with her. Still, he kept silent, re-reading the same line of words in his Chemistry textbook.

“Hey, dude,” a familiar voice accompanied by a friendly slap on the back jerked him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Brandon smiling at him. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been such an anti-social kid for the whole day.”

“Hey yourself,” he responded listlessly, shrugging Brandon’s hand off. “I’m just not in a very good mood.”

“Aww man, c’mon, are you still annoyed over that quarrel with your parents? Chill man, things like that always happen, and always end as quickly as they come. Stop moping and come over to join us, yo?” Brandon gestured invitingly towards the table at which he usually sat at. Tension gripped Damon’s body as his best friend nudged him into a standing position and maneuvered him to an empty seat. The usual occupants of the table grinned at him and waved. He forced himself to nod in acknowledgement, stretching a tight smile across his face. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he began to perspire, unbridled fear beginning to grip at his heart. What if he let slip and accidentally let them know?

“Damon!” A high, chirpy voice called out his name as sharp nails dug into his shoulders. Fiona - the cheerleader captain blessed with amazing assets and the welcome ability to flaunt them to her own advantage. She managed to squeeze into the small space between Brandon and Damon, clinging onto Damon’s arm as she purred. “So, now that you’ve broken up with Lindsay, that two-faced bitch, can we finally get together?”

He shook her arm off irritably, giving her an acidic glare which would have turned her into a puddle if looks could kill. His voice was laced with venom as he politely asked her to ‘Get the fuck away from me’.

“I could give you a really good time,” she winked, pressing herself against him. A maroon talon was dragged lightly across his bare arm in a way that was probably meant to be seductive. The other hormonally-driven guys at the table whistled appreciatively as she leaned closer to give them a good view of her chest. “You’ll enjoy it.”

“Enough.” He said firmly, pushing her away with a hand, ignoring the way she got up huffily and stalked off with her friends. His friends were giving him slightly disturbed looks.

“Dude, are you like, gay or something? Fiona Davies just offered herself to you and you rejected her?” Martin, his teammate asked in good humor. Everybody else guffawed as though he had just given them the punch line to a hilarious joke. Damon fumed, clenching his jaw in response. None of them noticed his adverse reaction and simply carried on with the unfunny joke that Damon was secretly gay. He took in a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm and quell the rising anger, but the joke carried on.

“Yes, fuck it, I’m gay!” He finally exploded, standing up and pushing back the bench as he did so, eyes blazing in anger. They stared at him in silence. It seemed as though the entire student population had heard his violent outburst and was now gaping at his visage. He found himself addressing the whole canteen. “I’m a fucking homosexual, okay? That’s why I broke up with Lindsay, not because she wasn’t a good girlfriend. She was a wonderful, amazing, beautiful girl and I’m sorry to say that I can’t continue being with her when she deserves someone much better.”

He spotted her wide-eyed look across the aisle and there was a trace of understanding in her large ice-blue eyes. He bit his lip hard before going on, “So there you go. Now you know the truth, so leave her alone. You can condemn me for all I care, because I really don’t give a fuck about what you think.”

He sat back down, only to find the occupants still fixing their gazes on him. The once silent canteen erupted into life as babbling broke out, loud voices discussing the new piece of news delivered to them from the horse’s mouth. He rose an eyebrow, “What?”

“You’re not kidding, right...?” Brandon was the first to speak, his face twisting into an unreadable expression.

Damon stared at him right back, “Yes of course I was kidding, just to destroy my image before the entire student population. What do you think? Like I said, feel free to condemn me, I won’t blame you.”

“What’re you talking about!” Brandon exclaimed in surprise, giving him a solid whack on his back. “Regardless of what you become, you were my best friend and you are still going to be my best friend! Unless you start falling for me, of course.”

At this, Damon chuckled but his reply was cut short when Martin got to his feet with a feral snarl, “This is ridiculous. I won’t have our basketball team lead by a fag.”

“Hey, we picked Damon to be our captain because he was fit for the role. He has made so many good decisions and led us to so many victories even before he turned gay, hasn’t he? It’s not as though all that is going to change just because his sexual orientation changes,” Brandon was saying seriously. Damon was taken aback by his tone, even though he had felt insulted by Martin’s comment. “He’s still our captain and if you have any objections, let’s ask the rest of the team.”

Damon opened his mouth to say something but before he could get anything out, someone tapped on his shoulder. Leaving his teammates to argue their way around, he turned to see Lindsay standing in front of him. He braced himself for some sort of physical assault, only to have her give him a big hug. He stood baffled for a few seconds when she spoke, “You should have told me. I wouldn’t have held it against you, and I certainly wouldn’t have kicked up such a big fuss and made such a scene that day.”

He caressed her cheek gently, feeling unusually touched, “You’re a wonderful girl. You deserve someone who will treasure you more, who can treasure you more.”

“Don’t be mushy,” she teased in a surprisingly light voice, hitting his hand away. “You can still treasure me as a friend.”

He broke into a grin and gave her a tight bear hug that lifted her off her feet. She giggled in glee before insisting to be let down. Brandon hit his back to get his attention. He faced his friends once more, lifting an eyebrow when he saw them all seated properly and looking at him expectantly, with Martin still harboring the same mutinous look, “What?”

“Well, dude,” Brandon began cheerfully, waving a hand at the seated guys. “These guys here have agreed that you should stay on as our captain.”

“Provided that you don’t ever hit on us,” Martin said gruffly, his face showing his displeasure. Damon grinned once more, “Don’t you worry. I can safely tell you that you guys are not my type.”

They all burst into laughter, including Lindsay. This time, he joined them as well. It was not fair that his own parents could not accept him while his friends were so supportive. It was not fair, but it would have to do until they viewed things differently and welcomed him back.

Until then, he was happy to be right where he was.

Stop and stare
You start to wonder why you're here not there
And you'd give anything to get what's fair
But fair ain't what you really need
Oh, you don't need

Razorbladekisses

2008-12-05T20:07:00.004+08:00

Razorbladekisses
By Li Lin

Year 2000, February

The brown envelope fell from her hands, onto the floor. No, it couldn’t be. She fought back tears as she met the doctor’s sympathetic gaze. Dr. Rosaline stretched out a hand. Pulling back, she bent to retrieve the fallen article and left the room, shutting the door. Dr. Rosaline leant back in her chair, letting out a small sigh. It had to be painful, for someone so young to receive such shocking news.

~*~

“Remus, we need to talk.” The sandy haired guy sitting at the table looked up at the familiar voice and grinned.

“Hey, baby! How was the doctor’s appointment?” Remus slipped an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and led her to the chair opposite his. She shrugged his arm off as she slid into the seat. His eyes followed her movements. Was it just him or was she being… cold?

Like any other day, she was dressed inconspicuously in black, hugging the worn backpack to her chest. Her slim fingers quickly undid the zipper on her bag and she withdrew from it, a rose. A rose already beginning to decay, tipped with black and almost withering.

“If this, represented our relationship, what would you do with it?” Her voice came out almost a whisper as she held the rose gently in her hand. Remus blinked in surprise. Why was she asking such a question? Still, he knew his answer.

Taking it from her, he unwrapped the aluminum foil and wet cotton wool at the base of the stem, retrieved a pair of scissors from his bag and snipped the end off. He lowered it into his glass of water. He took her hand and said solemnly, looking into her cornflower blue eyes, “Babe, the first thing I would do, is to revive it again. Water will make this rose come alive. And if you think our relationship is dead, I assure you it’s not and it never will be. Even if it is, I will revive it, I swear.” She looked away.

“What would you do?”

Outside, it was beginning to storm. The overcast sky had held its tears in long enough and could hold them in no longer. The raindrops hit the window panes, trickling down them in tiny rivulets, like tears. Lightning flashed, thunder roared, the rain grew heavier and heavier, till everything seemed to be covered in a misty grey curtain.

She took the pair of scissors and held it to the neck of the rose. Without blinking, she snipped it off. Her voice sounded choked, “It’s over, Remus.” She dropped the decaying rose head on the table, clutched her backpack and left, her black ponytail swinging.

He picked the rose up and stared at her retreating back, watching as she walked out the door, watching as she crossed the road, watching as the rain soaked her beautiful skin, watching as she blended into the throngs of people, all the while crushing the petals in his hand, watching, wondering….

“Why?”

Year 2000, April

She reached out a hand to play with one of her luscious locks… before remembering that she was now bald. Bald. Something slid through the bottom of her apartment door. She got up and picked it up. It was a letter, without an envelope or stamp, clearly hand-delivered.

Dearest Laura,

It has been two months, babe. I miss you. And all I want from you is an answer. Why, Laura, why?

Love from,
Remus

A tear trickled down her cheek, falling on the paper, smudging his name. Why, you ask, she thought. Turning around, she tossed it into the fireplace, watching the edges curl, watching his letter disintegrate into ashes.

Because I didn’t want to be a burden to you, because I don’t want you to know that I have only two years to live, because I didn’t want you to hurt when I go! Baby I love you.

Her tears came in torrents now. Forget me. Forget everything. She gripped the razorblade in the open drawer next to her. Slowly, carefully, painfully, she carved an ‘R’ into her arm. The blood welled up. She went right on carving, reveling in the pain, staring at the scarlet rivers trickling down her arm.

REMUS

Gingerly, she touched her lips to his name in her arm, feeling them glide over the warm blood. She kissed the crinkled photo of him, lying next to her razorblade. She closed her eyes. Please, forget me.

Year 2000, December

“I’m afraid… I’m afraid it’s bad news, Laura. The tumor, it has grown bigger. There’s always surgery. But it’s also dismal for me to inform you that, that the surgery has only a 40% success.” Dr. Rosaline looked at the 20-year-old girl before her. Only twenty, and she had lost both her parents when she was just a teenager. To live with an aunt who didn’t give a shit about her, and to know later on that she had cancer, life had really been unfair to such a beautiful child.

Laura blinked slowly. Surgery? She felt herself shake her head. She would rather go through treatment daily, lose all her precious hair, than to go under the knife.

“Wouldn’t you like to discuss this with your aunt? This is a…” the doctor paused mid-sentence. “No, I suppose not. I respect your decision.”

“Goodbye.” Laura got up and left the room. It was déjà vu, how she left the room after receiving bad news.

She dragged weary feet back to her apartment, trying to ignore the blatant stares of people seemingly amazed by her baldness. As she walked past the café where she broke up with Remus, she glanced in. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him sitting at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee. An urge welled up in her to run in and hug him, hold him tight again.

She ran fingers over the scars on her arm, tracing the word they spelled. The urge died however, when a pretty redhead entered and slid into the seat beside his. They immediately burst into conversation. Laura shook her head. She got her wish, did she not? He had forgotten about her.

The skies grew overcast. The raindrops began to fall. Her eyes, against her futile inward pleas, began to water too. The rain grew heavier and heavier, her footsteps quickened. Her clothes were plastered to her skin as they got drenched rapidly.

Remus looked out the window, grimacing at the storm. His eye caught someone familiar. He watched as the rain soaked the person’s skin, watched as she quickened her footsteps. Something about her just made something in him stir. His eyes widened as his heartbeat quickened. He leapt off the stool and ran out the door, ignoring his new girlfriend’s calls. The rain pelted him, running down his cheeks, going into his eyes, blurring his vision.

“LAURA!” He roared, trying to make himself heard over the thunder and rain as his feet pounded on the sidewalk after the shadowy figure. “Laura!”

She disappeared from view. He fell to his knees in the puddle on the sidewalk. He could feel tears falling, being washed away by the rain. He could sense people staring as they moved past him. His whisper was drowned out by the thunder.

“Why?”

Year 2002, May

“Didn’t you hear? Molly’s fiancé, yes the one with that sandy hair. He ran out of the restaurant on their wedding night last night!”

Laura froze, still gripping the bottle of water she had yet to pay for in her hand.

“Oh! Yes, I did hear about it. He was saying something like, ‘I can’t do this. There is only one person…’ My son was his best man, so he knew. I think it was someone called…”

“Laura wasn’t it! Such a pity, I thought Molly and him made a perfect couple…”

The two ladies, having paid for their purchases, walked out the store. She replaced the bottle on the shelf and stepped out of the shop in a daze. The only person she knew with sandy hair was Remus. She hastened her steps. It had been two years already. A few months ago, she had been declared free of cancer.

She ran slim fingers through her own shock of raven black hair. Why didn’t he forget me? Why hadn’t he forgotten me and gotten on with life? She broke into a run as she raced back home.

She threw open the door to her apartment as she tried to catch her breath. An envelope lay on the mat.

Dear Laura,

When you left me that day, I went to the beach, and I sat there as the high tide came. I cried a thousand tears that night, and they were all washed away. The day I find those tears again, is the day I will stop loving you.

Love,
Remus

P.S: Why?

She felt tears prickling her eyelids again. She fished in her purse for his photograph, stained with many lip marks. Lips covered in her own blood, kissing his photo each night before she slept. She had to forget about him, if he refused to forget about her.

“Why?” Someone said from behind her. She turned to see him standing at the doorway of the apartment. The photograph in her hands slipped from her grip and fluttered to the ground. For the past two years, he had never tried to look her up, why now? She lifted her eyes to meet his gray ones. They were overflowing with immense sadness, and something she couldn’t quite place. Was it… love?

As though reading her mind, he went on, “I never came to look for you in the past two years because I couldn’t take another rejection from you to my face again. But now…”

“Go away, Remus. Forget me. Forget everything we had. What we had can never be relived again!” Her voice almost broke in anguish, before she shoved him aside and ran out the door.

“Did you think, that just because you had cancer, I would hate you?” His voice came from behind her as his footsteps pounded. “Did you think, that I would see you as a burden?”

She continued running, looking up, down, side, front, anywhere but at him. It was once again raining.

“I LOVE YOU LAURA! WHEN THOSE TEARS COME BACK TO ME, I WILL STOP LOVING YOU! But till that day, I will…”

The screeching of tires.

The anguished cry of a man.

The sound of falling rain.

~*~

She cradled his head in her arms, her tears blending with the rain, falling onto his bloodied face. She sobbed, she wailed, she screamed her lungs out.

“I love you, Remus! I’VE NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU! FUCK, NEVER! I loved you, and I always will…”

Her voice was drowned out by the rain.

“Why?”

Year 2006, January

She stared listlessly at the photograph on her desk. Having been folded, unfolded and folded again for countless times, it was wrinkled, stained with her love for him. There was no way she could go on like this, thinking about him day and night, yearning for his touch, missing his voice and losing her mind. She could barely survive two years without him, what about the rest of her life?

The scars on her arm told the story of how she struggled to forget him once, and failed. She withdrew from the drawer a long box. She opened it, running her fingertips along the smooth shiny surface of the letter opener lying against plush indigo velvet. It looked so pretty, so new, so desirable, so painful...

She placed the edge of the metal object against her delicate skin and with a quick flick of her wrist, a garnet drop of blood appeared. She watched as the cut spilled forth ruby nectar, a tear gently trickling down her face.

“I can’t forget you, Remus. I can’t,” she whispered to nobody in particular as her gaze landed on the photograph again. He smiled up at her. “I really miss you.”

Come to me¸ his photograph seemed to urge. I miss you too.

She bit down on her lower lip and closed her eyes. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the letter opener tightened. With another strong slash of the object, her eyes fluttered open. She dropped the letter opener on the ground to pick up the photograph and crush it in her palm. There was only one thought on her mind as she drifted off into a sleep that would last for eternity.

I’m coming, Remus. I’m coming.

END

A/N: It's a cheesy, over-dramatic story but I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Faded

2008-09-22T20:07:00.004+08:00

Faded
By Li Lin

There's no turning back,

It's for the better,

Baby, I deserve more

Than empty words and promises;

Take a Bow - Leona Lewis

Her hand shot out to strike him across the face. Her expression was one of disdain, fury and pain. She could barely register the presence of the other people surrounding them. He stared back at her silently, his eyes were pools of black that seemed to draw her in. She clenched her hands into fists as her arms hung loosely by her side. She exhaled, counting down to calm the war raging inside her.

Five, four, three, two, one...

Rousing applause rose from the crowd as one by one, they leapt to their feet. The actors and actresses broke away from their positions across the stage as they came together to form a line. She stood there, frozen, her fingers still curled into fists. The actor she slapped mere seconds ago grinned at her as he tugged her gently to the front.

You played the part, and like a star you played it so well.

Her smoky eyes swept the crowd, the faces all a blur. They were cheering for the scriptwriter, for the director, for the crew, for the cast and now they were cheering for the lead actress. She was the lead, she was the star. All her fellow actors and actresses turned to look at her expectantly, encouraging smiles on their faces. The girl next to her gave her a gentle push. She walked to the front of the stage, curving her lips into a dark smile. Her gaze flickered over to meet the eyes of the people who came for her.

Take a bow, 'cause you've taken everything else.

She gave a slight bow before stepping back into line. Together, everyone who made the production possible took a bow. Amidst the roar of the crowd, the curtains fell. The show is over, time to get backstage. The cast is talking, calling her amazing, saying that the production was a success. They mill around, helping the crew to clear the stage. She stood still, resting her eyes on the smooth red velvet curtains. Everyone was bustling around, separated from the audience, tired but content. Taking advantage of the hustle and bustle, she bolted off the stage and away from them all.

Take a look around, there's no one in the crowd.

She sat gingerly on the toilet seat, drawing her legs up to rest her chin on her knees. She heard the rest of the cast calling her from outside. Time for celebrations, time for entertainment. Didn't they understand? Her life was a mask. She lived for the spotlight, she lived for the stage. Once the scenes ended, once her lines were said, once the production was over, she was nothing but an empty, fragile shell. Her head was swimming, and she was crying.

Tell me how does it feel to know, right now, that I won't be around.

She hated it, hated it all. She hated the way the applause started, she hated the way the curtains fell, she hated leaving the stage, she hated not being able to do the only thing she could. How could she exist when this is all that she is? Acting, faking, showing them what they wanted to see. She never wants them to see the emptiness she really is. They never look into her eyes, to see the void that she could never fill. They're shouting her name again, wanting her to join them, but they just don't comprehend.

How could they expect her to be happy, when she is living so far away from the stage?

Take a bow, 'cause the scene is coming to an end.

Insanity

2008-09-19T21:42:00.007+08:00

This is a first attempt to write about a girl... Alright, telling you now would spoil the story but I hope you enjoy the story. I was inspired by Pink's 'Don't Let Me Get Me'. It's quite an old song, but a very, very good one. Do listen to it when you have the time. (:

Insanity

By Li Lin

18th May 2006, 12pm

"We'll be going out of town for the day, do you think you'll be okay alone at home?" A middle aged woman asked her daughter in concern. Her daughter was currently lying on her bed, reading a novel.

"I'll be fine, mummy. Don't you worry about me," her daughter smiled at her sweetly, looking up from her book. "Bye mummy, bye daddy."

Her father gave her a pat on the head and a knowing wink as he took his wife's arm and

guided her out of their daughter's room. His daughter returned to reading her book in silence. It was not long after they were gone when she felt her eyes slowly drooping shut. She set the book aside and slid beneath the covers.

18th May 2006, 1pm

It was terrifying to watch the dark silhouette slowly lift an arm and aim the gun barrel at the young girl before it. Behind the translucent black curtains, she bit her lip as the young girl pleaded for her life, throwing herself at the silhouette's feet. Her pleas for mercy were desperate and heart-rending. Daisy, the girl was called. She was a pretty girl with a sweet smile and a demure deposition. She was a social butterfly, and undeniably smart. She had the looks, the brains and the friends. Everyone envied her to no end. The guys wanted to be her boyfriend and the girls wanted to be her. She was popular, she was lucky, but her luck ran out. "Let me off, please let me off! You're a good, kind person, please don't do this to- " The person in hiding cringed as the trigger was pulled and Daisy's words were cut off. Keeping an eye on Daisy's limp body, she backed out of the room and ran as fast as she could.

Her footsteps were light as she tried her best not to be heard. Behind her, she heard footsteps far heavier than hers, and they were drawing closer and closer. Her heart thumped with trepidation as she slowly turned the knob of a nearby door and slipped into the room. Shutting the door, she leant against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on her heels. There was a soft voice from the bed positioned in the middle of the room. "What are you doing here?" There was yet another teenage girl sprawled across the bed with an open magazine before her. She was Delilah, a girl who had her hair dyed black and her nails perpetually painted in shades of purple. She was a rebel, and often kept to herself. They always talked about her behind her back, but she never cared. She was always oblivious to everything around her, always in her own little world. And as the footsteps approached the door, her own little world was about to be destroyed. The girl behind the door wanted to warn Delilah, but she never got the chance to as the door was thrown open and the dark figure walked menacingly towards Delilah. Delilah sat up and opened her mouth to scream but the figure clamped a pale hand across her mouth and another hand around her slim throat. The girl dashed out of the room in a panic.

No, no, she could not let the figure catch her. She had to run; she had to hide.

The stairs. She ran down the carpeted stairs, her feet not making a single sound. The bathroom, she decided, would be a good place to hide. The figure wouldn't think anyone would hide in there, no it wouldn't. She stepped into the cold, spacious bathroom and shut the door. She turned the lock and leaned her forehead against the cool tiled wall. Her eyes fluttered shut and she fought to calm her heart and resume her normal breathing rate. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins as her chest rose and fell with every deep, shaking breath she took.

That was when the images started to flash through her mind. Before Daisy, there was Desiree - the loud, aggressive girl who beat up anyone whom she didn't like. They all cowered at the sight of her and stayed out of her way. She drove fear into their hearts the way a human would drive a stake through a vampire's heart and she scared the living daylights out of them. This time however, she was the prey and the figure was the predator. The girl wept when in her mind's eye, the image of Desiree's vulnerable body lay across the marble floor, blood flowing relentlessly from the gash in her throat. She cringed even more when she saw Daisy's pale, upturned face with her wide blue eyes, and the neat bullet hole right through her chest. Then finally, Delilah's face, purple from the lack of air, her dark eyes bulging as they stared right through the girl, and blamed her for not helping, for not saving her life.

There was a loud bang and the bathroom door flew open. The girl whirled around and let out a

wild shriek. Before her stood the murderer, the dark silhouette, the unknown figure. She gave the murderer a punch, and heard a loud crack. She went right on screaming. She could see the face of the silhouette now. Unkempt auburn hair, frightened, swollen green eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She was Desiree; she was Daisy; she was Delilah and she was a murderer. They were her, they were all her. She had been running away from herself, but who was the girl in front of her? That girl was the murderer, not her. She, her, she, her, who?

The rosy lips opened and another agonized screech left her raw throat and she punched the murderer again. And again. And again. And again.

18th May 2006, 10pm

They found her lying alone on her bathroom floor, amidst pieces of a shattered mirror and

little pools of blood. There was dried blood all over her knuckles and cuts across her arms and legs. Her body was stone cold and her eyes were shut. She had been lying there for more than ten hours. Her mother was hysterical and her father was horrified. Her condition had lain dormant for two months, and now it was back.

Soon enough, the police and paramedics were called and they arrived within minutes to barricade the house with the glaringly yellow "Crime Scene - Do Not Enter" tape. She was pronounced dead immediately and a body bag was prepared, ready to zip her up once the investigators had done their job.

"I'd say the cuts came from the broken glass," one of the two investigators in the bathroom said. "The mirror probably injured her when it shattered."

His partner tutted and picked up a bottle from the sink, "Look what we have here. An empty bottle of antidepressants and the prescription date was just yesterday. Looks like someone has been overdosing."

"Why didn't her parents realize that? Her medical records show that she often sleepwalked, they should have known better than to let her down so many pills and leave her alone at home."

"It isn't our place to criticize how parents look after their kids. Our job here currently is done. We'll talk more about it in the office."

The investigator walked over to the paramedics and nodded his consent for them to place her body in the body bag. As the two men left the bathroom, the girl's stiff body was placed into the bag and carried out of the house.

18th June 2006, 10am

Her mother found her diary in her drawer as she was cleaning her deceased daughter's room.

Dear Diary,

Y'know how Pink's song goes "everyday I fight a war against the mirror, I can't take the person staring back at me"? Yeah well, that's how I feel all the time. Doctor Lee tells me that I have three alter-egos. Daisy, Delilah and Desiree. Why can't I be normal? Why can't I be me? Why can't I know just who the hell I really am? I'm only sixteen and my life is such a lie. I hate myself, I really do. But nobody knows. They tell me I can be cured and I will recover but I know myself, that the only way for that to happen will be when I kill them all myself. And then maybe I'll be me.

Love,

Dawn

2/11/2005

And that was when her mother started to cry.

Beautiful Dream

2008-08-31T21:33:00.004+08:00

The following is a songfic I wrote based on the song Sway by The Perishers. It's a beautiful, simple song and although the story is admittedly cliché, I hope the people reading this will enjoy it.

Beautiful.Dream
By Li Lin

Song: Sway – The Perishers

I talk to you as to a friend
I hope that's what you've come to be
It feels as though we've made amends
Like we found a way eventually

Stupid guy. Brainless, stupid guy. Baboon-assed, brainless, stupid guy. He forgot! Of course he forgot. They had quarreled for the first time in six years. Why? Because he forgot. The baboon-assed, brainless, stupid guy even had the cheek to saunter off while she was still griping away. Libby picked another chocolate from the half-empty box on the coffee table, a Cosmo magazine lying forgotten on her stomach.

The doorbell rang once. Libby looked up from her sprawled position on the couch and sighed in annoyance. She made no move to get up as she returned to staring listlessly at the ceiling. It was a Saturday night. Saturday nights were always reserved, because it was the time when he would come over with a good movie, and she would get a huge tub of ice cream, mountains of chips and cans of carbonated drinks. Unhealthy food, but who cares? Well, at least that was how her Saturday nights had been spent before this one. Today, he was out on a date – not that she was jealous of course, but they had promised each other once that they would never break the ritual. She laughed bitterly. How long ago had they made that silly promise? When they were a couple of thirteen-year-olds? The doorbell rang again. She blatantly ignored it and pulled the box of chocolates nearer to her.

The doorbell rang for the third time. Grunting in irritation, she dragged her lazy body off the couch and padded over to the door. Yanking it open, she opened her mouth to berate the person who had been annoying the hell out of her. She blinked once, then twice. There he was, clad in his football jersey and baggy jeans. He grinned, holding up a hand carrying a tub of ice cream and a DVD case. She gaped for another thirty seconds, glancing at the living room clock. It was barely past nine and his date was over?

“Are you planning on keeping me out here the whole night?” He said, waving the tub of ice cream in her face. “This Cookies ‘n’ Cream goodness is going to melt anytime soon.”

“Man, that must have been some sucky date, huh?” She laughed softly, stepping aside to let him into the house. He shrugged and went over to the couch that she had been occupying moments ago, helping himself to the chocolates.

“I cancelled the date.”

“Won’t Amanda be so devastated that you bailed on her?” Libby replied sarcastically, sitting down next to him. “And am I supposed to be eternally grateful to you for coming over to spend Saturday night with lil’ ol’ me, dressed in my baggy sweatpants and grimy old shirt?”

“You’re beautiful, even dressed in that.”

“Compliments will get you nowhere.”

She turned to mock-glare at him, meeting his inky black eyes. She tried to keep her glare murderous as he stared right back at her, his eyes burning right through her. I’m sorry, they said, although he kept silent. Will you forgive me?

“Let’s just… watch the movie,” she broke the eye contact and got up to insert the disc into the player. “And will you please get some spoons from the kitchen?”

Three hours later, Libby’s mother entered the living room to find her daughter and her best friend curled up together on the couch, sleeping soundly. She smiled and turned the lights off as she left the room.

It was you who picked the pieces up
When I was a broken soul
And then glued me back together
Returned to me what others stole

Tristan knocked gently on the cheery blue door, his fingers tightening around a small bowl. His heart ached when he saw her curled into a tight little ball on the bed under her sheets. He took a tentative step in, freezing when he saw her stir.

“Libby,” he whispered, gingerly sitting down at the edge of her bed. “Libby, I brought you ice cream. D’you want it?”

Cold silence was all the response he got. He leaned over to peer at her, only to find her blue-grey eyes gazing back blankly at him. Her once creamy skin was pale, and her black hair had lost its lustre. He reached out a hand to touch her cheek gently. She leapt up at once, shrinking back towards the headboard. His eyes widened, how could he have forgotten what happened to her, when he had been there to witness the terrible deed?

A panicked scream was heard from the alley. Tristan ran forward immediately. The scream sounded disturbingly like Libby's. His heart thumped with both relief and worry, for she had taken a wrong turn and left his side a few minutes ago. He rounded the corner swiftly, a surge of anger coursing through his veins at the sight before him.

Libby was pressed against the wall, a large dirty hand clasped across her face, revealing only her tearing eyes and another hand ran along the sides of her body. Her ripped clothes hung limply on her slim frame. The dark figure leaned towards her throat and as a strangled, desperate sound emitted from her, he bit down. All at once, Tristan found his knuckles grazing the side of the man's face, driving him to the ground. A swift kick to the man's guts left him cradling his abdomen in agony. Tristan swept Libby into his arms and ran out onto the main road, flagging the first cab that drove past.

As he cradled her in his arms, she closed her eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness. All it took for the deed to be done, was a few mere minutes without him by her side.

“Libby, I’m sorry!” He withdrew his hand quickly. “Look, I’ll just leave the ice cream here, alright? I’m going to go away, please, Libby, just…”

She whimpered and shrank even further back when he took another step closer. He placed the ice cream on the table, pausing in the middle of his sentence when he saw her wide eyes filled with fright. Yes, fright. Was she really frightened of him? He tried to ignore the twisting pain in his chest as he advanced out of the room as fast as he could, before he heard a soft voice, “I’m dirty.”

He spun around, shock evident on his face. She was staring dazedly at her closet door. Tristan crossed the room in three large steps, stopping and bending down before her to look at her.

“Libby…” He muttered hopefully. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, he was about to go on talking when she pushed him away violently. The expression on her face was absolutely heart-rending. She looked like a person who had been stripped of her dignity, her pride, and everything she was proud of. She looked like a person who had seen hell, and lost all memories of paradise. “Please, let me help you.”

“Don’t touch me!” She cried out, falling off the bed in a bundle of sheets. Tristan attempted to help her up, only to receive a flailing kick in his side. “Don’t touch me! I’m dirty, I’m filthy, I’m contaminated! You don’t want to touch me!” Her voice grew higher and higher before she broke into an agonized sob.

“Libby,” Tristan sat down next to her on the ground, amongst the sheets. This time, she did not move away, merely tightening her body into an even smaller ball as her tears stained her sweatshirt. “Libby, you’re not dirty. You’re not filthy. You’re my best friend. You’re beautiful. Why would I be afraid to touch you?”

With that said, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into him unwittingly, her own arms finding their way to his neck. She buried her face into his chest as he held her tight, quite unwilling to let go.

“You’re beautiful, Libby.”

I don't wanna hurt you
I don't wanna make you sway
Like I know I've done before
I will not do it anymore

“Libby Veronica Sterling. You really are a heartless bitch, aren’t you?” A snide voice came from behind her as she slammed her locker shut.

Libby turned, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She tugged at the black hoodie she had on over her jeans. Her eyes met the blazing green ones of Amanda Wilkinson, the cheerleading captain. So the haughty voice had belonged to her, who else could it have been? “What do you want, Amanda Brenda Wilkinson?”

Amanda rolled her eyes as though Libby had asked the stupidest question she had ever heard. Looking at the heart shaped pendant hanging off a thin silver chain, Libby understood almost immediately. Engraved into the smooth silver surface were the initials ‘A’ and ‘T’.

“This is about Tristan again, isn’t it?” She sighed wearily. She really was sick and tired of the pretty red-head bugging her about her best friend. “For the millionth time, Amanda, Tristan and I are just very good friends. C’mon, we’ve known each other for more than ten years, do you really think I would fall for him and him for me? Bang your head against the wall, and knock some sense into that pretty head of yours, why don’t you?”

Just as she turned in the other direction to walk off, Amanda spoke again, this time in a less catty and more sincere voice, “Libby, this isn’t just about me being jealous of the two of you anymore. Tristan doesn’t want to spend time with you, and that’s a fact.”

Libby paused her footsteps, still leaving her back facing Amanda.

“Last Saturday, I asked him to bring me out. He said he had to meet you for that weekly routine meeting you guys had. I know you probably won’t believe me, since we’re forever at loggerheads, but I understood, so I told him it was alright. He also said he didn’t understand why you would get so uptight all the time when he cancelled the meeting, and that he would rather be with me. Why can’t you understand that, Libby?” There was a realistic tremble in Amanda’s voice as she went on talking. “Please don’t be so selfish. Stop harassing him all the time. Even if you hate me, do it for him, okay? You proclaim that he’s your best friend, but you won’t even do something that will really make him happy. What kind of a best friend is that?”

Amanda left her question hanging in the air as she turned to leave Libby to ponder over her parting question. Libby felt the hot prickling of tears against her eyelids. She swiped at her eyes angrily, letting her feet propel her in the direction of the next lesson. She felt someone coming up next to her.

“Hey! So are you up for a cup of coffee after school?” She tilted her head to look at Tristan Lewis, Golden Boy of the school, with a heart-stopping smile painted on his face. Shaking her head slightly, she quickened her footsteps as the words she had wanted to say died on her lips. I don’t want to make you sad. She left him standing in the middle of the hallway, puzzled and yet slightly amused by her reaction.

While her brain had been busy processing the new information it received, it had completely slipped her mind that Amanda Brenda Wilkinson was the president of the Drama Club.

I've always been a dreamer
I've had my head among the clouds
Now that I'm coming down
Won't you be my solid ground?

It was pouring, and the sky was cast with dark gray clouds. Libby settled herself into one of the swings, using her legs to push herself off the ground. She tilted her head backwards to savor the feel of the raindrops pelting her skin.

“I figured I’d find you here,” a familiar voice said softly. “You and your abnormal hobbies.”

She opened her eyes hesitantly. Tristan stood before her, his dark hair falling into his eyes in wet strands, chortling away. She raised an eyebrow at him watching as he slid into the other swing. There was a roll of thunder in the distance. The edges of her lips curved upwards. She loved the rain.

“No date with Amanda today?” She asked casually, watching a jagged fork of lightning flashing across the sky.

“Yeah, because I missed talking to you too much,” he looked at her with a cheeky smile. “So… I wanted to tell you something.”

She shrugged nonchalantly, shutting her eyes and leaning against the chains, “So talk.”

“I like this girl, and…”

“You’re with Amanda.”

“That’s the problem. You see, this girl I like…”

“Well of course she’s a girl, you’re not gay, are you?”

“Will you just let me talk?” Silence. “She’s really pretty. She has the most amazing eyes, and when she talks, the cutest dimples appear in her cheeks. She makes me want to run my hands through her hair, and kiss her soft lips. Her smile could melt the ice off anything, and I think I must have been blind to not notice her sooner.”

“And you want me to help you to get her to notice you? Who doesn’t notice you? You practically rule the whole student population,” Her tone was cynical, but she could not help it. She felt someone tugging at her arms, pulling her to a standing position. Rolling her eyes mentally, she kept them closed, when arms encircled her slim waist and something soft brushed past her lips. Her eyelids flew open, and she almost drowned in the black pools, melting under his smoldering gaze.

“I think I have been dreaming for these past ten years… Will you keep me awake for the next fifty?”

She was too busy suffocating him with a tight hug to grant him a response.

“You’re beautiful.”